In Her Boss's Bed

by Maggie Cox

  ‘Over my dead body!’ Conall’s searing blue gaze was like a laser beam boring into Morgen’s skull. ‘Thank heaven your car’s still at work—remember? But even if it was possible, I’d tie you to the bed first to stop you doing it! Be sensible, Morgen. Stay put for the rest of the day and make sure you don’t venture any further than this room and the bathroom. Unfortunately I have several meetings scheduled for this afternoon, and I need to do some background work to prepare, otherwise I’d stay with you. Have you got a phone nearby?’ he asked.

  Morgen reached across to the nightstand at the other side of the bed for the slim white cordless phone that she always kept there.

  ‘Right here.’

  ‘Keep it handy. I’m going to be ringing you on and off throughout the day, just to make sure you’re okay. I might also have to ask you where I can put my hand on things I need at the office. That all right with you?’

  ‘Of course.’

  Their business concluded, Morgen was worryingly bereft of words. It didn’t help matters when Conall stood staring at her as if he was having great difficulty in walking away. A little muscle ticked in the side of his jaw. It seemed to trigger a series of worryingly sensual tremors in her body that she was helpless to do anything about. Imagination was a powerful thing, Morgen silently warned herself. Conall O’Brien could have any woman he wanted, most probably. Why on earth would he be interested in a single mother and all the baggage that automatically entailed? And now he’d seen her at her worst—oh, no! She hadn’t even glanced in a mirror this morning—never mind brushed her teeth or combed her hair—she must look like Dracula’s mother!

  ‘Thanks for bringing me home, by the way, and for staying the night. I hope you weren’t too uncomfortable on the couch.’

  ‘I was fine. I used your shower—I hope you don’t mind? I need to go home now, for a quick shave and to get a change of clothes. I’ve made up a flask of soup for you in the kitchen—I went through the cupboards and found some tomato and lentil. Make sure you have some if you feel hungry. And ring me if you need anything. That clear?’

  He made her feel like a little girl again—that much was clear. Safe and protected—cherished, almost—a seductive combination for any woman overdue for a little tender loving care. Morgen smiled her gratitude, even though her head felt as if all the rock drummers in the world were having a jamming session inside it.

  ‘Are you always this thoughtful for your employees?’

  Ignoring her question as though it made him uncomfortable, Conall strode back to the door. ‘And ring your mother—just to let her know you’re not well. I’ll see you later.’

  And with that he was gone. Morgen dropped her head back against the pillows and gratefully shut her eyes.

  His senior associate’s PA was pleasant and helpful to a degree, but she wasn’t Morgen. And she couldn’t make coffee he wanted to drink. Scowling for the umpteenth time that afternoon, Conall glanced up at the slender blonde bearing down on him with yet another cup of the undrinkable brew and forced a smile.

  ‘Thanks, Julie. By the way, did you find that file I asked you for?’

  ‘I’m still looking for it, Mr O’Brien. Could you bear with me for a few more minutes?’

  ‘I need that file if I’m to address this item at the meeting in half an hour. Do your best to find it, will you?’

  When she’d closed the door behind her Conall sighed and tunnelled his fingers through his already besieged hair. He needed a haircut, but when he was supposed to fit it into his already impossible schedule he didn’t know. Finding himself reaching towards the telephone, he snatched his hand away at the last moment.

  He’d already rung Morgen three times. The last time she’d sounded sleepy and husky-voiced, and he’d suffered uncharacteristic guilt because he knew he’d just woken her. If she was going to get back to the office sooner rather than later, he really should let her rest. Trouble was, she’d pricked his conscience with her unstinting concern over Derek, and her accusations to the effect that Conall lacked compassion when it came to his staff’s personal problems. Morgen had probably resigned herself to the fact he was a cold, uncaring, arrogant swine.

  He winced at the thought. She was a single mum coping on her own. That had to be hard. Even though his own high-octane lifestyle was probably a million miles away from hers, he knew that. But, aside from her provoking his conscience, he missed her. Crazy when he’d only known the woman for just a few short days, but there was no explaining this powerful attraction he seemed to have developed for her.

