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‘Arrgh. We’ll discuss it another time,’ Morgan said.
She was like a dog with a bone, Noah thought. Stubborn and wilful. Why did that turn him on? Then again, everything about her turned him on.
Riley leaned her head on James’s knee and yawned. Noah noticed that James lifted his hand to touch her hair, thought about it and dropped it again. Oh, yeah, there was definitely something brewing with those two. Some day the lid on their self-control would pop and they’d find themselves in a heap of trouble.
Just like he would...
Living with Morgan was killing him. Not sleeping with Morgan made every day a torture. And he knew that she felt exactly the same way. He saw it in the way she looked at him; her eyes would deepen with passion and her breath would catch in her throat and he’d know...just know...that she had them naked and up against the wall. When...if...they finally got to do this, New York would experience a quake of significant proportions.
Unfortunately his problems with Morgan went a lot deeper than he’d ever thought possible. Right down to the core of who he was.
He’d never had such a physical reaction to anyone, ever. Why it had to be Morgan he had no idea. She could send him from nought to sixty in a heartbeat and have him laughing while she did it. And that was the reason why he had to keep his distance from her—physically, emotionally. He would never give anyone control over him.
She had the ability to make him lose it; definitely in bed, possibly emotionally and, most terrifying of all, in anger. She really knew how to push his buttons. What if they had a fight and he was pushed too far? What would he do? Who would he become? Would he revert to that angry feral boy who’d stood in that grotty kitchen and held a knife to his father’s throat? The kid who had watched as droplets of blood beaded on that stubbled neck, enjoyed the sour smell of fear that permeated the air? The Noah who had seriously considered ending it all...the insults, the abuse, the weight of responsibility that had landed on his shoulders?
That person scared him: the uncontrolled, wild, crazy person he could be when he allowed emotion to rule. He was currently locked in a cage and sensible; controlled Noah kept guard over him. And sensible Noah could only do that if he stayed away from emotional complications. Like Morgan.
He couldn’t afford to let Morgan in, to allow his guard down, to be the person he could be...
It wasn’t going to happen with her or with anyone else.
‘What do you think, Noah?’ James asked him.
Noah pulled himself back to the conversation. What had they been talking about? Were they still discussing the theme of the ball?
‘Burlesque sounds good,’ he said lamely.
Morgan laughed as she tossed the crust of her slice of pizza into the empty box. ‘Where did you go? We’re talking about going home for the wedding. We’re leaving in a fortnight.’
Noah sat up, ran a hand over his lower jaw and slapped his brain into gear. ‘Back up. Going home? Where? What wedding? Why didn’t you tell me about this?’
Morgan pouted. ‘I’d hoped this would be over by then.’
‘I asked you for a detailed schedule of everything you were committed to in the foreseeable future. Why wasn’t this wedding on it?’ Noah demanded. How was he supposed to protect her if she didn’t keep him informed? Honestly, it was like dealing with an octopus with twenty tentacles.
Riley looked at James. ‘I think this is our cue to leave so that they can fight without an audience.’
‘I do not fight,’ Noah growled. ‘I negotiate.’
‘No, he orders. He just tells me what to do and expects me to stand there and take it,’ Morgan agreed, unfurling her long legs. She stood up, kissed Riley and then James on their cheeks as she said goodnight.
James hugged her, stood back and brushed her hair from her forehead. ‘You’re my sister, and I know you can be a pain in the butt. Don’t make this harder for him than it has to be. Don’t forget to tell him about Johnno’s exhibition tomorrow night, and the Moreau Polo Cup Challenge on Saturday at Liberty Park. Then we go to the wedding in Stellenbosch in two weeks’ time.’
‘Got it.’ Morgan cut Noah a glance, and when she spoke again her attitude was pure factitiousness. ‘Noah, we have an art exhibition tomorrow night, a polo cup on Saturday and a wedding in Stellenbosch in two weeks’ time. Put them on the schedule.’
Noah’s face promised retaliation. Bring it on, soldier.
Noah bade Riley and James goodnight and waited until the door had closed behind them before turning back to Morgan. ‘Stellenbosch, South Africa?’
‘Yep,’ Morgan answered flippantly.
He didn’t respond—just waited for a further explanation for why she hadn’t thought it was important to fill him in.
Morgan tapped her foot in irritation. ‘The kidnappers are in New York. I’m going on the private jet to my home town, where I know everyone, to a wedding that has more security than the Pentagon.’
‘Why?’
‘Merri, my friend, is marrying into a very influential, very connected political family. Security will be tight.’
‘And where will you be staying?’
‘At Bon Chance—our house on the family farm. Vineyard.’ Morgan picked up the empty pizza boxes and the bottle of wine. ‘Grab the glasses, will you?’
