Morgan's Secret Son. SARA WOOD
‘Unusual name,’ she said, encouraging him to open up.
‘I have Colombian parents,’ he replied grudgingly.
It explained a good deal: his dark good looks, the sense of lurking volcanic passions, the Latin cheekbones and bred-in-the-bone sensuality. He had a magnificent body: just muscled and lean enough for her taste. Beside him, Chas would look a slob. So would most men.
She looked at his hands, always a give-away, and thought that there was something very sensual in the way his slender—almost graceful—fingers dealt with slicing the lemon. He’d be good with women, she mused. Delicate in his touch. Tantalisingly exploring… She blinked, startled by where her thoughts had taken her.
Feeling warm from the heat of the kitchen, Jodie unbuttoned her jacket. She would have removed it but Morgan’s hooded gaze had honed in like a guided missile on the tangerine shirt beneath and she felt a sudden frisson of sexual danger as something indefinable sizzled briefly between them.
Stupid. How could he possibly be interested in her? It was her over-developed imagination. Static in the air. Besides, he was hardly going to jump her. Not over tea!
She hid a smile at her caution but decided she’d feel more comfortable if she kept the jacket on. The T-shirt fitted snugly and she didn’t want Morgan counting her ribs. Or anything else…
She was astonished to feel a blush creep up her entire body, and she let out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding.
Morgan slanted an odd look at her from under his brows then sat opposite her, immediately picking up the teapot and pouring out a thin, almost gold-coloured liquid into their cups and slipping in a slice of lemon. Jodie accepted the offered cup doubtfully. It didn’t look like any tea she’d ever seen.
‘I’m Jodie,’ she offered, anxious to be accepted. ‘Jodie Frazer.’
‘I know.’
He was close to her father, then. She took a deep breath and plunged in.
‘I imagine my father was upset when he didn’t hear from me,’ she ventured.
‘Devastated.’ His expression was uncompromisingly hostile.
‘That’s awful. I wish I’d known.’ She leaned forward earnestly. ‘But you’ve heard my explanation. You must understand that I wouldn’t want to hurt him for the world.’
She took a sip of the surprisingly refreshing tea and looked at him over the rim of her cup. He seemed to be having a mental struggle over something. Hopefully she was coaxing him round.
‘He’s been through a lot recently. I won’t let anyone disturb his peace of mind,’ he stated flatly. ‘Your rejection—’
‘But I didn’t reject him!’ she cried in frustration.
‘He thinks you did.’ Stern and forbidding, he leaned forwards. ‘I’ll find you some snapshots of him to take away. Don’t give yourself grief by pursuing this. He won’t see you. Accept that and get on with your life.’
‘I can’t!’ she persisted. ‘He’s only upset because he was hurt when he didn’t hear from me. When he knows what happened—’
‘He won’t hear about it because I’m not telling him your story. Frankly, I just don’t believe that you answered him straight away.’
Incensed, she jumped up. ‘Then I’ll go look for him and tell him myself!’
His arm snaked out to stop her and he rose in one swift and graceful movement, coming to stand menacingly in front of her.
‘And I will be forced to prevent you,’ he said, very softly.
Jodie squeezed her eyes tightly, to prevent herself from crying in sheer helplessness.
‘Please hear me out!’ she begged, opening her eyes and staring miserably at his blurred face.
There was a long pause. She stopped breathing. She could hear his breath rasping loudly, feel it hot and quick on her mouth.
‘I’ll listen,’ he muttered. ‘But that’s all. Sit down. Sell yourself to me if you must.’
She sank gratefully into the seat. A brief reprieve. The next few minutes were crucial. Feeling oddly hot and flustered, she began to tremble.
‘You’re…being protective,’ she began croakily. ‘I understand that. It’s good to know someone’s been looking out for him. But, like you, I swear I only want what’s best for him.’
He grunted and slanted her a cynical glance. ‘I wonder. Would you surrender your own needs for his?’
‘Can you explain that remark?’ she asked in a guarded tone.
‘If you really cared for him,’ he said quietly, ‘you’d do what was in his best interests, not yours.’
She raised one eyebrow. ‘And his best interests are…?’ He didn’t answer and dropped his gaze with a frown. Jodie felt a spurt of hope. ‘You’re not sure, are you?’ she cried shakily. ‘He’s insisting that he doesn’t want to see me—and you’re now wondering if he’s making a mistake! Morgan, think about this! You can’t in all decency stand between us! You’d have it on your conscience all your life if you didn’t at least try to persuade him to change his mind! You know that. I can see it in your face. Oh, please give me a chance!’
Morgan drew in a long, hard breath, his eyes betraying the doubts in his mind. Jodie’s pulses raced and she twisted her hands together nervously.
‘I need some time to think about it,’ he growled.
She beamed in delight. ‘That’s wonderful! Thank you!’ she cried passionately.
‘I’m only taking time to consider the situation. Nothing’s fundamentally changed. Don’t build up your hopes,’ Morgan warned.
She flung back her head and laughed, her eyes sparkling. ‘I’m an optimist. I have to hope! I want to hold my own father in my arms so much that I ache with longing!’
‘Then protect yourself from that hope. You could be badly hurt if I decide you must not see him,’ he said, his voice low and thick.
Jodie felt a tremor run right through her body. ‘It would break my heart,’ she breathed.
‘Better than you breaking his,’ Morgan observed.
‘But…why would I?’ she asked, bewildered. ‘How could I?’
‘Do you know anything about him?’ he shot.
‘No, nothing! That’s what’s so awful—’
‘You know he lives in a large house,’ he pointed out cynically.
She drew herself up, insulted by the implication. ‘You think I care about his money? That’s not why I came! If you can’t identify truth and honesty and real affection when you hear it, then I feel sorry for you!’
His eyes flickered. ‘You’re making it very difficult for me, Jodie,’ he said, almost to himself.
She bit her lip, hardly able to bear the suspense which hung in the air between them so tautly she thought it almost crackled with tension. He seemed unable to tear his gaze away from her—and she found herself locked in his thrall.
‘Just…what is your connection with him?’ she asked, sobered by the power he could wield over her future.
‘I’m his right-hand man. He trusts me and my judgement.’ The dark eyes continued to bore remorselessly into hers.
She gulped, her head swimming. Tiredness. She had to push this on. ‘You could sway him, then?’ she said with difficulty.
‘If I wanted.’
‘Please want!’ she pleaded.
He