by Maggie Cox
‘And I’ve got Richard Akers coming in for a one o’clock meeting. Organise some refreshments, will you?’
She nodded mutely, hating the terse, formal way he was addressing her. Was it going to be like this from now on, until she stopped working for him?
‘I’ll see to it.’
‘I’ve no doubt you will, Morgen. You’re nothing if not professional at your job.’
Before she had even a hope of unravelling his meaning his door had shut, leaving her staring at her computer screen as though she was in a trance.
He was staring out of the window again, his concentration shattered, his fury growing steadily by the minute. Why wouldn’t she marry him? The way she’d acted when he’d asked, anyone would think he’d insulted her! She obviously didn’t believe he was serious. What the hell had her ex done to her to make her so untrusting? The thought made Conall’s gut clench. And what was all that about him moving in different social circles from her? He’d spent the whole of Saturday night and most of Sunday trying to fathom out why she seemed so perturbed about it. The fact was, he should have sat down and talked with her more. Instead he’d let his hurt and rejection—not to mention his anger—get the better of him, behaved like a sulky child who hadn’t been able to get his own way. No wonder she’d wanted to go home in preference to sharing his bed!
That thought alone undid him. He’d been walking around as though the ground was covered in tin-tacks since he’d driven her home, sexual frustration almost making him lose his mind. Dammit, he couldn’t even look at her without being so turned on it hurt. In contrast, when she turned those damnably soft wary green eyes of hers on him, she made him feel like the man who’d shot Bambi’s mother. How to repair the damage before he took off to New York tomorrow? If he didn’t at least try he’d spend the better part of a week being impossible to work with. It was a dead certainty his colleagues wouldn’t appreciate the fact.
The buzzer sounded on his telephone. Irritably Conall barked into it. ‘Yes!’
‘I’ve got Victoria Kendall in Reception, asking to see you. Shall I bring her in?’
What the hell was his mother doing at the office? Drumming his fingers impatiently on the desk, Conall let loose a groan.
‘All right. Go and get her.’
In the outer office, Morgen smoothed down her black skirt with nervous hands, straightened her jacket, glanced perfunctorily in the mirror on the wall above the filing cabinet, then walked with what she hoped was a confident air along the corridor and out into the plush reception area.
‘Ms Kendall? I’m Morgen McKenzie—Mr O’Brien’s assistant. If you’d like to come with me, I’ll take you to him.’
Impeccably dressed, with light brown hair and blue eyes as dazzling as her son’s, Victoria Kendall shook the younger woman’s hand with a smile, then followed her into the corridor.
‘I expect he’s not best pleased to see me,’ she confided chattily to a surprised Morgen. ‘He probably thinks I’m going to give him another lecture, when all I want to do is take him to lunch. He hasn’t got anything important booked, has he? I know I probably should have rung first but—well, I was in town and sort of acted on impulse.’
Immediately Morgen felt herself warm to this woman. Unexpectedly maternal, despite her glamorous appearance, Victoria Kendall was not what she’d anticipated she’d be. In contrast, Simon’s mother had been so cold—supermarket freezers were warmer.
‘He does have a one o’clock meeting, but I’m sure he could postpone it until later.’
Now, why had she said that? Conall—not to mention the pompous, self-important Richard Akers—would likely kill her.
‘Well, that certainly sounds hopeful! Thank you, my dear.’
To Morgen’s shock, Conall was waiting in the outer office, his pacing feet wearing a hole in the carpet as they entered.
‘What’s the problem, Mother? You know I’m busy.’
‘What a greeting! I think I’ll turn around and go home again.’ Her expression offended, Victoria started to move back towards the door.
Appalled by his rudeness, Morgen jumped swiftly to the older woman’s defence. ‘Your mother came to invite you to lunch, Conall, and I really think you should go. I can easily postpone your meeting with Richard Akers until later on this afternoon.’
‘Why should I do that? And who asked your opinion anyway? You know damn well I’m flying out to New York tomorrow, and I’m up to my ears in work!’
