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Morgan's Secret Son
SARA WOOD
As far as Morgan was concerned, Jodie's visit was worrying. According to the baby's birth certificate, Jodie was the child's next of kin but Morgan knew he was the baby's real father. Unless Morgan acted, Jodie would get custody and he would lose his precious son….But the attraction between Jodie and Morgan was overwhelming…the passion explosive. Perhaps there was a way for Morgan to keep his son: marriage!
“I can’t!” he grated. “Forgive me. I should never….”
He’d left the bed. Was picking up his shirt, sweater…shoes he’d somehow discarded.
“You can’t…go like this!” she gasped jerkily, raising herself on her elbows.
He stopped, his back to her. “I must!” he insisted.
“But…why? You wanted me!” she accused, deeply hurt, and unable to pacify her demanding body.
He remained silent, biting back an urge to tell her why he couldn’t make love to her. Pounding relentlessly into his head had come the realization that he couldn’t make love to the open and trusting Jodie under false pretenses. Either he had to tell her the whole truth of the situation or he had to leave her alone….
He’s a man of cool sophistication.
He’s got pride, power and wealth.
At the top of his corporate ladder, he’s a ruthless businessman, an expert lover— His life runs like a well-oiled machine….
Until now. Because suddenly he’s responsible for a BABY!
HIS BABY
A miniseries from Harlequin Presents
.
He’s sexy, he’s successful…and he’s facing up to fatherhood!
There’ll be another HIS BABY title out soon.
Morgan’s Secret Son
Sara Wood
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
EPILOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
JODIE looked around the immaculate apartment, gave a satisfied twitch to her hip-hugging skirt and went to unbolt the door.
‘Hi, Chas! Come in,’ she invited amiably.
A flurry of New York’s winter snow hurled itself past Chas’s muffled figure and settled on the newly polished wood floor.
‘You’ll have to clear that up before it stains,’ he directed, frowning at the innocent flakes. ‘Hurry up! Fetch the—’
‘No, Chas,’ she purred, very cat-got-the-cream. ‘I won’t!’
She had no intention of slaving away for him. She was waiting for his reaction to her outfit, and when it came it was highly satisfying. Startled by her refusal, he looked her up and down and then did the tour again, all the way from her high-heeled red thigh boots to her new and classy hair-style.
‘Wowee, babe! You’re a real knockout!’ he declared in surprise.
She smiled to herself, thinking of the blow she was about to deal him. ‘In more ways than one, Chas. Would you help me on with this?’ she asked sweetly.
‘Sure… Uh…are we going somewhere?’
He was more than puzzled by her assertive attitude, and his fingers hesitated on the warm amber-red jacket she’d handed to him.
‘Just me!’ she trilled.
Wonderfully in control, Jodie slipped her arms into the jacket then flung a heavy honey-gold cape around her shoulders, her once-nervy hands as steady as a rock. Then she dropped her bombshell.
‘I’m leaving. Permanently. Here are my keys. The apartment’s all yours. You go wipe the floor!’
He gaped. Jodie noticed for the first time that his teeth were rather uneven and his lips were thick and wet. She shuddered. Love really had been blind!
‘But…but you’re crazy about me!’ he protested. ‘And…I love you!’
‘No,’ she corrected, feeling contemptuous because he’d deliberately turned on his low, sexy voice. It was so gravelly it could have gritted Manhattan. But it did nothing for her. He was out of her system! She jammed her fabulous felt hat over her shiny chestnut bob and set the brim at a wicked angle. ‘You love yourself and you love the person you tried to create,’ she said, exulting in her coolness. ‘Ever since I came into your office as a junior you’ve done your best to make me into what you wanted: a cross between a domestic servant, a hard-nosed career woman and an insatiable tigress in bed. I’m fed up with being on anti-depressants because I don’t measure up, and I’m sick of trying to work out some PR promotion for you whilst scrubbing saucepans in a thong!’
‘You’re exaggerating!’ he gasped.
‘Perhaps, but you can’t deny that would have been your wildest dream come true!’ Her eyes flashed, green and sparkling, as she warmed to her theme. ‘No wonder I was a bag of nerves! No wonder this kitchen’s seen more charred remains than a fire fighter on overtime! Well, if you want Superwoman, go train someone else. I want out.’
‘You can’t!’ Chas said in desperation, as she picked up her new suede gloves purposefully.
‘Watch.’
‘But…we could have babies!’
She froze at his last-ditch, sneaky attempt to keep her, then swivelled around, her jade eyes glittering with such ferocity that Chas quailed. For the past six years she’d longed for marriage and children. Chas had refused.
‘Goodbye!’ she said coldly. ‘You can pick my car up from JFK airport!’
‘You’re not serious! Where’s your luggage?’ he scorned.
‘In the car already.’ Feeling free as a bird, she opened the door.
‘Wait a minute! Where—where are you going?’ he wailed.
‘England,’ she replied more softly, happiness lighting her face. ‘To be with my father.’
‘Whaaat? You’re mad! I know he wrote to you, but that was six months ago and you haven’t heard anything since! If he’s the sort of guy to abandon you and your mother when you were barely a year old, he’s hardly going to cheer when an emotional cripple lands on his doorstep!’ Chas bellowed nastily.
‘I’ll ignore that vicious remark,’ she said, utterly calm and collected. ‘I fully understand why he might have changed his mind about seeing me. Anyone can get cold feet over a situation like this. But I’ve realised that I have to meet up with him. He’s my only living relative and I have to try.’
Taking charge of her life was such fun! Why hadn’t she done it long ago? Seven years she’d worked for Chas! For six of those she’d been living with him! She gave the stunned Chas an amused glance.
