Flirting With the Forbidden (11 page)

Noah gave her words some thought. ‘Your flirty, charming party-girl persona...that’s your cloak? The bright, bubbly, charming flirt? The real you is quieter, more introspective...dreamier.’

Morgan cocked her thumb and extended her index finger. ‘There you go. And you only know that because we’ve been living in each other’s pockets. And your implacable and remote face that discourages all conversation is yours. Your can’t-touch-me mask is supposed to discourage anyone from wanting to dig deeper, to get to know you a bit better.’

Noah couldn’t help wincing. He did do that—did keep everyone at an emotional distance.

He rubbed his hand across his face. ‘You’ve come closer than anyone—ever.’ He caught the flash of fear in her eyes, saw her take the tiniest step backwards. ‘And that makes you uncomfortable,’ he added.

‘Wary.’ Morgan looked out at the busy field. ‘We can hurt each other... No, let me rephrase that. You can hurt me...if we ever change from friends to lovers.’

‘
If
we change—and I’ll try not to, Morgan—you have to know that I wouldn’t be able to promise you for ever. All I can say is that I would be monogamous, that I’d treat you well as long as it lasted—be it a week or months. But at some point our paths would split and I’d be back in London, doing what I do.’

‘I know.’

‘If you want more from me than a fun time in bed then maybe we should just quit while we’re ahead. Stay as
Duchess
and
Soldier
.’ Noah folded his arms and hoped she couldn’t see how much he hoped that she didn’t choose option B. Because that would, well...
suck
. ‘So, what’s it to be?’

Morgan played with the emerald and diamond studs in her ears. ‘I’m probably going to regret this, but we do have unfinished business between us.’ She sent him a coy look and the humour was back in her eyes. ‘By the way, are you into threesomes?’

If he’d had anything in his mouth he would have sprayed her, or choked. As it was, he felt he had to pick his jaw up from the floor. ‘What the...? Who? What? Are you being serious?’

‘Well, by the time this situation is resolved my friend Sophie from the gallery will be sharing my bedroom. I thought I should warn you.’

Noah felt his heart slow down to a gallop as her words started to make sense. ‘Morgan, you nearly gave me a heart attack! You bought Johnno Davie’s painting?’

‘I did.’ Morgan smiled. ‘It’ll be delivered when the exhibition is over.’

They turned as someone called her name.

‘Ooh, I’m being summoned. I need to go and hand out the prizes and flirt with the players.’

Noah couldn’t help the possessive hand he put on her back, the growl in his voice. ‘Keep it to a minimum, sweetheart. Remember that I’m armed and dangerous. I’d hate to have to shoot one of them.’

Morgan touched her lips to his cheek and whispered in his ear. ‘Just to be clear, soldier, Sophie is the closest you are ever going to get to a threesome that involves me.’

He could live with that. Heck, he was happy fantasising about a ‘onesome’ with her.

* * *

A few days later Noah heard the lobby phone chime and got up from the dining table where he had been working on staff scheduling—his normal Auterlochie work hadn’t stopped, so he worked from Morgan’s dining room table or the MI conference room. He picked up the phone.

‘Hey, Patrick.’

He’d become good friends with the doormen—both ex-cops, with excellent service records—and Patrick’s voice boomed in his ear.

‘I have Miss Riley here, plus two guys carrying mannequins and stuff. Can I send them up?’

‘What? Hold on, let me take a look.’ Noah walked backed to his laptop and pulled up the live feed from the lobby. Patching into the apartment building’s security feed had been his first task when he’d moved into the apartment weeks ago. True enough, there was Riley, chatting to two young guys holding two life-size mannequins.

Why was Riley bringing mannequins up to the apartment? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

He went back to the phone and thought for a minute. The situation in Colombia had descended into near anarchy and threats were flying. Hannah and Jedd were still not allowed to leave their house in the Cayman Islands. He’d spent twenty minutes on the phone with James earlier that day and they’d agreed that Morgan should curtail her social obligations. So now he had to try and keep her in the apartment as much as possible...which would be a butt-pain, because resisting the urge to haul her off to bed was now on a par with him splitting the atom.

‘Put Riley, the mannequins and the bags into the lifts and send the men home. I’ll help her unload on this side,’ Noah told Patrick, and went back to his laptop.

When the doors had closed on Riley and her plastic companions, he called to Morgan.

‘Hey, Riley will be here in twenty seconds with some life-size dolls. Why?’