‘Good plan, since you might throw something when I tell you that I’m coming too.’
Morgan’s shoulders stiffened at his sarcasm. ‘I told you—it’s not necessary. James and Riley will be staying in the house, as well as James’s protection people, and the wedding will be secure. The kidnappers are here in New York!’
Noah walked over to the dishwasher, yanked it open and dumped the glasses inside. ‘I’m going, Morgan. Until the threat to you is neutralised I’m sticking to you like a shadow. Now, I can either go as your date-cum-bodyguard or just as your bodyguard. I’m equally comfortable with either. Your choice.’
‘That might be a bit awkward.’
Awkward... He didn’t see why. Morgan turned away and Noah frowned. Strangely it took him a minute to make the connection. ‘You’ve asked someone else to be your date?’
Morgan nodded. ‘Yes. ‘
Noah managed to keep his face implacable but inside he fought the urge to punch his fist into that shiny, fancy fridge. ‘Who is he?’ he said through gritted teeth.
‘A friend. An old friend.’
‘That’s not all of it,’ Noah pushed.
Morgan whirled around. ‘Do you want the details? Okay, then! He’s an ex-boyfriend who I’m still fond of. He’s also a friend of Merri’s and we keep in touch. Satisfied?’
‘Not by a long shot,’ Noah snapped, forcing down the green tide of jealousy swelling up his throat. He made himself stop thinking about Morgan in someone else’s arms—dancing, laughing, flirting with another man. This was business... What would he do if it was only business?
He breathed deeply and forced himself to think the problem through. ‘If the security at the wedding is as good as you say it is, then I’ll deliver you to the wedding and pick you up when you’re done.’
Morgan’s eyes sparked with anger. ‘What if I want to sleep over?’
Was she trying to kill him? Seriously? ‘That’s not going to happen, Duchess, unless it’s with me.’
‘Big words from a man who won’t even let himself touch me unless he’s pretending to be my date!’ Morgan hissed.
Give me strength, Noah prayed. ‘I gave your brother my word.’ He pushed the words out through gritted teeth.
‘Well, there’s no law that says I have to wait for you, soldier. So if I want to sleep with someone then I will.’
‘You bloody well won’t!’ Noah gripped her arms with his hands. His eyes glittered and he could feel his temper licking the edges of his tongue. ‘What would be the point, anyway? You’d be imagining it was me the whole time.’
‘You arrogant—’ Morgan placed her hands on his chest and shoved.
Annoyed beyond reason, he gripped her shoulders with his big hands and fought the urge to shake her. Instead he slammed his mouth onto hers and yanked her up against his body. He placed one hand low on her back, fingers spread out over her backside, and his other hand held her head in place. Her made-for-sin mouth was hot below his.
Noah could feel her mentally fighting him, her mind cursing him, even though he knew that her body wanted this as much as he did. Pure orneryness kept her mouth clamped shut, and her slim body was rigid with shock. Dropping his hand from her head, he stroked her arm, urging her to relax, and eventually both their tempers ebbed away under the sensual heat they created.
He knew that Morgan was trying to fight the temptation to wind her arms around his neck and fall into his body. It seemed so long since he had touched her, and yet it was like yesterday. She was toned, yet fragile, hot and sexy.
Noah concentrated on applying exactly the right amount of pressure and kept his hands still. He kissed the corner of her mouth and slowly worked his way inwards, nibbling and caressing as he went along. His tongue flicked and retreated, coaxed hers out to play. He sighed in triumph as she groaned and opened her mouth to his. Instantly his tongue accepted her invitation and curled around hers while he pulled her close.
Unable to resist this a moment longer, Morgan threw her arms around his neck and moulded her body against his. Plunging her fingers in his hair, she wound a calf around his and pressed herself up against his hard frame.
Long, luscious, passion-soaked minutes later Noah knew that he’d reached the point of no return—that if he carried on for another minute he would be lost, doing exactly what he wouldn’t allow himself to do. It took every ounce of his legendary self-control to wrench his mouth from hers, to step back, to meet her eyes.
He moved his hand so that he held her jaw, brushed his thumb over her full bottom lip.
Morgan spoke, frustration in her passion-smoked voice. ‘You’re really stopping?’
He nodded and jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans so that he didn’t reach for her again. ‘Really am.’
He watched as Morgan’s smoky eyes cleared and confusion replaced heat. ‘I don’t know why, or how, you can even start it. Especially knowing that you’re not going to take it further.’
All he knew for sure was that he was a masochist, a glutton for punishment. He could try to explain—temper, jealousy, they were all factors—but his biggest motivator was that at that moment he hadn’t been able not to kiss her.
