Chapter 4

A waiter came by with a wide smile, white teeth stark against his ebony skin. Morgan did her best to smile back as she ordered iced tea.

Once he’d gone, she tugged the boxy, lightweight coat she’d dragged out of Brandon’s closet down over her hips and flipped up the collar. The waiter arrived with her tea. She checked her watch again. Five after three. She’d give Master J another few minutes. Sitting here in the open, vulnerable to the sick man who’d been following her…suddenly it struck her as very unwise.

“You must be Morgan.”

The deep whisper came from behind her, delivered right in her ear. His warm breath cascaded down the side of her neck, and she gave an involuntary shiver.

She started, turned, stunned anyone had been able to sneak up on her, as jumpy as she was. But he’d been utterly silent.

And he was breathtakingly gorgeous.

Thick, dark hair teased his broad forehead. An angular jaw and cleft chin dusted with a five o’clock shadow shouted his masculinity with all the subtlety of a sonic boom. His wide mouth curled up with an expression that looked half smile, half challenge. But, oh, his eyes. They captured her. Accented by a sweep of black brows, those knowing eyes of his watched her, as if he could see deep inside her. As if he knew all her secrets.

Allowing her gaze to wander south didn’t help tame her pulse, either. Master J stood about six feet tall, with broad shoulders and a body of well-honed muscle evident under a tight black T-shirt that made her think of a mountain with its solid, quiet permanence. No one could move a mountain. No one was going to move this man either, unless he wanted to be moved.

Just staring at him jolted her with attraction and a healthy dose of lust.

Thank goodness their time alone would be limited to this one meeting in public. Otherwise, Morgan didn’t think she could be responsible for her behavior.

She swallowed, trying to find her voice. “Yes, I’m Morgan.”

When she stuck out her hand, he didn’t just shake it. Too simple. Tangling his gaze with hers, he bent and brought her hand to his mouth, placing a kiss on her fingers.

Oh, dear God. . .

Fire raced up her arm, turning her heartbeat into a staccato chug. He lingered, a hot breath caressing the back of her hand, his fingertips teasing the sensitive center of her palm. Tingles burst across her skin, up her arm.

His effect on her didn’t end there. Instead, the impact of his presence, his touch, dove deep inside her, where an ache began to pulse gently between her legs. As if her clit needed to announce the fact her libido wanted to get naked with this man.

Business, business! The demand chased itself in her head.

With a discreet tug, Morgan pulled her hand free. Master J smiled as he sat beside her—rather than across—and scooted his chair a few inches closer. She tried to ignore her awareness his thigh brushing hers, the tingling under her skin.

“Thank you for meeting me here, Mr… What would you like me to call you, since I don’t know your name?”

That grin seemed to taunt her with her own uncertainty and his wicked knowledge of their forthcoming sexual discussion. “For now, just call me sir.”

“Okay. Yes, sir.”

The moment the words were out of her mouth, Morgan realized how sexual they sounded. How sexual he’d intended they sound. Not just deferential, though they were that, too. But around Master J, she just couldn’t seem to muster enough air to power her voice beyond a husky murmur.

What would it be like to call him sir in private?

Despite the dark sunglasses shielding her, his dark eyes seemed to dance with the knowledge of her every thought, every sinful feeling, as he held her gaze, as if he could read the desire all over her face.

Morgan used the untouched tea in front of her as an excuse to look away and scoured her brain for a safe, neutral topic.

Hard to do that when she’d invited him here to talk about sex.

“So, according to the bio I received about you, you’re in the personal security business. A bodyguard?”

“Exactly.” He shrugged those deliciously massive shoulders. “I guard a lot of politicians and their families, diplomats, an occasional athlete.”

“You meet a lot of interesting people, I’m sure. Do you work with celebrities?” she asked.

A hint of humor curved his wide mouth to something nearing a smile. “Too flaky. Politicians are liars, but at least you know what to expect. You Hollywood types are either paranoid, self-absorbed, or as psycho as the people stalking you. No thanks.”

Morgan couldn’t decide if she was annoyed or amused. “I’m none of the above.”

“Give it time.” He winked.

Incorrigible described him perfectly. A hint of arrogance laced with a healthy dose of sex appeal and teasing humor. The mixture went down real smooth, thanks to his flirtation skills and a hint of Southern charm. No doubt, he was lethal to a woman’s common sense. Morgan swallowed.

The waiter came by, and Master J ordered a cup of thick Louisiana chicory coffee. She shuddered when the waiter brought it to their table moments later.

“Tell me more about your show.” His words should have been an invitation, but Morgan heard the subtle command in them. Not harsh, not driving. But his voice held a note of steel—one that made her stomach tighten…and her womb clench.

“Turn Me On combines interviews and facts to explore various facets of sexual life for both established couples and the newly dating, from the vanilla to the way out there. Last season, I did a show one week about sex etiquette on a first date, another about ‘friends with benefits,’ then followed it up with couples who had tattoo fantasies. This will be my second season, and I was thrilled to be renewed. Since the network provides cable programming geared toward women and couples, I think it’s a perfect fit.”

“Hmm. Tell me about this season’s shows.”

Again, another subtle command. “Well, we’re still at the ideas stage, but we’re definitely pursuing shows about boudoir photography, couples massage, erotic finger painting and—“