In the Eyes of Love Page 2

  “That’s so awesome. This calls for a celebration. Ice cream, anyone?”

  “Oh, you heifer. You know I’m still on a diet. How could you even mention anything sweet?” She paused, turning a devilish grin Morgan’s way, “Baskin & Robbins in half an hour?” They both laughed at the joke and hugged each other.

  “I’ll see you tonight. Joe’s at seven?” Morgan asked, still hesitant about their night out.

  “Yep. And if you’re not there, I’ll hunt you down and stick gum in your hair.” A serious look covered her face.

  “Ohhh. Baby. That turns me on, you know? Can you add syrup and whipped cream?” Morgan added for good measure.

  “Slut!” Rachel teased, “Want to come with me to the gallery? Ms. Oglesby made it clear that she’d be busy but would take a few seconds off to sign it. She didn’t elaborate on why she stopped calling us. But who cares? It’s over now, right?” She grabbed her purse from the wooden coat rack and gave Morgan an expectant look.

  “No. I’d rather keep our mystery lady a mystery. You can describe her to me later. Besides, she made it clear she wanted to talk to you and only you. I guess I intimidated her or something,” Morgan faked a leering smile at Rachel. “Guess you have a sexier voice than I do.”

  Rachel grinned and winked. “Well, then get your butt home and get dressed. And you better be there on time, missy.”

  She reached out and pulled Rachel’s arm. “I’m going to get over this, I promise. Who knows, maybe I’ll start tonight.”

  Morgan watched as Rachel turned toward Sandra’s office. Then she headed in the opposite direction. She took the elevator down and exited into the noisy lobby. She loved its hustle and bustle, with people chattering about things of which only they knew the meaning. It meant she was still alive and that life was still going on around her, even if her own existence had stalled.

  She strode through the double doors and out into the bright sunshine. The streets of Atlanta were in full swing — it was Friday. She fell in behind a gay couple with their fingers looped together. She couldn’t believe how far this world had come. Years ago, men would have been shot for snuggling close to each other, let alone walking out in public holding hands.

  The couple’s entwined fingers dredged up memories Morgan tried to push away. She used to hold hands with Dawn while eating ice cream under the park’s tall oak trees or while taking leisurely strolls in the late afternoon. She missed the feel of her lover’s strong arms surrounding her, hovering around her like the safety of an umbrella in a downpour. She thought of the love they used to share. She missed Dawn. But deep inside, Morgan knew that love could never be again, and that broke her heart.

  Morgan made her way home as Dawn’s sweet brown eyes continued to play across the screen inside her mind.

  Chapter Two

  Shane Oglesby stared at the delicate features she created on the canvas. The sweet face of the woman sent a heated shiver down her spine. She reached out and carelessly touched the image, wishing that it was real flesh and not the hard bumpy feel of dried paint. Long blonde curls tumbled down a fragile back. She wondered what it would be like to grasp that waist while her fingers plunged deep within that perfect body.

  A rap on the door brought her head reeling forward and away from the easel.

  “Come in,” Shane called out to the intruder of her daydreams.

  Scott, her trusting, humorous, never a dull moment when around him, assistant, poked his head inside past the large cherry door. “Harry is here to pick up his painting. He said you wanted to talk with him before he left?” His chiseled jaw rested against the edge of the door, while he batted his long eyelashes at Shane. “Want me to wait with him? I don’t mind at all.”

  Shane smirked at him, reaching to cover the painting with a sheet from the back of the easel, reluctant to leave the sight of the beauty that lay on its canvas. “It’s okay. I’m coming.”

  “Dang.” Scott drummed his loafers on the floor. “You never let me have any fun. You’re a bad boss.” He pulled his lips into a pout.

  “I know, I’m mean as hell and make you slave all day. I guess that’s why you’ve found more dates right here in this office than all the gay bars you’ve ever been to combined?” She winked while brushing past him, leaving him standing in the doorway with his half-cocked smile.

