Venus in Love (13 page)

Lee was jolted by the loud clearing of someone’s throat. She blinked and realized she was still holding the keys, dangling them over the driver’s hand. Once he had the keys, he got in and pulled the car away. There was nothing left to separate Lee from Morgan’s side. And the sooner she got to her, the better this night would get.

*

Morgan smiled in response just before the car pulled away, and she silently begged Lee to come to her side. If she didn’t know better, she’d have thought Lee heard her because almost instantly she was there next to her. Lee rested her hand on Morgan’s lower back and gently guided her into the restaurant. She let Lee’s hand stay on her for fear that if she stopped touching her, Morgan would forget how to walk on her own. The pain that had begun to work its way down her leg had all but disappeared while Lee was touching her.

*

“Would you like some wine?” Lee asked, thinking that wine may help dull the pain of Morgan’s leg.

“Sure. Wine would be great.”

After the sommelier poured their glasses, Lee knew it was time to get things out on the table. Regardless of her ever-growing attraction, she couldn’t continue to avoid the true reason for this dinner.

“Morgan, I know this has been a strange and unconventional development in your career. But I want you to know that I chose you because I know that you are exactly what I—what the Dencourt needs. You have an exceptional talent that neither I nor Madame Dautry and Director Foillot have seen in many years. Not only have I seen your work firsthand, you come highly recommended from some of the most prestigious names in the world’s art community.”

“But, Mrs. Dencourt. She sa—”

“My mother isn’t wrong.” Morgan raised her eyebrows. “But she isn’t completely right either. My father built the Dencourt from the ground up, and for all those years things have been done the exact same way. Nothing has changed and they, we all, were comfortable with that. No, you aren’t qualified for this position, on paper at least. But that doesn’t mean that you aren’t what I—what
we
need to move forward.”

“Lee.”

“Just listen. Please? My father was a perfectionist and a traditionalist. I watched him make safe and rational decisions my whole life. Those decisions are what have kept the Dencourt Gallery at the top, but it doesn’t take experience to see that it’s not what is going to keep us there. In spite of my fear and pride, I can’t let complacency and opposition to change be the downfall of everything my family has worked for. I have no more experience in this position than you have in yours, but here I am. And my mother put me here.” Lee was trying to convince Morgan as much as she was trying to convince herself. She wanted to tell Morgan that she was scared, and that her confident words were in opposition to what she felt. She didn’t even know if she had the strength to do what she proposed, but she needed to try.

“Lee, I don’t know if I can do this.” Lee opened her mouth to speak. “But, this is my chance to start my own herd.” Morgan smiled.

Lee’s memory flashed back to the night in Paris when Morgan said those same words, and her heart fluttered. That was the Morgan that she needed—passionate, pure, and determined. “I know you can do this.” Lee hoped that she could as well.

The waiter had came and went with their orders, and Morgan said, “Well, Ms. Dencourt, you’ve made your decision, but I must ask you this—are you truly ready for the chaos and unbridled excitement I’m about to bring into your life?” Morgan sent a sly grin across the table that made Lee’s stomach dance.

“I’ve been dealing with nothing but excitement in one form or another since the day I met you, Morgan Blake.” Lee raised an eyebrow, and returned the cocky smile. She may not be ready for it, but she knew she didn’t want to do without it either, and it frightened her more than she was ready to admit.

*

While they ate, they spoke of the museum, its departments and staff, and the recent changes that had occurred since Lee took over. Morgan mentioned how much she liked Alex and how helpful she was with everything. Lee noted that Alex was their shared assistant and mentioned her exceptional potential as something better than a secretary. Morgan agreed, remembering how she described
Niagara Falls
the first day they’d met. It was something she would have to keep in mind.

Lee told Morgan about her predecessor, Mrs. Turner. She was very good at her job and she was also very good at expressing Mr. Dencourt’s vision. Lee loved her like an aunt, and she never would have voluntarily replaced her. She was glad that Mrs. Turner’s retirement had opened the door for change, a change that hinged on Morgan in many ways.

“Have you had a chance to tour the gallery since you’ve been here?” Lee blurted out.

The volume of the question in contrast to the rest of their conversation shocked Morgan and made her giggle. “Oh my…um…very little.”

