A Son's Tale

Another woman in her row—Lyla Something-or-Other—had his attention now. As he moved nearer to her, Morgan’s own attention went to the rock-hard thighs encased in his expertly creased dress pants. Last night she’d dreamed about those thighs, dreamed they were wrapped around her… . Morgan silently cursed herself. Cal Whittier’s private parts, or the size of them, were entirely not her business.

“I didn’t realize English was so boring.” Whittier was looking straight at her. And so was the rest of the class.

“You care to join us this morning, Ms. Lowen?” he asked, kindly enough. The class chuckled.

“Sorry, sir. Didn’t get much sleep last night. Uh, you aren’t boring, sir.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth she realized what she’d said.

Floor, please, now. Swallow me up.

“He asked you if you had any questions about your paper,” Bella whispered from across the aisle, loudly enough for everyone to hear.

“Oh, sorry. No, sir. I’m good.”

Like hell she was.

She felt hot and horny and scared to death she was going to lose her son, and feeling more alone than she’d felt in her entire life.

What was a little embarrassment on top of all that?

* * *

MORGAN’S LACK

OF ATTENTIVENESS in his class bothered him. And it bothered him that that bothered him. Which was why, when his father’s ringtone sounded ten minutes after class, he picked up with a slightly impatient, “What?” And then quickly tempered it with, “Is everything okay, Dad?”

“I was just called in to Dwayne’s office.”

Dwayne Summers, their landlord, and his father’s boss. The fact that the other man was communicating with his father was not the least bit unusual. The fact that his father was calling him and telling him about it was.

“What did he want?”

“He thought I’d applied for a job elsewhere.”

“Why would he think that?”

“Someone called. Asked questions about me.”

Damn. Rubbing his head, Cal dropped down to the couch in his office. “What questions?”

“How long I’ve been here. What kind of work I do. Am I a good employee. Reliable. Timely.”

“Who was it?”

“A Ramsey Miller. Guy just gave his name. Didn’t say where he was calling from. Dwayne thought I’d applied somewhere and gave him as a reference.”

The words running through his mind were good in any language. And just as useless, too. Obviously Miller had put a private investigator on Cal. And found Frank by default.

“You told him you’re not leaving, I take it?”

“I told him.”

“And?”

“He was glad to hear it.”

“I’ll check on this Ramsey Miller guy and get back to you. Just hang tight, Dad. I’m sure it’s nothing.” He hoped to God he wouldn’t be struck down for lying before he could get his father out of this.

Whatever it took.