‘Conall O’Brien! Since when did you forget the manners I raised you with?’ Marching up to her tall, broad-shouldered giant of a son, Victoria stood in front of him and glared. ‘Now, I want you to apologise to your secretary immediately! It’s perfectly true I came to take you to lunch. She was only speaking up on my behalf.’
‘I’m sorry, but the fact of the matter is I’m still too busy to go to lunch with you, Mother. Why don’t you let Morgen make you a cup of tea, and just relax for a few minutes before you set off home again?’
‘Was that an apology? Did I miss something?’ Victoria frowned at Conall, then at Morgen.
The exceptionally pretty young woman with the glossy dark hair had gone quite pink in the cheeks, she noticed. Also, her hands trembled slightly as she picked up some papers off the desk and shuffled them back into order. Interesting. Was this the woman her son had fallen for? She could easily see why. Her frown was quickly replaced by a dazzling smile that could only be matched by one of her son’s.
‘Even if you’re madly busy there is never any call for rudeness,’ she lightly scolded Conall. ‘But if you really don’t want me to treat you to lunch, perhaps Morgen would like to join me for a cup of tea and a chat instead? You can spare her for a little while, can’t you?’
Like a police dog on the scent of a criminal, Conall wrinkled his brow in suspicion. ‘Now, why on earth would you want to chat to my secretary?’ he demanded irritably.
What could you possibly have in common with her? Morgen finished for him in her head.
That did it for her—that note of insulting disdain that had crept into his voice. It was the straw that broke the camel’s back, as far as she was concerned. Throwing the sheaf of papers she had so carefully reassembled furiously down on the desk, so that they scattered everywhere, she turned to Conall with spitting green eyes, her chest heaving with the force of her anger at his insufferable condescension.
‘Does making people feel small come naturally to you, or did you take lessons? Well, for your information, Mr O’Brien, I’ve put up with your bad temper and ill manners all morning, and I’m not going to put up with them for a moment longer! See how well you can manage when I take the afternoon off!’
‘Now, wait just a minute, here. I—’
She heard the fury in his voice and, grabbing up her bag, headed out of the door as fast as her legs would carry her. Not really knowing where she intended to go, she pushed open a nearby door as she heard him hurry after her, slipped inside and firmly locked it shut behind her. Inside the small dark room that housed the firm’s stationery, Morgen tugged on a slim cord dangling from the ceiling and hefted a relieved sigh when the light came on.
‘Morgen!’
Outside the room, Conall rattled the metal door handle back and forth. ‘What the hell do you think you’re playing at?’
‘Stop bullying me! I don’t want to talk to you. You can have my notice on your desk in the morning!’
In the silence that followed, the only sound she could hear was the thundering of her heart. A lone tear slid down her cheek, but she impatiently brushed it away. She wouldn’t let him treat her like some kind of brainless minion! She just wouldn’t! That had been Simon’s trick, and Morgen was damned if she was going to let Conall replicate it.
‘I’m flying to New York in the morning, remember?’ The timbre of his voice was a low growl laced with pure frustration.
‘So you are,’ Morgen snapped. ‘I hope you stay there and never come back!’
‘You don’t mean
that.’ He rattled the door handle one more time. ‘Let me come in and talk to you.’
‘I don’t want to talk to you. There’s nothing more to be said.’
‘There’s plenty to be said! Open the door, Morgen, and let me in. Please!’
Hitching her shoulder bag more firmly onto her shoulder, she settled her fingers warily round the key in the lock. ‘I’ll open the door, but I’m not going to talk to you, Conall, so don’t think I am. As a matter of fact, I’m going straight home.’
His height and breadth of chest immediately swamped her as she turned the handle, and to her complete shock Morgen found herself hustled back into the tiny little room, with Conall glaring down at her and the door unceremoniously kicked shut behind him. All of a sudden her senses were completely overpowered by his maleness, and she backed up against some hardwood shelves, her breathing shallow and uneven. She could see the glint of sweat on his brow, and his face looked hard and unyielding in the harsh orange light of the room.