“I’m so sorry. I have no idea why I just yelled that,” Lee fibbed. “But I was wondering if you’d be interested in a private tour of the Dencourt with your very own Dencourt as a guide?”

“That sounds fantastic and very expensive. Do we need tickets?” Morgan joked.

“Oh, well, they are very hard to come by and practically priceless. I think I can get us two, but we would have to go right now.”

“Right now?” Morgan looked at her watch. “It’s nearly nine o’clock. Don’t we close at eight?”

“I did say a private tour didn’t I?” Lee smiled and stood with her hand out for Morgan’s.

Morgan took it. “Why, yes. Yes, you did.”

*

When they returned to the gallery, Lee pulled into her spot and got out to open Morgan’s door. It wasn’t until she twisted in the seat to get out that the sharp sting of pain shot down her leg again. With the wine and distraction, she had nearly forgotten her earlier episode. Suddenly, she found herself embarrassed and hurting all over again.

“Tsssth.” Morgan sucked her teeth in pain as Lee helped her out of the car.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” Lee asked.

“Well, I think I did bruise more than my ego earlier. It got pretty bad before the wine, but now I don’t think that’s cutting it anymore.”

“Oh. I’d totally forgotten about it during dinner. I’m sorry. Uhhmm…oh, I have ibuprofen in my office. Let’s go get some.”

“Great. That will give me a chance to actually see what I did to myself. I’m almost afraid to look.”

“We—you can check it out, and if you need some ice, we’ve got plenty upstairs.” Lee grabbed her hand and led her slowly through the building to the third floor. She never let go of Morgan’s hand, and Morgan never tried to take it away.

When they got to her office, Lee showed Morgan the bathroom and went in search of the bottle of pain relievers.

“Holy shit!” Morgan yelled from the bathroom.

Lee laughed because she assumed it was because of the larger than full-size luxury bathroom. “My dad loved his comforts. It’s a tad extravagant for an office bathroom I know,” Lee said as she riffled through her desk drawer.

“Holy shit!”

Lee didn’t think Morgan was talking about the bathroom this time and went to the door. “Morgan, are you okay? Is it bad? How bad? I have the Advil. Do you need some ice?” Morgan wasn’t answering, and it was making Lee uneasy. “Morgan, hey…” Lee knocked. “Can I come in?” When she didn’t get an answer, she opened the door.

Morgan was standing with her back to a full-length mirror. Her dress was pulled up to her waist, exposing everything from her ankles to her soft, round, and badly bruised bum. The tri-colored bruise made its way from her right cheek down the back of her thigh like running paint on a canvas. Morgan stood and stared in the mirror while Lee stood and stared at Morgan. Despite the spreading injury, Lee’s mouth watered at the sight of Morgan’s long, smooth legs. She wanted to touch her, to feel her. To run her fingers up those legs and caress the flesh exposed by the black lace thong.

Morgan saw Lee in the mirror and turned to face her. She said nothing and let go of her dress so that it fell back into place. Lee was disappointed. She could have stared for hours, bruise or not. Morgan stood still and silent watching Lee as her eyes darkened to the deepest shade of blue. Lee moved slowly toward Morgan. She needed to touch her, to kiss her. As she made her way across the room, she watched Morgan’s face flush. She stopped just inches away.

“Do you need…ice?” Lee asked breathlessly.

Morgan didn’t answer. Instead, she closed the gap between them and looked into Lee’s eyes. Morgan’s eyes dropped to Lee’s lips. Lee reached out and cupped Morgan’s face, and she gave in to the need to fiercely claim Morgan’s ready lips with her own. Morgan wrapped her arms around Lee’s neck as Lee’s hand slid down Morgan’s neck. Lee grasped Morgan’s hip with her free hand and pulled her tight against the thigh that now pressed between Morgan’s legs. Morgan sighed and Lee felt the pulse quicken and beat hard at the seam of her pants.

Morgan ran her fingers through Lee’s hair and down her back. Morgan opened her mouth to allow Lee’s tongue to dance in and out of her. Lee imagined her tongue teasing and pleasing other parts of Morgan’s body. She wanted her. She wanted to feel Morgan. She wanted to touch her, take her, and fill her. Morgan pushed Lee’s hand from her waist and slid it down between them. Down to the core of Morgan’s body to her smooth thigh just inches away from where she wanted to be.

