Places in My Heart (2 page)

She followed her brother back down to the kitchen. “I took care of the side dishes, but wasn't sure what you wanted to do with all this meat.” There were trays of ribs, chicken, hot links and salmon.

“I'll freeze some of it for sure, but Brandon and Khalil are coming over tomorrow, so it won't go to waste.”

Morgan laughed. “You know Brandon's going to be happy, especially since we aren't having a family dinner tomorrow.” Brandon was the second oldest, after Siobhan. Morgan and Malcolm were the youngest. Their tight-knit family still got together at their parents' house for dinner at least one Sunday out of the month.

“Yep. He'll probably take home leftovers. Khalil, on the other hand, will just eat the salmon and vegetables.” They both laughed. Khalil was third in line, and the model turned fitness buff ate healthy at least 95 percent of the time. “A couple of guys from the team said they might stop by, too, so I'll send some stuff home with them. Grab some Ziploc bags and let's finish.”

She wanted to ask if Omar was one of the guys, but refrained. She was not supposed to be thinking about him. Reaching into the drawer, she got the bags and began filling them.

They worked in silence for a few minutes and then Malcolm asked, “What's up with you and Drummond?” He came around the island to where she stood adding hot links to one of the bags.

“Nothing.”

“So, all that heat the two of you were generating in my family room was nothing. I'm not blind, Morgan. He's usually one of the first to leave, and I couldn't figure out why he stayed longer than usual. Until you came into the room.” He angled his head. “Did something happen between you earlier? Like when I found you upstairs?”

Malcolm didn't miss anything when it came to her. “We spoke briefly when I came in for a glass of tea. If this is the part where you tell me he's got lots of women and I should stay away from him, you can save your breath. I know what kind of man he is and I've read the headlines.”

He folded his arms and continued to study her. “Actually, I wasn't. But seeing as how you're all on the defensive, maybe I
should
be concerned.”

Morgan zipped the bag and pushed it over with the others. “Please. Now, I'll admit the man is fine and has a body that's out of this world, but I have no interest in seeing my face added to his long list of groupies. Been there, done that. And I have enough problems as it is dealing with this lawsuit.” She worked as an attorney in her family's home-safety company and had just been appointed the lead on the suit that alleged one of their bathtub safety rails broke and resulted in someone being injured.

“How's that going?”

“I'm not sure yet. We're still waiting on a couple of reports, but it doesn't look good. We could use a miracle right about now. I'm only two years out of law school, and this is my first big case. I don't want to let Daddy down.”

He slung an arm around her shoulder and kissed her temple. “Just do your best. That's all you can do.”

She leaned into his embrace. “I know. Thanks.” Morgan glanced around the kitchen. “Do you need me to do something else?”

“Nah, I'll take care of it.”

“You could hire someone to do this kind of thing.”

Malcolm shook his head. “You know I don't like a lot of strangers in my house. Having the housekeeper here twice a month is enough.”

She smiled. “What time are we riding?”

“I'm sleeping in, so we can go around eleven. Night, sis.”

“Good night.”

Morgan went upstairs, showered and climbed into bed. She tossed and turned for hours, unable to get Omar's kiss out of her mind. Then she recalled him wanting to talk to her. She could probably ask Malcolm for his number.
No way.
As curious as she was, she knew the best thing would be to forget all about that conversation. And the kiss.

Chapter 2

M
organ sat at her desk Monday morning, poring over the information she had been given on the lawsuit. “Not good, not good,” she muttered. A sixty-one-year-old woman had suffered a fractured hip, a broken wrist and a multitude of bruises and contusions. She groaned and lowered her head to the desk.
Why me, Daddy?

“You okay, Morgan?”

Her head snapped up. “Hey, Brandon.”

Her brother Brandon entered and folded his tall body into one of the chairs in front of her desk. “What's wrong?”

She pointed at the stack of papers in front of her. “This doesn't look good for us. Did you see the list of all Mrs. Sanderson's injuries?”

His lips settled in a grim line. “I did, but this has never happened before. We tested and retested those rails before they went to market, and I can't believe one just...just
broke
.”

“Me, either, but until I can get a look at it, this is all I have to go on.”

“What do you mean? You haven't gotten the rail yet?”

Morgan shook her head. “I requested it and the original packaging, as well as the purchase receipt. As soon as I get it, I'll know more. Of course, their lawyer is insisting a neutral third party be present to make sure I don't tamper with the evidence.” Clay Porter reminded her of one of those slick attorneys only out to make money for themselves.

Brandon's brow lifted. “He said that to you?”

“Yes. He's a pompous ass. At our first meeting, the first thing he said to me was, ‘Can you bring everyone some coffee, honey?' I told him I'd ask my secretary to handle it. He had the nerve to laugh when he found out I was handling the case and mumbled something that sounded like it would be his easiest case. It took everything I had not to slap that smug smile off his face.”

