The Right One - Felice Stevens Page 0,15

items were wet but unscathed.

Leo frowned as he got to his feet, and Morgan had to force himself not to stare. The drenched white T-shirt left little to the imagination, and Leo’s chest looked as fine as it felt when Morgan was snuggled up against it: hard nipples poked out from a dark swirl of chest hair leading to the waistband of his jeans, and the tattoos on his arms only added to his bad-boy image. Morgan could imagine that look getting Leo whomever he wanted in his bed.

“It’s raining like a bitch. All I wanted was to get inside before I got drenched.”

“Looks like you were too late.” Morgan couldn’t believe he had the balls to talk to Leo like that. And from the way Leo’s brows shot up, he looked like he couldn’t believe it either.

“If you’re finished with your attempt at a stand-up routine, I’m about ready to go inside.” Leo squeezed the water from his sleek, black waves. “I need to get out of these wet jeans.”

“Yeah, well, me too. You’re not the only one who got wet.”

A disinterested gaze briefly rested on Morgan. Leo lifted a shoulder. “Bye,” he said, leaving Morgan standing at the bottom of the stairs. The door slammed behind him.

Fuming, Morgan scrambled for his keys. Dripping water and with his sneakers making those funny squelchy noises, he trudged over to the elevator. Once inside his apartment, he couldn’t help feeling a little guilty. He had been standing by the front steps, taking a video of the lightning streaking across the rain-swept sky, but the storm was so fierce and beautiful, he’d wanted to capture the moment. Unfortunately, as he was tucking away his phone to keep it from getting wetter, he hadn’t seen Leo rounding the corner.

Rain lashed against the windows, rattling them so hard, he feared the wind might blow them in. It would be nice if the humidity would break by the end of the storm, but he didn’t hold out much hope. The past few weeks, the city had been a nightmare of wet and sticky heat interspersed with frequent thunderstorms.

The argument with the surly super pricked his conscience. He wasn’t the type to dislike people on sight or have them hate him, but from their first meeting, he’d sensed the man’s impatience and annoyance with him.

Maybe he should make a peace offering, like cookies or something. That would be nice, he decided, and pulled out flour, eggs, butter, sugar, and chocolate chips. In no time, he had the batter assembled and the oven preheated. While they baked, he showered. He didn’t want to still look like a drenched rat when he knocked on Leo’s door.

He’d just slipped into a clean T-shirt and shorts when the phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Hiiii.”

Fear ripped through him. He didn’t recognize the phone number or the hollow, muffled voice, but maybe… “Jeffrey, is that you? How…wh-why are you calling me? You’re not supposed to.” The room turned upside down, and Morgan sat on the bed so he wouldn’t pass out. Sweat slicked his palms as he gripped the phone tighter.

“I know you miss me as much as I miss you.

“No. No, I don’t. And I’m going to call my lawyer.” Morgan disconnected the call and hit Speed Dial for Sean.

“Morgan? How’re you doing?”

“Not well.” Morgan poured out the story. “What am I going to do?”

“First of all, tell me who else has your number.”

“Only you and my parents and the school. But…I haven’t told my parents I’m divorced. I just said I needed a new phone number, and they didn’t question me.”

“What?” Sean’s voice rose, and Morgan winced. “I can’t believe you haven’t told them. You need to do that right away. In the meantime, I’m going to call Jeffrey’s lawyer and read him the riot act.”

“But we don’t know it’s him, right? I can’t prove it. He never said his name or anything that might incriminate him. Even the phone number was unknown. I thought having an unlisted number meant no one could find me.”

“There are ways of finding out unlisted numbers. Unfortunately, nothing is truly private anymore. I’m going to tell his lawyer you’ve been receiving strange calls, and it had better not be Jeffrey. You’re going to have to be vigilant. You’re not in the phone book, right? Not that anyone uses them anymore, but make sure your number isn’t listed in some random place.”

“No. I don’t have my name or address anywhere. I told the school not to give it out,