Lee’s fingers were so close. She could feel the heat from Morgan and felt faint with anticipation. “I’ve wanted you since the first moment I saw you.”

“Then touch me. Please.” Morgan whimpered.

Lee slowly eased her hand up those last few inches. Morgan’s hips thrust forward beckoning Lee to dip her fingers inside her. Lee found the fabric that separated her from Morgan’s smooth center and quickly pushed it to the side.

Morgan inhaled sharply in Lee’s ear and exhaled a slow and begging, “Please.”

Slowly, Lee slid her finger around Morgan’s hard tip. She was so hot, so wet and ready for her. But Lee stopped. What was happening? Lee panicked. She was completely out of control. Lee couldn’t think beyond the frenzied need to be inside Morgan. This couldn’t happen. This is what she’d been waiting for since she could remember, but it wasn’t right. Allowing herself to submit to the ache of lust was not something she could allow. She needed to stop.

“Don’t stop,” Morgan begged.

But Lee pulled away.

“What’s wrong?” Morgan panted breathlessly.

“Nothing. It’s just…we can’t. I can’t. We can’t do this. I’m sorry.”

“Right. Maybe you’re right,” Morgan said, coming to her senses and stepping away from Lee and bumping into the desk behind her. “Ow! Shit. How do I keep forgetting about that?” She gently touched her damaged cheek.

“Oh, right! Ice! Let’s both get some ice!” Lee was thankful for the distraction, and she rushed from the room. She turned back only briefly to see Morgan standing against the desk hurt, sore, and alone.

Lee returned with the ice, and instead of taking the tour of the gallery, she took Morgan home.

For the rest of the week, Morgan spent as much time as she could on the gallery floors, talking with staff and taking notes of changes and renovations she’d like done. She felt that she was making a significant amount of progress with many of the employees. She understood their hesitation with her, but she was eager to establish an open and honest working relationship with each of them. Morgan knew that it would take time, but she was confident with her progress for the most part. The one person she wanted to establish a close working relationship with was Rita, but it would have to wait until Rita returned from her much needed vacation.

It was clear that while the museum was still popular with tourists and American art enthusiasts, there was great potential to increase visitation with more modern features and designs. Morgan stayed out of the office area to avoid running into Lee. She wasn’t ready to discuss that night they had together. Morgan knew that when Lee stopped, it was for the best. She couldn’t blame her for getting caught up in the moment or for stopping it. Part of her was relieved that she hadn’t gone any further. Acclimating to the position and staff was proving difficult enough without the added stigma of being the director’s lover. That, together with the wipeout in the lobby, Morgan was still too embarrassed to deal with it yet. The black-and-blue bruise that covered her from butt cheek to the back of her knee was starting to fade, in tandem with the memories of that day.

*

Lee spent most of her days hiding in her office. She came in early and stayed well beyond closing time. She knew she was avoiding Morgan, but she didn’t know what else to do. She also knew that in order to move forward and get past the awkwardness she felt, she was eventually going to have to confront the situation. Alex was keeping her abreast of Morgan’s meetings and progress, and she felt that if Morgan could move forward and focus on her job, Lee could as well. She opened her calendar and created a meeting for first thing Monday morning. She would use the weekend to get her head straight and begin the new week with a fresh and professional start. If she didn’t, she was petrified that her world would actually crumble around her.

*

Morgan spent the weekend organizing her notes. She had some great ideas that she hoped would show Lee that she could move past the awkwardness and jump into the work that needed to be done. The one thing she was missing was a theme for her first Dencourt exhibition. Lee might have an idea, but Morgan wanted to have something extraordinary to bring to the meeting on Monday morning. It needed to be exceptional, something impressive and unprecedented, and if she could make it happen, it would be a shining achievement for the Dencourt and for her blossoming career.

Monday morning came, and Morgan had a briefcase full of organized notes and ideas but unfortunately lacked that one sensational idea that she had searched for all weekend. She begged for a sign or for a paper airplane to hit her in the head with an idea. But alas, her two-block walk to work lacked both inspiration and flying paper projectiles.

*