  Every time Conall closed his eyes, even briefly, he saw her in those sexy red silk pyjamas. Last night, when he’d checked on her at around one in the morning and found she’d kicked off the covers and her pyjama top had rolled revealingly up to just beneath her breasts, Conall had sucked in his breath at the sight of her gorgeous sexy midriff.

  His friend Mike back at the New York office would no doubt advise him to take her to bed as soon as possible and nip this wild attraction in the bud before it got out of control. Perhaps that was what he should do? Morgen might not exactly like or admire him, but he knew she wasn’t entirely immune to him either. It wouldn’t be too hard to seduce her, surely? Not a man of his experience…

  ‘Concentrate, O’Brien! What the hell is the matter with you?’ Furious with himself, he pulled the drawings spread out on the desk towards him and forced himself to run through them one more time. The door opened as he did so and Julie’s blonde head appeared.

  ‘Did you want something, Mr O’Brien? I thought I heard you talking.’

  What I want right now, I can’t have… Conall’s blue eyes stared unseeingly ahead, then he gave himself another mental shake and flashed a broad smile at his temporary PA that had her clenching everything in her body that could possibly be clenched.

  ‘I’m fine. Just thinking out loud,’ he said apologetically, then got to his feet to go and stare out of the window as she closed the door behind her again.

  ‘I didn’t see your car parked outside.’ Lorna McKenzie fussed around her daughter’s bedside, rearranging the glass of water on the tray, patting down the soft embroidered counterpane.

  With a daughter’s radar, Morgen picked up the slight note of suspicion lacing her voice. ‘A friend from the office drove me home. My car’s still in the car park at work.’

  ‘You should have rung me. I would have come and got you myself. Did this “friend” of yours think to ring the doctor for you?’

  It was typical of her mother to assume that nobody else knew how to do anything properly. Briefly shutting her eyes, Morgen silently warned herself not to rise to the bait. When she opened them again her mother was staring down at her, lips slightly compressed and arms folded.

  ‘I didn’t want the doctor to come out. It’s probably just a viral thing. It’ll blow over in a couple of days.’

  ‘And what if you need some proper medication? I suppose you’re going to treat yourself with some of those alternative remedies of yours instead?’ Lorna sighed and unfolded her arms. ‘You are the most stubborn creature on the planet, you really are! Have you managed to eat anything?’

  ‘My friend made me up a flask of soup.’ She’d had some earlier, but hadn’t felt much like eating.

  She wondered what Lorna would say if she knew this ‘friend’ she kept referring to was actually her boss. The head of the firm, no less. To tell the truth, Morgen was still having trouble getting to grips with the fact that Conall seemed so genuinely concerned about her wellbeing. Already he’d rung her three times today, and, worse than that, she’d found herself actually looking forward to those calls. Just hearing his voice had given her a resurgence of energy that was better than any medicine—orthodox or otherwise. Dangerous…

  ‘Well, I’m going to make you a nice chicken stew. Neesha’s already had tea, but she can have some stew as well later, if she’s hungry.’

  ‘What’s she doing now?’

  ‘Watching a video. I’ve told h
er you need to rest. She’s already done her homework, and it’s all packed away in her bag for tomorrow. I’ll send her in to see you in a while. In the meantime, why don’t you try and get some more sleep?’

  Morgen made a face, wishing her head didn’t feel as if it had a lead weight wedged inside it. ‘I don’t want to sleep any more. I think I’ll just put on my dressing gown and go and sit with Neesha.’

  ‘Well, don’t blame me if you start to feel worse later. You just won’t be told, will you?’

  ‘For God’s sake, Mum! I’m twenty-nine years old, not five! If you stopped treating me like a child and just let me make my own decisions things would be a whole lot happier all round.’

  Planting her feet on the floor, Morgen reached for her silk wrapper, pulled it on and headed for the door. Lorna stared after her, her eyebrows arched and her expression wounded, as it usually was when her daughter chose not to take her advice.

  ‘That would be fine if you made a few right decisions now and again,’ she muttered.

