'Perhaps. But this is your tale and marriage.'
'Was.' As she spoke Kitty bustled in with the main course, and Willow had never been so glad of an interruption in all her life. 'Something smells wonderful,' she said brightly.
'Steak with red-wine butter,' said Kitty cheerfully. 'You don't go in for all that slimming carry-on, do you?'
'Not me.' She had lost so much weight in the aftermath of the break-up with Piers she'd fought for months to gain weight, not lose it, having gone down to skin and bone-as Beth had put it. She'd never been voluptuous but she liked her curves.
'Good. Can't abide lettuce eaters. There's toffee-ripple cheesecake with fudge sauce for dessert. It's quite rich so you won't manage much but it's one of Morgan's favourites.'
'All your desserts are my favourites, Kitty.'
Kitty gave a rich chuckle. 'Go on with you.' But she was red with pleasure as she left them.
Willow looked at him. She was beginning to realise Morgan was more complex than she'd initially thought. She'd felt comfortable putting him down as a wealthy bachelor with a different girlfriend for each day of the week and a jumbo ego the size of a small mountain. The first part was probably still true, but he didn't act like a man who had an inflated opinion of himself. He was obviously intelligent and determined-no one got to where he had without possessing such qualities along with a healthy dose of tenacity and intuitiveness-but he wasn't brash or conceited. And the way he was with Kitty was lovely.
She frowned to herself. She would have preferred he stayed in the box she'd put him in; it was far more comfortable. Determined to deflect more searching questions, as the door closed behind Kitty she said, 'Well, now you know all about me, how about you? Ever been tempted to walk up the aisle or are you much too sensible for that? You strike me as the confirmed-bachelor sort.'
Morgan smiled as she'd meant him to. 'I got my fingers burnt a long time ago when I was knee-high to a grasshopper,' he said lightly. 'I decided then I wasn't a for-ever-after type.'
'Then we're two of a kind.' That sounded too cosy and, feeling flustered, she took a big bite of her steak. It was wonderful. 'I'm surprised you aren't as big as a house if you eat like this all the time,' she said, raising her head.
The piercing blue eyes were waiting for her. 'Ah, but I'm only here weekends,' he pointed out softly. 'Weekdays I live in London in a very modern, functional apartment, the kitchen of which, I must confess, is rarely used.'
'You eat out all the time?'
'I work out at the gym most nights and they have a good restaurant, which prides itself on the healthy options. I feel I can indulge at weekends. That's my excuse, anyway.'
'That doesn't sound as though you leave much time for a social life.' The words had popped out before she realised how nosy she sounded. She just hoped he didn't think she was prying.
There was a sexy quirk to Morgan's mouth when he murmured, 'Oh, I manage fairly well. On the whole.'
She just bet he did. Her gaze fell to his hand as he drank from his wineglass. His hands were like the rest of him, powerfully masculine, and his forearms were muscular and dusted with dark hair. The room was large and impressive and yet he dominated it with his presence. She could imagine he would be devastating to come up against in the business world. Devastating altogether. Not a man you could easily forget.
Even more flustered, she concentrated on her meal for the next little while, which wasn't hard because every mouthful was heavenly. Morgan did the same, eating with obvious enjoyment and making amusing small talk, which needed very little response on her part. Nevertheless she was aware she was as taut as piano wire and conscious of every little movement from the hard male body opposite her, even when she wasn't looking at him. He was an … unsettling man, she decided as Kitty cleared away their empty plates and brought two helpings of toffee-ripple cheesecake, Morgan's being large enough for half a dozen people.
He saw her glance at his plate and smiled the crooked grin that was becoming familiar to her. 'Kitty thinks I'm a growing boy. And I don't want to disillusion her, now, do I?'
It was somehow disturbingly endearing, and to combat the quiver of something she didn't want to put a name to Willow's voice was deliberately dry when she said, 'Be careful you don't grow too much. Those extra pounds creep up on you, you know.'
