Once a Thief

Chapter One "Somebody ought to put her in one of the display cases. Talk about an eye-poppin' show." Morgan West stopped in her tracks to lift an eyebrow at a suddenly flustered workman. "Voices carry in museums," she said gently. "You might want to keep that in mind." "Yeah. I mean--yes, ma'am. Sorry, ma'am. No offense meant." "None taken. It's always been my ambition to be a museum display." He cleared his throat. "Priceless things. That's all I meant. Treasures. Works of art." He eyed her, then sighed. "I'm not gonna win, am I?" "No, I'm afraid not." "I'm a sexist pig." "Pretty much." "Objectifying women." "This woman anyway. Yes, I'd say that was what you were doing." "I apologize, Miss West." Perfectly aware that the other workmen near enough to overhear this exchange were hiding grins, Morgan knew when it was time to let her prey off the hook on which he'd impaled himself. "Accepted. Have a nice day." "Yes, ma'am. You too." Morgan strolled away, knowing that laughter would erupt the moment she was out of sight. Which it did. She sighed. Her measurements had been causing her problems since her thirteenth birthday, so by now she should have been at least somewhat accustomed to it. She wasn't. There were men who admitted that long, shapely female legs inspired amorous fantasies; there were those who had the same basic response to the rich curves of swaying hips. But men whose primitive instincts were aroused by an ample bust, Morgan had found, undoubtedly outnumbered the rest. Probably something Freudian about it. Or something infantile. At any rate, her centerfold measurements had caused her more trouble than joy. A lot more. Her dates during high school and college had been so entranced by her charms, she often wondered if they knew what her face looked like. Even the Rhodes scholar she'd briefly gone out with--hoping his mind was on a higher plane--had stuttered dreadfully whenever his gaze strayed to her chest. Which was often. And that explained one reason why Maxim Bannister had won her intense and total loyalty. He had, to be sure, gulped visibly when she'd first walked into his office, but he had also conducted the hour-long interview without allowing his gaze to stray to her chest--and without making her feel it required all his concentration to avoid staring. And since that time, he had managed not only to make her feel completely comfortable in his presence but had even responded with genuine sympathy when a particularly degrading experience with a date had caused her to unburden herself in an explosion of temper. She liked Max a lot. He was one of the very few male friends she'd ever had, and she was delighted by the knowledge that, while he was no less appreciative of nature's bounty than the next man, his awareness and interest were detached rather than hormonal. He also had an unerring eye for color and style, and during the months of preparation for the Mysteries Past exhibit, she had gradually abandoned her dark-colored, loose blouses and multilayered outfits in favor of more elegant and flattering clothing. When Max told her she looked good in something, she knew it was the truth. He'd said once that she was a queenly woman, the observation made in an assessing rather than complimentary tone, and Morgan had, quite unconsciously, begun walking without the slump she had just as unconsciously adopted in her teens. In a few short months, he had very quietly and gently and unobtrusively eradicated both Morgan's bitterness and the chip on her shoulder. Thanks to him, she was as proud of her body as she was of her mind. Well, nearly. Which wasn't to say it nHooper, Kay is the author of 'Once a Thief ', published 2007 under ISBN 9780553590241 and ISBN 0553590243.