‘Yay!’ Morgan said, coming from the bedroom and towel-drying her wet hair. She draped her towel over the back of the couch and Noah fought the urge to ask her to put it back in the bathroom. He was obsessively neat, courtesy of the army, and she was a slob. Her untidiness drove him nuts.

Noah opened the front door, and walked over to the lift. As the doors opened he grabbed one mannequin and tucked it under his arm. ‘Friends of yours, Ri?’

‘Ha-ha.’

Riley handed him a duffel bag and he walked back to the apartment and dumped them in the hallway. He went back for the second dummy and Riley followed him, carrying the second smaller bag.

He watched, amused, as Morgan and Riley sat the mannequins—expensive ones, with arm and leg joints—on the colourful couches. Morgan squealed and immediately reached for the duffel bags. Thinking that they probably needed alcohol for whatever they were up to, he went into the kitchen and opened a bottle of wine. When he returned with two glasses in hand his eyes widened at the rainbow-hued lingerie now scattered over the coffee table. No, not lingerie...sexy-as-sin burlesque costumes. Beaded and decorated corsets with fluffy skirts and feathers. And there were some without skirts, skimpy, with oversized clips to attach to stockings.

His mind instinctively imagined Morgan in one of those outfits and he cursed when his pants stirred. High heels, stockings... He thought of the survival courses he’d taken in the SAS. Nothing sexy about those...

Thoughts of sex bolted away and his heart ran cold as Morgan picked up a duffel bag and a treasure trove of jewellery rained down on the table. Emeralds, rubies, diamonds, gold...so much gold. Pearls, sapphires... If Morgan had liberated the MI jewellery collection from the walk-in safe on the fourth floor—and he knew she had access to do that—he was going to freakin’ kill her. Slowly, and with much pleasure.

‘Oh, my, look at his face.’ Morgan chuckled as she held Riley’s arm and doubled over with mirth. ‘Quick, grab your mobile and snap a pic. We’ll call it
Nervous Noah
.’

‘In a moment you are going to be
Mortuary Morgan
,’ Noah replied as he approached them. He handed over the wine and picked up a necklace with a canary-egg-size diamond hanging off a gold clasp. He examined the stone, didn’t see the deep sparkle and reflections a diamond that size should have and his blood pressure dropped. ‘Paste. You nearly gave me a heart attack!’

Morgan grinned. ‘They are all paste, and it’s fantastic that we have them to play with.’

Noah held up his hand. ‘I think
I
need wine for this...hold on.’ He went back to the kitchen, brought another glass and the bottle back and perched on the arm of the chair. ‘Now, what are you doing, exactly?’

Morgan crossed her legs Indian-style and with her wet hair and make-up-free face she looked a teenager. Like she had when she was nineteen, when she’d stolen his breath from his lungs. Nothing much had changed there, Noah thought.

‘Okay, so you said that we can’t have live models showing off the collection...’

‘Categorically not,’ Noah said.

‘So, Riley and I want to place mannequins on round plinths throughout the ballroom, each of them in a gold burlesque birdcage
à la
Moulin Rouge
. We’ll put them in provocative poses—on swings, bending over, et cetera. The mannequins will all be dressed in burlesque costumes—sexy corsets and stockings, high heels and masks.’ Morgan picked up a handful of lace and stockings. ‘The great thing is that we have paste copies of all the jewellery collection and Riley has the mannequins, so we can experiment before we make a final decision.’

‘Why?’ Noah asked.

Morgan, who was examining a pearl necklace, frowned up at him. ‘Why what?’

‘Why do you have paste copies of the jewellery collection?’ Noah asked patiently.

‘Oh...a Great-Something Moreau needed to raise some cash to buy another mine and he handed over the collection as collateral. He didn’t want it known that he was cash-strapped, so before he did that he had paste copies made of the jewellery. He got the jewels back but ever since, whenever the family acquired a new piece, a copy was made. Riley and I played with these as kids.’

‘Huh. So they are exact replicas?’

‘Absolutely.’ Riley draped a long string of pearls around her neck. ‘So what do you think of our birdcage idea, Noah? Can the real jewels be secured?’

Noah thought for a minute. ‘I want an area between the guests and the cages, about a foot and a half, where we can put a pressure plate so that if anyone steps up to a mannequin it’ll trigger a silent alarm.’

Morgan looked at Riley. ‘We can do that.’

‘I want in on the design of the birdcages. I want to put laser beams between the rods, so that if anyone breaks the beam it’ll trigger an alarm.’

Morgan lifted a bustier of white silk embossed with silver beads and waved his security issues away in order to play with the colourful garments and the fake bling.

