Morgan was gone away on business and she felt lonely. Loneliness always seemed to bring on the nightmares. And she hated the nightmares. Bad things happened when she had nightmares. People vanished without a trace. The notes appeared. Always the notes. Each was almost like a page out of a diary. Confessions to killing. Confessions to having nightmares.
But there was no hint as to who was writing them. No hint of how they were getting in, or even how they were able to take her lovers. Or even how they were able to move her from the bed to the couch. And that did not even begin to explain the bloody mess that greeted her in the bedroom every morning.
But it did not keep her from going out and prowling for a man. She just could not handle being alone. Not for long periods of time. It made her crazy with need.
The need to feel a man’s touch. The need for sex. The need for kisses and embraces. And small talk.
But she was used to partying and going to the clubs anyway. Dancing. Drinking. Having fun. That was her life. She was old enough that no one carded her. At the same time, she was still young enough to not care about the possible results of a night of drinking and sex.
She got herself ready. She picked out her finest dress, the one with the spaghetti straps, and her high-heeled boots. She took a shower and styled her hair. She got dressed, and sprayed perfume all over, lightly. She looked in the mirror.
She was ready to go on the prowl. Knock-dead gorgeous. She smiled. She knew that she would land a man before the end of the night. But would she bring them here? Or would they take her home with them?
She only wished that Morgan was the one she was sharing it all with. How she loved him. He saw to her every need. Maybe a little too well.
And she felt a little too secure around him. Too sure of herself. Even if she didn’t know who she really was, she felt like she knew a little more than she had. And it was because of Morgan.
She slipped out the complex about seven thirty. The air was cool and crisp. Just right for a night of love. And a meal. She suddenly felt hungry.
With her purse in hand, she made her way to the club. Food, drinks, and dancing. Her three favorite things. The things that led to easing her loneliness. And to a new man.
She arrived at the club and stood in line until it was her turn. The bouncer knew her on sight and allowed her in. No ID check. It was nice to be known. Even if you didn’t know yourself.
She headed back to her favorite table and sat down, her back to the door. She didn’t know why she liked to sit with her back to the door, she just did. It seemed to draw the men like flies. And she liked the attention.
Carlisle Batiste knew he had to try to win her the minute he saw her. That tattoo was the bomb! Who knew it would look so good on a woman. And he knew that she was all woman. He just had to prove to her that she was more than a woman. She was a queen.
he smiled and made his way to her table. He knew that her name was Misty. He also knew that she was Morgan Le Grue’s woman. But he also knew that she wasn’t exactly faithful to the millionaire. She had come in here numerous times and walked out with other men. Every time, it was while Le Grue was out of town.
What Le Grue didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. It was ol’ Carl’s turn to ride that lovely ride. He smiled to himself. Before the night was over, he would be taking her home. He just knew it.
“Is this seat taken, Honey?” He inquired, trying to put the moves on her.
“No,” she replied, the seductive charisma seeping into every word, “go ahead and take it. I could use the company.”
“So could I,” he agreed, her spell taking over his ability to think, “so what brings such a beautiful woman out on a night like this?”
“I was lonely,” She smiled, driving the spell home without really knowing it, “and I need to have some fun. I want to dance. And, Besides…I don’t know how to cook and was hungry.”
“I don’t believe you,” he replied, teasingly, “How can such a knockout as you not know how to cook?”
“I just never took the time, I guess,” she answered, “always too busy. But I know fifty ways to make salad.”
“Healthy food,” he agreed, “But even healthy gets old.”
“Yes,” she looked away, “Want to dance while I wait for my food?”
“Sure, Honey,” He responded, eager to show her the best time she had ever had, “Let’s get on that floor and show these wannabes how it’s done!”
They made their way out to the floor. Man, she was f-i-n-e, fine! Any man who didn’t want her was a fool. She was everything a man could ever dream of. She had every curve in all the right areas. He could make a life with her, if he caught a chance.
He could see settling down and having a family with her. Many women had been where she now was, in his arms, but none had filled them quite like her. She was one of a kind. And she danced divinely, as if she was born dancing.
He felt her swaying hypnotically in his arms. He stepped away from her momentarily to watch her. Man, she knew. She knew how to drive a man wild with lust. She knew how to make a man want her. And he knew he wanted her. Bad.