скачать книгу бесплатно
Morgan’s searing look promised retribution for Riley’s teasing and her encouragement of her mother’s campaign to get her to be the reigning young socialite of New York City.
Morgan wrinkled her nose at her mother. ‘You and James just do it so much better than me. You’re suave and sophisticated and far more charming than I’ll ever be—with or without the big D. Look, we’ve discussed my contribution to the ball so can I go now?’ Morgan asked hopefully.
‘No, I’d still like you to attend this first planning meeting with Riley, Jack—our PR director—and the new consultant James has appointed to assess security,’ Hannah said as they walked down the carpeted passage to the boardroom.
On the walls either side were framed photographs of the Moreau collection of jewels.
‘Why can’t Moreau’s own Chief of Security handle it? He always has,’ Morgan said, because she felt she should show some interest.
‘Since the last Moreau ball there have been a number of armed robberies on jewellery exhibitions.’ Hannah rapped her fist against the frame that held a picture of the Moreau Diamond—a gem Morgan’s three times great-grandfather Moreau had bought from a broke Russian aristocrat and which had once been owned by Elizabeth of Russia. ‘Fifty-three carats, D-colour, flawless. Worth more than five million dollars. You want to risk it getting stolen?’
When she put it like that...
‘Our jewellery collection is priceless, Morgan, so James has contracted Auterlochie Consulting to look at every security hole we have and to plug it. Their best operative will be in charge...’
Auterlochie...Auterlochie... Why did she know that name?
‘In you go, darling, and smile!’
Hannah placed a hand on her back and she bared her teeth at her mother as she stepped into the conference centre. Her hand still on the doorknob, she looked around—and her head jerked back as dazzling blue eyes connected with hers.
Deep brown hair... Auterlochie... A deep Sean Connery voice explaining that it was a town in the Scottish Highlands, situated on a loch, and he’d once visited it with a friend. Two young boys had fished and explored the icy banks there, and he’d told her when he opened his business it would be called Auterlochie something.
It was the one of the longest sentences he’d strung together, and Morgan had been enthralled by his Scottish accent and the light of determination in those fantastic cobalt eyes... Noah Fraser.
Morgan’s heart splattered as it hit the floor. Bats on a broomstick.
She stepped back behind the door and squeezed her eyes shut. Eight years and she still wished she could acid-wash the memory out of her brain.
‘Excuse me. I really need to go to the bathroom.’
‘Oh, Morgan? Right now? The meeting...’
Hannah’s voice followed her down the hall.
In the upscale visitors’ bathroom where she’d fled after Hannah had dropped her verbal meteor strike, Morgan sat on the lid of a toilet and stared at her hands. She knew she had to get moving, get to the meeting, or her mum would hunt her down like a rabid fox but she didn’t know if she could face Noah Fraser again.
She’d rather flush herself down the toilet bowl.
‘Morgs?’ A fist rapped on the door. ‘You in there? Your mum is not a happy camper.’
Morgan leaned forward and flipped the lock to open. Riley pulled the door open and frowned. She sent her a pointed look. ‘Why are you hiding out in the bathroom?’
Morgan bit the inside of her cheek. ‘Did you meet Noah Fraser?’
‘The security guy? Yes. Very intense, very hot.’
Morgan swore and dropped her face to her hands.
‘And the problem is...?’
Morgan briefly explained her history with Noah and Riley lifted her hands in confusion. ‘So you made a move on the guy and he said no? It was a long time ago, Morgan.’
Morgan knew that if there was anyone who would understand what she was about to say Riley was it. They’d been friends forever and she had witnessed Morgan’s constant struggles with the system. Shortly after the incident with Noah she’d moved in as Morgan’s flatmate. Riley had watched her struggle through college to get her diploma in Gemology and Jewellery Design—it had taken her double the time to get as anyone else, even with a scribe—and she knew the challenges she faced on a daily basis and had supported her through the hard times.
‘Okay, I need more details. So tell me about Mr Melt-My-Panties. And hurry up—your mother is going to have both our hides soon.’