‘Okay... Look at this one, Ri! Such a gorgeous red, with black inserts, and the feathers make a teeny-tiny skirt. If we teamed it with those striped thigh-highs...dynamite! Let’s dress a mannequin in an outfit, choose the corresponding jewellery and mask, photograph it and do the next one. And where on earth did you find all these outfits?’

‘A burlesque show that lasted six weeks on Broadway. Apparently the costumes were fabby, the performers not so good.’

Noah put his wine down, stood up and picked up a mannequin, looking it over.

‘What on earth are you doing, Noah?’ Morgan asked.

‘Seeing where we can place a motion sensor so if the jewels are moved once they’ve been put in place it will trigger—’

‘A silent alarm.’ Morgan and Riley chorused.

‘Smartasses.’ Noah dropped the mannequin and thought that he badly needed some testosterone before he started to grow breasts. ‘I’m going to watch some manly sports on ESPN. Have fun playing with your grown-up Barbies, girls.’

Noah’s hand drifted over Morgan’s hair as he passed her. He wasn’t sure if she noticed because she was frantically scrabbling through the piles of multi-coloured, beaded and luscious garments to look for...who knew what?

Concentrating on sport was a nightmare when he couldn’t stop imagining Morgan in a tiny black and red corset sparkling with diamond-like beads, black striped thigh-high stockings, red ‘screw me’ heels and an elaborate Mardi Gras mask...straddling his hips, his hands on the smooth, warm, bare flesh above those heart attack-inducing stockings...

He dropped his head back against the arm of the couch and adjusted his jeans. Could a man die from lack of sex and frustration? He was convinced that it was a distinct possibility.

NINE

Morgan knocked
once on the conference door and popped her head in. Noah, on a video conference, flicked a glance at her, smiled, and looked back at his screen.

‘I sent off the quote for that corporate security analysis in Hungary, Chris. I think we might—’

Morgan leaned her shoulder into the doorframe and waited for him to finish his conversation. Look at him—so sexy with his tousled hair and wire-rimmed reading glasses. Morgan felt the usual rush of lust, quickly followed by the warm and fuzzies. She suspected if they ever got to have sex he’d be an amazing lover: sweet and tender, hot and fast, slow but hot... She suspected that, like the many facets of his personality, the variations to his lovemaking would be endless. But right now she loved talking to him over the first cup of coffee in the morning, over a glass of wine at night, arguing about the fact that she was the untidiest person he’d ever met. She couldn’t imagine him not being in her life and knew, with or without sex, that she could, if she wasn’t very, very careful, fall chaotically, crazily in love with him.

She couldn’t, shouldn’t...wouldn’t. Some day soon the situation with the Colombian mine would be sorted out and he’d go back to London, to his life and business there.

‘Hey, what’s up?’ Noah asked, pulling his glasses off his face and resting his forearms on the table. A cup of cold coffee, his mobile and his wallet were placed in a neat row on the other side of his laptop and his sidearm was snug against his shoulder.

Morgan placed her hands behind her back. ‘It must be really difficult, trying to run your business from here, Noah.’

Noah looked around. ‘It’s not so bad. I’m plugged into the server at work—it’s practically the same as if I was working in my office and Chris in his. The only difference is arguing face to face instead of over Skype.’

‘Well, I’m still sorry if guarding me is an inconvenience.’

‘Better than the alternative of you being kidnapped. Or dead.’ Noah placed his arms behind his head. ‘How was your day? Still battling with the Barnado piece? Has she settled on a design yet?’

She was currently dealing with an ultra-picky client with the concentration span of a cricket. ‘Nope. I’ve been wading through cost projections for the ball and my eyes are crossing.’

‘Need some help?’ Noah asked.

He asked it in the same voice he used when he wanted to know whether she wanted coffee. As if she was so very normal...and to Noah she was. Her dyslexia was just another part of her—like her untidiness or her freckles.

‘Morgs, do you need help?’

Noah repeating his question pulled her back.

‘I’ll make time if you need me to.’

‘No, I’m good. I heard from James; we’ll be flying out at five tomorrow afternoon and we’ll be in Cape Town mid Friday morning. I told Merri about you. She said that it’s a garden wedding and one more person won’t make a difference, so she’s insisting that you attend with me.’

Noah raked his hand through his hair. ‘If the security seems okay then I’m quite happy to leave you there, Morgan. I really don’t feel like attending another stuffy function, talking to people I have nothing in common with.’

