Cal covered his mouth with hers.

The moment her lips yielded under his, Caleb realized Morgan Raines was more dangerous than he’d ever imagined.

She tasted like all the things he loved in his past—sugar cookies and bourbon-infused chocolate. Freshly squeezed orange juice and key lime pie. Deliciously sweet and tart and tasty. Everything he craved and couldn’t get enough of, wrapped up in this one gorgeous female.

The kiss was slow and deep and oh so thorough. Cal kept his hands firmly on her shoulders, not trusting himself to be cool. Who would’ve thought Morgan Raines would inspire violent lust instead of lukewarm interest? His body shook with the effort to control his instincts. Instead, he teased her, gathering her taste with his tongue and capturing the sexy little moan that spilled from her throat. It was a kiss that introduced, welcomed, lingered. It was the hottest kiss he’d ever shared with a woman, and he didn’t know what he was going to do about it.

Their lips slid apart, breaking contact. Her flavor danced on his tongue. They stared at each other, and for a brief moment, both acknowledged the shock of connection. Would she try to analyze the situation? Ask for more? Run away? Slap him? Cal waited, not really sure what he even wanted her to do. The crickets seemed deafening in the shattering silence.

“I think I want to change the molding in the formal dining room. We need more of a wow factor.”

WTF?

She reached down and scooped up her purse. “I know we said crown, but there’s an artist who creates gorgeous stenciled molding with a bigger base. It’s doable. Right?”

Cal fought the strange rise of emotions battling within, then finally surrendered.

A deep laugh rose from his chest and burst out. “Yeah. It’s doable.”

Morgan smiled. “Good. Let’s go.”

She led the way out of the woods and back to civilized society, but Cal wondered if they’d crossed an invisible line that would change everything.

chapter seven

Hi, Mama.”

“Hey, baby. How are you?”

Morgan propped herself up against the overstuffed pewter pillows and relaxed. Her laptop was perched on her lap; a glass of white wine rested on the beautifully carved chest beside her. Living in a hotel on a consistent basis may not be every woman’s dream, but the ornate surroundings of the penthouse, gourmet room service, spa, fitness room, superb cleaning crew, and twenty-four-hour dedicated concierge to her pleasure was nothing to complain about.

Actually, it was pretty darn sweet.

Her mother’s face filled the screen and gave instant comfort. Her blond hair was loose today and framed her face in perfectly straight strands, the tips curling just under. Her features were as familiar as her own, since staring at her mama was like looking in a mirror. Crystal-blue eyes filled with warmth. Sharp chin, high cheekbones, and a nose that bespoke blue blood. Her daddy always said Ashley Raines could be the spokesperson for Olay or any big beauty company, since she never seemed to age and nothing was fake. An ache to feel her arms around her settled in deep. Morgan could almost smell the sweet scent of lavender rising from her skin.

“I’m good. The project is moving at a decent pace. I’ve got a virtual meeting with the Rosenthals later this week to go over swatches and paint samples. Pierce Brothers is solid, and I think we’ll have no problem making deadline.”

“How do you like the town? Harrington, right?” Her mama’s Southern drawl was heaven to her ears. She’d forgotten how long she’d been working in the Northeast. Goodness, soon she might even pick up a Yankee accent.

“Yes. I like it. It’s built around a harbor, with lots of fresh seafood restaurants and quaint shops. I found a gorgeous watercolor you and Daddy may like. I’ll have it shipped.”

Her mama’s smile lit up the screen. “You spoil me, baby. I wish you could fly home for a weekend. We miss you.”

“Miss you, too, but I can’t see myself taking any time until we deliver in the fall. I’m working around the clock. I haven’t even been able to hit the spa yet.”

A frown marred her delicate brow. “Morgan, you can’t overwork yourself. Are you eating properly? Sleeping? You know what they say about stress and how it affects the body. Have you found a local doctor yet?”

Morgan sighed. She wished her mama’s concerned tone was the reaction of a normal overprotective parent. Instead, memories of the past rushed between them, and her stomach twisted into a knot. No matter how many years went by and how many tests came back negative, her parents would never get over the scare. Neither would Morgan.

Cervical cancer wasn’t the standard problem an eighteen-year-old should have. When her Pap smear had returned positive, Morgan hadn’t been worried. She was young and fit and healthy. No one got cancer at her age.

Except the second test proved her wrong.

Young people did get cancer.

Each time they met with the doctor, the prognosis got worse. She met with some of the best experts in the world. Morgan learned terms such as trachelectomy, a procedure that would save the uterus so she could possibly still have children. But her cancer wouldn’t respond to chemotherapy. Her cancer spread, and there was no choice but the most aggressive one of all.

She underwent a complete hysterectomy before she even hit twenty years old.

The memory of that morning, waking up and realizing she’d never hold her baby in her arms, still haunted her. In some crazy way, she felt like she’d let her parents down. Besides getting sick, she’d never be able to give them grandchildren. Her Southern roots went deep, and the idea of big families was never questioned. Morgan had envisioned at least four children running around her big plantation while she worked side by side with her mama in her design business. She wasn’t the type to wonder what her future would be like, because she’d always known.

Until that morning when her life suddenly changed.

Ashley Raines held her while she cried. And then she did what any good Southern mama would do.

She went hard-core.

Morgan wasn’t able to wallow in her misery. Her mama had taken her immediately to the pediatric ward to engage with the children who were fighting their own battles. She became friends with Peter Ward, who had a 50 percent chance of living. She met Alice Monroe, who used to have pretty blond hair and a future in modeling. Her smile was bright and her eyes were fierce as she told Morgan she’d be getting a bone marrow transplant soon and she intended to go back to second grade. And Morgan learned something from those children that changed her path forever over those next few weeks as she dealt with her new life.