Sweet Surrender With the Millionaire(11)

'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?'