wanted to push, to dig a little deeper, a little harder, but it wasn’t his grim mouth or ferocious expression that had her hesitating.
It was the misery she saw under the tough-guy expression in his eyes. He didn’t intimidate her in the least, didn’t scare her one iota, but that flash of desolation had her stopping in her tracks.
‘Off-limits subject?’
‘Very.’
‘Okay.’
His jaw relaxed; his fingers loosened on his coffee cup. ‘What are your plans for the day, the week?’ he asked again. ‘I still have to meet with Cadigan about the security for the hotel, but if you promise to stay in the Moreau building then I won’t have to drag you to that.’
‘Like you could drag me anywhere,’ Morgan scoffed.
A smile touched Noah’s lips. ‘Want to test that theory?’
He didn’t wait for her answer, obviously super-confident that he could and would. Well, he might be stronger than her but he had no idea exactly how stubborn she could be. She’d match her stubbornness against his strength any time.
‘Where’s your schedule?’ he demanded again. ‘Diary? Calendar? Or do you have an assistant to keep track of your social life?’
‘None of the above. It’s all in my head.’ She had a diary which she never used, and she didn’t need an assistant.
‘Publicist? Stylist?’
‘Now you’re just mocking me.’ Morgan sighed and placed her forearms on the table. ‘Once a week I call Mum’s publicist and find out what functions are on for the next week that I absolutely have to attend.’
‘How do you know that you’ve been invited?’ Noah asked, pulling out a chair from the table and sitting down. He reached for an apple and crunched into it.
‘It sounds ridiculous, I know, but we—the Moreaus—are invited to everything. It’s a big social coup to get us to a function...well, maybe not so much my mother; she’s a lot more socially active than my dad, James and me.’
Noah looked at his apple, took another bite, chewed and swallowed. ‘You guys seem really happy, close...together. A golden family.’
Morgan leaned back and crossed her legs. ‘Every family has its own problems, whether they are rich or poor. James spends far too much time alone because he’s one of the world’s most eligible bachelors. He can’t trust a thing that comes out of any girl’s mouth because he’s convinced that they look at him and see an unlimited credit card, entry into a high social circle and houses all over the world.’
‘What should they see?’
A smart, successful man who was lonelier than he needed to be? She wished he’d find someone. She wanted him to be happy. He’d been fabulous growing up...had spent hours—days—years!—helping her to read and write. Holding her when she cried, picking a fight when she needed to work off her frustration. Her older brother, her protector, the best person in her life.
Morgan swallowed and shrugged.
‘And you? What’s so wrong in your life? You’re rich, gorgeous, successful.’
Lonely, isolated, scared that someone will find out that I’m chronically dyslexic and will judge me for it. Terrified to step out of my comfort zone; scared to try and fail... So frightened of disappointing myself and others that I’d rather not try something than run the risk of failing...
Yeah, she was a poster child for a healthy and happy It Girl.
‘I have...issues... Don’t we all?’ See—she could duck the very personal questions too! She twisted the oversized Rolex on her arm and carried on. ‘As for my parents—my dad and my mum love each other to death but can’t live together long term...’
‘But they’re trying to revitalise their marriage,’ Noah protested. ‘She’s handing over control to James!’
‘James, for all intents and purposes, has been running MI for the past two years. They both pretend that Mum still has her hand in, but in reality James calls the shots and she likes it that way.’
Morgan let out a sound that was half a snort and half a laugh.
‘Scenes like yesterday’s happen every so often—normally when my mum wants something and doesn’t know how else to get it. She wants me involved in MI and she’s determined to get me into the fold. Organising the ball is the first step. I guarantee that if I’d refused to do it—as I had intended to—she would’ve been back in the city within a week, organising the ball, poking her nose into MI business and driving James crazy. She’d also have been telling me that my dad drove her nuts and there was a reason why they lived apart.’
Morgan scowled at her coffee cup. ‘I love my mother dearly, but she’s a force of nature and determined to get her own way. If she could find the kidnappers she’d probably say thank you to them for forcing her to leave the country, because now I have to organise this damn ball.’
‘Harsh,’ Noah said, but humour glinted in his eyes. ‘Paranoid too. So what’s the big deal about this ball? Suck it up and do it.’
Morgan glared at him. ‘Easy for you to say. Anyway, back to the original subject...’
‘Your social life...or lack of it.’
‘Which is about to change because I’m expected to go out and about, promote the ball and get a buzz going. Got a tux?’ Morgan demanded.
‘Not here.’
‘You’re going to need one if you intend to accompany me to these functions.’
‘And I do.’
‘The biggest danger I face there is being bored to death, closely followed by the effects of a rogue margarita or a cheeky cosmopolitan.’ Morgan pushed her cup away.
‘Listen—and don’t shoot the messenger—I need to go as your date,’ Noah stated. He lifted a shoulder at the annoyed look on her face. ‘Yes, I know what I said...we now have a completely professional relationship. But somehow, miraculously, the kidnapping attempt hasn’t hit the papers and the MI PR person and the police want to keep it that way. James has a bodyguard occasionally but you don’t. You having one now is going to raise questions that they’d prefer not to answer. So they want us to...pretend. James called me this morning and issued the directive.’
Morgan looked at him, caught completely off guard. ‘What? You’ve got to be joking.’
‘Trust me, I’d rather just be the bodyguard,’ Noah muttered.
Morgan held up her hand. ‘So, let me see if I’ve got this right. We were about to make love, because you weren’t—quite—working for MI and I wasn’t going to have anything to do with the ball. A one-night deal that worked for both of us which didn’t happen because you volunteered your close protection services and told me that I am categorically off-limits. And now we have to pretend that we are lovers? Is this a sick joke?’
‘Either that or someone has concocted a great
