by Joss Wood
Being with him had been—bar none and by far—the best sex of her life. The sexy, slightly stand-offish soldier was an amazing lover: demanding, adoring, creative. He hadn’t allowed her to feel any modesty and had encouraged her to be forthright and honest. She’d felt comfortable telling him what she liked and didn’t like him doing.
There hadn’t been any ‘getting to know you’ or ‘wanting to impress you’ sex. It had been down and dirty—more like ‘I want to know how far I can push you’ sex.
More like the type of sex people had when they had known each other a while and were really comfortable in bed together. Weird and astonishing for their first few times together.
Morgan glanced at the clock. It was just past nine and, while she could easily roll over and go back to sleep, she wanted to be with Noah, here in her most favourite spot in the world.
Morgan pushed back the covers and padded over to the en-suite bathroom. Hearing muted voices in the passageway, she cocked her head. Riley and...her brother? What was James doing on this side of the passage? His room and study were on the other wing of the house—to the right of the staircase and not to the left.
Curious, she padded on tiptoe to the door and cracked it open. Her eyes widened as she saw James, still dressed in the pants he’d worn to the wedding and with his smart grey shirt bunched in his hand.
‘If you say it was a mistake, I swear I’ll stab you with...something,’ Riley hissed.
‘Dammit, Riley, you are like my—’
Morgan put her hand against her mouth to stifle her laughter as Riley, obviously naked beneath a silky short robe, plastered her mouth against James’s and slapped her hands on his butt. She kissed him thoroughly and with some skill, Morgan noticed, and when they came up for air James looked shell-shocked.
‘You didn’t say that when you were moaning my name in the throes of passion last night.’
‘Ri—okay. But—’
‘I am not your sister or your friend. And I’m done pining away for you. You have ten seconds to decide if you want to explore this heat we have always had or whether you are walking away for good. But you should know that if you walk that’s it. You don’t get a second chance.’
‘Riley, I—’
‘Ten seconds, nine, eight, seven—’
‘It’s not that easy.’
Yes, it is, you ass! Morgan wanted to shout. She’s the best thing that ever happened to you!
‘Six, five, four, three...’
Morgan bit her lip as her best friend counted down and her stupid brother just stared at her with miserable eyes. Morgan closed her own eyes at the immense pain she saw in Riley’s before the door closed in James’s face.
Morgan fought the urge to step into the passage and slap some sense into James. She knew it wouldn’t help. James was as stubborn as she was—maybe more. She couldn’t help him see what was right in front of his face; couldn’t force him to feel love when he didn’t.
Morgan watched him walk down the passage and then glanced to Riley’s closed door. To knock or not to knock? Normally she would just barge in there and offer comfort, curse her brother just to make Riley smile. But she suspected that this went too deep, meant too much, and her gut instinct was to leave Riley alone. She would reach out when she could and when she was ready to.
In the meantime she had her own six-foot-three man to find.
* * *
Morgan, dressed in a very brief pair of faded denim shorts, flip-flops and a tank top—early autumn in South Africa still spiked the temperatures to boiling—took the cup of coffee Mariah poured her and with a muffin in her hand walked out through the back door of the house. Mariah had said that she’d seen Noah walk in the direction of the southside vines and the dam, and that was nearly an hour ago.
Morgan, munching on her cheese and spinach muffin and sipping her coffee, tipped her face to the sun and pulled in deep breaths of fresh mountain air. She wished that they weren’t flying out later tonight, that she and Noah could hang out here a bit longer. There was no security threat, no pollution, no crazy traffic, no boring functions to attend, no ball to organise. It was impossible, but it was a lovely dream to indulge in as she looked for her lover-slash-bodyguard.
Morgan dusted her hands against the seat of her pants to get rid of the crumbs and waved to some labourers working the vines.
And there he was, Morgan thought, sitting on the edge of the dam, his arms loosely linked around his knees, his dark hair glinting in the sun. He hadn’t shaved and his stubble gave him a rugged look that had her mouth watering. Warmth pooled between her legs as she remembered the feel of those back muscles that red T-shirt covered, the hard butt underneath his cotton shorts. He was beautiful: masculine grace wrapping a fantastically loyal spirit and a sharp brain.
Morgan approached him quietly, covered his eyes with her hands and whispered in his ear. ‘Guess who?’
Noah didn’t say anything. He just pulled her hands down and held her arms so that she was plastered against his back, her head next to his, her breasts mashed into his chest.
‘You okay, Noah?’ she asked quietly. ‘What’s going on in that head of yours, soldier?’
A part of him—a big part of him—wished he could open up, just release all this churned-up emotion inside him. He wanted to tell her that he couldn’t decide whether he regretted sleeping with her or not...that being with her had been everything he’d dreamt of and more and also, on the other hand, his biggest nightmare. He’d lost himself in her body, had adored every minute of her, and he mourned his lack of self-control as he’d lost himself in her. He wanted to tell her that when she’d drifted off in the early hours of this morning he’d just lain next to her and watched her breathe.
