Code of Control (6 page)

“You’re dealing
with
OSHIT
, Charlotte. We know everything about you, and if we don’t,
we’ll uncover it eventually.”

“Everything?”

“You can’t be
who you are without us knowing how you got there.”

“No shit,” she rudely
muttered, looking away.

“Dinner is in
one hour. You can freshen up; unpack what you want, but stay out of the kitchen
until I call for you.”

She turned
around quickly. “Is that an order, Mr. Morgan?”

“If you call me
Mr. Morgan again it will be a threat to your welfare, not an order,” he
promised.

Charlotte looked
for facial signs he was bluffing. None came. The man was as cold as ice; hid
his emotions with great success.

Last night, that
coldness had drawn her in. She’d needed a moment of numbness, and he’d provided
the mystery and danger to her every desire. That and she’d thought she could
have one night without the nightmares. Big mistake.

“Nolan,” she
mumbled as his smile grew.

“Yes, Charlotte?”

Dammit. She did not
have anything more to say to him, still shocked he would allow people to go
through her home without permission.

He stared,
seeming as if wanting to add something himself, then muttered, “Welcome to the lion’s
den, Ms. Raven.”

Charlotte’s jaw
dropped to the floor, as he stepped out of the room, aiming for the kitchen. Good
God! Had he read her mind?

Chapter Six

Dinner, of
course, turned out to be as much of a surprise as the man was. Four courses,
wine and ample candlelight graced the dining room table; Charlotte called to
dinner almost an hour later, ravenous. She’d been in her room, twiddling her
thumbs since it did not take much to unpack the few clothes they’d stolen from
her apartment. Nor did she have much to do until he was ready to allow her
entry into the rest of his home.

She sat at the
dining room table, set her chin on her knuckles, staring at his face. He had
such a commanding face—mesmerizing almost. High cheekbones, arched brows, just
a possible hint of Greek heritage, mocha eyes as rich as dark chocolate…and yet
he lives in the middle of friggin’ Iowa, the epitome of contradiction.

“Why this
place?” she suddenly asked, trying to draw him into a deeper conversation. So
far, through three of the four courses, he’d not discussed much. It was almost
as if he was avoiding doing so.

He set down his
spoon. “Why did I buy this place?”

Charlotte nodded.

“I didn’t. It
was given to me.”

She took a sip
of her wine, lowering the glass. “Given to you?”

This time Nolan
nodded. “In a roundabout way this was my grandparent’s first home. They moved
here in the thirties, nearly lost it, and then started over in South Dakota.”

“Odd place to
start over,” she interjected.

“It was the dust
bowl era. Lots of people uprooted, but my grandparents, instead of trying to
peddle it off to whoever would give them any money for it, kept hold of it. The
family never said how. I’m sure it wasn’t legal.” He looked away as if he knew
more than he was sharing. When his eyes returned, they were full of melancholy.
The first insight to the man hidden beneath the hardened shell. “By most
standards, what I have is considered miniscule…in a purely farming aspect. You
already know the physical aspect of me is not…shall we say,
small
. But
four hundred acres with my name on the deed is.”

She did not
bother to hide her blush. “You’re quite the surprise. I never figured you to
open up and allow a stranger entry into your life,” she said, raising his
brows. “An ex-wife, ancestral home…”

Nolan reached
for his wineglass. He worked down a huge swallow of the fermented grapes before
answering this. “You haven’t gained entry, Charlotte, and you’re not a stranger.
You’ve gained insight. Entry will come later.”

Charlotte picked
up her fork, avoiding eye contact by sticking the utensil into another piece of
delicious, perfectly cooked steak. Nolan was already into his dessert. “Is this
possible entry sometime during the next two weeks?”

This time, he
looked her square in the eyes. “I was thinking more on the lines of later on tonight.”

She slowly set
her fork near her plate. “Um…”

“I can’t sit
here and pretend what happened last night is not going to happen again, even if
I know you’re planning the exact opposite.” He gave her a toothy grin, covered
by a wink.

“But it’s…” she
started.

