Tropical Kiss by Jan Coffey

Author:Jan Coffey [Coffey, Jan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: MM Books

Chapter Sixteen

Morgan figured it would be best all the way around if she just told her father about the new development between her and Cy. As usual, he didn’t get home until late that night, though, and only poked his head into her room long enough to say he had another last-minute day trip that he had to make off the island tomorrow.

He was gone by the time she woke up the next morning.

That was fine with Morgan, though. She had a mission. She needed to find out what was going on.

She glanced out across the courtyard at the guest house. No sign of Cy. Morgan knew he’d be coming over for breakfast before going to work, so she took a quick shower and got dressed.

After their talk last night, Morgan knew they’d be walking a fine line regarding how physical their relationship would get. She was as tempted as he was, but they both wanted to take their time. At least, she did. And that meant no temptations.

Leaving her bedroom, she noticed that the office door was locked. She wasn’t discouraged, though, and decided to search Philip’s bedroom.

One thing Morgan was certain of. Her mother hadn’t divorced Philip because he was a slob. Everything in the bedroom was immaculate, pretty much like the rest of the house. Of course, she knew some of that was due to the efforts of their housekeeper Clotilde. Morgan had met her in passing last Monday and was amazed at the whirlwind of energy the woman was.

Philip’s bedroom was larger than hers. It contained the usual assortment of furniture, bed and side tables, lamps, two bureaus, an oversized reading chair, and an armoire that she guessed housed a television.

She checked the bureaus. One was empty. She turned her attention to the other. Shirts, underwear, socks. She felt around under the clothes, looking under the bottoms and at the backs of the drawers, remembering what she’d seen in movies about guns or keys being hidden there.

Nothing.

The double wide closet was her next target. Rows of suits and jackets and pressed pants and shirts hung tidily on the metal bars. Everything was in its place.

She glanced up at the two rows of shelves above the hanging clothes. Stacked on them were an assortment of suitcases, light sweaters, and a couple of neatly folded blankets. One medium sized file box sat on the upper shelf, and Morgan fixed her eyes on it. The top of it was slightly askew, like Philip might have reached in there recently.

She had to see what was in it.

Morgan’s fingers could barely reach it. She gently started pulling. The avalanche came without warning.

Following the mysterious box, suitcases, sweaters, blankets—and the shelves they were sitting on—all came crashing down on top of her, knocking her to the floor. Thankfully, the box was light, because it hit Morgan squarely on the head before all the contents dumped out on the floor around her.

Morgan stared in disbelief at hundreds of airline barf bags scattered on her lap and on the floor.

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