Shocked by the knowledge that she was comparing the two of them, she must have made a noise because the next moment the brilliant blue eyes had opened. 'What's the matter?' He was instantly on the alert, rising to his feet with an animal grace that belied her earlier thoughts. 'What's happened?'
'Nothing.' She forced a smile. 'Nothing at all.'
'Nothing? Willow, you were staring at me as though I was the devil incarnate.'
'Of course I wasn't.' Somehow she managed to keep any shakiness out of her voice and smile. 'You imagined it.'
His expression hardened. 'Tell me,' he said flatly.
'There's nothing to tell. I … I was thinking your office staff might have a job to recognise their immaculately turned out boss tonight, that's all.' It was weak but all she could think of.
'I don't believe you.' His blue eyes searched her face, demanding the truth. 'What have I done to make you look like that? Forgive me, but I think I've a right to know.'
'Nothing. Really, you haven't, you know you haven't. You-you've been very kind.' He wasn't buying it. 'Very kind.'
'So tell me,' he said again. 'What were you thinking?'
Willow stared at him helplessly. 'I was thinking of my ex-husband, ' she admitted flatly, knowing he wouldn't like it.
Morgan's eyes narrowed to blue slits. 'From the little you've said about him it's no compliment you look at me and see him. Are we similar to look at? Is that it?'
'No, that's not it. At least, what I mean is, you don't remind me of him. Just the opposite, in fact.'
She could tell he was unconvinced even before he folded his arms and said stiffly, 'So what brought him to mind?'
Inwardly groaning, she sought for the right words. 'Piers was very handsome,' she said slowly. 'And charming.'
He stared at her. 'Willow, this isn't getting any better.'
'What I mean is, it was all false. A front. The real Piers-' She shook her head, shuddering in spite of herself.
Willow wasn't aware of him moving and taking her into his arms, it happened so quickly, but amazingly she didn't fight the embrace but sank into it, closing her eyes as she rested against his chest. She felt his mouth on the top of her head in the lightest of kisses before he murmured, 'Don't look like that. He can't hurt you any more, it's over. He has no hold on you now, Willow.'
'I know.' She did know, but occasionally the memory of that last terrible night in their apartment would take over despite all her efforts to keep it at bay. Maybe Beth was right. Perhaps she should have seen a counsellor and talked things through with someone trained to help in such cases, but she had been determined to rise above the tag of victim. She still was. And as Morgan had just said, it was over now. He couldn't hurt her any more.
Making a desperate effort to pull herself together and both shocked and mortified at how the evening had degenerated into something much too raw, she moved out of Morgan's arms as she said, 'You're not like him in any way, that's what I was thinking. I promise. Not in looks or anything else.'
'Good.' Gently he pulled her close again. His kiss was thorough but gentle, the sort of kiss she had fantasised about as a young schoolgirl. She was overwhelmed with a drowning, floating sensation that was sweet and sensual at the same time and mind-blowingly addictive. She felt a soft warmth blooming deep within her body and parted her lips to strengthen the intimacy between them, not really aware of what she was doing and led purely by an instinct so strong it was overpowering.
She was pressed against the muscular wall of his chest and could feel his heart thudding his arousal. It was exhilarating, heady, to know he wanted her. In these moments of time it was all that mattered. And she wanted him too.
His fingers had tangled in her hair, tilting her head back as his lips moved over hers with more urgency, his mouth meltingly sexy. He'd moulded her into him as he'd deepened the kiss and she felt as though they were already making love standing up, every contour of his hard male body pressing against her softness. It should have shocked her but it didn't.
'Willow … ' He groaned her name and something in his voice echoed in her. She wanted him. Right here and now, on the floor of her sitting room, she wanted him.
It was like a deluge of icy cold water as her mind registered how much she'd lost control. She jerked away, stumbling backwards as she gasped for air. 'No.' The word sounded plaintive, weak, and she took another breath before she said more strongly, 'I don't want this. I'm sorry but I don't want this. This is not who I am.'
Morgan was quite still. For a moment something continued to blaze in the blue eyes and then it was veiled. His control was almost insulting when he nodded, a faint smile touching his lips as he murmured, 'No problem, put it down to one of those crazy moments, OK?' As she continued to stare at him he added softly, 'I'm not a wolf, Willow. You're quite safe. No is no in my book.'
A single beat passed. She knew she had to say something. They both were aware she had been there with him every moment. Flicking her hair from her hot face, she found she couldn't look at him when she said, 'I-I didn't mean to make you think-'
'I didn't.' His voice was firm but not annoyed. 'It's fine.'
Willow swallowed hard. 'What I mean is-'
'Stop it, OK? Like I said, it was one of those crazy moments that happen sometimes between members of the opposite sex. Now, I don't know about you but I could eat a horse so how about we see what Kitty's rustled up this evening?'
She met his eyes then. His features were expressionless and she couldn't tell what he was thinking. It was easier to take his words at face value, besides which she didn't know how to explain to him what she couldn't explain to herself. If someone had told her that morning she would want Morgan Wright to take her with every fibre of her being she would have laughed in their face, but she had. And in this moment of absolute honesty with herself she knew this had been brewing from the first time she'd laid eyes on him, but she hadn't wanted to acknowledge the fierce attraction this man held for her.
Feeling the ground beneath her feet had changed to shifting sand, she knew she couldn't dodge the truth. Gathering all her courage, she said woodenly, 'I don't make a practice of giving the wrong signals, I just want you to know that. I've never slept with anyone except my ex.'
'If you're trying to tell me you aren't the sort of woman to hop in and out of bed with any man who catches your fancy, I'd already worked that out for myself.' He raked back his hair and went on in a tone laced with unmistakable sincerity, 'You're still working things through after the break-up, I can see that, so don't beat yourself up about one kiss. That's all it was, a kiss. Forget it, Willow. I already have.'
But it hadn't been, at least not for her. It had been an introduction into a realm she'd never imagined even existed. She'd loved Piers-at first, that was-but his lovemaking had never done what one kiss from Morgan had accomplished.
Her green eyes darkened but, telling herself she had to follow his lead and lighten the mood, she nodded and smiled. 'You're right,' she said as casually as she could manage.
He returned the smile. 'Of course I'm right,' he said lazily. 'It goes with the name.' Shutting the French doors, he locked them and then turned to where she was standing, leaning forward and touching her lips lightly with his before she'd realised what he was going to do. 'We're friends,' he said easily, taking her arm and leading her out of the cottage into the warm October shadows, 'so relax. You've got nothing to fear from me.'
Willow took a breath and tried to ignore what the feel of his warm flesh on hers was doing to her equilibrium. She might not have anything to fear from Morgan-although that was a mute point-but she had plenty to fear from herself where this man was concerned. She had to remember that and be on her guard. Morgan had been kind to her and she was grateful, but there was much more to him than met the eye. Much more.
CHAPTER SEVEN
WILLOW awoke in her own bed the next morning and listened to the faint echo of the bells in the village church calling the faithful to the Sunday morning service. Sunlight spilled through the window but the air was cool as she slipped out of bed and made her way downstairs to the kitchen wrapped in her thick robe. It was sparkling clean after Morgan's spring clean.
After making herself a pot of coffee she poured a cup and wandered through to the sitting room. The sofa and chair were still a little damp from Morgan's ministrations the day before and so she opened the French doors and sat on the steps, much as he'd done. The air was actually warmer in the garden than it was in the house, she thought with a stab of surprise. The solid walls of the cottage had the effect of cooling the rooms somewhat. Morgan had given her the name and telephone number of a local plumber the night before so she could see about having central heating fitted before the worst of the winter.