The Right Thing by Donna McDonald

Morgan honestly thought he was going to choke on her name.
    Ten years. God have mercy. The woman hadn’t been loved in a decade. And he’d been sexually pressing her like some horny kid.
    “You won’t be sorry about taking this chance with me.”
    “Well, why would I be?” Thea asked lightly. “I’m sure you’ve practiced enough to help me over the rough spots. Now I need to go be the polite wait person. I’ll be right back.”
    She walked off through the tables again, and Morgan’s gaze raptly followed her swinging hips as it had every other time he’d seen her. His attraction to her was so intense that it was hard not to believe other men hadn’t gotten as far as he had. He was having serious trouble believing what Thea had told him.
    However, Morgan also thought it was probably true, given her resistance to a simple date. After all this time without being with anyone, Thea was practically a virgin and just as skittish as one about men.
    The idea of dialing the attraction between them back down played through his mind, and Morgan found himself wondering if he could just gain access to her house, look around, and call that proof enough before he moved on.
    Except there wasn’t any way around admitting that he had intentionally lit the damn match for the raging fire of need now burning inside both of them. He wanted Thea so much he ached.
    Besides, after just one week of knowing her, and even without completing his investigation, Morgan no longer believed Althea Carmichael could ever be the kind of person who would take advantage of his father.
    Which meant if he did end up being with Thea tonight, it would only be because he genuinely wanted her.
    Morgan guessed he must have been staring hard because Thea’s gaze lifted to his from across the room. She smiled at him, a hundred secrets about her intentions and desires in the look she sent him. Morgan could swear he heard some sort of click inside himself like a key turning in a rusty lock.
    Part of him thought briefly of fleeing, of walking out of the restaurant and out of Althea Carmichael’s life. It would keep things simple for him. He liked his life simple.
    However, another part imagined himself easing inside Thea’s body, could quite clearly imagine her tortured groans of satisfaction while being initiated into lovemaking again after all this time. And he could hear Thea all the while begging “let me, let me” to kiss him again, because it still rang in his ears from this afternoon.
    Who was he kidding? There wasn’t a man alive who wouldn’t trade places with him to have the chance he was getting.
    The only place Morgan was going tonight was home with Althea Carmichael.

Chapter 8
     
    Thea let them into the quiet dark of her house about nine-thirty. She had closed up at nine, knowing no one would come in that last hour anyway. They hadn’t had a run of evening customers since late spring.
    “I need a shower to remove the restaurant smells, and to have some girl time for half an hour,” she told him. “I don’t have cable anymore, but there are some books and magazines in the living room.”
    “I’ll be fine,” Morgan told her. “I could join you if you want—wash your back maybe?”
    “Next time,” Thea said, smiling. “I’m nervous. I need to mentally prepare.”
    “Okay,” Morgan said easily. “Let me give you something to think about while you’re getting wet.” It made him lightheaded to hear her laugh at his teasing.
    He pulled her into his arms, kissed her softly, then a little more, until he was pressing his mouth to hers urgently. By the time he released her, Morgan was probably thinking of Thea more than she was of him.
    Morgan looked at Thea’s face, the flush covering her, and her eyes closed to no more than slits. Well maybe not, Morgan conceded, running nervous hands up and down her arms. Her hands were flexing on his shirt like they had when he’d kissed her earlier and Thea looked like she was contemplating