‘When I was nineteen the parents had some kidnapping threats made against them by some weird group and Noah was assigned as my bodyguard.’
‘Uh-huh...’
‘After a week of hanging with him I threw myself at him—actually, I threw my naked self at him.’ Morgan nodded at Riley’s wince. ‘He kissed me, discovered I was a virgin, and then he declined the offer. I was so humiliated. I liked him—felt so at ease with him despite the fact that he hardly spoke—and his rejection felt like—’
‘Like what, hon?’
‘I can’t explain it, and I don’t know why, but his rejection made me feel swamped with shame. Every emotion I’d ever experienced with my dyslexia—the lack of self-belief, the fear of judgement—dropped on me like a ton of bricks. It was horrible. He made me feel worthless again. And now is not the time to tell me that nobody can make me feel worthless!’
‘Okay. No lectures. Did he know that you were dyslexic?’
‘No, I was very careful to keep it from him. For that summer I was Morgan without the big D. That’s what made it even harder, I think... He rejected me anyway. Around him I was the most normal I had ever been and it still wasn’t enough. I still can’t think of that night without feeling cold and clammy.’
‘Oh, honey... Well, you know you’re not worthless. You’ve worked hard to climb out of that pit of feeling less than and not valued. Why are you letting those feelings, and that man, chase you into a bathroom stall? You’re better than that.’
She was, dammit. ‘I know that...’ she muttered.
‘Then get your butt out of there and pick up your chin. You’ll be fine. Me, I’m not so sure.’ Riley wiggled her butt.
Morgan lifted her hands in query. ‘What’s the matter with you?’
‘I think my panties are starting to melt...can I hit on him?’
‘Sheez, Ri!’ Morgan snapped. ‘No, you can’t hit on him! I mean, yes, you can... Aarrgh!’
Riley’s chuckles followed her out of the bathroom.
* * *
This time he’d sent her running.
Judging from her hasty retreat and her oh, crap! look, nobody had told her he would be at the meeting. While he hadn’t expected Morgan to attend this meeting, at least he’d been prepared to run into her. And he’d had a six hour flight to practise his oh-it’s-you face.
He understood her belting out of the room; he’d fought the same impulse himself. That and the inclination to grab her and pick up where they’d left off years ago. She’d be naked, of course...
Noah looked down at the table he was sitting at and concentrated hard. Thirty-three years old and he was grateful that his crotch was hidden from view by a sleek boardroom table.
Get a grip, Fraser. Distraction... Years ago he’d used firearm drills; now he just flipped open his iPad and checked his emails. Ten minutes later he glanced at his watch and stifled a frustrated sigh. The meeting still hadn’t started.
He’d made Morgan run off screaming into the... Well, not the night, but he still couldn’t blame her. It wasn’t his finest memory and he hadn’t been naked...with a Brazilian... Do not go there, Fraser.
He glanced over to the corner, where Hannah Moreau and her son James, who’d just entered the conference room, were standing. He’d met James once before, and despite the fact that he was one of the richest men in the world he rather liked the guy. He was smart, decisive, and didn’t give off an air of being precious.
He also knew, from Chris, that he played a cracking game of touch rugby, didn’t play polo, and could talk to miners and millionaires with equal ease. He couldn’t help hoping that Morgan had turned out equally well.
Not that he cared—much—one way or the other.
Noah saw the conference door open and didn’t realise that he’d sucked in his breath. The arty-looking redhead stepped through the door first, and exchanged a look with James that was part defiance, part attraction—something cooking there—and then Noah focused his attention on the figure in the doorway.
‘Sorry I kept you waiting, everybody. Hi, James.’
James Moreau whirled around and immediately crossed the room, pulling Morgan into his embrace. Morgan’s butterscotch-coloured head rested on his chest and she closed her eyes as she returned the hug. When she opened them again she looked straight at him—now utterly composed—with those clear, deep green eyes, and it was his turn to feel something akin to exposed and vulnerable...as if she’d cracked him open and his every thought, emotion, fear was there for her to read.
