Confessions of a Party Crasher Read online

  "Honey, sooner or later you're going to have to admit you are home."

  With that, First Lieutenant Annabelle Miller flounced out Morgan's kitchen door and toward her own house.

  Morgan didn't call out after her and explain things, for she suddenly wasn't sure she understood them herself. When she'd mentioned going home to San Diego, there wasn't that normal spurt of excitement.

  As a matter of fact, she'd felt something more akin to. . . reluctance?

  No, she wasn't going to explain anything to Annabelle until she figured a thing or two out for herself.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Dear E.J., I've always thought of myself as decisive, but since coming home I feel lost. I don't know where to turn. Mom asked me if I wanted something because I wanted it, or because I thought I wanted it. Can you get so tied up in a goal, so used to viewing the world in such a narrow way, that you miss the bigger picture? Miss the fact you've changed, and that what you want has changed? I don't know.

  BRIGHT AND EARLY SATURDAY MORNING, Morgan headed to Mark's office. It was an impressive high-rise, all metal and glass. She had a sugar hangover from last night's impressive sundae, and felt very little enthusiasm for this morning's meeting.

  Mark himself came down to the lobby to escort her up to the fifteenth story, which housed Jameson, Inc. The outer office spoke of refinement, of money, and beyond the door to the right of the receptionist's desk was a maze of cubicles. Even deserted, the area had a lot of energy. She could imagine the level of activity, the hum of voices that would fill the huge space on weekdays. Real offices, with doors and windows, lined the outer edges of the floor.

  "This is absolutely beautiful," Morgan declared as he settled her on the couch in his office.

  She'd known that Mark was successful. She'd studied his business figures and realized that he had a Midas touch. Whatever new project he took on was bound to succeed. But knowing that, she still hadn't been prepared for the sleek, sophisticated, understated office.

  This room was personal. One wall was filled with photos and awards, and his college diploma hung next to that from his grad school. A plaque honoring B. Mark Jameson for his continued support of his local alma mater was near a picture of him playing rugby.

  "So, you did sports?" she said. Despite their lunch and dinner together, she didn't feel as if she knew much about him, other than business.

  She realized she knew a lot more about Conner. His passion for his work. His care for his brother. Conner made her laugh and awoke feelings in her in a way that Mark never had.

  As if to prove the point, Mark sat next to her and rested his hand against hers.

  She waited, actively searching for a spark of something.

  There it was.

  A niggle in the pit of her stomach. A warm, glowing feeling.

  Well, maybe more of a hot feeling.

  A burning feeling.

  She realized that what she felt was an acid stomach, probably related to last night's sugarfest.

  "I played rugby all four years of college. . . ."

  Nothing. She could sense no other hot-and-bothered feeling except the one in her stomach. And that didn't require anything more than a good antacid.

  ". . .and my office. . ."

  Why on earth didn't this perfect man, the type she'd always dreamed about, raise even the slightest spark?

  ". . .I'd love to take you on a tour. I thought that I'd hire the same decorator to give OCDR a makeover when I buy it."

  "If my mother decides to sell."

  He nodded agreeably.

  "Thanks for the tour offer, but I'd rather get down to business if you don't mind."

  "If I do mind?"

  Morgan hadn't known she'd made a decision until she heard herself say, "Mark, I think it would be better if we kept things between us on a professional level. I mean, you're a nice man, but I'm in town for only a little longer, and I think it would be wise if we both remember that."

  She smiled, hoping to soften the fact she had rejected the idea of them dating. "I hope this won't affect our working together."

  "I'm sorry you feel that way."

  She watched him transform from hand-holding suitor to businessman in a heartbeat. "Of course, I'm still interested in buying the store."

  "I'm glad." She pushed a sheet of paper toward him. "Here are some of my mother's concerns. She'd want to be sure that she and Sunny both have a job, that. . ."

  Item by item, she voiced her mother's concerns and terms, then they both bounced questions and answers back and forth.

  An hour and a half later, Morgan gathered up her things. "Thank you, Mark. I think I have enough information to give my mother a realistic recommendation."