“I can make sure one of the more experienced attorneys attends the next meeting if you want.” Brandon headed up the home safety division of the company and was in line to take over as CEO once their father retired. The company had a smaller division that focused on gym equipment that her brother Khalil designed to make his fitness center more accessible.

“I thought about that at first, but no, thanks. I'll take care of it myself.” No way would she let that old weasel intimidate her. “Are we still getting a lot of negative press?”

“Not as much as in the first couple of weeks. But I'll be glad when Siobhan gets back.” Siobhan was the PR director and had a way of handling the press unlike anything they had ever seen.

“Me, too. She left Melvin Wilkins in charge, didn't she?”

“Yeah. And Gordon has been in my office four times in the last week complaining since she's been gone.” Gordon Samuels worked as a media specialist and had expected to be promoted over Siobhan when the previous director retired. He had been a thorn in Siobhan's side ever since.

Morgan laughed. “I know he was pissed that she didn't leave him in control, especially since Melvin is what, twenty-five, twenty-six, and has been here only two years. Well, if Gordon wasn't still stuck in the nineties, he might've had a chance at the job.”

Brandon smiled. “Yeah, right. We all knew that Vonnie would get the job.” He stood and walked to the door. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“I will. Thanks.” Left alone again, she smiled. Her brothers could be a pain in the butt sometimes, but she wouldn't have traded them for the world.

She studied the case for the rest of the afternoon, making notes and flagging the spots where she had questions. She couldn't put her finger on it, but something didn't add up. Glancing up at the wall clock, she frowned. “I can't believe it's almost five already.” Morgan leaned back, rotated her chair toward the window and stretched. Her brain was fried and she wanted to go home. But she had to meet with her friend Brooke tonight to finalize their dance production. Brooke Alexander had been Morgan's best friend since ninth grade, when they both had parts in the school's spring dance production. While Morgan had changed directions and opted for law school, Brooke had pursued a successful dance career until injuries from a car accident forced her to quit. With her family's backing, she had opened a thriving dance studio two years ago.

“Somebody's here to see you.”

Morgan counted to ten then slowly turned her chair to face the woman standing in her door. The thirty-something administrative assistant had not been happy when she'd been reassigned from one of the senior attorneys to Morgan and, unless the two men were watching, took every opportunity to disrespect Morgan. Like entering the office without calling on the intercom or knocking.

“What can I do for you, Evelyn?”

Evelyn's jaw tightened at Morgan's irritated tone. “There's someone here to see you.”

“Who is it?”

“He didn't say, and it's time for me to leave,” Evelyn said impatiently.

Morgan slowly rose to her feet and braced her hands on the desk. Leaning forward, she said with a controlled tone, “Let's get something straight. You don't have to like me, but you
will
respect me. Before entering my office, you will use the intercom or knock. I'd hate to have to report you to Mr. Klein. Are we clear?” The woman visibly blanched. Mr. Klein headed the legal department. Morgan smiled. “Now, please show the gentleman in and have a nice evening.”

Evelyn gave Morgan a frosty glare and exited.

She lowered her head and drew in several calming breaths.

“Morgan?”

Morgan went still. It couldn't be. Yet when she lifted her head, her gaze collided with the one man she hadn't been able to stop thinking about.

* * *

Omar knew he had taken a risk showing up at Morgan's office, but he was desperate. It had taken a lot to persuade Malcolm to share his sister's information, especially since Omar had declined to say what had happened between them. He'd toyed with calling first, but changed his mind because he didn't want to chance her refusing to see him. The woman seated outside Morgan's office, whom he assumed was the assistant, greeted him with a wide smile and an exaggerated sway of her hips as she led him to the office. Omar ignored the not-so-subtle brush of her breasts against his arm when she turned to leave. In his peripheral vision, he noticed the slight rise in Morgan's eyebrow and knew she'd seen it, too. He waited until the woman closed the door before turning to face Morgan.

Morgan folded her arms. “What are you doing here?”

“Hello to you, too,” he said.

An embarrassed expression crossed her face. “Sorry. Have a seat.”

Omar took the chair opposite her desk. “I apologize for stopping by without calling, but I figured you wouldn't see me otherwise.”

“You were probably right. How do you know I won't call security to throw you out now?”

“I don't, but I'm counting on your love of football to work in my favor.” They engaged in a stare-down for several seconds until she looked away first.

“How did you know where I worked?”

“Malcolm.” She frowned and he added, “If it's any consolation, he adamantly refused to divulge your home address.”

“Well, maybe I won't kill him, after all.”

He chuckled.

“Since you went through all this trouble, I guess I can spare you five minutes.”

Omar knew the mention of football would rouse her curiosity. “I'd like to talk to you about a business proposition.”

“What does that have to do with football?”

“My contract is up for renewal in six weeks and—”

“Don't you have an agent? If memory serves me correctly, you have one of the best agents around.”

“Things aren't always as they seem.”

She sat up straight. “What are you saying?”