  Morgen knew the wise thing to do would be to ignore such a remark. But hurt and anger welled up inside her like a dam about to burst and completely sabotaged such wisdom. Her green eyes furious, she dropped her hands to her hips as she glared at the older woman.

  ‘And what’s that supposed to mean? We’re not talking about Simon again, are we, by any chance? He left me, remember? He’s the one who didn’t want the responsibility of fatherhood—so don’t act like it was all my fault. Do you think I wanted to be a single mother? You know how hard it’s been for Neesha and me, yet you still bang on about bloody Simon like he’s the injured party in all this!’

  ‘You could have hung on to him if you’d really wanted to.’ Patting down her soft brown hair, Lorna met her daughter’s furious look with an aggrieved one of her own.

  ‘Hung onto him?’ In disbelief, Morgen’s mouth dropped open. ‘What exactly is that supposed to mean?’

  ‘You’re an attractive woman. It can’t be beyond you to work that one out for yourself. You’ve forgotten how to be feminine since you’ve been working; that’s your trouble. You think you’ve got to be the tough career woman, act like a man to get what you want, when the reverse is true. Simon was besotted with you. If you’d only used that to your advantage, instead of letting his parents push him around, he’d still be here with you now.’

  Swaying slightly, Morgen stuck out her hand and held onto the doorjamb. Because she was so angry her head started to swim even more than usual. And deep down inside she felt betrayed. Betrayed because her mother seriously seemed to believe that she had somehow driven her husband away because she’d refused to use her feminine wiles to keep him interested. Lorna just wouldn’t see the truth. Simon’s parents had never believed her good enough for their beloved son, and eventually he’d believed that to be the case too—even when she’d become pregnant with his child.

  ‘We weren’t good enough for the likes of Simon Vaughan-Smith and his family, Mum. You, me, Neesha…that’s the cold, hard truth! We weren’t good enough! Why can’t you just accept that and move on? What did you expect me to do? Act like I was grateful he’d even noticed me, because he was a doctor and I a mere secretary? Was I supposed to bury my self-respect for the sake of a wedding ring?’

  ‘You’re every bit as good as him and you know it!’ Sniffing, Lorna pushed past Morgen into the hallway. She turned slowly, digging for the little square of linen tucked into her sweater sleeve. ‘I just want you and Neesha not to have to struggle. What harm can it do for a mother to want a good man to look after her daughter?’

  Morgen’s green eyes glittered as she looked at Lorna, heartsore. ‘Simon wasn’t a good man, Mum,’ she said softly. ‘He was a weak man. Neesha and I are better off without him. Things aren’t so bad. I earn a reasonable salary, we live in a nice house, I manage to keep our overheads to a minimum most of the time and I’ve even managed to accumulate some savings. All in all, we don’t do badly.’

  ‘No, you don’t,’ Lorna agreed, dabbing beneath her eyes. ‘But you work long hours and don’t get to see enough of your child. Who’s the one who’s been to see her last three school plays? Me. Don’t you think Neesha would prefer it to be you, Morgen?’

  Already feeling guilty about that, and other similar situations when her mother had had to stand in for her because she was working, Morgen sighed heavily. ‘Well, perhaps I can do something about that, at least.’ She was remembering what Conall had said about realising that people had a life outside work—about it not being unreasonable to expect to be there for your child’s school play.

  The charismatic head of O’Brien and Stoughton Associates was a good man—Morgen instinctively sensed that to be true, even if his manner was a little on the brusque side. Perhaps while he was in the UK she could talk to him about cutting down some of her hours here and there, so that she could be more flexible where Neesha’s needs were concerned? She’d certainly put in her fair share of overtime since Derek had had his problems. Surely the firm could pay her back by cutting her a little slack?

  As soon as she was feeling better she resolved to ask Conall for a meeting. Protocol probably dictated that she go via Human Resources, but why do that when she had a God-given opportunity to talk to the head man direct?

  ‘I’ll talk to them at work,’ she told her mother now. ‘I’ll see if I can change my hours round a bit, swap over to flexitime or something. Don’t worry, I’ll sort something out, I promise.’