Nolan pushed
back his chair, stood, reaching for his wine glass. “The hell it’s not! You’re
too tempting for peace of mind.” He then downed the remainders of his glass, returning
it to the table.

“What am I
supposed to do about that?” She, too, had pushed back her chair, intent to rise.
His brittle attitude made her no longer hungry for dessert. His faint smile
removed any sign of possible anger, however.

“Not a damn
thing. I’ll do everything that needs to be done and you just sit back and
relax, enjoy the next two weeks. Pretend they’re an impromptu vacation for you.”

“All of this is
impromptu,” she argued.

By now, he’d
moved over to her side of the table, his hand set on her elbow, bringing her to
her feet. “Come, I want to show you something,” he said.

Charlotte’s eyes
widened, body tensing. Would this something be in the bedroom? Beads of
perspiration gathered on her spine, hopeful to the outcome.

Dammit. She had
to stop thinking about him in a sexual way—although, telling her brain this was
practically laughable, since her libido had both hands driving that wheel.

“Not that kind
of something,” he said, grinning at her assuredly guilty face.

“Um…” she balked.

Very gently, his
knuckles touched the bottom of her chin, closing her mouth. “You’re going to be
so much fun these next two weeks.”

“Fun?” she
yelped. “I’m not a toy you can play with when it suits your mood.”

“In a way…you
are,” he said, his head lowering toward her.

Too much wine,
great food cooked by an awesome man, even better company, there was something
about him that she could not control. An inner ticking she should not ignore,
but was willing to do for a mere smile. She allowed his mouth to touch hers,
only briefly, before cautiously stepping away from him.

Nolan’s eyes
widened by the maneuver, but he said nothing to contradict the motion. Instead,
he put slight pressure on her elbow.

“Let’s go
outside,” he suggested.

“What’s outside
that I should see?”

“God, are you
going to ask a million questions before the end of the two weeks?”

“Possibly.”

His heavy sigh
reached inside of her, wrapping lukewarm fingers around her heart. “Fine, I
want to show you a piece of my heritage, if you don’t mind.”

Mind? She would
love to see another side of him some might never have seen.

Nolan led the
way, they went out into the heat of a strangely warm spring night, and he
walked her over to where a large elm tree stood. “Look at this.” She did not
know what she was supposed to be looking at, so he pointed it out. “See this?”

Charlotte
squinted, making out a fine marking on the trunk of the tree. She delicately
touched the carving. “What is it?”

“My grandfather
did this. He was on his way to the granary with a load of corn, stopped to
carve this before he left, and my grandmother found it the next day while doing
the laundry.”

She touched it
again. “It looks like a heart.”

“It is. Says ML,
ML Forever.”

“What’s it
supposed to mean? Were those your grandparent’s initials?”

Nolan looked
away, his head tipped up to the Iowa moonlight. “I’d been told it was a love
letter. Told it said
my love, my life, forever
.”

She gave him an
easy smile. “That’s so sweet.”

His grin
deepened. “It is, isn’t it? Sadly, it’s not who you think it was for. Gramps
had a reputation.”

“He did?”

“That’s what
I’ve been told.”

He did not
elaborate, frustrating her.

“Another piece
to your ongoing puzzle, Mr. Morgan?” she said softly.

This time, when
he glanced her way he was no longer smiling.

“No, Charlotte.
This is not a puzzle anymore. This is just me outright telling you I want to
make love to you. You can balk. You can withdraw and protest; you can even
start walking in the opposite direction, telling me how crazy I am. Do what you
will, but there is one thing under this Iowa moonlight that I am going to do to
you without being stopped, and that is to kiss you. You are not going to draw
back, or clamp your lips shut, or pretend you don’t want my kiss. You’re going
to stand here, next to this very old love letter, remember what others went
through to get to this point, and you are going to kiss me back.”

Charlotte licked
her lips, the anticipation urging her on. “Do I have a choice?”

“Yes,” he
whispered near her lips.

“Damn. I was
hoping you’d say no,” she whispered back.

Nolan kept the
downward momentum toward her mouth, smiled, and then kissed her as if tomorrow
was never coming.