She’d decimated him with her soft lips, her whispered moans, her delicate hands on his not-so-delicate body. She’d touched his heart with her murmurs of delight, her whispers of gratitude at the way he made her feel, and his heart had swelled when he’d heard his name on her lips as he tipped her over into orgasm time and time again.
But on the flipside of the coin he hadn’t even started to think what effect sleeping with her would have on his job, on his ability to keep her safe. They’d caught four more kidnappers but another gang could be contracted tomorrow. Until the situation in Colombia was definitively resolved she wouldn’t be completely safe, so he would remain in place as her bodyguard. Would thoughts of what they did to and with each other distract him if something else happened? Would he be less sharp, less aware, less able to say no to her when she wanted to do something or be somewhere that could place her in danger?
Morgan pulled her hands out of his grasp and sat down beside him on the grassy bank, staring at the water. Now and again the water rippled as a trout broke the surface to look for food. In another life he could imagine being here with Morgan, casting a fly while she lazed on the bank, a glass of wine in her hand.
Noah leaned back on his hands and looked past the dam to the vines in their perfect rows, and from there to the purple-blue mountain looming over the farm. ‘It’s such a stunning place, Morgs. I can’t understand why you’re in New York when you can be here.’
‘Clients, mostly. But I should take more time to come back here.’ Morgan pushed her hair behind her ears. Then she placed her palm on Noah’s thigh, gently squeezed and lifted it again. ‘Please don’t regret what happened between us, Noah. It was too good for regrets.’
‘It’s so complicated, Morgan,’ he said in a gruff voice.
‘I think you make it a great deal more complicated than it is,’ Morgan replied. ‘We’re friends who have shared our bodies. We had a great deal of fun, and if we do it again we’ll have fun again.’
Noah frowned. ‘So, you’re not looking forward? Expecting anything from me?’
Morgan crossed her legs, picked a blade of grass and ran it
through her fingers. ‘I was talking to Riley about this a little while ago, and spending more time with you has just reinforced my opinion that I’m not cut out to be with someone long-term.’
Noah frowned, utterly confused. ‘Why not?’
‘I’ve shielded you from my dyslexia—shielded you from what I go through on a daily basis. I shield everyone. I never read the news; I watch it. I try to avoid writing anything down because my handwriting looks like a chicken’s scrawl and I can’t spell. At all. I don’t drive unless I know exactly where I am and the route I’m travelling, and I never drive in New York or any other city.’
‘Okay.’
‘On the few occasions I do write something on the computer I call Riley to check the spelling.’
‘Um...spellcheck?’ Noah volunteered.
‘It doesn’t help if you don’t recognise the word, Noah.’
Oh, flip. He hadn’t thought of that.
‘Look, I’ve done tons of research on dyslexia and there are a couple of things I can’t wrap my head around. Both of them involve a steady relationship. One is that if I get involved then I can’t do it halfway. I’d want the whole bang-shoot. Marriage, kids...everything. Having kids is a risk, because dyslexia is hereditary and I couldn’t bear it if my husband blamed me for his child struggling at school. The other is that one day, as hard as I will try to prevent it, my partner will feel frustrated with me and then disappointed. Quickly followed by him thinking that, despite how hard we’ve tried, something is lacking. In me.’
Noah stared at her profile for a long, long time before pulling in a deep breath. He looked for the right words but only two hovered on his tongue. ‘Horse crap, Morgan.’
‘Excuse me?’ she gasped, shocked.
‘That is the biggest load of self-indulgent horse crap I’ve ever heard—’ Noah cursed as his mobile disturbed the country silence of the morning. He pulled out his mobile, checked the display and frowned. ‘Sorry, it’s my father’s carer. I need to take this.’
As the feminine Scottish lilt travelled across the miles, giving him news he didn’t want to hear, Noah felt the world shift under his feet. He dropped the phone to the grass and bent his head as he struggled to make sense of her words.
Fell out of his wheelchair. Hit his head. Bleeding on the brain. Dead...
‘Noah?’
He felt Morgan’s cool hand on his cheek.
‘Hon, what’s happened?’
‘He’s dead. He’s finally dead.’ Noah heard the words but his brain had no connection to the words his tongue was speaking. ‘I thought I’d be happier.’
‘Who’s dead, Noah?’
‘My father.’ He ran his hand over his face. ‘I have to go to Scotland. I have to tell my brothers. Man, can’t we just go back to our conversation? I want to tell you why I thought you were talking rubbish. It doesn’t have to be like that...’
The trees were dancing and the water in the dam was rising and falling. What was happening to him?
Morgan gripped his hands. ‘Just breathe, Noah. In and out.’
‘So many times I wished he was dead, and now he is and I don’t know what to feel.’ Noah stared at the sky. ‘I need to go, Morgan. I need to tell my brothers.’
He heard his irrational gabbling and felt embarrassed. He never gabbled...wasn’t irrational.
‘You will tell them, Noah. Just breathe for now, take in the news, stop thinking and let yourself feel.’
Noah shook his head and jumped to his feet. Hell, no! The last thing he wanted or needed to do was feel.
Morgan followed him up, placed her hands on his chest and looked up into his ravaged face. ‘Noah, stop. Listen to me—no, don’t push past me! You’re as white as a sheet. Listen to me!’
