Places In My Heart. Sheryl Lister
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laughed. “I know he was pissed that she didn’t leave him in control, especially since Melvin is what, twenty-five, twenty-six, and has been here only two years. Well, if Gordon wasn’t still stuck in the nineties, he might’ve had a chance at the job.”
Brandon smiled. “Yeah, right. We all knew that Vonnie would get the job.” He stood and walked to the door. “Let me know if you need anything.”
“I will. Thanks.” Left alone again, she smiled. Her brothers could be a pain in the butt sometimes, but she wouldn’t have traded them for the world.
She studied the case for the rest of the afternoon, making notes and flagging the spots where she had questions. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but something didn’t add up. Glancing up at the wall clock, she frowned. “I can’t believe it’s almost five already.” Morgan leaned back, rotated her chair toward the window and stretched. Her brain was fried and she wanted to go home. But she had to meet with her friend Brooke tonight to finalize their dance production. Brooke Alexander had been Morgan’s best friend since ninth grade, when they both had parts in the school’s spring dance production. While Morgan had changed directions and opted for law school, Brooke had pursued a successful dance career until injuries from a car accident forced her to quit. With her family’s backing, she had opened a thriving dance studio two years ago.
“Somebody’s here to see you.”
Morgan counted to ten then slowly turned her chair to face the woman standing in her door. The thirty-something administrative assistant had not been happy when she’d been reassigned from one of the senior attorneys to Morgan and, unless the two men were watching, took every opportunity to disrespect Morgan. Like entering the office without calling on the intercom or knocking.
“What can I do for you, Evelyn?”
Evelyn’s jaw tightened at Morgan’s irritated tone. “There’s someone here to see you.”
“Who is it?”
“He didn’t say, and it’s time for me to leave,” Evelyn said impatiently.
Morgan slowly rose to her feet and braced her hands on the desk. Leaning forward, she said with a controlled tone, “Let’s get something straight. You don’t have to like me, but you will respect me. Before entering my office, you will use the intercom or knock. I’d hate to have to report you to Mr. Klein. Are we clear?” The woman visibly blanched. Mr. Klein headed the legal department. Morgan smiled. “Now, please show the gentleman in and have a nice evening.”
Evelyn gave Morgan a frosty glare and exited.
She lowered her head and drew in several calming breaths.
“Morgan?”
Morgan went still. It couldn’t be. Yet when she lifted her head, her gaze collided with the one man she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about.
* * *
Omar knew he had taken a risk showing up at Morgan’s office, but he was desperate. It had taken a lot to persuade Malcolm to share his sister’s information, especially since Omar had declined to say what had happened between them. He’d toyed with calling first, but changed his mind because he didn’t want to chance her refusing to see him. The woman seated outside Morgan’s office, whom he assumed was the assistant, greeted him with a wide smile and an exaggerated sway of her hips as she led him to the office. Omar ignored the not-so-subtle brush of her breasts against his arm when she turned to leave. In his peripheral vision, he noticed the slight rise in Morgan’s eyebrow and knew she’d seen it, too. He waited until the woman closed the door before turning to face Morgan.
Morgan folded her arms. “What are you doing here?”
“Hello to you, too,” he said.
An embarrassed expression crossed her face. “Sorry. Have a seat.”
Omar took the chair opposite her desk. “I apologize for stopping by without calling, but I figured you wouldn’t see me otherwise.”
“You were probably right. How do you know I won’t call security to throw you out now?”
“I don’t, but I’m counting on your love of football to work in my favor.” They engaged in a stare-down for several seconds until she looked away first.
“How did you know where I worked?”
“Malcolm.” She frowned and he added, “If it’s any consolation, he adamantly refused to divulge your home address.”
“Well, maybe I won’t kill him, after all.”
He chuckled.
“Since you went through all this trouble, I guess I can spare you five minutes.”
Omar knew the mention of football would rouse her curiosity. “I’d like to talk to you about a business proposition.”
“What does that have to do with football?”
“My contract is up for renewal in six weeks and—”
“Don’t you have an agent? If memory serves me correctly, you have one of the best agents around.”
“Things aren’t always as they seem.”
She sat up straight. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying it’s time for a change, and I’d like you to negotiate my upcoming contract. You’re an attorney and, according to your brother, you know football like you’ve played it all your life.”
Her eyes lit up and her mouth fell open. “Are you serious? Wait a minute.” She sat back again and angled her head. “What about your current agent? Did he dump you or something?”
Omar sighed. “No.” There was more to it, but he would only tell her if she agreed to represent him.
Morgan narrowed her eyes. “There are dozens of sports agents out there, and I’m certain any one of them would be happy to take you on, especially with your numbers from last year. Yet you’re in my office.”
He smiled. “You checked my stats? So, you’re admitting I’ve got game?”
A rush of color darkened her face. “Why me?” she asked, ignoring his questions.
“You want to be an agent, and I need one.” He leaned forward and whispered, “And I know you passed the sport’s agent certification test. It’s a win-win situation for both of us.”
“On second thought, I am going to kill Malcolm,” she muttered.
“I need your help, Morgan. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”
“I have to think about this.” She turned slightly in her chair and stared out the window, and then back at him. “You realize I already have a job. And I’m working on a case.”
Omar nodded. “I understand, and I have no problems working around your schedule.”
“Even on weekends or late evenings.”
“Anytime.”
“I see.” She went back to staring out the window.
He could almost hear the wheels turning in her head. She bit down on her lip, drawing his attention and reminding him how much he enjoyed kissing her.
Finally she angled her head his direction. “I’ll agree on one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“You keep your hands and lips to yourself. No more kisses.”
Omar groaned inwardly. There was no way he could go without kissing her. In fact, it had been the first thing on his mind from the moment he saw her today. “Morgan—”
“No. More. Kisses,” she repeated.
At this point, he needed her expertise more, he told himself. Not having any other choice, he said, “Fine.”