  "Do you want to give me a hint what you'll be saying?"

  "Not right now, but I'm sure Mom will be in touch soon."

  "Morgan, about my job offer. I just want you to know that it isn't contingent on the other, more personal one. I have an eye for talent. I knew you had it when we met the first time, and after looking at your résumé, well, I want you. One way or another."

  "Mark, I'm determined to go back to San Diego. I leave in just a couple of days for face-to-face interviews, although I've already spoken to both companies and feel pretty positive about my chances. As for something more than just business between us, you're a nice man. And under other circumstances, I'd have to be crazy not to explore a more personal relationship with you. But given the fact I'm leaving soon, well, I just want to say, I'm flattered. Thank you for the compliment."

  She thought about extending her hand, but instead closed the distance between them and kissed his cheek.

  Again, nothing happened. Not that she was surprised.

  "Goodbye, Mark." She walked to the elevator and pressed the button for the lobby.

  She'd made the right decision.

  Okay, one decision down, countless left to go.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  E.J., sometimes all the apologizing in the world can't fix something's that's broken. And sometimes just a simple I'm sorry can fix a lot. . . .

  MORGAN STOOD OUTSIDE THE diner with a churning feeling in the pit of her stomach.

  She'd had the same feeling the day she'd moved into the dorm, even though she'd known she was going to be rooming with Gina. College had been new, uncharted territory. There'd been no way to study, to prepare for what it would be like not to live at home.

  She'd felt nauseous right up until the moment Gina had walked into their shared room and said, "This is going to be great."

  And it had been. Gina, Sunny, Tessa, Nikki and Morgan. Their five names had been forever linked on campus.

  Then Morgan had left town. And the other four had gone on with the Sunday morning brunches without her.

  It was time to put the group back together.

  She took a deep breath, walked through the door and made her way back to the table. . .their table.

  Four faces looked up at her. And the acid churning in her stomach felt as if it were burning a hole through the lining.

  Then Gina smiled.

  It wasn't the same unbridled smile of all those years ago. It was more cautious, but at the same time, hopeful.

  "So, what'd I miss?" Morgan asked, as she took her seat.

  "Gina was just telling us about the baby."

  Gina looked at Morgan, obviously unsure if she should continue the story.

  Morgan tried to offer an encouraging smile. "And?"

  At that moment, it was as if they both knew some bridge existed where there hadn't been one before that morning. Their relationship wasn't what it once was, but they'd both left it room to grow into something more than it was right now.

  Gina finished her story, and Morgan tried to throw out as casually as possible, "I've got tickets to San Diego for Tuesday."

  Nikki sat up and peered out from beneath her sunglasses. "A job interview?"

  "Two, as a matter of fact."

  "Good for you," Sunny said, but h
er tone didn't match her words.

  "I almost hate to go. I love this—being back with you, with all of you—again on Sundays." She looked directly at Gina as she said the words, and saw that her old friend knew what she meant.

  "So why go?" Tess asked. "I'm sure there are jobs in Pittsburgh."

  "As a matter of fact, I know there are. I've had an offer. A generous offer. But I don't live here anymore. I'm just visiting."

  "Correct the if I'm wrong, but don't you own a house now?" Tessa, ever the lawyer, countered.

  "A house I'm going to sell."

  "And there are challenging jobs here. . . ." Tessa pressed

  "Friends here," Nikki added.

  "Family," Sunny said.

  "There's us," Gina stated quietly. "Can San Diego offer as much?"

  "I have a life there," Morgan protested. "I mean, I love that you all would like me to stay, but San Diego's home. And there's E.J. You'd all love him. He's a doctor. Right now he's in South America."

  Sunny sighed, but picked up on Morgan's need to change the subject. "So how did you meet this E.J.?"

  Morgan went into a monologue about that first meeting with E.J., in the emergency room, and then their Sunday mornings on the beach. She loved those mornings, but realized she loved this morning, as well.

