eyes. She’d been fêted all evening and he now realised what she’d meant when she’d said that the Moreaus were welcome everywhere. Conversation stopped when she joined a group, male tongues fell to the floor, women smiled and tried not to look jealous, and she was constantly and persistently asked about the ball.
‘How do we get personally invited to the ball?’
‘How much do you think we have to bid to secure a ticket?’
‘Do you have a theme yet?’
‘Do remind your mother that we served together on the blah-blah-blah committee and worked together on the meh-meh-meh project.’
Didn’t these people have any pride?
But Morgan just smiled, changed the subject and moved on to another group if the person was too persistent.
‘Don’t you think so, Noah?’ Morgan asked, and Noah sent her a blank look.
Morgan’s lips lifted, and he knew by the gleam in her eye that she knew his thoughts were miles away.
‘That this year’s ball is going to be utterly amazing?’ she clarified.
‘Uh...yes...’
Wrinkly cleavage leaned across Morgan and showed him far more of what he didn’t need to see. ‘So, how long have you two been dating?’ she demanded.
Oh... Noah looked at Morgan and waited for her to answer.
‘We’ve known each other a long time, Vi,’ Morgan said softly, her eyes on his mouth.
The twitch turned to an ache.
‘Well, he’s a lot better that a lot of those other creatures you’ve dated, Morgan.’
Morgan’s lips lifted with amusement and she tipped her head. ‘You don’t think he looks too bodyguardish? All “don’t mess with me or I’ll wipe the floor with your face”?’
‘Sitting right here,’ Noah reminded them.
‘Is that a bad thing?’ Vi demanded. ‘He does have very nice shoulders.’
‘Mmm...and a nice butt.’
Noah glared at Morgan and lowered his voice. ‘Morgan...enough.’ As in Behave yourself or I’m going to retaliate.
He knew that she’d got the message because her eyes narrowed at his challenge. Noah looked up at the waiter who had placed the next course in front of her and saw the other plate he held—his plate!—wobble as his young knees buckled under the force of that smile. He couldn’t blame him, so he snatched at his plate before the mini-cheese platter ended up in his lap.
Morgan smiled at him before turning to another man on the table. Noah sneaked a look at his watch...it was after eleven already, and people were table-hopping or getting up to dance.
Maybe they could leave soon...
‘Morgan, my honey, it’s so nice to see you. We don’t see enough of your pretty face at these events.’
Noah lifted his eyebrows at the plummy tones and looked at Morgan. The man had his eyes fixed on Morgan’s chest and his manicured fingers rested on her shoulder. Noah, reacting instinctively, slid his arm around the back of Morgan’s chair, knocked his hand away and cupped her slim shoulder in his hand. Soft, silky...
Morgan turned slightly, leaned back towards him, and he caught a whiff of her hair: citrus and spice. Lust rocketed to his groin.
‘Morgan...’ It was another voice demanding her attention.
Give the girl a break, Noah thought, turning to look up into the face of an elderly gentlemen who looked as if he could do with more than a couple of sessions in the gym and a year on a low-carb diet. Manners pulled them both to their feet and Noah watched as Morgan’s knuckles were kissed in an old-fashioned gesture.
‘It’s so wonderful to have you here at the benefit, Morgan, and the room is abuzz with the news that you are taking over the reins of the charity ball from Hannah,’ he gushed.
‘Well, not quite, Alexander,’ Morgan hedged. ‘Mum is still in charge.’
‘As you know, this ball aims to raise money for scholarships for deprived students in the poorer areas of our great city.’
Noah did an inner eye-roll at his pompous words, but Alexander wasn’t quite done with the speechmaking.
‘Our foundation was a recipient of a portion of the money raised from your ball five years ago, so I thought that you could do a short speech about the ball. In a couple of minutes? Wonderful.’
Smooth, Noah thought, he hadn’t given her much chance to refuse.
‘And who is your escort, Morgan?’ Alexander held out a hand to Noah, which Noah shook. ‘Alexander Morton—of Morton’s International...banking, dear boy.’
Even when he’d been a boy he’d never been anyone’s ‘dear boy’, Noah thought as he shook the soft, fishy hand and resisted the urge to wipe his own on his pants leg.
Morgan made a couple of standard responses to Alexander’s queries after her family, but he could hear the tension in her voice, could see it in her suddenly tense jaw.
She was seriously and completely rattled. He wondered why.
* * *
Pretend they are naked, Morgan told herself as she gripped the podium and looked out over the expectant faces below. No, don’t think they are naked, you’re feeling traumatised enough. They are cabbages...they are dolls...
They were people waiting for her to fall flat on her face. She wasn’t going to disappoint them...
Dear God, she thought, sucking in air, this was her worst nightmare. The room whirled and swirled. She couldn’t find the words, didn’t know what to say...what was she doing up here? She didn’t—couldn’t—do speeches, especially unprepared ones.
Her knuckles whitened and she gnawed on her lip as the murmurs from the restless crowd drifted up towards her.
Help. She pulled her tongue down from the top of her mouth and managed to find a few words. ‘Um...good evening, ladies and gentlemen.’
Bats! What now? She couldn’t think, couldn’t find the words...frozen, there was the word. She was utterly iced up.
Then Morgan felt movement next to her and a large, familiar hand rested on hers and gently lifted her stiff fingers from the podium.
‘Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, my name is James Moreau. Thank you for allowing Morgan and I a few minutes to tell you about the Moreau Charity Ball.’
James... She hadn’t even known that he was at the ball tonight. Rescued again. Morgan briefly closed her eyes and felt the panic recede. Thank you, my darling big brother.
Morgan squeezed James’s hand in gratitude and linked her fingers in his as she listened to his fluid off-the-cuff
