by grief herself now that her shock was passing to talk coherently.
‘Your mother is overjoyed by her grandson’s existence,’ Alex Hammond rang off to assure her. ‘She hopes she and your father can go to England to see him soon. In the meantime, I don’t think you’re in any condition to fly to England. Maybe it would be better—–’
‘I’m coming with you,’ Morgan told him determinedly. ‘I want to see Court-ney, and also I have to—to attend Glenna’s funeral. Someone from the family should be there.’ She went to the bathroom and washed her face in cold water. ‘I take it the funeral will be in England.’
‘As soon as—Yes,’ he substituted abruptly. ‘Eventually.’
Her spine stiffened at the addition of the last word. ‘I understand,’ she said heavily. ‘I’m ready to leave now.’
‘Are you sure—–’
‘I’m very sure.’ Her expression was stubborn.
‘Your work?’
‘Will just have to wait,’ she told him with bravado, not in the least sure how the studio would react to her taking off like this. They surely couldn’t object to a couple of days, not in the circumstances. If they did they would just have to sue. She doubted they would want to do that. ‘I intend coming with you, Mr Hammond—make no mistake about that.’
‘Then perhaps you’d better call me Alex,’ he derided. ‘I don’t intend calling you Miss McKay for the next twelve hours or so.’
‘Morgan,’ she supplied abruptly.
‘I know that,’ he nodded. ‘Glenna spoke of you often.’
She would have liked to return the compliment, but Glenna had been surprisingly reticent about her brother-in-law, talking about him little, and then only in connection with Mark being at work. Apparently Alex Hammond kept to himself, spending little time with the family.
‘Feel up to braving the media again?’ he queried distantly. ‘I doubt if they’ve left yet. Especially if news of survivors has filtered through.’
Completely in control of herself now, Morgan was able to move determinedly at Alex Hammond’s side as they made their way downstairs to get into the cab that he had ordered to wait for them ten minutes ago as she cried. Alex ignored the questions thrown at them; his expression was distant, his hold on Morgan’s arm unbreakable, despite the pushing and jostling going on about them.
‘The airport,’ he instructed the cab driver arrogantly, pushing Morgan in the car ahead of him.
She wasn’t used to being dominated in this way. She had been brought up to be independent, to stand up for herself; Alex Hammond was obviously used to being dominant with the women in his life.
Morgan studied him curiously on the drive to the airport. There could be no doubting that he was very attractive, in an austere way, and yet Glenna had never mentioned him having a woman in his life. But he certainly didn’t like men! His gaze had been critical of her, but it had definitely been male in its intent. No doubt there were women from time to time, just nothing serious. She wondered why. Alex was thirty-eight, surely that was quite old for a man not to have been married. He probably thought twenty-six was old for a woman not to have married either!
‘Something funny?’
Her smile faded as she realised he was looking at her. ‘Not really,’ she dismissed. ‘Is Courtney at your home?’
Alex shook his head. ‘He’s being kept in hospital for a few days. It’s a standard thing for new babies,’ he added at her worried frown. ‘He really is very well, Morgan. Perfectly healthy, even if he is eight weeks premature.’
‘Thank God!’ she shuddered.
‘Yes,’ he agreed curtly.
All was chaos at the airport; the members of the media who had been outside her home had obviously telephoned ahead to their colleagues, for a dozen or so reporters were continuing the harassment. Morgan wasn’t in the least surprised when Alex secured a private lounge for them, and strode off to deal with their seats himself.
Morgan took this opportunity to call Sam and Jerry, something she hadn’t had time to do in the trauma of the last hour. Sam was very understanding, and Jerry had already rearranged the work schedule to allow her to take a week off. A week should be long enough to convince the Hammonds that Glenna’s baby belonged with her.
‘Just don’t be any longer than that,’ Jerry warned in a growl, ‘or the wrath of Zorbo will come down around your head!’
Morgan laughed softly, ringing off. Frank Zorbo was a small Greek man, the head of A.M.X. Broadcasting Company, and quite harmless until something put out his carefully organised programme schedule. Then he was like a roaring tornado.
‘Everything is organised,’ Alex came back to assure her. ‘We’ll be boarding in a few minutes.’
For the moment it just felt good to let him take over the details; her mind was not functioning as fluently as it usually did. Alex looked as if nothing ever deterred or upset him.
It came as a surprise to her when she was shown into the first class section of the plane, to the seat next to Alex Hammond. She had been booked into a seat much farther down the plane, had been told that there were no other seats available.
‘I already had a seat reserved for you,’ Alex told her at her qustioning look.
Her eyes widened. ‘You knew I would be coming with you?’
‘I told you, Glenna talked of you a lot. I was able to assess what your reaction would be.’
‘But you flew over here yourself anyway?’
‘It was worth a try,’ he shrugged.
‘Never,’ she shook her head firmly. ‘I’ll never give Courtney up.’
Alex sighed. ‘I suggest we save any further talk of the baby until a less emotional time.’
Morgan instantly felt guilty. This man had another long flight in front of him—he was likely to meet himself on the way back!—and what he needed at the moment was to rest. She deliberately stopped talking, although her tension began to rise as the engines of the plane roared for take-off. Everything had happened so suddenly, so quickly, that until this moment she hadn’t given a thought to the flight itself. Glenna and Mark had just died in an aircraft very similar to this one, what if—–
‘It won’t happen, Morgan.’ Strong fingers clasped about hers, gently reassuring.
She had never thought of herself as a weak or dependent woman, and yet at that moment she was petrified, turning into the comfortable width of shoulder at her side, clinging on to Alex Hammond as if they were lovers.
Only when the plane was safely in the air did she move away from him. ‘I’m sorry,’ her lashes were downcast in her embarrassment at breaking down in that way. ‘I’m not usually—well, I don’t normally—’
‘Forget it,’ he dismissed abruptly. ‘I already have.’
It
