Sweet Surrender With the Millionaire(12)

He had hit the nail square on the head but Willow would rather have  walked stark naked through the village than admit it. 'Not at all.' She  found she was glaring at him and quickly moderated her expression. 'I  simply liked the area, the cottage, and it was the right price. It all  came together at the right time.'

'I see.' His tone reeked of disbelief.

'I'm not hiding away like a hermit after my divorce, if that's what you're suggesting,' she said hotly. 'Not for a minute.'

'That's good,' he said again.

'But even if I was-which I'm not-it would be my own business and no one else's. No one else's.'

'Of course it would,' he said soothingly.

Willow drew in a deep breath. 'Has anyone ever told you you're the most aggravating man in the world?' she said stonily.                       
       
           



       

Amused blue eyes considered her discomfiture. 'Not that I can remember. There have been other accolades, though.'

Willow took refuge in dignified silence-only because she silently  acknowledged she wouldn't win in a war of words with Morgan. After  another two chocolates she ran out of something for her hands and mouth  to do. His eyes were waiting for her when she nerved herself to glance  his way.

'This might not be the best time to confess, but I've arranged for a  team of professional cleaners to go into the cottage first thing  tomorrow,' he said coolly. 'I hope that's OK?'

'What?' She literally couldn't believe her ears.

Her voice had been so shrill he winced when he said, 'Come on, they'll do in a few hours what would take you a few days.'

'You've hired strangers to go into my home? How dare you?'

'They're not strangers, they're a small family firm I've used professionally several times and they're totally trustworthy.'

'They're strangers to me,' she ground out furiously.

He gave her a hard look. 'So you'd rather struggle for days and still not do such a good job as they'll accomplish.'

'Absolutely.' She glared at him.

He folded his arms over his chest, stretching his long legs as he  studied her with an air of exasperation. 'You like to make it almost  impossible for anyone to help you, obviously.'

'I don't want strangers in my home,' she repeated stubbornly. 'I'm sorry but you'll have to cancel them.'

'You mean it, don't you?' His voice carried a faint air of bewilderment,  which would have made her smile in different circumstances. 'You'd  really rather do it yourself.'

Willow tilted her chin. 'I know you were trying to be kind,' she said  steadily. 'I appreciate that, really. But I am more than capable of  looking after myself and I like to do things my way. I do not want a  cleaning team in my cottage.'

Morgan said nothing for a few moments. Then he nodded slowly. 'Fair  enough. I'll ring them and tell them they're not needed. OK?'

'Thank you.' She relaxed a little. Bad mistake.

'And in the morning I'll help you make a start and you can tell me  exactly how you want things done.' He reached for another chocolate as  he spoke, popping it into his mouth before offering her the box. 'OK?'  he said mildly. And he smiled.

She stared at him. After rejecting his proposal about the cleaners she  didn't feel she could refuse his help again. Besides, he was talking  about it as though it were already a fait accompli. Her brow slightly  furrowed, she said hesitantly, 'I don't want to put you about any  further.'

'You're not.' He grinned a slightly wolfish grin. 'Have one of the dark ones with the cherry on top. They're delicious.'

CHAPTER SIX

OK, SO he'd lied about the cleaners but it was only a small white lie. And perfectly acceptable in the circumstances.

After an hour or two of tossing and turning Morgan had given up all hope  of sleep and decided to take a shower. Now, as he stood under the cool  water with his face upturned to the flow, he found his mind was still  centred on the flame-haired, green-eyed girl sleeping under his roof.

She would never have agreed to let him accompany her to the cottage  tomorrow without a spot of subterfuge, and the job of cleaning up was  too much for one, he told himself self-righteously. Hell, he was doing  her a favour after all. He'd brought home a briefcase full of papers  needing his attention this weekend; it wasn't as if he didn't have  anything better to do.

Turning off the water, he raked back his hair and stepped out of the  shower. The bathroom was black and white, the white bath, basin, toilet  and bidet offset by gleaming black wall and floor tiles and a large  strip of mirror that coiled round the room at chest height and reached  the ceiling. The room had a voyeuristic quality, which Morgan didn't  apologise for in the least, having designed it himself, along with the  equally luxurious and dramatic bedroom, again in black and white.                       
       