‘What—what do you think you’re doing?’
‘I’m not moving from here until you talk to me.’
‘Your mother’s waiting in the office. Go back to her. I’ll go for a walk and come back in an hour. I won’t really hand in my notice. You know I need this job, and I—’
‘What are you so frightened of, Morgen?’ The sudden gentling in his tone caught her off guard. Biting her lip to stop herself from crying, Morgen exhaled a shuddering sigh.
‘I’m not—I just don’t want to talk about this. And I—I don’t like the way you spoke to me in there…like—like I was somehow beneath you. Please move out of my way so I can go.’
‘I’m sorry if that’s how I made you feel.’ He grimaced. ‘I just let my frustration get the better of me. I didn’t mean anything by it. Now, please answer my question. What are you so frightened of? I’m staying right where I am until you tell me.’
Everything about him was implacable. Like a hard granite wall that even a wrecking ball would have trouble dismantling. Morgen stole an anxious glance at his intense blue eyes and swallowed to try and ease the ache in her throat.
‘I’m frightened of my feelings for you, if you must know! I don’t want to want you so much, but I do. It makes me afraid, Conall. You’re used to being in charge, giving orders. You’re at the peak of your career—wealthy and successful. I was married to a man who had those attributes too, but he thought that made him so much better than me. Because he was a doctor and I was just a secretary. He belittled where I came from, where I’d gone to school—what my parents did for a living. He even thought he was better than our baby! His parents turned their backs on Neesha, do you know that? Their own grandchild! By the time our marriage ended I didn’t have such a good opinion about myself. I don’t ever want to feel like that again. Can you understand?’
At last, Conall could. Seeing tears glistening in her beautiful eyes made his chest hurt. Reaching out, he touched her face, stroked away the moisture on her delicately soft cheek, then dropped a butterfly kiss on her softly parted mouth.
‘If I’ve ever made you feel less than you should, then I’m mortally sorry. I’ve always thought of you as my equal in every way. You put other women in the shade—you know that? With your beauty, your wit, your intelligence, the way you take care of your child. You’re a remarkable person, Morgen. That’s why I want you to be my wife.’
CHAPTER TWELVE
A LOUD rapping on the door startled them both.
‘Hold that thought.’ Smiling wryly, Conall bit back his obvious frustration.
‘Conall? Are you in there with Morgen? Why don’t you both come back into the office and I’ll make you some coffee?’
‘Mother.’ Ruefully shaking his head, Conall tugged gently at Morgen’s hand. ‘She won’t go away until she gets to the bottom of this, you know. She’s not known in the family as “Columbo” for nothing. We’d better go back. I’m sorry if I’ve been like a bear with a sore head this morning. I had no right to take things out on you.’
Hardly trusting herself to speak, Morgen risked a brief wobbly smile.
‘Apology accepted.’
‘Do you have a photograph of Neesha I might see?’ Sitting beside Morgen’s desk, her hands curled around a steaming mug of coffee with a liberal helping of sugar, Victoria Kendall leaned forward with interest as Morgen delved into her bag.
When it came to her little girl—her pride and joy—Morgen had no trouble in producing pictures on request. She had a generous selection in her wallet that she always carried around with her. The fact that Conall’s mother professed to be genuinely interested in her child and didn’t seem in any hurry to leave made the younger woman warm to her even more.
‘Oh, she’s beautiful!’ Victoria exclaimed, glancing up as Conall came back into the room. Smiling, he went behind his mother’s chair and peered over her shoulder at the colour photograph in her hand.
‘Just like her mother,’ he remarked.
The comment tugged powerfully at Morgen’s heart and made her feel as if she was suddenly falling into space. Her gaze touched Conall’s and a burst of warmth exploded inside her.