Morgan walked over to him, laid a hand on his arm and felt his warm skin beneath her fingers. He’d rolled up the sleeves on his casual duck egg blue button-down shirt and she could feel the raised veins in his arms. ‘It won’t be like that, I promise. Merri is a hoot—stunningly beautiful, but utterly laid back. And the rest of my good, solidly normal friends will be there... Ellie, Jess, Clem and their men. You’ll like them.’

‘Jeez, Morgan, I don’t know.’

‘Please, Noah?’

‘Does anyone ever say no to you when you flutter your eyelashes and do your Puss-in-Boots look?’

Morgan’s lips twitched at the corners. ‘Not often, no.’

‘Didn’t think so. Do I have to wear the tux again?’

‘It’s a garden wedding. No tux needed.’

‘Finally a sensible bride.’ Noah glanced at his watch. ‘Are you ready to go home?’

Morgan shook her head to clear it. ‘Actually, I wanted to tell you that I need to go into Moreau’s Gems to see a customer. He’s demanding a second opinion on a valuation Carl has given him and insists on getting one from a Moreau. Idiot. He made a scene earlier, and Carl made an arrangement for me to meet him after-hours—which is now.’

Noah frowned. ‘Is that normal? Meeting clients after-hours?’

Morgan shrugged. ‘Yeah, we meet with clients at the time that suits them, not us. Anyway, he’s there now and waiting for us.’

‘Security?’

‘They aren’t allowed to leave until Carl does,’ Morgan said, cocking her head at them. ‘It’s a client, Noah, and it happens all the time. Fifteen minutes, in and out, and then we can order Thai for supper.’

Morgan saw the look he sent to his screen and the frustration that flashed in his eyes. ‘I can ask one of the security officers from the lobby to see me there and back if you’re busy. Fifteen minutes, tops.’

Noah seemed to be considering the option for a minute, but he eventually stood up and pulled on his jacket. ‘Nope. Let me just send an email delaying my next conference call and I’ll come down with you.’

He bent over the screen and his hands flew over the keyboard. He hit ‘enter’ and picked up his mobile and wallet. Then his eyes met hers and her heart spluttered, misfired and coughed to life again.

Morgan held her breath as his strong hands encircled her jaw and throat and watched wide-eyed as he tipped his head and his lips hovered just above hers. She saw something in his eyes that she hadn’t noticed before: something soft, almost tender. Morgan gripped his wrists with her hands and kept her eyes locked on his, waiting for him to swoop down and claim her lips in a kiss that she knew would blow her socks off.

She wanted to sink slowly into the hot whirlpool of his mouth. He would be more delicious than she remembered, far tastier than her imagination suggested. Noah caressed the side of her neck and she inhaled the intoxicating scent of his skin. If she moved a fraction closer she would feel the thrust of her breasts against his chest...their skin would only be separated by his shirt and her silk T-shirt.

Worse than the thumping lust that pooled between her legs, the rapid beat of her heart, was the thought that she was one step closer to losing her heart. It was slipping further away from her and she knew that if she allowed it to fall out of her hand it would be his for ever.

Noah stepped back, but his big hand still grasped the side of her neck and his thumb touched her jaw and tipped her head up.

He muttered an obscenity and her eyes widened.

‘One of these days—hours—minutes—I’m not going to be able to step away from you.’ Noah moved back and gestured towards the door. ‘Let’s get this done. I’ve still got work to do tonight.’

So did she—really important work, Morgan thought, troubled.

Like figuring out how to ensure she didn’t fall in love with him.

* * *

Morgan had gone somewhere in her head, Noah thought as they hit the pavement outside MI headquarters and moved into the busy end-of-day crowds, and he had no idea where. He’d almost kissed her and then she’d got this weird look on her face and wondered off to a place where he couldn’t reach her.

Maybe she was thinking about the design she was battling with, or the ball; he knew how much she had on her plate at the moment and was surprised at how well she was coping. The dyslexia popped up now and again, but he knew that it was nothing that she couldn’t handle. It got worse if she rushed or was stressed, and he’d worked out that if he distracted her she frequently relaxed and could then read whatever she’d been stuck on before. He was also beginning to believe that her dyslexia was directly related to her confidence and her happiness; if she was relaxed she had far fewer problems than she did if she was stressed.

He knew that sex would be a brilliant distraction...
Promise to James, promise to James.

The Moreau’s Gems door was locked so Noah knocked. Morgan shook her head at him and pressed a discreet button on the side of the door. He heard a click and frowned when the door popped open.