  “That’s because all the rich hot guys come here.” Playfulness was apparent in his voice.

  Shane headed down the wine carpeted halls.

  Harry was looking over the new picture Scott had hung to dry earlier in the day.

  “Hi, Harry. Like it?” She smiled. The man only nodded, unable to tear his eyes from the picture.

  “Like it? I love it. You can feel it — like it’s alive.” He looked at Shane, pure admiration in his eyes. His silvering hair was slung over his head to hide his balding scalp. A yellow golf shirt fit his body like a glove and matched the yellow pinstripe in his gray slacks.

  “I’m glad you approve, but you’ll need to wait forty-eight hours before you have it framed. I added an extra layer of varnish, as you requested, and I want to make sure it cures before you do anything with it.”

  “Shane, I couldn’t be happier with it. It’s her, alive and in living color.” His eyes watered as he stared at the loving face of his wife, long gone five years after losing her battle with cancer. “You do such beautiful work.”

  Harry patted Shane’s shoulder with his brown blotched hands while she slid the frame from its hook on the wall. She smiled at him, watching his unsteady hands grip the temporary wooden frame.

  “Thank you, Harry. I’ll send Scott to help you frame it on Monday. It’s dry enough now, but take it out and lay it flat when you get home. Will you be home?”

  “You bet. And, thank you again.”

  Shane watched as the man shuffled back down the hall. She smiled after him and then headed back to her office. She closed the heavy door and slunk down into her black leather chair, swiveling around to catch the sunrays streaming through the weeping willow outside the ground-floor window. Bees eagerly sucked at the flower blossoms.

  A face came to life in her mind. The beautiful face of a woman named Morgan. Her sadness foretold of a broken heart, something that tore a hole through Shane from the second she laid eyes on her.

  Shane let her mind fall back to the day she had seen Morgan for the first time.

  Shane had received a phone call from a journalist, Morgan Rhinehart, from Strut magazine, wanting to do an article on her and her new art gallery, Shamrock. She declined. She was content in the humble secure surroundings of her artwork. This woman however, was persistent. Shane finally gave in, compelled with no reason why, to do what this woman wanted of her. She felt drawn to her, even through the earpiece of a phone. She made a time for the appointment and agreed to do the interview.

  Her brother, who was waiting to take her to lunch, clapped her on the back so hard she thought she’d be bruised. “I’m so proud of you,” Evan said. “It’s about time you put yourself back out there and stop hiding from the world. It’s time you let this go. You can’t change the past.”

  Shane only smiled at him, praying he was right, feeling like he wasn’t. But maybe it was time to stop living in the past and start stepping toward the future. Her brother was right. She couldn’t change things now.

  Reluctantly, after a lunch full of conversation with Evan, she drove to the office of Strut and pushed her way into the bustling lobby. She approached a woman sitting inside a circular desk and asked for Morgan Rhinehart. The receptionist pointed down the hall while she talked into a stem perched around her ear. Shane smiled weakly and headed down the gray carpeted hall.

  She approached the open door bearing the name of Morgan Rhinehart. Across the room, a petite woman held a steaming mug and rested the side of her weary head and shoulder against a window overlooking downtown Atlanta. The glass, like a mirror against the brightness, reflected her saddened sky-blue eyes.

  The woman’s gaz
e was far beyond the glass skyscrapers and high-rise buildings. She never moved as Shane took a step closer, heart wrenching at the pain she saw nestled in the depths of the reflection shining back at her.

  Attraction coursed through Shane’s gut. Heat started in the pit of her stomach and burned a path to her throat. She licked her dry lips and stared, unable to move, unable to blink.

  This woman was magical, pure and innocent, yet sadness was written all over her tanned face.

  Shane stood immobilized under the power of the oblivious woman whose long blonde hair hung in wide curls down her back. Taking a long sip from her mug, she sighed. Her stare was glued to something far past the beauty of the summer sky.