  ‘You know it’s not because I don’t want to look after Neesha, don’t you? I love that little girl as much as any grandmother could love her grandchild. I just think that you and her deserve more time together as a family. She’s growing up so fast, Morgen. I don’t want you to miss all those special times, because they’ll never come again. All I want is for you both to be happy.’

  Sliding her arm around her mother’s thin shoulders, Morgen pressed her close with tears in her eyes. ‘I know that, Mum. I know that.’

  ‘Morning!’

  Immersed in deep conversation with Richard Akers, one of the senior associates, Conall did a double-take when Morgen’s dark head appeared briefly round the door.

  ‘Excuse me, Richard. I’ll be back with you in a moment.’

  Emerging into the outer office, he stared in amazement at Morgen’s busy slender figure as she bustled around her desk, picking up mail, sifting through it, dropping some of it into her in tray and holding onto the rest. She was wearing a red fitted jacket over a white silk top and a knee-length black skirt, her lovely long hair tied back in a sleek ponytail with a slim red ribbon. Had she lost a little weight? Conall’s blue eyes narrowed in concern, even though he was secretly fiercely glad to see her.

  ‘And what, may I ask, are you doing back in the office today? I thought we’d agreed you weren’t coming back until after the weekend?’

  ‘I was feeling fine this morning, so I thought I might as well come in. Shall I put some coffee on?’

  ‘Forget the coffee,’ Conall growled, acutely conscious of the fact that Richard Akers was waiting in his office, and that the man wasn’t known for his patience, yet anxious to reassure himself that Morgen was well enough to be back at work. ‘Stand still for a minute, will you?’ Pushing his fingers through his hair, he glared at her.

  He’d had a haircut, Morgen observed. That edge she’d noticed about him when she’d first met him was definitely back in evidence. As well as looking every inch the successful architect he was, from the top of his expensively cut hair to the tips of his stylish Italian loafers, the air around him seemed to bristle with the power he emanated—as if she were standing on a ley line. Her heart gave a nervous little jump.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  Her lower lip had trembled slightly and Conall honed in on it like radar. His whole body seemed to suddenly snap into super alertness. Why was it that work was the furthest thing from his mind when she was around? He’d seriously have to address that little problem if they were go
ing to continue to work together in any sort of harmony.

  ‘Nothing’s wrong. I just want to establish that you’re actually well enough to be here. What did the doctor say?’

  ‘I didn’t go to the doctor. I’m quite capable of judging for myself whether I’m feeling better or not. We give the medical profession far too much credence, in my opinion.’

  ‘Well, you still look a little peaky to me.’

  ‘I’ll be fine when I get back into the swing of things.’ Her gaze slid guiltily away.

  To tell the truth she was still feeling a little under par, but that was surely to be expected after three days in bed and only two after that of being up and about. And she had no appetite to speak of, which was probably why she was looking a little peaky, as Conall had put it. But still, he didn’t need to know that. Besides, Neesha was at school during the day, and Morgen had been going a little stir crazy cooped up in the house all by herself. Lorna had dropped by intermittently, of course, but Morgen had persuaded her that she was on the mend and really didn’t need fussing over. Work seemed more appealing than it had for a long time. Nothing to do with the fact that Conall O’Brien was there, of course…

  ‘We’ll talk when my meeting with Richard Akers is finished.’ Striding back to the door of Derek’s office, Conall paused to give Morgen a final once-over. Satisfied she would last the day without doing herself some long-term damage, he smiled briefly. ‘Don’t overdo things, and, yes, I’d like some coffee when you’ve got a minute.’

  ‘I’ll see to it.’

  Finding her chair before her legs gave way beneath her, Morgen put her hands to her burning cheeks and sighed. How was it possible for a totally innocent little smile from that man to reduce her to a quivering, shivering wreck? Even Simon, handsome as he undoubtedly was, had never been able to provoke such a violent response in her.

  Being glad to be back at work because she needed to get out of the house and back into a routine was one thing—but being glad to be back because of a certain six-foot-two, broad-shouldered, gorgeous blue-eyed male who happened to be her boss was completely another. If she was going to survive the remainder of the time he was acting as stand-in for Derek Morgen was going to have to claw back some professional distance between them.