Rules Of Engagement

The ramifications of that statement slammed into him. His imagination tripped through a few dozen ways he’d like to be coupled with her. “Mind telling me why?” he asked, attempting to focus on the conversation and not what she’d look like with her hair down and those delicate hands moving over his body.

Her gaze shifted toward the fireplace, then back again. When she looked up at him, her eyes filled with a despair that nearly had him coming off his seat to offer her comfort.

Not a good sign, he thought with a frown. The last thing he needed to do was get involved with a woman, no matter how enticing. Between running the company, the problems on the MasCon job, and taking care of his kid brother and sister, his cup runneth over.

A light blush stained her cheeks. “So they won’t know I’ve been lying to them for the last seven months,” she said quietly.

“Isn’t that just a little unethical, even for a lawyer?”

She gave him a wry grin. “I take it you haven’t heard that lawyers are notorious for twisting the truth,” she said with a quirk of her pink mouth. “Let’s just say I’m trying to avoid a complication at home. Your presence will go a long way in helping me achieve that goal.”

His frown deepened. “Complication how?”

She blew out a stream of breath that ruffled her wispy honey-gold bangs. “I’m not a bad person,” she said, a note of defiance in her tone. “I never meant to lie to my family. It was just easier to let them believe there was someone important in my life. I’m a preacher’s daughter, which probably means I’ll have to spend eternity somewhere hot and sweaty for lying to them. I’m also the first and only Cassidy to ever leave the family fold for the ‘wickedness of greener pastures,’ as my father says. Another one of my many sins, I’m sure.

“I’m nothing like my sisters,” she added, making him wonder if this was another black mark against her. Her words painted a picture of a stern, fire-and-brimstone preacher, more condemning than forgiving.

“That’s not so unusual in families,” he offered. His sister and brother were more like their intellectual father, while Morgan preferred to work with his hands. He wasn’t sure how it had happened, considering the three of them were raised by the same absentee mother. As much as he’d resented his mother’s choice of a career over her children when he was growing up, at least he’d inherited her work ethic.

“I’m the sixth of seven daughters, all married except Carly, who’s changing her marital status in three weeks.” She fidgeted with the hem of her skirt, drawing his gaze to her legs. Legs that had his hands itching, wanting to see if they were as silky smooth as they looked.

“I’m also the only one unattached, serious or otherwise. That alone is an even greater sin according to the residents of Homer,” she added, a rueful smile lurking around her mouth when he looked at her again. “My family has been trying to convince me to return to the fold and exchange my career for a husband and my briefcase for a diaper bag. That’s not who I am.”

Maybe if you took a little more interest—

That’s not who I am.

He shut down the memory before it had a chance to fully surface. He had more immediate concerns than dwelling on a past he couldn’t change.

“You haven’t thought of telling them what you just told me?” he suggested.

“I’ve tried. I thought I was making progress until my sister Alison married a year ago. The pressure really started then, but since Carly’s gotten engaged, it’s been unbelievable. My father is determined to see each of his daughters married to a ‘respectable pillar of the community,”’ she said, her last words spoken in a mock baritone.

Jill as a rebellious teen, anxious to spread her wings and experience life on her own terms, wasn’t difficult to imagine. She had a quick, witty sense of humor, something her fire-and-brimstone father no doubt resented and attempted to oppress.

“What about your mother?” he asked, sensing there was a softer influence somewhere in her past. When he’d been in her office that afternoon venting his frustration on his friend, he’d seen a compassion in her gaze that was unfeigned.

“My mother wouldn’t dare offer an opinion contrary to Dad,” she said, a hint of distaste in her voice. “She’s so…1950s.”

“You need to tell them how you feel.”

Her expression lined with worry, and she smoothed her hands over her skirt again. “It’s not that easy. When I went home for Ali’s wedding, all I heard about was how my sisters were all living good, respectable lives. I, on the other hand, am probably seen as one step away from damnation for my wicked, independent ways.”

He’d been having some pretty wicked thoughts himself, from the moment he’d first caught a glimpse of her. Against his will, she’d drifted in and out of his thoughts for the better part of the afternoon. Now that she was seated across from him, the wickedness had escalated to erotic proportions. His angel had propositioned him and he was powerless to resist, thanks to his latest battle with the alligators nipping at his heels. By asking him to pretend to be in love with her, she’d innocently created a dangerous situation. As far as he was concerned, shifting the pretense of lust into passionate reality held enormous appeal, something he wasn’t altogether certain the independent lady lawyer would appreciate.