  A fist clenched Shane’s heart. The sight of those sad blue eyes brought forth an image of her own true love. A love that was no more. A love that she missed so much sometimes it left her breathless from crying.

  Shane turned around, fled back into the lobby, and sprinted to her car. Instinct told her this woman would tear her heart out and feed it to the lions. She raced back to the security of her office and never took another phone call from the beautiful Morgan.

  Images of Morgan’s velvet lips breathlessly parting under Shane’s power, kept her awake at night, feverish and writhing with need. To feel those legs wrapped around her waist while she dove fingers into her dark core. Her body ached for this woman. Her mind could see nothing but this woman. Her soul wanted nothing else. Yet, she knew she couldn’t have her. Even through her own misery, Shane knew this was a scarred woman.

  Shane shook her head, wiping away thoughts of red lips pressed against hers. She left the gallery and headed to her favorite café hoping to diminish thoughts of the beautiful lady.

  Shane froze at the sight of Morgan sitting on the inside of the booth while a red-haired man sat on the outside. Another woman sat across from her, obviously not her lover, but a deep bond between them was apparent. Shane slid into the booth unnoticed behind them, straining to hear their conversation. She relished the sound of Morgan’s voice. The realization that Morgan never laughed, tugged at her heartstrings. She wanted to make her laugh. She wanted to be the one to paint a smile back on her face.

  Shane cocked her head at the mention of her own name. She heard the sadness in Morgan’s voice. Shane’s heart halted as Morgan’s words flowed over the back of the booth. “What the hell did I do to her?” Morgan had said, confusion clouding her voice.

  Shane slid from the booth, ignoring the waitress that halted by her table, eyeing her suspiciously, and made her way back to the office. She picked up the phone, dialed Strut’s number, and left a message for the other lady, Rachel, that had called several times. She explained that she would be signing the contract, even without the interview.

  She walked back to the picture, the image that was now etched permanently in her mind. She traced the swirls of paint, the outline of a perfect face, the curve of her body. She was in love with a person who didn’t even know her name.

  Chapter Three

  Dawn drove into the entrance of the new subdivision, past the rock boulders that would bear the new name, and into the driveway of the job site currently under contract. Loud whistles from her crew greeted her. Shirtless, dark-tanned men walked on the roof carrying heavy bundles of shingles over their shoulders. She waved to them and headed inside the shell of the house.

  She could never tire of watching the houses go from clumps of vacant dirt to beautiful houses, one wall at a time, one beam of a roof at a time. She wasn’t afraid to get her hands dirty and welcomed the invitation to jump in and help. Owning the business, not having to do hard labor anymore, still didn’t stop her from getting sweaty with her crew.

  A few men hung from the rafters. Hard puffs of air hissed behind the pop of the nail guns they tossed around like children’s toys. Men barked orders above her while beams were laid across the back side of the house in the last part of construction for a separate garage.

  She waved again and walked up the makeshift stairs leading to the open roof over the garage. She found Raul waiting for her, a pleased grin on his face.

  “You guys made great progress today.” She stood on the top, looking past him over the expanse of the roof. Her men slapped shingles against the plywood and banged roofing nails in with a single blow from their hammers.

  “We always do. Looks like we’ll finish two or three days early at the pace we’re going.” He hoisted his leg and straddled a beam, dangling his long legs into the open air beneath him.

  She made her way back down the stairs and strolled around the house, checking different parts for flaws. After admiring the work the men did, she climbed back into her truck and headed back to the office.

  Morgan eased into Dawn’s mind while she braked behind a red light. She’d tried calling her ex-lover numerous times over the past few weeks. Morgan was dodging her, no doubt with that bitch Rachel helping her the whole way. She wished that woman would mind her own damn business for a change and leave Morgan the hell alone.

  She missed her. Missed having that body pressed against her every night, missed fucking her brains out every chance she got. She could never tire of feeling those voluptuous curves nestled under the sheets with her, knowing in time, Morgan would miss her so much she’d come crawling back.

