Sweet Surrender With the Millionaire(20)

She was spared an answer by the real chimney sweep banging on the front door. 'I'll have to let him in.'                       
       
           



       

He stood for a moment more and then let her through. 'I'll hang around till he goes, if that's OK?'

She turned just before she opened the front door. 'Yes, that's OK,' she  said quietly, blessing the fact the turmoil within wasn't evident in her  voice.

The next hour was the longest of her life, but eventually Mr George-a  burly, red-cheeked man with a wide smile-had removed his covers and  other paraphernalia, finished his coffee and cake, and left, and all  without making one spot of soot fall on her newly cleaned sitting room.  He and Morgan had chatted about local goings-on while he'd worked, and  between them they'd eaten most of the cherry cake she'd bought the day  before. Willow found she was immensely irritated by the ease with which  Morgan had conducted himself, especially because her insides had caught  into a giant knot and her heart seemed determined to jump out of her  chest every time she looked at him.

The moment the door had closed behind Mr George, Morgan looked straight  at her and for a moment she suspected he was as nervous as she was. Then  she dismissed the notion. Morgan Wright didn't have a nervous bone in  his body.

'So,' he murmured softly as though the last hour hadn't happened and  they were continuing their conversation in the kitchen. 'This is the  problem as I see it.'

Willow found she didn't like being referred to as a problem. It gave her  the strength to stare at him without betraying any emotion and keep her  voice steady as she said coolly, 'Problem?'

He'd obviously read her mind and the faintly stern mouth curved upward  in a crooked smile. 'Difficulty,' he amended equably. 'We're neighbours.  Next-door neighbours, ' he added, as though she didn't know. 'Which  means the possibility of running into each other now and again is pretty  high.'

She didn't agree. He made it sound as though they lived side by side in a  terrace rather than with an acre or two of his grounds separating them,  not to mention a high stone wall one way and the lane the other. She  opened her mouth to voice this but he didn't give her the chance.

'But that's not really the … difficulty,' he continued. 'There's an  attraction between us, you know it and I know it. We enjoy each other's  company.' He raised his hand as she went to speak again. 'But here's the  problem. Sorry, difficulty. You've just come out of a bad relationship  and aren't looking to have a man in your life. Right?'

She nodded, but now she was determined he wasn't going to have this all  his own way. 'And you don't do emotional commitment beyond the  short-term affair,' she said tightly. 'Which I find … cold-blooded.'

'But you didn't deny there is an attraction between us,' he said very quietly, his blue eyes holding hers.

No, she hadn't. She should have, but she hadn't.

He walked to where she was still standing by the front door, not  touching her but so close she was enveloped in his body warmth. 'Like I  said earlier, I've thought of you all week.' His jaw tensed a few times  before he added, 'Awake or asleep. That's not-usual with me.'

He lifted a strand of her hair, letting it shiver through his fingers  almost absent-mindedly. 'I'm in London during the week, you're in  Redditch, but at the weekends we could see each other sometimes. Nothing  heavy, I'm not suggesting I expect you to warm my bed, although you'd  be very welcome if so inclined,' he added smokily. 'More than welcome,  in fact.'

'I-That-that wouldn't be on the cards.'

He smiled, a sexy quirk that did nothing to quell her raging hormones.  'I thought not, but bear the invitation in mind,' he murmured lazily.  'It's open-ended.'

He was flirting with her. Willow found the warm fragrance of him was  making her legs tremble. And he flirted very well. Obviously plenty of  practice, she told herself, danger signals going off loud and strong.  'I-I thought I'd made it clear, I don't want to date. Not after  everything that's happened.'                       
       
           



       

'Oh, you did, you did. Very clear.'

She drew in a deep breath as his fingertips moved against her lower  ribs, his palms cupping her sides. It wasn't an aggressive action, just  the opposite, but as his strength and vitality flowed through his warm  flesh she felt as panic-stricken as if he were making love to her.

'But surely there's nothing wrong in enjoying each other's company now  and again?' Morgan continued in a softly cajoling voice that played  havoc with her power to reason. 'I expect nothing of you and you expect  nothing of me. We can just see how it goes. Take it nice and easy. What  do you think?'

She couldn't think with him touching her. He was so tough and hard and  sexy that the temptation to lay her head against his chest and agree to  anything he wanted was strong. She wanted to be looked after, loved,  adored, spoilt, all the things she'd made herself say goodbye to for  ever long before she and Piers had split. But there was no guarantee a  relationship with Morgan would be any better. Piers had been charm  itself before he'd married her. She'd learnt the hard way that meant  nothing.

She became aware he was studying her with narrowed eyes. 'I'm not your  ex-husband,' he said quietly. 'Get that straight in your head, Willow. I  like you. I'd like to make love to you, I'm not going to deny it, but I  play fair. You know I don't do for ever and that won't change. If  friends is all we have, then so be it. You never know, this spark  between us might burn itself out in time. What do they say? Familiarity  breeds contempt? Togetherness can be a two-edged sword.'

Oh, yes, and Morgan was going to change from the most sexy man on the  planet to some kind of a geek, was he? When hell froze over.

She stared into the movie-star-blue eyes and for a moment allowed  herself to bathe in the feeling that had been there from the second he'd  spoken in the kitchen. A composite of amazement, bewilderment,  gratification, delight and sheer shock that this tough, enigmatic,  wealthy and intelligent man, who also happened to be deliciously  attractive to boot, was interested in her.

'You mentioned we live next door to each other,' she said weakly. 'What if it ends badly? Wouldn't that make things awkward?'

'It won't.' He kissed the tip of her nose lightly.

'You might meet someone.' The world was full of lovely women.

'I meet people all the time, Willow,' he said gently.

'A woman, someone who's free to get involved … properly. Who wants what  you want.' Even now she found it difficult to say; what would it be like  if it actually happened after she'd been seeing him for a while? She  shouldn't be considering this.

He didn't deny it. 'Friendship can survive worse than that.'

She couldn't think of anything worse than that right at this moment but didn't think it prudent to say so.

'Decision time.' He pulled her closer into him, but this time he took  her mouth in a kiss that nipped at her lower lip before deepening into  an erotic assault on her senses. Warmth spread through her as his mouth  left hers and trailed over her cheek, then her throat, before returning  to her lips in a swift final kiss. He stepped back a pace, letting go of  her, and she felt the loss in every fibre of her being. 'So?' he said  levelly, face expressionless. 'What's it to be?'

'You said no lovemaking,' she protested weakly.

'I said I didn't expect you to jump into bed with me,' he corrected  gently. 'I didn't say anything about kissing or cuddling or a whole host  of other … pleasant things between friends. And that's all that was,  nothing heavy.'

'You kiss all your friends like that?'

His eyes were deep pools of laughter. 'Only those with honey-coloured, spicy skin, green eyes and red hair.'

There were a hundred and one reasons why she shouldn't get mixed up with  Morgan Wright, be it as a 'friend' or anything else, not least because  absolutely nothing could come of it and she might end up getting hurt.  She stared at him, her mind racing. But guidelines had been drawn-albeit  somewhat fuzzy ones if that kiss was anything to go by. And why  shouldn't she just go out and enjoy herself sometimes with a male  companion? She was still young, for goodness' sake, and free, and she  knew what-and what not-she was getting into with Morgan. He might be  able to charm the birds out of the trees, but he had been honest with  her. She knew exactly where she stood with Morgan. Didn't she?                       
       
           



       

Willow could still smell a lingering scent of lime from his aftershave  and although he hadn't ravished her mouth her lips were tingling. He was  disturbingly good at this kissing business.