‘You’ll find the thongs and the push-up bras in my top drawer,’ she murmured. ‘Enjoy.’
Elated, she swept out into the snow. She felt gorgeous, dressed in new and sensual—rather than uncomfortable and tacky—underwear. Over it she wore an outrageously expensive tangerine silk T-shirt, the slim-fitting amber suit with its shockingly brief skirt, a theatrical cape, hat and boots. She had become a new woman in every way—and she was setting out on an adventure.
Seemingly all legs and slim suede boots, she wriggled into the driving seat, gave a little wave to the open-mouthed Chas and giggled. Then she drove away, her thoughts returning to that moment when she’d opened the letter for the first time.
The sincerity of her father’s affection had burst upon her like a ray of sunshine and hope. Your loving father, Sam, he’d signed it, and the breath had caught in her throat when she’d read those words. Someone cared. Someone really loved and wanted her. The tears came to her eyes as she remembered and she had to hastily dash them away or end up flattened by a bus.
Her mother had died when she was small. Foster-parents had brought her up, and now she recognised that they had begun the curbing of her naturally happy, outgoing nature with their rigid rules and punishments. Love had never figured. Not true, unselfish, accepting love. But now things would be different.
Jodie beamed cheerfully at a cab driver who was trying to cut her up and she let him through with a friendly wave. She laughed out loud when the man hesitated, unable to believe what he was seeing. But she was on top of the world and in love with everyone—Chas excepted!—even cab drivers.
Soon, she thought dreamily, she’d be arriving at her father’s house in the south of England. He would have her letter announcing her arrival by now, and he could hardly refuse to see her when she’d come so far.
Just in case he did, there was Plan B. She’d booked into a nearby hotel, from where she planned to work on his heartstrings until he agreed to a meeting.
She felt sure he wouldn’t reject her. Something, someone, had dissuaded him from answering her many letters, she was sure. She understood only too well how other people could cloud one’s judgement.
It had taken her this long to realise that Chas’s advice—to forget her father—had been totally selfish. For years she’d relied on Chas, becoming increasingly dependent and subservient. But now she saw him for what he was: a bully and a control freak.
Her present confidence came from the fact that her father had been so eager for her to visit, and had even asked for her mother’s address. A pang went through her. The weeks of loneliness and bewilderment after her mother’s death had been so awful that she could recall them with crystal-clearness even now.
That was all over, though. Her eyes sparkled. This was the happiest she’d ever been in the whole of her life. No clouds on the horizon, no thongs, and a case stuffed to the brim with sizzling citrus and scarlet clothes!
‘Brace yourself, England,’ she cried with a laugh, seeing the sign for the airport. ‘Here I come!’
With Jack hooked expertly over his shoulder and his hands slippery with suds, Morgan finally succeeded in opening the door.
Why did people always call when he’d just got the baby in the bath? It was one of life’s irritating mysteries—and it was getting beyond a joke.
He grunted when the postman’s cheery, gossip-ready face hove into view. Village life in rural Sussex had its drawbacks. People expected to chat, to share information. And there were too many busybodies around trying to find out what the devil he was doing in Sam Frazer’s house.
The postman had taken a step back. Morgan realised he’d been scowling and modified the severity of his expression.
‘Morning,’ he muttered. It still sounded like a veiled threat, even to his ears. Must do better!
‘Recorded delivery,’ the postman said, warily handing over the package.
‘Thanks,’ he said, mustering a little more grace.
He signed for the letter with his free hand and gave it a cursory glance. For Sam. He dropped it onto the pile of unopened mail on the hall table which was waiting till Sam’s health improved, and made to shut the door. He had a million things to do.
‘Er…baby all right?’ enquired the postman meekly.
With a concealed sigh, Morgan mused that curiosity must be stronger than fear.
‘Fine.’
‘Must be five weeks old now. I love kids. Can I have a peep?’
It would have been churlish in the extreme to refuse, tempting though it was. Resigned to having Jack poked about by any number of strangers in the next few months, he pushed back the folds of the hooded towel which he’d wrapped around Jack’s wet body and his face softened as two tiny boot-black eyes stared back at him.
‘Like his father,’ observed the postman, making funny faces for Jack’s benefit.
‘Is he?’
How a snub-nosed scrap of humanity could look anything like an adult, he couldn’t imagine! Ironically everyone declared that Jack resembled Sam.
Guilt and resentment sucked relentlessly at his stomach. It was terrible being torn in two like this… He stared bleakly at the baby, despising himself for what he’d done, almost sick with anger and worry.
‘We were all sorry to hear Mr Frazer had been rushed into hospital again. How is he?’ persisted the postman with genuine sympathy.
‘Critical,’ Morgan jerked, all hell breaking loose in his heart.
‘That’s bad! He’s had some rotten luck since he moved in last summer.’ The postman patted his hand comfortingly. ‘It was a nice funeral you gave his missus,’ he said soothingly. ‘Lovely oration.’
Morgan winced and didn’t correct him. Teresa hadn’t been married to Sam—a fact which had virtually caused her death.
He supposed that the postman was trying to be kind, but Morgan did not want to be reminded too vividly of that terrible day when he’d stood in the driving rain watching Teresa’s coffin being lowered into the ground.
And then there’d been the expressions of sympathy to deal with. Teresa’s London friends knew his secret: that he’d had an affair with her, before she’d switched to Sam.
They had stared with open curiosity at his hollow eyes and shocked appearance, whispering salaciously behind their hands.
He had known what they were saying. He’d overheard a comment: ‘Did he never stop loving her? Is that why he’s so distraught?’