  In the meantime, the women used to pacify her time would have to do. They weren’t her Morgan, but they would at least keep her warm at night, keep her satisfied.

  She parked against the curb, got out, and pushed her way into the front door of the office she shared with Seth. The space was small, but more than enough room for them to run two different businesses. His being interior decoration, hers the action hands-on construction.

  She crossed the room. He was busy at his computer, steadily punching the keyboard. “Hi, gorgeous, any calls?”

  He looked over his shoulder at her. A cute boyish grin stole across his lips, making the dimples she was sure every man in the gay bars crooned over. “Nope. No one loves you today, sorry.”

  “Oh. Someone does, but she won’t answer her damn phone.” She grinned back and headed to the fridge against the back wall. She opened the door, pulled a soda from inside and turned back to him. “What do you think I’m doing wrong?”

  “Besides fucking every pair of shaven legs you can find, I’d have to say nothing.” He gave her a wry smile, showing his distaste for her whoring habit.

  “The house should be complete by the weekend.” She ignored his glare. “The other crews will start next week.”

  “That’s great. Your men sure move fast.” He slicked his fingers through his hair and leaned back in the chair. “I got a call for a new job this morning. I’m supposed to meet with the architect this evening to see if it’s what I really want. It sounds luscious … right up my alley.”

  “Congrats.” She focused on the paintings that filled the wall. “Why do you collect those ugly things?”

  He swiveled his chair to see which painting had caught her attention. “Why do you collect women?” he asked with his back turned to her.

  “Point made!”

  “No, really, why do you collect women?” He turned his chair back around, staring at her. “You had a perfect woman, more than willing to share the rest of her life with you, yet you treated her like shit. Why?”

  “I’m not getting into this again with you. I’m sorry I asked about your stupid paintings.” She pushed away from the fridge and made her way to her own desk.

  “That’s what I thought.” Seth turned his attention back to the computer screen.

  Dawn growled under her breath and turned toward her own computer. She let Seth’s questions roll around her mind. Was it because Morgan let her? No. She’d hid her habit well enough. Getting caught twice was total laxness on her part, underestimating her lover’s partner, staying too long with the same piece of ass. She should have stayed with her original plan, fuck ‘em and leave ‘em. That simple! But Sarah, oh, Sarah had been too easy to fuck. Her
screams still echoed in Dawn’s mind, especially now that Morgan was gone. And the one before, what was her name? It didn’t matter now. She’d let that go on too long also.

  Grumbling under her breath, she switched on the power to her computer. After completing a new order for a delivery of more shingles to the job site and going over payroll for the crew, she checked the time and told Seth goodbye.

  After climbing back in the truck, she made her way toward her drab, lonely apartment. Morgan oozed into her mind again. She couldn’t shake thoughts of her lately. Normally she would cruise the bars, find a delicious piece of ass, and take her home. Today, she had no desire to find anything but Morgan. She’d gone too long without seeing or talking to her and wanted to hear her voice, not the one on the answering machine.

  Almost a year had passed since her fling with Sarah, the one that finally drove Morgan over the edge. If Morgan had known how many women Dawn had actually fucked while she lived with her, Morgan would have run a long time earlier.

  Too often, she often wondered what it was about Morgan that kept her so attached. Was it the lesbian virgin she’d been when they’d met in high school? She doubted it — she’d had plenty of others. Was it her body with its sexy curves? She doubted that too — she’d had hundreds just as sexy. Her only conclusion was Morgan’s heart, so kind and true. She loved with every ounce of it, adored even the stupidest of things. Whimpering puppies and screaming infants drew Morgan to them like magnets. That heart had to be what she loved so much. A heart that had loved her unconditionally, the heart she wanted back in her life.

  She made it home and walked into the bare surroundings. Furnishings were slim since getting Morgan back was of utmost importance. She wouldn’t need them once she moved back in with her, so buying them was useless.