In another reality—the one where he wasn’t losing his mind—Noah remembered his manners and forced himself to his feet, taking a moment to pull his thoughts together and to display his usual expression. He called it inscrutable; Chris called it bored indifference. He pulled in a shallow breath and made himself relax while Morgan shook hands with the others in the room. He watched her interact and knew that her smile wasn’t as wide as it could be, that the muscles in her slim shoulders were taut with tension, that she was trying to delay the moment of having to acknowledge his presence.
Well, he wasn’t entranced with the idea either. Entranced with her, yes. With the reality of being entranced by her...no.
He didn’t do entranced.
‘Noah,’ James said, placing a hand on Morgan’s stiff back and urging her towards him, ‘I don’t know if you remember my sister Morgan?’
Since the memory of her naked is forever printed on my retina, I should think so.
Noah’s mouth twitched, and when Morgan glared at him he thought that she’d worked out what he was thinking. ‘Of course. Nice to see you again, Morgan,’ he said, in his smoothest, blandest voice.
Wish you were naked, by the way.
‘Noah,’ Morgan said. Her eyes flicked over him, narrowed, and then she gave him a ‘you’re a bug and I’m desperate to squash you’ look.
What was her problem? He hadn’t asked her to proposition him... Was she still annoyed because he’d said no? Come on, it was eight years ago—get over it, already.
Noah held her defiant stare. He’d perfected his own implacable, don’t-mess-with-me stare in the forces, and it had had more than a couple of recruits and higher-ranking officers buckling under. When Morgan started to flush he knew had he won their silent battle of wills. This time.
‘Take a seat everyone.’
Noah turned back to the table and pulled out the chair next to him for Morgan, gestured her into it. She narrowed her eyes at him, yanked it back another couple of inches in a flouncy display of defiance and dropped into it. Noah could smell her scent, something light and fresh, and felt a rush of blood heading south, making him feel almost light-headed. She still wore the same perfume and it transported him back to that night so long ago, when he’d tangled with temptation and by the skin of his teeth escaped.
‘Right, the first item of business...’ Hannah said, in a crisp, no-nonsense voice when they were all seated and looking at her expectantly. ‘I’m handing over the responsibility of the ball to you, Morgan, and it’s not under discussion. Make me proud.’
THREE (#uf6c227df-31e3-5de5-a4f8-0bf30a950bc2)
When she was very tired, stressed or emotional Morgan saw dots in front of her eyes and the letters on a page danced and shuffled about. However, this was the first time the room had ever moved, that faces had bopped and objects jiggled.
Morgan closed her eyes and wondered if she had imagined the last thirty seconds. She’d thought she’d heard her mother say that she wanted her to take over the organising the Moreau Charity Ball—the most anticipated ball on the international social scene, held once every five years, displaying the full collection of gemstones and jewellery the Moreau family had acquired over many generations.
There were only three thousand guests attending, five hundred of whom were invited by Hannah herself from among their loyal customers, long-time business associates and preferred suppliers. For the rest, whether they were royalty or the average Joe, they had to place a bid for a double ticket and the highest bids won the highly sought after tickets.
It was outrageous how much people were prepared to pay for a double ticket. Simply inconceivable... And that was why, along with the auction, the Moreau Charity Ball raised tens of millions for the various causes they supported around the world.
But for their money their guests expected the best entertainers, visually stunning dress sets, Michelin star quality food—the whole gilt-plated bang-shoot.
It was rich, it was exclusive, it was the social highlight of the half-decade. And if you wanted to be part of the experience then you paid, stratospherically, for the privilege of being there.
And Hannah wanted her to run it? Morgan felt her throat constrict. She lifted her left hand and didn’t realise that she was groping for Noah’s hand until his strong fingers encircled her palm and squeezed.
‘Breathe,’ he told her, his voice authoritative even though it was pitched at a volume only she could hear. ‘Again; in and out. There you go.’
