Sorry, I have story ADD and like to hop from one idea to another when I write. So in an attempt to cure that, I wrote this whole thing out before publishing. Now I will try to go back and finish some of my other stuff before life becomes hectic again. Love to have your reviews on what you think. Hope you enjoy!
Morgan scanned the books on the bookstore's shelf. How long had it been since she read a romance novel? Actually, how long had it been since she had been on a date? Okay, don't go there, Brody, she told herself. Wasn't it depressing enough to know that her ex-boyfriend was getting married? Did she really need to remind herself of the fact that she was nowhere near marriage or a long term relationship? God, how she missed dating! The excitement of the first date, the anticipation of that first kiss, the feel of someone laying next to you in bed keeping you warm inside and out. How did she end up like this? Buying a book about someone else's love story instead of creating one for herself. She sighed and selected a book. Guess tonight wasn't going to be any different. Besides she had a bottle of wine calling her name. That, this new book, and a bubble bath would once again be her companion for another lonely Saturday night.
"Morgan?" She was making her way to the checkout counter when the sound of someone calling her name stopped her. She turned to see him sitting behind a table, that gorgeous smile spreading across his handsome face.
"Greg? What are you doing here?" She asked approaching him. He picked up one of the books stacked on the table in front of him.
"Book signing," he answered holding up a copy of his book, Sin City Secrets."The store's manager asked me to come out and do it. They like to highlight local authors." He lifted his shoulders in a shrug as he sat back in his chair. "Interest has been pretty light. I was actually kind of bored until I saw you. What are you doing here?"
Morgan blushed and tried to hide the risqué cover of the book she was about to buy. Greg swiped it out of her hands before she could. He looked at the book and then raised his eyes to Morgan, arching a brow.
"Looks like some..umm..intriguing reading you've got there," he said, admiring the cute way Morgan's face cringed with embarrassment. She grabbed the book back, avoiding eye contact as she spoke.
"A friend recommended it," she lied."I normally don't read books like this. I'm more of mystery fan myself. I'm just reading because of my friend and her, um, recommendation. I'm just going to shut up now." Her face flushed a bright shade of scarlet.
"Morgan, it's okay. Girls like romance. I get it. Nothing to get embarrassed about. I might actually grab a copy myself. Seems…entertaining," he said, smirking."Maybe we could start a book club." Greg watched her tuck a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, shyly smiling.
"So how are sales going?" she said changing the subject as she browsed through Greg's book.
"Sold about seven so far tonight. Three elderly women who liked to flirt with 'such a fine young man.' Their words, not mine. The rest were a bored housewife, two fellow history nerds, and a guy that had to buy something to use the bathroom."
"Well, I'll take one, so you can round that up to eight." She handed him the book. He smiled and signed it.
"There you go, Miss Brody," he said giving the book to her. She opened it up and read the inscription.
To Morgan, by far my prettiest fan. Love, Greg
Morgan laughed. "Well I hope a supermodel doesn't come in line behind me or you'll have to change this."
"That inscription will always stand. Supermodel or not," Greg said meeting her eyes.
"Well, you are quite charming, aren't you Mr. Sanders? No wonder those old ladies fawned all over you."
They talked a little while longer before a few people lined up behind Morgan.
"I should go," she said grabbing her merchandise. She said goodbye and started walking away. She looked down at the romance book in her hand and remembered her earlier thoughts. Why should she wait for some guy to ask her out? She could ask. And she better take the risk now or she'd wind up a spinster, living through trashy romance novels the rest of her life.
She turned around to Greg as he finished signing for the last person in line. "Hey, Greg, you want to go out sometime? You know, grab a bite to eat or something?"
"Are you asking me out?" he asked, taken back.
"Well I guess that depends on your answer," Morgan responded, afraid to look at him and see rejection written on his face.
"Well," he checked his watch, "in about fifteen minutes, I'll be done here. You want to hang back and grab a bite with me then?" She bit her lip hesitating as she considered the offer. She hadn't expected this to all happen so soon.
"Sure, why not?" The wine could wait, and Greg was far better company than her cat. Great company in fact.