“Don’t get me wrong,” she continued, drawing his attention back to their conversation. “I love my family, but I don’t think I can stand to go through another family gathering with the town parading their single men in front of me like it was a cattle auction. And I don’t need to hear how I should settle down and have a passel of kids, or—”

“That still doesn’t explain why you told them you were engaged.”

“I didn’t tell them I was engaged,” she said, her brows pulling together in a frown. She let out another sigh, this one filled with frustration. “My parents are very traditional, so when Carly and Dean got engaged, my folks hosted an engagement party. I couldn’t send my regrets without disappointing my baby sister, but when my own grandmother attempted to fix me up with the grandson of one of her oldest friends, that was enough.”

He hid a smile at the outrage tingeing her voice. She obviously perceived the fix-up as a betrayal by her grandmother. “So then you told them you were engaged.”

“No. I told Luther that I wasn’t interested. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, so I fudged the truth and told him I was already involved, but I meant with my career.”

“The demanding mistress,” he said, unable to keep the hardness out of his voice.

“One thing led to another,” she continued, unaware of his bitterness, “and I couldn’t say anything without hurting Luther and possibly damaging a fifty-year friendship between our grandmothers. And then my family assumed…” She let out another frustration-filled puff of breath and leaned back against the cushions. “Suffice it to say, this has turned into a nightmare of epic proportions.”

“Tell them the truth,” he said. Wasn’t the truth always the best path? At least that’s what he’d taught Raina and Will.

She dropped her head against the back of the sofa and briefly closed her eyes. “God, I wish I could.”

Two things struck him, hard. Jill Cassidy wasn’t a liar condemned to purgatory for all eternity, as she believed. He could tell by the simple fact that she had no trouble opening up to him, a virtual stranger. The other was more difficult to face.

He wanted her. He couldn’t explain it, but he didn’t need to rationalize, analyze or otherwise examine his attraction to her. He’d never been one to dissect his feelings, and he wasn’t about to start now. If he wanted something, he went after it, and more often than not, he got exactly what he wanted. The thought of being cast in the role as her fiancé, with all those unconscious touches, secret smiles and the unspoken dialogue between lovers connecting on their own level, held a lot of appeal.

She turned her head slightly to the side and looked at him with those big, clear sapphire eyes he wanted to see filled with heat and need. “I hate lying to my family. Don’t get me wrong, I do love them, and the last thing I’d ever want is to hurt them, but to be honest…it’s been a relief going home recently without having to worry about the bachelor parade.”

He shifted on the love seat and leaned forward. “Have you eaten?”

She glanced at her watch. “I had a pasta salad over eight hours ago. Since we still need to go over Eddie’s case, I could do the food thing.”

“I don’t have anything fancy,” he said, rising. “Leftover stew okay with you?”

She stood and smiled. “Lead the way. My stomach’s been demanding attention for the past twenty minutes.”

He waited while she bent to retrieve her pad and pen. The sight of her very feminine posterior pressing provocatively against her navy linen skirt had his heart ricocheting around in his chest. He looked away before he started drooling like a starving mutt.

“Morgan?”

He dragged his gaze back to her face. Still bent over the table, her delicate hand resting on the legal pad, she looked up at him, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth.

He frowned. “Yeah?”

“Would you mind terribly if I took off my shoes?” she asked, straightening. “It’s been a long day.”

He shrugged. “Sure, go ahead,” he said, figuring her odd request was probably one of those midwestern nuances about a lady in the presence of a gentleman—something his casual, Southern California upbringing couldn’t hope to understand.

His smile was strained at best as she slipped off a pair of stylish navy pumps and sighed, curling her toes into the carpet. Her toenails were painted, and he was a sucker for painted toenails. He looked closer and nearly groaned.

Red.

A startling, deep, sensual red.

He was an even bigger sucker for anything red on a woman. Red like fire, representative of the sensual heat women generated when fired up just right.

He blew out a slow stream of breath that did nothing to quell the image of Jill lying before him in a red satin teddy awaiting his pleasure. “This way,” he said, then headed into the kitchen, hoping to rein in his runaway erotic fantasies along the way.