Not Quite Dating (Not Quite #1)(51)
Author: Catherine Bybee

Big!

Large strides carried Jack through the lobby and to the elevators. Sam saw him from the reception desk and scrambled to catch up with him.

“Mr. Morrison…”

“Not now, Sam, I’m in a hurry.” Jack summoned the elevator to the lobby floor.

“Your father is on his way.”

“I know.” He pressed the button again, frustrated with its speed.

“The other executive suite in the hotel has a guest. Will your father be staying with you?”

The elevator light lit up.

Jack slid into the elevator. “I’ll take care of it, Sam. Don’t worry.”

Housekeeping had erased all evidence of the mess Jack had left before his short trip to Texas. Jack disrobed as he walked but made sure all his clothes were shoved into the closet like a good bachelor. Within twenty minutes, he was shoulder-to-heels Armani, his good Stetson securely on his head, his polished boots on his feet. Not a huge change from Jack Moore, he decided.

His phone rang as he was placing a watch around his wrist. “Hello?”

“Mr. Morrison, your father and sister have arrived.”

Jack drew in a deep breath.

Let the sidestepping begin.

“What meeting room are we using?” he asked.

“The one next to my office,” Sam offered.

“I’m on my way down now.”

It wasn’t that he didn’t care for his dad. He loved the man, but he could be intense at times and beyond domineering.

Jack stepped into the lobby and into an array of people and organized chaos. His dad stood in front of Sam, who was talking rapidly and gesturing with his hands. From afar, Gaylord Morrison was a roadblock, someone who demanded your attention. At six-four and two hundred twenty pounds, he could have passed for a retired linebacker. His hair was peppered with gray, but his eyes were sharp and caught everything. Katie stood at his side, wearing one of her ridiculous miniskirts. Probably to piss the man off. She loved getting under his skin and did so on a regular basis.

Gaylord caught sight of Jack and broke off his conversation with the hotel manager.

“Jack,” he called as he turned.

Jack extended his hand, which his father took in his firm grip before pulling him into a hug. “What the hell were you thinking running off before I came home?”

“It’s good to see you too, Dad.” It was, despite the bad timing.

Around them, porters scurried to assist them with their bags, Sam stood ready to accept any task, and a half a dozen men wearing business suits were trailing after the senior Morrison.

“First Thanksgiving, now Christmas,” Gaylord bellowed as he pulled away and started to instruct Sam to find a room for his driver and staff.

Katie sauntered to Jack’s side and leaned close to his ear so only he could hear. “I swear I didn’t say a thing,” she whispered.

Jack patted her arm and smiled down at her. “The man’s radar has always been superior to any satellite dish.”

Katie laughed and tossed her head back.

A couple of flashes went off in the lobby. Jack glanced around and noticed a reporter with a photographer at his side. “What are they doing here?” he asked his sister.

“They’re for you.” Gaylord returned his attention to his children.

“For me?”

“I heard there’s a special lady friend in your life, one who might be joining our family soon.” Gaylord’s last word was spoken slowly and nearly sounded like a question.

The smile on Jack’s face slipped into a scowl. He didn’t like the thought of the press invading his personal life to this degree. Besides, he still needed to propose to Jessie…again.

“Isn’t it my call to alert the media?” Jack asked his father.

“So there is a future Mrs. Morrison?” The mere thought of Jack getting married obviously pleased the man. It was hard to stay mad at him.

“There is someone,” Jack confirmed. “But I’d rather not discuss it out here if you don’t mind.”

Gaylord puffed his chest out as if he’d just become a father all over again. “Damn good news,” he said. “When do we meet her?”

“You’re always accusing me of being in the spotlight, Daddy,” Katie scolded. “Can we do this in private? I don’t think Jack wants to discuss this here.”

Jack nodded to the elevators. “I have lunch coming up to my suite before the meeting. Let’s talk up there.”

Diverting his father took a couple more minutes, but as the man walked toward the elevators, Jack summoned Sam with a crook of his finger. “Lunch for three. Whatever the special is, a bottle of Crown Royal, and a bottle of chardonnay for Miss Morrison.”

“What about the meeting? Your father requested—”

“Tell the kitchen to hurry. We’ll be down in an hour,” Jack interrupted before turning his focus on his family. “Oh boy.”

Danny swung his feet off the edge of the chair as he placed the little edible silver balls on his cookie. If he took this much time decorating one of the treats, they’d be finished with the batch sometime around Easter.

Monica pushed through the front door with a bundle of clean laundry. The apartment complex had its own washers and dryers, but they were outside and around the carport.

Jessie took the basket from her sister so she could close the door.

“It’s getting cold out there,” her sister complained.

“Better cold than hot. It doesn’t feel like Christmas when it’s eighty outside.”

Monica motioned toward Danny. “Is Monet creating a masterpiece over there or what?”

“He doesn’t get that from me. I’d be slapping on frosting and sprinkling those green and red thingies on it and calling it done.”

Monica shook her head. “How many has he finished?”

“Two.”

“He’s going to need these last three days before Christmas to finish the job.”

The two of them picked up one piece of laundry at a time and started to fold.

Monica changed the channel to the afternoon news. “Any idea when Jack is coming back?”

“I’m not sure.” Jessie set one of Danny’s socks aside until its match showed up from the pile. “He said he needed to check in at the hotel.”

“Isn’t his schedule fixed?”

“I have no idea. Whenever he talks about his job, he acts a little strange.”

“Strange? Strange how?”

“I asked him if he had to work today, and he said ‘in a way.’ What in the heck does that mean? You either have to work or you don’t.” Jessie shook her head. The next sock she picked up belonged with the other, so she folded them together.