"So…" Greg's voice broke her daydreams. She realized she had been standing there staring at him for a few minutes. "You okay?"
"Absolutely… I'll go buy this," she held up the books and then remembering the romance's cover quickly put it by her side. "I'll meet you back here in a few."
After purchasing what she now considered "Plan B" if the night went bust, Morgan sauntered over in Greg's direction, trying not to seem too eager. Her efforts were pointless though as Greg was absorbed in a heated discussion with a flashy businessman over some topic in his book.
"I'm not sure about that. Most speculate the hidden fortune is nothing but legend." Morgan caught the tail-end of whatever Greg was talking about.
"Come on. You wrote the book on the subject, apparently." The flashy businessman scoffed, holding up Greg's book. "Surely you know more than most about Campisi's lost fortune. Maybe even where it's buried?"
Greg laughed. "Everything I know about Niccola Campisi is written in chapter sixteen. I might have one or two things I'm saving for a sequel, but if I knew where the fortune was buried, I wouldn't be here right now. I'd be on my yacht instead. But, hey, you if ever find a map or clue, let me know and I'll grab a shovel and help you dig."
The businessman gave a tightlipped smile, sizing Greg up, probably contemplating whether or not to believe him. "Right. It's a lucky sonofabitch whoever does stumble across that massive wealth some day."He gave a small chuckle and held out his hand to Greg, who shook it. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Sanders." The man glanced over at Morgan and gave a curt nod before walking away.
"What was that all about?" Morgan asked as Greg grabbed his coat from the back of his chair. Putting it on, he gave Morgan a sly grin.
"I'll tell you about it over dinner. You up for Italian?" he asked, placing his hand on the small of her back as he led her out of the store.
"Niccola Campisi was one of the legendary mobsters of the 1930s Vegas era. He had a hand in everything: drugs, gambling, prostitution. Basically anything deemed immoral that made money." Greg began explaining after placing their order. Morgan listened, mesmerized, watching Greg's handsome features as the candlelight cast a flickering glow on him. "Anyway, on October 25, 1935, the so called 'King of Vegas' was dethroned when the Ponzi scheme he had been running against some of the other biggest mobsters in town was discovered. He was shot seven times, one for each of the friends he betrayed, and then he was chopped up in seven pieces and left in front of his mansion for all the Vegas' elite to see. A warning to not mess with Ramone brothers, the new Princes of Sin City, and those who had lost the most to Campisi's scheme. Of course, no one was ever brought to justice for the crime, because after what happened to Niccola, no one wanted to risk it."
"Wow, that's brutal," Morgan said, sipping on her wine. "So what's with the whole lost fortune mystery?"
Greg flashed her his pearly white smile, leaning in to finish the story. "Well, that's the thing. The cash he stole was never found. Not by the Ramones, not by his wife, who being desperately broke had to go back to being a high class call girl, and not by the police. Supposedly Campisi was leaving town the night he was killed, tipped off about the impending raid. He didn't make it out, but the money did, allegedly hidden somewhere in the desert a few days before Campisi's murder. Eighty years later, there is still no sign of missing money. Some researchers believe he hid away up to twenty million, scamming at least that much or more from some of Vegas's most infamous criminals for ten years."
"That's crazy." She looked down at her wine and then back up at Greg, batting her lashes. "What's even crazier is how much you know about Vegas. What prompted you to write the book?" She ran her hand over her copy on the side of table, smiling as she remembered the inscription.
Greg shrugged, letting his eyes sweep around the restaurant. "Well I like history and a good scandal, as do most of America based on tabloid sales, so I thought I'd try my hand at writing a book. I've kind of always wanted to write one. The city just gave me the material."
"Well, I'm excited to read it. Again." Morgan smiled meeting Greg's surprised gaze.
"You read it already?"
"Parts, actually. It's really interesting. I hadn't gotten to the Campisi murder yet. I have been sneaking peeks from the copy on your desk every now and then. You're a great writer, Greg. I'm looking forward to the sequel someday."
Greg reached across the table and took her hand in his, gently caressing it with his thumb. "As a matter of fact, I'm working on one. Actually, I have a rough draft of a couple of chapters on my computer at home if you want to come over after dinner." He studied her reaction to his suggestion. "I would love to get your opinion on them."