Noticing the longing in that glance in her son’s direction, Victoria Kendall smiled inwardly with a feeling of great satisfaction. She’d waited a long time for her handsome son to fall in love, and right now, studying the lovely brunette who sat before her, wearing her heart in her eyes, she prayed he really had found the one. His soul mate.
The only thing that slightly perturbed Victoria was that she sensed Morgen might need some little persuasion in the right direction. Being a single mum, she was obviously concerned for the wellbeing of her child, and wouldn’t want to rush into anything unless she was absolutely sure that Conall was one hundred per cent committed to them both. No doubt Conall’s reputation with the ladies had preceded him, and it was understandable that Morgen should be a little reticent under the circumstances. But Conall wasn’t really a carbon copy of his father. He might have enjoyed the ladies, but he hadn’t made any promises he couldn’t keep, and Victoria had always felt in her heart that when he eventually found the right woman he would stay completely loyal to her.
When he made up his mind about something he stuck to it, and Victoria didn’t doubt that her son would stick by Morgen through thick and thin. Therefore she resolved to do all that she could to help matters along to a satisfactory conclusion. What mother worth her salt wouldn’t?
Handing Neesha’s picture back to her, Victoria reached up and slid her hand across Conall’s. ‘It’s not too late to take Morgen to lunch, you know, darling.’
Shaking his head with genuine regret, Conall sighed. ‘It’s a nice idea, Mother, but I really, honestly cannot spare the time. When I get back from New York, in a few days’ time, I promise the first thing I’ll do is take Morgen out to lunch. Does that make you feel better?’
‘I know you’ll do the right thing, son.’ Confidently, Victoria smiled.
Morgen worked her socks off to make sure Conall left a clean slate when he went to New York. At half past six that same evening she finally switched off her computer, slipped on her jacket, from where it had hung on the back of her chair, stood up and stretched her arms wide. Glancing nervously at the light showing under his door, she patted her hand against her mouth to capture a yawn, then stood there wondering what to do next.
She was going to have to go in and tell him she was going home. It wouldn’t be easy, knowing she wasn’t going to see him for at least the next four days, maybe more. The ache in her heart was deep and irrevocable—like a physical pain. Why hadn’t she given him an answer when he’d said he wanted her to be his wife earlier? He’d asked her to ‘hold that thought’, but would he think because she hadn’t brought the subject up again she still wasn’t interested? As far as she was concerned he had given her the assurance she sought. He didn’t care where she lived or what her background was; he’d told her he thought of her as his equal.
Oh, God…ple
ase don’t let him change his mind.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, then rubbing the tiredness away from his eyes, Conall welcomed the distraction the knock on the door brought. Feeling a little frisson of heat zigzag through his body when he saw who his visitor was, he rose from his seat, yanked off his expensive silk tie and threw it carelessly onto the desk.
‘I just came to tell you that I’m going home now.’
Her tentative smile slipped away from her lips, as if she was unsure about letting her guard down. The brief tantalising glimpse seduced Conall’s already aroused senses like satin sheets against bare skin, and anticipation seeped into his blood and quietly simmered. Dropping his gaze to the vee of her blouse beneath her opened jacket, and the pink cotton that lovingly caressed her comely curves, he felt heat explode inside him, obliterating any last vestiges of fatigue he might be feeling.
‘Come in and shut the door,’ he told her.
She didn’t protest, as he’d thought she might. Having done what he asked, Morgen moved towards him, carefully looping her hair behind her ear, her interested glance on the architectural plans spread out before him on the desk, the blue of his silk tie a vivid splash of colour against the black and white of the drawings.
‘Not finished yet?’ she asked.
‘Sweetheart, I’ve done all I’m going to do for tonight.’ Without further ado Conall rescued his tie, pushed it deep into his trouser pocket, then rolled up the drawings and stashed them by the filing cabinet behind him. His desk clear, he let loose a heartstopping grin that knocked her sideways.
‘Anyway, I hope you have a good trip. I’ll keep you posted if anything important comes up.’
‘Ever the efficient assistant.’
‘I try to do my best.’