Flirting with the Forbidden. Joss Wood

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СКАЧАТЬ hot and muggy outside, but she knew that she’d crashed into an emotional iceberg.

      ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to say that,’ she muttered as he withdrew from her and rolled himself away.

      ‘Were you hoping I wouldn’t notice?’

      ‘Kind of,’ Morgan admitted.

      He was trying to control himself; she could see that. He opened his mouth to say something and snapped his words back, his eyes sparking dangerously.

      ‘So, how does this work? Did you decide that your virginity was something you no longer needed and I was handy?’

      No! Yes! Kind of... How did she explain that she felt comfortable with him? Safe? From the moment she’d met him she’d known that he was authentic, solid. In her world, she didn’t encounter those characteristics that often. He made her feel grounded, real...special.

      And it didn’t hurt that he had a hard, droolworthy body.

      ‘I just thought...you...me...it would be fun.’

      ‘Fun, huh?’ Noah ran his hand through his hair and shook his head in disgust. ‘Morgan, just what the hell do you think you’re doing?’

      ‘Why are you so angry?’ Morgan demanded, pulling a sheet up and around her. Every inch of her skin was now blushing and she felt humiliated and confused. Why was this a problem? She was offering her body, not asking him to do her laundry.

      ‘You don’t just give it away—especially to someone like...’ Noah trailed off. ‘Damn it! Don’t you have a boyfriend? Surely you’ve had offers? I see how those guys you hang out with look at you!’

      Her blood cooled at the thought. ‘None of them can keep their mouths shut and, trust me, my hooking up with someone would be huge news. And a very big feather in someone’s cap.’

      Since she hadn’t slept with any of the society boys—sons of her mother’s friends, acquaintances and connections—she knew that she was a fish to be hooked, a prize to be won. She wouldn’t give any of those poncey, wishy-washy pseudo-men the satisfaction.

      Noah looked ill—green—and Morgan’s heart dropped like a brick. Only she could make a guy nauseous with an offer of sex.

      ‘So you went trawling, huh?’

      Trawling? Morgan frowned. Was he nuts? He was a far better choice on any weekday and twice on Sundays. ‘No, I— What’s your problem anyway?’

      ‘Just trying to figure out where I am in the pecking order. Above the pool boy but below the riding instructor? What comes next? Are you going to offer to pay me?’

      Okay, now he was way off course. ‘Stop being a jerk, Noah! Look, I like you, and I thought that you might like me...just a little. I thought that we were almost friends, and I’d rather do it with an almost-friend than someone who sees me as a prize.’

      But Noah wasn’t listening. He swore, his Scottish accent becoming rapidly more pronounced.. ‘I knew this was a bad idea. What is wrong with me? I cannot believe that I let my libido override my common sense, my professionalism. Acting with integrity, my ass. She’d knock me into next year if she knew.’

      Who? What on earth was he talking about?’

      Noah shook his head as if to clear it and glowered at her. ‘Put some clothes on. This isn’t going to happen. Not now, not ever.’

      Noah took one last look at her, then swore softly again as he turned and walked out of the room, slamming her bedroom door behind him.

      Morgan winced and cursed the tears that stung her eyes. ‘Guess that’s a big old Scottish no, then.’

      Curling into a ball, she lay on her bed and stared out through the open sash window. Sleep refused to come, and when she did manage to drift off she woke up to a stranger in her flat.

      Noah had left and in his place was a female bodyguard—just in case, Morgan thought grimly, she was so desperate to get laid that she seduced the next male bodyguard who was assigned to her.

      If losing her virginity had been the goal, then half the population in the world could have sorted her out. But she didn’t want half the population...

      Stupid man; she wanted him.

      ONE

      Noah Fraser dodged past a couple kissing and ran his hand across his prickly jaw. His eyes flicked over the waiting crowds, mentally processing faces against his internal data bank, and nobody blipped on his radar until he saw a tall, thin man with his hands in the pockets of his expensive trousers.

      He frowned and wondered what was so important that Chris had to meet him here.

      Twenty hours ago he’d boarded a plane at the Ministro Pistarini International Airport just south of Buenos Aires, after a week spent doing a full-spectrum security analysis for a museum. He’d identified threats and risks and then provided them with solutions to plug the holes. It was a part of the business they were trying to grow and it was lucrative.

      Because he was a frugal Scot, he still felt guilty that he’d upgraded his seat to business class, but he just hadn’t been able to face the thought of wedging his six-foot-three frame into a minuscule economy class seat to spend thirteen hours in cramped misery. As Chris kept reminding him, business class also allowed him to review his files in privacy, to catch a couple of twenty-minute power naps, to drink good whisky. He’d worked hard for a long time, he told himself, and he—the business—could afford it.

      Noah rolled his shoulders as he made his way through Customs, looking forward to a decent shower, a beer and to sleeping for a week.

      Of course sleeping for a week was a pipedream; he was working all hours of the day to build his company, and sleep was a luxury he just couldn’t afford. Self-sufficiency and financial independence were a lot higher up on Noah’s list of priorities than sleep.

      Who knew why he was being met by Chris, his oldest friend, partner and second-in-command at Auterlochie Consulting? Something must be up. He swallowed as dread settled over him. The last time Chris had met him at the airport it had been because Kade, one of their best employees, had committed suicide. God, he didn’t want to deal with something like that again...

      ‘No one has died,’ Chris said quickly and Noah wasn’t surprised that he’d read his mind.

      They’d learnt to read each other’s faces—sometimes their thoughts—in dusty, unfriendly situations and it was a trait they’d never lost.

      Noah did a minor eye-roll as Chris shook his hand and pulled him into that one-armed hug he did so well. Only Chris could get away with that kind of PDA; when you’d saved a guy’s life you had to overlook his occasional sappiness.

      Noah adjusted the rucksack on his shoulder as they made their way across the terminal. ‘What’s up?’

      Chris jammed his hands in his pockets and gestured towards the nearest coffee shop. ‘I’ll explain. You look like hell.’

      Noah grinned wryly. ‘Nice to see you too.’

      Ten СКАЧАТЬ