'Not me. Fast metabolism.'
'All in the genes?' she asked, just to make conversation and echoing what he'd said to her earlier.
'Probably.' His voice was pleasant but dismissive.
'Your father's or your mother's?'
He stared at her for a moment and Willow saw what she could only describe as a shutter come down over the brilliant blue of his eyes in the second before he shrugged. 'Your guess is as good as mine. They died when I was too young to remember them.'
Quickly, she said, 'I'm sorry. Mine died a few months before I got married but I still miss them dreadfully. So does my sister. She's expecting a baby soon and it would have been nice for Mum to be around to see her first grandchild.' She was gabbling but the look in his eyes had thrown her. 'Do you have any brothers or sisters?' she added weakly.
He shook his head. 'No, there's just me. The one and only original. Like that clock you liked so much.'
Willow smiled because she knew he wanted her to and for the same reason didn't pursue what was clearly a nogo area. Her tenseness had given her the beginning of a headache, but she felt every moment in Morgan's company was electric so perhaps it wasn't surprising. She didn't think she had ever met anyone who was such an enigma.
They took coffee in the drawing room where Kitty had placed the tray on a low coffee table pulled close to the fire, a box of chocolates and another of after-dinner mints next to the white porcelain cups. When Morgan sat down on a two-seater sofa in front of the table Willow felt she had no option but to join him, anything else would have appeared churlish, but she took care no part of her body touched his.
She declined cream or sugar in her coffee; the cocktails had been potent and so had the wine and suddenly she felt she needed all her wits about her. The coffee was strong but not bitter and the chocolate she chose was sweet and nutty. The red glow from the fire, the mellow light in the room, the different tastes on her tongue and not least the dark man sitting quietly beside her created a whole host of emotions she could have done without. She felt tinglingly, excitingly alive and had to force her hand not to shake when she replaced her cup on the saucer and turned to Morgan. 'Thank you for dinner and everything you've done,' she said steadily. 'I'll try and be out of your hair as soon as possible tomorrow.'
'No need.' His voice was deep, smoky. She had to clench her stomach muscles against what it did to her. 'Stay as long as you like. I wasn't doing anything special this weekend.'
'Nevertheless I'd like to make a start on clearing up as soon as I can,' she prevaricated quickly. 'Get it over with.'
'I'll help you,' he offered softly.
'No, that's all right, you've done enough already.'
'Two pairs of hands will make lighter work.'
'No, really.' She could hear the tightness in her voice herself. Swallowing hard, she forced a smile. 'But thank you.'
'Is it me or are you like this with all men?'
His voice had been calm, unemotional, but the effect of his words brought her pent-up breath escaping in a tiny swoosh. Feigning a hauteur she didn't feel, she said, 'I'm sorry?'
He had settled himself in a corner of the sofa half-turned towards her and with one arm stretched along the top of the seat. The casual pose emphasised her own tenseness, which was unfortunate. 'You're as jumpy as a kitten around me,' he murmured. 'A little Titian-haired kitten with enormous green eyes that doesn't know whether to bite or purr.'
Willow bristled immediately, the welcome flood of adrenalin sharpening her voice as she said, 'I can assure you I have no intention of doing either and I am most certainly not "jumpy", as you put it. I'd just prefer to tackle my house myself, that's all.'
'So you're not frightened of me or nervous in any way?'
'Of course I'm not. Don't be so ridiculous,' she said firmly.
'That's good.'
He shifted position slightly and her bravado faltered before she steeled herself to remain perfectly still. He was only reaching for his coffee, for goodness' sake! What was the matter with her? She had to pull herself together and fast.
Morgan drank deeply from his cup, took a couple of chocolates and then settled back into the contours of the sofa, his eyes on her wary face. 'So,' he drawled lazily, 'Keeper's Cottage is the place where you hide away from the big, bad world?'