Morgan glanced down at their interlocked hands, a tingling sensation bubbling inside her.
"I would love to."
Greg's apartment, while clean, had a boyish charm. Posters of rock bands and famous Vegas crooners hung next to each other, framed on the walls. His furniture was sparse, as was the decor, but the pieces that were there were nice. Elegant even. A leather sofa and sturdy oak coffee table were the focal points of the living room. A large flat screen hung on the wall next to the posters. Not really what she had expected, but in all honesty, she had never really given it much thought before.
She sat on the sofa and Greg made his way to the kitchen.
"More wine?" he asked over the island that connected the two rooms.
"Please." She said as she leaned back against the cushion making herself comfortable.
Greg looked over at her as he poured the wine. "My laptop's right there if you want to start reading. Should already be up on the screen. I was working on it last night." He motioned to the computer on the coffee table.
Morgan opened it up and then frowned. "Greg, what's the password? It won't let me past the lock screen."
Greg's eyes went wide and he hurried from the kitchen nearly spilling the glasses of wine as he quickly set them on the table.
"Um, forgot about that. I'll get it." He turned the computer screen out of her view and rapidly typed something. He let out a breath and turned it around, handing it back to her. "There you go."
Morgan shot him an skeptical look. "What's the matter, Greg? Is your password something incredibly embarrassing? Keep in mind that if you say yes I will pester you until you give in and tell it to me."
"Ha! Good luck. I'm uncrackable." He smirked sitting beside her.
"You think that, but it's only because you have yet to meet your match."
"Oh really, and you're my match, huh?" He leaned back and threw an arm behind her.
"In every way." She stopped smiling when she saw the intensity behind his stare, his eyes boring into hers. It suddenly dawned on her what she had said and how it came across. "I mean, we're both CSIs, so if anyone can break through your exterior it would probably be me." Well that didn't sound any better.
She opened her mouth to try a third attempt in making her point when Greg's lips crashed down onto hers before she could speak. She fell into the kiss as she laid further back against the leather couch. Greg took her lead, and leaned in on top of her, closing the space between them.
"Morgan," he mumbled as his mouth inched down her body, hovering now above her collarbone.
"Mmm..what?" Morgan asked, hoping he wasn't having second thoughts.
"That's my password. Morgan." He pushed up slightly to see how she would respond. She moved in, capturing his lips with hers this time as she pulled him back down to her.
They moved to the bedroom, shedding their clothes along the way.
It felt like a dream. Everything was so surreal. The way his skin felt against hers, soft and sensual. The way they connected, a perfect fit. The sound of his breathing, increasing in pace with hers, arousing in her desires she had long forgotten.
He held her afterwards in the silence, broken by the pitter pattering on the window.
"It's raining," she whispered.
"So it is." His lips brushed across her ear and down her neck. She smiled.
"I love the rain," she said.
"I love you," he countered. She returned the sentiment and gave him a lingering kiss. Before long, she drifted off to sleep in his arms.
A sound woke her. Hazily, she looked around realizing she was not in her bedroom. The memory of the night returned to her. It had been real. She turned to Greg, but his side of the bed was empty. She noticed then that the bedroom door was cracked, light streaming in from the other room.
Quietly, she grabbed a folded t-shirt from on top on Greg's dresser and her underwear from the floor. Once dressed, she made her way into the living space.
"Greg?" Silence greeted her. Her eyes scanned the room. The untouched wine glasses from earlier laid broken on the floor, red wine seeping into the carpet like blood. A dark stain had soaked into the corner of the coffee table. Dark crimson drops turning into drag marks led away from the table to the entrance of the apartment. The front door was slightly ajar and as she moved closer, she realized the lock had been broken. Fear gripped her, and dread sank like a weight in the pit of her stomach. Where was Greg? When a quick search still turned up nothing, she knew what she had to do.
Her unsteady hands fumbled with the phone as she dialed.
"9-1-1. What's your emergency?" came a voice on the other end.
"I need the police over here now." Tears streaked down her face. "I believe there has been an abduction."