“I'm saying it's time for a change, and I'd like you to negotiate my upcoming contract. You're an attorney and, according to your brother, you know football like you've played it all your life.”

Her eyes lit up and her mouth fell open. “Are you
serious
? Wait a minute.” She sat back again and angled her head. “What about your current agent? Did he dump you or something?”

Omar sighed. “No.” There was more to it, but he would only tell her if she agreed to represent him.

Morgan narrowed her eyes. “There are dozens of sports agents out there, and I'm certain any one of them would be happy to take you on, especially with your numbers from last year. Yet you're in my office.”

He smiled. “You checked my stats? So, you're admitting I've got game?”

A rush of color darkened her face. “Why me?” she asked, ignoring his questions.

“You want to be an agent, and I need one.” He leaned forward and whispered, “And I know you passed the sport's agent certification test. It's a win-win situation for both of us.”

“On second thought, I
am
going to kill Malcolm,” she muttered.

“I need your help, Morgan. I wouldn't be here if I didn't.”

“I have to think about this.” She turned slightly in her chair and stared out the window, and then back at him. “You realize I already have a job. And I'm working on a case.”

Omar nodded. “I understand, and I have no problems working around your schedule.”

“Even on weekends or late evenings.”

“Anytime.”

“I see.” She went back to staring out the window.

He could almost hear the wheels turning in her head. She bit down on her lip, drawing his attention and reminding him how much he enjoyed kissing her.

Finally she angled her head his direction. “I'll agree on one condition.”

“What's that?”

“You keep your hands and lips to yourself. No more kisses.”

Omar groaned inwardly. There was no way he could go without kissing her. In fact, it had been the first thing on his mind from the moment he saw her today. “Morgan—”

“No. More. Kisses,” she repeated.

At this point, he needed her expertise more, he told himself. Not having any other choice, he said, “Fine.”

“Good. Then I'll draw up the necessary documents, and we'll meet so you can sign.” Morgan picked up a business card, scribbled something on it and handed it to him.

A measure of relief spread throughout his chest. “There's one other thing,” he added hesitantly, reaching for the card.

“What's that?”

Rather than give her an extensive explanation up front, he handed her a large envelope.

She took the envelope and removed four stapled sets of papers. She skimmed the documents and frowned. “Two of your endorsement contracts?”

“Yes.”

“Why do you have two copies of each one?”

“Go to the flagged pages and you'll see.”

Morgan flipped to the pages and compared the two contracts. She did the same with the second contract, and he saw the moment comprehension dawned. She lifted her head. “Are you telling me your agent...?”

He nodded. “I need you to represent me—”

She held up a hand. “No. I can't do both. That would be a conflict of interest.”

Omar's jaw tightened. “I don't care. I need someone who's not affiliated with the league to handle this.”

Morgan ran a hand through her long curls and sighed impatiently. “Look, Omar. I'll be happy to work with you on your contract, but I cannot represent you in a lawsuit against your current agent. Do you know what people would say? They'd think I was trying to get rid of him for my own purposes. And since my big-mouth brother told you about my desire to be in sports management, you have to know this would kill the slim chance I'd have.”

He blew out a long breath. “I know, and I'm sorry. You're probably wondering why, with all the money I've made, would I be concerned about a hundred and fifty thousand dollars.” If his hunch was correct, that dollar figure would increase significantly.

“I'm not wondering at all. It's
your
money.
You
earned it, and no one has a right to take it from you. What about Marcus Dupree's brother, Jaedon? I heard he and another guy opened a law firm a year ago. And from what I understand, he's ruthless in the courtroom.”

Omar had met Jaedon and chatted with him a few times, but because Jaedon handled Marcus's contract, Omar assumed the man was just another sports agent. “He's not a sports agent?”

“No. He worked at a prestigious firm at one time, but after winning some big case, he decided to strike out on his own.”

“Maybe I'll look him up.” He pushed to his feet. “I appreciate you not tossing me out on my butt and hearing me out.”

Morgan stood, extended her hand and chuckled. “Yeah, well, you caught me on a good day.”

Something about the way she smiled made his heart beat a little faster, and the one thing he wanted to do, he couldn't. He'd made a promise. “Thanks, Morgan. Let me know when and where you want to meet.”

Morgan looked at her watch. “I will.”

“I'm sorry. Am I keeping you from something?” It had never occurred to him that she might have a boyfriend. And he didn't like the idea one bit.

“It's fine. I'm just meeting my friend Brooke. I'll send her a text to let her know I'll be a few minutes late.”

Omar should not have been so happy to hear she didn't have a date, but he was. “If you're leaving, I'll walk you down to the garage.” She seemed to weigh her options. Even though they had been focused on business, the heat between them still simmered, and being alone in an elevator might not be the best choice. For either of them. But he didn't care. “It looked like everyone was leaving when I arrived, and I'd rather you not walk down alone.”

“Fine. Just give me a minute.”

He waited as she shut down her laptop and then stuffed it along with several file folders into a bag.