Places In My Heart. Sheryl Lister

of Saturday. And she couldn’t let that happen.

      “You must be out of your mind. The opportunity to live your dream literally drops in your lap, and you get cold feet.”

      “It’s not that.”

      Brooke folded her arms and waited.

      “We had sort of like a...”

      “A what? Please don’t tell me you and that smart mouth of yours said something crazy.”

      Morgan lay back on the mat and closed her eyes. “No,” she huffed. “He kissed me when we were at Malcolm’s house on Saturday.”

      She pumped her fist in the air and let out a whoop. “Is that all? You go, girl.”

      Morgan skewered Brooke with a look.

      Brooke shrugged. “What’s the big deal? You kissed. If you weren’t attracted to him, I’d be worried about you.”

      “Really, Brooke? The big deal is it’s a conflict of interest. Besides, you know as well as I do that he has more women than Solomon did in the Bible.”

      “The right woman will make a man settle down. And how did you two end up in a lip-lock?”

      Morgan rolled her eyes and told her what happened in Malcolm’s kitchen and the details of his visit earlier. “I said that I would only work with him if there were no more kisses,” she finished.

      “And he agreed to it?”

      “Yes.”

      A slow smile crept onto Brooke’s lips. “I can’t wait to see who will be the first one to break that rule. And it will be broken. Mark my words.”

      And that was the crux of Morgan’s problem. “Enough about that,” she said, changing the subject. “We’re supposed to be discussing the dance production.”

      “Whatever you say,” Brooke said, her smile still in place. “Okay. I’m loving your Michael Jackson theme, and the kids are definitely enjoying it. I think they’ll be more than ready by showtime. There are a couple more pieces I want to add for the advanced students.”

      “We need to get my brother-in-law and brothers to do the dance they did at the wedding. I had no idea they could dance like that.” Siobhan loved Michael Jackson, and her husband, along with Siobhan and Morgan’s brothers, did a dance presentation at their wedding reception from “Smooth Criminal.”

      “I wish I could have seen it.”

      “Oh, I recorded it,” she said, going over to retrieve her cell from her purse. She found the video and handed Brooke the phone.

      “Wow, I didn’t know your brothers could move like this. Your brother-in-law is one good-looking man.”

      “Justin is a great guy and perfect for my sister.”

      Brooke handed the phone back. “Do you think they’d be willing to do a special presentation for us?”

      Morgan shrugged. “I don’t know, but I’ll ask. We’ll be cutting it kind of close for Malcolm, though. Preseason starts at the end of the month. Since the show is scheduled the weekend before, he might be able to do it.” They discussed the logistics of the added dances, as well as having a couple of Brooke’s friends who were dancers to help with the choreography.

      “I still want to do the instructor feature again, and this time, Morgan Gray, you will be dancing. You can do tap, jazz, hip-hop or whatever, but you will be dancing.”

      Morgan groaned. “Come on, Brooke. I haven’t been on a stage in years,” she protested.

      Brooke rose gracefully to her feet. “No time like the present to get back out there. You’re good, Morgan. I’ve watched you practice, and you haven’t lost your edge. It’s time the world knows that the dance teacher can dance. I’ve already reserved the hotel for the after-party. It’s going to be fabulous. Oh, and this year, I want the dress rehearsal to be a private performance for the families of our students,” she added.

      “That’s fine.” Morgan was still a little unsure of being onstage again, but truthfully, she missed the excitement of performing for an audience. However, between getting her students prepared, working on the lawsuit and now writing Omar’s contract, she didn’t see how she would manage to learn a routine in less than a month’s time.

      * * *

      Three nights later, Morgan sat at her kitchen table, reading over the contract she’d drawn up for Omar one last time to make sure she had included everything from general principles to the term of the contract. Compensation would be the standard 3 percent, but the only thing she needed to clarify was whether he wanted her for any other services, such as endorsements, or just the football deal. She reached for the card that had been included in the envelope of information and stared at the number. She took a glimpse at the microwave clock and noted it was past ten.

      “You can do this, Morgan. It’s what you’ve always wanted.” Before she could talk herself out of calling, she took a deep breath and punched in the number on her cell.

      “Hello,” came the warm baritone.

      Why does everything about this man have to be so sexy, including his voice? “Hey, Drummond. It’s Morgan. I wanted to see when you’re available to go over the contract.”

      “What are you doing tomorrow night?”

      “I have something until eight, but I’m free afterward. I can meet you somewhere.”

      “I’d rather not meet in public.”

      Morgan’s pulse skipped. She was counting on the buffer that a public place would provide. “I’m sure we could arrange a private room or something.”

      “That won’t work,” Omar insisted. “We can meet at my house, and I’ll explain why when you get here.”

      His house? This had disaster written all over it. If they couldn’t contain themselves at her brother’s house, where almost two dozen people were, how would they manage with the two of them alone?

      “I need you to trust me on this, Morgan. You’ve already set the rules, and I said I’d abide by them,” he added softly.

      “Okay.” She wrote down the address he rattled off. “I should get there around nine.”

      “Thank you.”

      “You’re welcome.” Morgan disconnected and banged the phone softly against her forehead. “What am I getting myself into?” True, she had set the rules, but it would take everything within her not to break them.

      The next evening, butterflies danced in Morgan’s belly as she rang Omar’s doorbell. A measure of excitement filled her with the prospect of being able to break into the world of sports management. At the same time, she couldn’t help but wonder what her family would think. Her dad had been dropping hints about her taking a more prominent role in the company, but so far she’d been able to dodge the questions. She hadn’t told anyone aside from Brooke and Malcolm what she was doing.

      Morgan turned to look at the beautifully manicured lawn and gave herself a pep talk about keeping her attraction under control. She whirled around at the sound of the door opening. She worked hard to keep her eyes on his face. Even wearing a T-shirt and basketball shorts, the man was temptation personified.

      “Hey. Come on in.” Omar waved her inside.

      “I took the back roads and managed to avoid some traffic, so I’m a little early. I hope that’s not a problem.”

      “Not at all. I’m fixing something to eat. Are you hungry?”

      She followed him through the foyer with marble flooring and an elegantly furnished living room to a large modern kitchen. The smells wafting from the oven hit her nose, and immediately her stomach growled. She had eaten only a small salad before her dance class and was starving.

      He