Charlotte did not
balk, she did not withdraw into a shell, did not protest or even put a single thought
into her head to groin the man. She stood next to a carving on an ancient tree because
of the possibility of adultery and accepted the kiss as if it an everyday
occurrence for her. When it was over and he eased away from her, seemingly
satisfied with the results, she reached up with both hands, grabbed the poor
man by the neck, drew his head back to hers and gave him a kiss he should never
forget throughout ten lifetimes—no matter how many wives or mistresses he lands
up with.

Five minutes
later, breathless, the heat pooled between her legs, she quietly asked him, “Am
I sleeping alone tonight? That bed in my room did look lonely.”

“Not on your
life,” he rasped out, reaching for her hand. “But I have a ton of work to get
done. I already told you this.”

Doused by verbal
ice water, she inquired, “Need help? I do have a brain. Been told it’s useful a
time or two.”

“Nope. What I do
need is for you to clean up the mess I made in the kitchen, make yourself
useful with other things until I’m done, and then we can pick this up from
there.”

Charlotte
suddenly felt as if she was here for his personal entertainment, nothing more. “Sure
you don’t need my help doing reports? The sooner they are done, the sooner we
can get back to this, um, discussion.”

He turned her
around, his hands set on her shoulders. Very gently, he urged her toward the
house. “Positive. I promise that when I am done with the reports you will have
my full attention—and all of me.”

“I don’t need
your attention. I need you to treat me like a partner. So far, you’re not.”

“Due time,
sweetheart. Due time.”

“Not a very acceptable
answer, Mr. Morgan.”

“Did I not warn
you about calling me that?”

“It is your
name,” she said glibly. “Isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is, Ms.
Raven, and it is an overused name that will cease. When you’re here, I am Nolan…friend,
confidant, partner…”

“Thankfully, I
didn’t hear foe.”

His dimpled grin
widened. “I wouldn’t dream of saying foe to a woman who can shoot a man dead to
rites at 400 yards.”

They walked back
into the farmhouse, Nolan leaving her to the duties of cleanup while he went
into the office, closing the door. She was a bit miffed he’d shut her out,
literally, and on day one, but she could not complain too much. He did not have
to hire her. He could have made a huge production out of how they knew each
other, and she would then have had to start over on finding a decent job to
suit her needs.
OSHIT
and Nolan Morgan were the breaks she needed.

Dammit. Why did
that break have to come to her from a man who wetted her panties only by looking
at her? Never mind the kissing aspect of this non-relationship or the fact his
cologne made her drool.

Charlotte jammed
as much of the dirty dishes as she could into the dishwasher, cleaned off the
dining room table, tidied up the kitchen, and then worked her way into the
living room. She snooped through a pile of magazines set on a low table.
Outdoor
Living
,
People
,
National Geographic
; the titles made her
smile. She never took Nolan to be a man who would read
People
. Then
again, she didn’t know him—yet. The outside yes, the inside not so much.

Three hours
later, he still had not come out of his office. She glanced at a clock hung on
the living room wall, groaning at what it read. Eleven pm. All was not well in
her world. She was bored out of her mind; watched enough late night television
to draw tears to her eyes. Perhaps he’d allow her a quick peek at what he was
working on.

Charlotte tapped
on the closed office door.

“Nolan?”

No answer.

She rapped
again, this time louder. “Nolan?”

Still no answer.

Accepting wrath
over dying curiosity, she cautiously tried the door handle. He not only closed
the door, he’d locked it. Well, if that did not bite! Why lock her out? She was
his partner, supposedly. Shouldn’t she have inner workings and access to every
aspect of
OSHIT
?

“Nolan, do you
know this door is locked?” No answer came through the wooden panel, but the
light still on seeped under the door into the hall. “Do you even hear me?”

Nothing. Nada.

Pissed, she went
to her room, slammed the door to make her point, and then threw herself on the
bed.

Dammit! She was
horny. Was the man stupid? He could have easy access to all of her, said this
would happen when they’d kissed outside, and he locks himself into an office
for the remainder of the night? What the hell was wrong with him?

Charlotte fell
asleep, fully dressed.