Noah forced himself to concentrate on her words.
‘I’m going to walk away and you are going to sit down and take it in. Take a deep breath and look around. You’ve just heard that your father is dead. Take a moment. Feel. Cry. Do what you need to do. There’s going to be a time when you need to be strong, and the next fifteen minutes, half an hour—the rest of the day if that’s what you need—isn’t that time.’ Morgan touched his cheek with her fingers. ‘Take the time, Noah. Please.’
Noah saw the sympathy in her eyes and bit his lip, fighting the emotion that was threatening to crash over him. If she had let him walk, do what he needed to do, he could have pushed it away, but if he had to stay here then he didn’t want her seeing the mess he would probably dissolve into. The anger, the regret, the swamping, swamping guilt.
‘Go.’ Noah muttered the word, shoving his hand into his hair. ‘Go now.’
Morgan nodded once, then bent down, quickly scooped up his mobile and tucked it into her pocket. He watched her walk away and it was only when she was out of sight that he allowed the first hot, angry, guilty wave of emotion to crash over him.
ELEVEN
Morgan walked from the galley area of the jet and sat down next to Noah, who was staring out at the solid black expanse that was the African continent below them. She pressed a whisky into his hand and put her temple on his shoulder. ‘How are you doing, soldier?’
Noah took a sip, shuddered, and gestured to the window. ‘I never realised how dark Africa really is. You hardly ever see lights.’
So, not ready to talk, then.
‘Just miles and miles of nothingness,’ Morgan agreed, tucking her feet up under her. She’d shed her shoes earlier and she reached for the soft blanket that she’d put on the chairs opposite them and pulled it over her knees.
‘Cold?’ Noah asked, slipping his arm around her and pulling her closer.
‘A little.’
Noah kissed her hair before taking another sip of his whisky. ‘I never expected you to commandeer the family jet to take me to London, Morgan.’
‘It was James’s suggestion, Noah. I’m sorry we couldn’t leave earlier, but they were doing some maintenance on it.’ Morgan replied.
James had been quick to offer the use of the plane, saying that the jet could turn around in London and come back to pick them up. So they’d return to New York a day later? The world wouldn’t stop. Morgan knew that there was a reason why she adored her brother. It made it hard to remain annoyed with him over the hurting-Riley issue.
‘It’s an expensive exercise, Morgan. I could’ve just caught a normal flight. And I didn’t expect you to come with me. I was going to send another operative to guard you while I was away.’
‘I don’t want to train someone else,’ Morgan joked, and then sighed at his worried eyes and his serious face. ‘Noah, relax. We’re hugely rich and we can afford to send the jet anywhere we want, whenever we want. We wanted to get you to London in the quickest, most comfortable way possible. I wanted to be with you because I don’t think that anybody should be alone at a time like this.’
Noah kissed her head again. ‘I’m not used to people doing stuff for me.’
‘Yeah, I realised that. Talking of which, James contacted Chris and gave him a heads-up. He’ll meet you at the airport with another guard for me and I’ll let you do what you need to do. I’d like to stay with you, but that might not be what you want.’
Noah was silent for a long time and Morgan subdued her pang of disappointment. Of course he didn’t want to have to worry about her at a time like this... Yeah, they had slept together, but that didn’t mean he wanted her to invade his emotional space.
‘When you’re done—when the funeral is over—the jet will take us back to New York. That’s if you’re coming back with me.’
Noah rubbed his eyes. ‘It’s so difficult to think. To decide what to do next.’
Morgan placed her hand on his thigh and left it there. ‘I know... Well, I don’t know, but I can imagine.’
‘My brothers—’
Morgan remembered the comment he’d made at the art exhibition. ‘As much as you want to, you can’t shield them from this, Noah.’
‘Yeah.’ Noah turned his head to look out of the window again into the black nothingness.
She’d never known anyone who needed someone to release what was obviously years of pent-up emotion more than he did. She knew that there was a huge and possibly tragic story here—that Noah was dealing with far more than just—just!—the death of his dad. Morgan wished she could shake it out of him, but she also suspected that she was the last person he’d allow to peek into his soul.
He saw himself as the protector, the guardian, but he didn’t realise that in order to give you had to be able to receive. That you had to be strong enough—physically, mentally, emotionally—to do that. She worried about him...worried that as soon as the plane landed he would be all business in a ‘let’s-get-this-done-and-sorted’ mode. She didn’t know much about death but she knew that he had to grieve, had to mourn. He couldn’t keep tamping down his emotion because one day he would erupt and splatter.
But this wasn’t her party and she couldn’t make him cry if she wanted him to. All she could do was to be here, offering her unconditional support.
‘We were raised in a bad area of Glasgow,’ Noah said, his accent broad and his voice low.
He was still staring out of the window and Morgan didn’t move a muscle, scared that he’d stop talking if she reacted at all. ‘My father was frequently out of work. He had few skills and no desire to get any more. He lived off the dole and drank most of it away. My mum took whatever work she could find and kept him under control—mostly. He was an angry man and liked being that way.’
Morgan pushed her shoulder into his, pushed her fingers into his hand and kept her silence.