  She'd missed Sunday brunches before, but she'd been so busy being hurt that the missing was a side note. This time, it would be front and center.

  She thought about her flight to San Diego on Tuesday, waiting for the excitement to hit her. Maybe it was just too early, because she couldn't muster much.

  Wanting to keep the conversation going in any direction but her move, she said, "I kissed two men this week."

  Conversation came to an abrupt halt.

  "And?" Sunny asked.

  "So, how were they?" Nikki was once again peering at her with interest.

  "One was bland at best. Decidedly so-so in my experience."

  "Mark?" Sunny guessed.

  Morgan nodded.

  "And Conner kissed you as well?"

  "Each time, it gets a little hotter. And I don't know why. He's not my type. I swear his entire wardrobe consists of denim and T-shirts. And shaving? Well, it's a when-the-stubble-itches-too-much-to-be-ignored sort of thing. He takes pictures for a living and doesn't work for a Fortune 500 company. . . ."

  "But?" Gina prompted.

  "But." Morgan sighed. "But there's so much more to him than you'd expect. He gave up his dream job to be there for his brother. He seems to genuinely like my mother. And. . .I don't know. Being with him. . ."

  "Zing," Gina whispered.

  "Yeah. Zing. I don't seem to be able to control it."

  "I don't think you can," Gina said. "It's either there or it's not."

  Morgan didn't need to be overly insightful to realize they were no longer talking about herself and Conner.

  Gina continued, "Sometimes when it's just there it's so big it's palpable. You can try to fight against it, try to wish it away, but in the end, that kind of zing. . ."

  Morgan knew Gina was referring to herself and Thomas. "Yes, zing. Sometimes, even if you want to, you can't ignore it."

  "So what are you going to do?" Tessa asked.

  "If we ever get our timing down, I think I'd like to explore our zing. I'm heading back to California, and he's got a hot lead on a new job. I guess I'll take interviews in San Diego and put my life back together."

  "A life that doesn't include us," Sunny said sadly.

  "Hey, does anyone want to know who I kissed this week after I got Morgan busted?" Nikki asked.

  Morgan recognized that drawing the attention away from her was Nikki's intent. She shot her friend a smile of thanks.

  The rest of the brunch was almost like old times. Almost. But as they finished and everyone started digging through wallets for plastic or cash to pay their checks, Morgan glanced at Gina, who flashed her a smile.

  It would take time to rebuild their friendship, but Morgan was looking forward to it. To catching up, to rediscovering an old friend and maybe finding a new level to that friendship.

  "You look happy," Sunny said softly.

  "I am."

  And as she said the words, she realized she was happy. Not in that big, ready to explode with it sort of way. But in a quieter, contented sort of way.

  "Thank you," Gina said as they all walked to the cash register. "Thank you for giving me another chance."

  Morgan couldn't think of any response to that. You're welcome didn't sound quite right. She thought of saying, I've missed you, too, only I didn't know it until I came home, but she wasn't ready to voice those words yet. Maybe in time.

  Rebuilding something with Gina would take time. But the fact was, Morgan didn't have much time left. She had interviews in San Diego, and once she got a new job, she'd be back out West for good. There was so much to do before that.

  There was Conner. Her initial desire had only grown. She wanted him.

  And the business. She wanted to see it settled for her mom, one way or the other.

  Morgan wanted more time with Gina and her other friends as well.

  "See you next week?" Tessa asked.

  "Yes," she replied. She could promise that much. But after that, she hoped to be back in San Diego. She looked at Gina. "You?"

  "I wouldn't miss it."

  They all broke apart and went their separate ways. Morgan started the long walk home.

  Time.

  Suddenly it didn't seem as if she had enough.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Time. E.J., When I first got back to Pittsburgh, all I did was wonder how long it would be until I could come home to San Diego. But suddenly, it feels that when I do come back, I'll be leaving Pittsburgh too soon. There's just not enough time to do all the things I want to do. . . .

  ON MONDAY, AFTER PUTTING IN a full day at the OCDR office, Morgan finished packing her bag for her early flight the next day. She wasn't the least bit nervous about the interviews, which was odd, since her future relied on the impression she made at them.