Morgan felt the room settle as oxygen reached her brain and lungs. When she thought she could speak she licked her lips and considered removing her hand from Noah’s strong grasp. But since it seemed to be her only tenuous link to reality, she left it exactly where it was.
Morgan made herself look at her mother, who had the slightest smile on her face. ‘Is this a joke?’
‘Not at all,’ Hannah replied. ‘I’d like you to plan, organise and execute the ball.’
‘But—’
‘Riley will help you with the creative side—help you pick the theme, do the design. You both have an amazing streak of creativity and I know that it will look visually spectacular.’
Morgan shook her head, wishing she could speak freely and say exactly what was on her mind. I don’t do well with reading reports, writing reports, analysing spreadsheets. You know this! I’ve worked really hard to conquer my dyslexia, but it’s still there and it becomes a lot worse when I’m stressed. This ball will stress me out to the max! I don’t want to mess this up; it’s too important for me to be in charge of.
Hannah’s eyes softened but determination radiated from her face. ‘Honey, I know that you will be fine. I know that you also have your own commissions, your own business to run, so the full resources that are available to me are available to you too. We’ll hire you a PA for this project; she’ll type your reports and be your general gopher. James will keep an eye on the finances and you’ll liaise with Jack regarding the promotion and advertising of the ball. Noah will draw up plans to keep the jewels safe, and I’ll be on the other end of a mobile. You just have to co-ordinate, make decisions, boss people about.’
‘You’re good at that,’ James inserted with an easy grin.
And in a couple of sentences her mother, without announcing to the room that she had a problem reading and writing, waved away her biggest concerns.
Morgan reluctantly pulled her hand out from Noah’s and flushed, because she could sense those deep blue eyes on her face. What must he think of her? she wondered. That she was a candidate for an upmarket loony bin?
‘Why are you bowing out, Hannah?’ Riley asked, as forthright as ever.
Hannah picked up her pen and tapped the point on the stack of papers in front of her. Morgan saw a quick, secret smile on her face and frowned. It was a good question, and one she was sure she knew the answer to... Three, two, one...
‘I need a break—to step away from the business for a while.’
There it is and here we go again...Morgan thought. Now they were getting to the bottom of things. Every ten years or so her parents decided that they should try and live together again. They loved each other, but they loved each other more when they had continents between them. They refused to accept that while they adored each other they just couldn’t live together. How many times had her father moved in and out of the Stellenbosch farmhouse and, later, the Englewood mansion?
Morgan sent James a quick eye-roll and he responded with a faint smile.
‘Jedd and I have realised that we’ve been married nearly forty years and we want to spend more time with each other. He’s going to try to be a little less of a mad geologist and I’m going to accompany him on his travels. So I need you, Morgan, to organise the ball for me.’
Morgan expelled her pent-up tension in a long stream of air. If this was about her parents’ marriage then she gave her mum a week and she’d be on the company jet back home. Hannah couldn’t go five minutes without checking her email or applying her lipstick. Her father spent weeks in jungles without making contact, sleeping in tents and hammocks and, she suspected, not washing much.
A week, maybe two, and Hannah would be back and yanking the ball’s organisation into her beautifully manicured hands. Fine by her. She just had to ride it out.
What a morning, Morgan thought. Noah, the ball, her parents; she felt as if she was in sensory and information overload.
‘Right, down to business,’ Hannah said sharply.
Morgan frowned and held up her hand. ‘Whoa! Hold on, there, Mum.’ Morgan narrowed her eyes at her beautiful, wilful mother. If she gave her mother an inch, she’d gobble her up. ‘I will sit in on this first planning meeting and then I will decide how involved I want to become—because I know that you will whirl back in here in two weeks’ time and take over again.’
Blue eyes held green and Hannah’s mouth eventually twitched with a smile. She nodded, looked around the table and pulled on her cloak of business. ‘Okay. Now, we’ve wasted enough time on our family drama. Back to work, everyone.’