Noah watched as the last spark of fight went out of Morgan. She took a step towards him, dropped her head and curled her fingers into his shirt.
‘I hate this,’ she said in a small voice.
And he hated the thought that he—this crazy situation between them—could make her sound so small, defeated.
He resisted the urge to pull her into his embrace, to soothe her. He didn’t do touchy-feely so he just stood there, trying to ignore the surge of protectiveness that threatened to knock his feet from under him.
‘Hate what?’ he asked quietly.
‘This...all of this. The bodyguarding. Being so attracted to you, not being able to touch you, to get it...you...out of my system.’ Morgan rested her forehead in the middle of his chest. ‘It’s horrible... I don’t like feeling this out of control.’
‘I know.’
He had to touch her, so Noah rubbed his hand up and down her spine. It was killing him too. His hand moved up between her shoulder blades onto her neck and under her head. He pulled the hair at the back of her neck and gently tipped her head back.
‘I gave my word...it’s important to me that I keep it,’ he said, looking down into her mesmerising eyes.
‘I know. Dammit...I respect that. I just don’t like it!’
Tell him something he didn’t know. He didn’t consider it a lazy day on the beach either.
Morgan stepped back, wrapped her arms around her waist and tipped her head to one side. ‘I wish I could yell at you—scream. I want to act like a diva and fire you and stomp away and throw things.’
‘You can if it makes you feel better,’ Noah offered on a small smile. He had to hand it to the lass: he never knew what she was going to say or do next—she was never predictable.
‘Consider yourself yelled at and fired,’ Morgan said on a long, tired sigh. She looked at him. ‘Any chance of you saving me from the loony bin and actually staying fired?’
Uh, no. That wasn’t happening. A cold shower would happen, but him leaving...? ‘Nope.’
‘Didn’t think so,’ Morgan grumbled as she left the kitchen.
* * *
‘This is it.’
Morgan looked out of the window of the cab and frowned when she didn’t see the swish art gallery she’d expected to see. She looked across the road but there was nothing in the immediate vicinity except a closed dry cleaners and a rather grubby-looking diner. The other side of the street held a pawn shop and a strip club.
Where were they?
‘Are you sure this is three-six-two?’ Morgan asked.
Dark eyes glared at her from the front seat of the cab. ‘You said six-three-two, lady. Three-six-two is uptown.’
Morgan closed her eyes at his harsh voice.
‘Take it easy, buddy,’ Noah said in a calm voice.
‘She said six-three-two,’ the cabbie insisted.
‘You’ll still get paid, so relax.’ Noah laid a hand on her knee. ‘Where’s the invite, Morgan? Let’s check the address.’
Morgan felt heat infuse her cheeks and rise up her neck and was grateful for the early evening shadows in the cab. She flipped open her clutch bag and pulled out the invitation. She glanced at the numbers and thrust the invitation towards the taxi driver.
‘Six-three-two,’ she muttered.
The driver glanced down at the invitation and shook his head in disgust. ‘Jeez, lady, whassa matter wi’ you? This says two-three-six!’
‘Back off, man, she made a mistake,’ Noah said in a hard, cold voice, and with a final huff the driver whirled around in his seat, slammed the car into gear and abruptly pulled off into the traffic.
Morgan licked her lips and waited for Noah’s probing questions as they retraced their route. How was she going to talk her way out of this?
‘Sorry.’
Noah shrugged and leaned back in his seat. ‘You’re tired...we both are. Mistakes are easy to make. Ignore him.’
Noah looked out of the window and Morgan glanced at his masculine profile. That was it? Where were the questions, the demands for an explanation, the mockery for making such a basic silly mistake? Why didn’t he follow up on the cab driver’s question, probe a little deeper?
Did he know and not care? Did he suspect and was distancing himself from the problem? Was he just simply not curious or, even scarier, didn’t he give a hoot?
At the gallery a little while later, Morgan was still thinking of his non-reaction in the taxi and how she’d managed to dodge the explanation bullet. She stepped away from the group of people who were talking around her, looking past Johnno Davie at Noah, who was standing in front of one of Johnno’s massive paintings. It was one of the few non-abstract paintings on display: a nude on a bed in a symphony of gold and cream, with hints of blush. It didn’t need the tag Sophie—Naked and Relaxed; anyone with half a brain could tell exactly what Sophie had been up to before Johnno had decided to capture her on canvas.
Morgan wondered if Sophie knew that her...ahem...satisfaction was part of Johnno’s latest collection.
Morgan lifted her glass of wine to her lips and watched Noah as he stared at the canvas. He was perfectly dressed for an art exhibition in NYC: dark jeans, a white button-down shirt and a black jacket.