  She tried to weigh her emotions and realized she was pretty ambivalent about the entire trip.

  "There's no sense of excitement," she told Gilligan, who was watching her pack with all the interest of someone watching paint dry.

  "Yoo-hoo," she heard her mother holler from the kitchen.

  "There's your pet-sitter," Morgan told the old dog, who took off at a good clip for someone as geriatric as he was.

  "Hi, Mom," Morgan said, following him into the kitchen. "Gilligan's easy to find, but I don't have a clue how we're going to get the cats to come out. I've only caught the barest glimpses of them on occasion. I don't think they like me."

  Annabelle laughed. "Of course they like you. They're just shy. When Auggie bought them, Gilligan here was in his prime, and what with his little humping problem, they learned early on that being invisible was safer. I guess now that Gilligan's too old to do more than think about his favorite pastime, their habits are too well set to change. But watch." She picked up the box of food Morgan had set out on the table, and shook it.

  The two cats didn't quite burst into the room; that would be too far beneath their dignity. But they did waltz out of whatever shadows they'd been lurking in, and gave Annabelle and Morgan a this-had-better-be-good look of disdain.

  Annabelle sprinkled a bit of the kibble in the cage and Thurston and Lovey walked right in.

  "It's a matter of knowing how to attract them. In this case, kibble. So, you're leaving early tomorrow morning?"

  "Very early. So we'll say our goodbyes now."

  "I'll miss you." Her mother looked dejected, an expression she rarely wore. Her perpetual good spirits always buoyed Morgan. Oh, Annabelle could and did make her crazy, but she also always made her feel. . . safe. Better. Happy.

  She gave her mom a quick hug. "Hey, it's only a couple days."

  Annabelle hugged her back, maybe a little too hard, a little too long. "But this is t
he beginning of the end. One of these companies will be sure to snap you up, and you'll move back across the country again."

  "Well, we'll still have some time. I have to clean out the house and make arrangements for it. I found an auction service that will come in, give me a flat rate for everything in here, but I need to go through all Uncle Auggie's personal things and decide what to keep, what to let go. And I have to finalize my report for you."

  "Report? You can't just tell me what you think?"

  She shook her head. "Mom, what I think doesn't matter. This decision is all about you. . .about what's going to make you happy. Do you want to run the store as is? Expand it? Do you want to sell to Mark? His offer seems solid, although I still feel as if I'm missing something. We'll have Tessa check over the fine points on the contract if that's the way you decide to go. I've prepared a chart for you with the pros and cons of each of those options. You'll have to decide which one is going to make you happy."

  "That's all I want for you, Morgan. I want you to be happy. Are you sure California is the place for that? It seems to me you've been pretty happy since you got home. Watching you at the office, working away, reconnecting with your friends. . .you look happy."

  "I am. I've enjoyed visiting home. But then, I'd love visiting Paris, or London, or Disney World. Any of them, all of them, would make me happy. But my home is in San Diego. I'm thrilled to be going back."

  But even as she said it, she realized that wasn't quite true. Ambivalent didn't equal thrilled.

  "Well, then, that's that," Annabelle said with a watery smile. "I won't try to fix you up anymore. I found Charlie another girl."

  "So, you're still serving as lieutenant on the ship?"

  "It was first lieutenant," Annabelle corrected. "And no, I'm not serving. I resigned my commission. I had my eye on Charlie's dad, but it didn't work out. I need a man who thinks I hung the moon, not one who wants to pretend to orbit the moon with me."

  "I'm sorry, Mom."

  Annabelle shook off her momentary frustration and resumed her normally positive expression. "Now, don't worry. I'll find my man eventually."

  "I know you will." Morgan knew that in addition to being one of the most upbeat people in the world, her mom was also one of the most single-minded. She was going to find her man, of that Morgan was sure. But she was hit with a wave of regret that she wouldn't be here to witness it when it happened. "You'll have to call and keep me posted."