           



       

After drying himself roughly with a towel he walked through to the  bedroom stark naked, flinging himself on the ruffled black sheets and  switching on the massive highdefinition LCD TV. He flicked through  umpteen channels before throwing down the remote with a grunt of  irritation, his mind replaying the last few minutes before he'd left  Willow at her bedroom door.

He'd wanted to kiss her so why the devil hadn't he? he asked himself  testily. Just a light, friendly kiss, nothing heavy. A social exchange  that would have emphasised he was merely being neighbourly in having her  stay. But he hadn't wanted her to get the wrong idea, to imagine he was  coming on to her. She was already like a cat on a hot tin roof most of  the time-he hadn't liked the idea of unsettling her further.

Nice rationalisations, another section of his mind stated dryly, but  that was all they were. The truth was he hadn't dared trust himself to  kiss her. He had the feeling once his mouth connected with hers it might  mean a whole lot of trouble.

Groaning softly, he rolled over and stood up, pulling on his black  towelling robe. If he wasn't going to be able to sleep he might as well  make himself a pot of coffee and do some work in the study. He'd brought  home the details of a merger he was contemplating and he wanted to get  the facts and figures securely under his belt for a meeting on Monday  morning. His main business interests revolved around the buying and  selling of companies-always at a profit-and he had a team of people  working for him at the premises he owned in the city. This project was a  little different,however. A friend he'd been at uni with had approached  him asking for his help. His friend owned a glassmaking business, which  had been handed down through his family for generations, but it was in  severe financial trouble. The proposal was that for a share of the  business he plough in the necessary funds to keep it floating but,  friend or not, he didn't intend to try to patch up a ship that was too  full of leaks. He needed to go through the papers very carefully so he  knew exactly what was entailed.

The dogs were sprawled in the hall when he padded downstairs, his bare  feet making no sound. Bella raised her head, wagged her tail and settled  down to sleep again and the rest of the pack-as always-followed her  lead. As he approached the kitchen he saw a dim light shining from under  the door and, forewarned, opened the door quietly. She was sitting on  one of the stools at the island in the center of the room sipping at a  mug of something or other. The sight of her-her slim figure wrapped in a  white towelling robe and her shining mass of hair loose about her  shoulders-took his breath away for a moment. 'Willow?' he murmured  softly. 'Is everything all right?'

The jump she gave almost sent her off the stool and onto the floor as she swung round to face him. 'Morgan, I didn't hear you.'

'Sorry.' He raised his hand placatingly. 'I didn't mean to startle you. I was just going to get myself some coffee.'

'No, no, that's OK, you didn't startle me.'

He clearly had. She still looked scared to death.

'I-I couldn't sleep,' she stammered. 'Strange bed. I thought I'd make myself some hot milk.'

Hot milk. He could give her something much more satisfyingthan hot milk  to help her sleep. There was nothing like a long bout of lovemaking to  relax tense muscles. 'I couldn't sleep either but in my case it's not  the bed,' he said blandly. 'My solution was going to be coffee and  work.' He waved his hand vaguely in the direction of his study.

She was as flushed as if she'd read his illicit thoughts, her eyes  dropping to the mug in her hand. She had small hands, he thought,  although her fingers were long and slender. Nice nails. Long but not too  long. How would it feel to have them rake his back gently in the moment  he brought her to a climax? To have her moan and pulse beneath him? To  cry out as he tasted and pleased her until her thighs shook and she  sobbed his name in utter aban-donment? They would be good together; he  knew it.

His erection pulsed, almost painfully so, and conscious the towelling  robe did little to hide his arousal he kept his back to her while he  fixed himself a pot of coffee, making small talk as he did so. Hell,  what a situation to be in. In spite of himself he wanted to smile. If  anyone had told him a few weeks ago he'd be lusting after a woman to the  point of making a damn fool of himself-a woman who wasn't remotely  interested in him, incidentally-he'd have told them they were crazy.