‘There are cameras inside Carl’s office; they can see who is at the door,’ Morgan said, grinning at his obvious paranoia.

‘Where’s the guard?’ Noah asked as he pushed Morgan inside.

‘Probably making coffee. I don’t know, Noah! Jeez!’ Morgan said. ‘Come on, Carl will be in his office.’

Noah made sure the door was locked behind him and looked around. His Spidey Sense was going nutso. It was the same feeling he’d had numerous times in the army, when he’d known things were going to go to hell in a handbasket.

Cold shivers ran down his spine and he instinctively
knew
that he’d just walked them into a heap of trouble. He placed a protective arm around Morgan’s waist and pretended to nuzzle her ear.

‘If I call you Duchess, you drop like a stone to the floor,’ he said, in a low voice that only she could hear.

Morgan—funny girl—rolled her eyes at him as they approached the main counter holding a precious display of some of the world’s best gems set in amazing designs. He withdrew his gun and Morgan’s eyes widened.

‘What the heck are you doing? Put that away. It’ll go off and you’ll hurt someone!’

Seriously? He was a highly trained operative and if he made it ‘go off’ then he’d damn well be intending to hurt someone.
Honestly—civilians!

He made the mistake of sending her a pointed look and out of the corner of his eye saw movement. The next minute a boot connected with his wrist and his gun went flying. Where had he come from? he thought as he dodged a knife-swipe at his belly. He heard Morgan’s whimper, ignored it, saw an opening and ploughed his fist into a throat. His attacker crumpled.

Then all hell broke loose.

Noah yelled at Morgan to move and shoved her out of the way as he bulleted over a counter and slammed into the space behind—where a suited thug waited for the opportunity to gut him like a fish. Noah waited for the attack, grabbed the arm attached to the knife, broke his ulna and launched his elbow into a temple. Out of the corner of his eye he saw another shadow and his foot flew out and connected with the chin of another knife-wielding lout who’d come to his friend’s aid. It just glanced off a granite face and he came at him again.

The fight was a blur of motion...kick, punch, kick from both of them. Noah knew that he couldn’t worry or even think about Morgan just yet—not while he had to contend with this better-trained and skilled attacker. Noah bounced on his toes, waited for his opening and hooked a fist into his sternum, following up with a well-placed kick to his groin. Just because he was angry, he picked the guy up and tossed him into a counter. Glass and jewellery flew out of the case.

Whoops!

‘Stop.’

The voice came from behind him and every muscle in Noah’s body contracted. He wiped his bleeding mouth with his hand before slowly turning around. Fear turned to terror as he let his eyes drift down and saw the thick forearm crushing Morgan’s windpipe and the knife at her throat. This man was tall, better-dressed, and had a scar that went from the corner of his mouth to his temple. His eyes would have been better suited to a snake. This was someone to be feared, he realised. No conscience, no empathy, just sheer evil intention.

Kidnapper number four. Noah swore as he walked around the annihilated counter and into the centre of the room.

‘I’m going to walk her out of here and neither of you will get hurt.’

Moron,
Noah thought. ‘Do I look like I mind getting hurt? Let her go and
you
won’t get hurt.’

A reptile smile to go with the reptile eyes. Noah expected to see a forked tongue at any moment. He flicked his glance to Morgan, who was looking at him, her gaze steady. Good girl—she wasn’t panicking. He was close to it, he thought, as a drop of blood rolled down her neck and soaked into her T-shirt.

He’d cut her...

He was going to kill him for that.

‘What do you want?’ Noah demanded.

‘Her, of course. Negotiations will be so much easier in Colombia if we have a bargaining chip.’

Noah shook his head. ‘That’s not going to happen. Where are the store employees?’

Snake-eyes shrugged. ‘In the back. They might need medical care; we had to
persuade
them to call Miss Moreau down.’

Persuade as in beat the crap out of them to make them obey.

‘We’ve been watching you for weeks—waiting for an opportunity. We couldn’t afford to wait any more so we set a trap and you walked straight into it.’

Tell me about it
. If one of his employees had done the same they’d be fired. He’d been distracted...by Morgan.
Maybe you shouldn’t guard someone you want to sleep with...do you think, soldier?

‘I’m going to rip you apart,’ Noah said.

And he would. That was a promise. Nobody threatened Morgan...ever.

‘You okay there, Duchess?’

On cue she dropped like a stone, pulling Snake-eyes off-balance. Noah became a blur of speed, motion and deadly intent as he kicked the knife out of his hand and followed up with a lightning-fast punch to his stomach. Air whooshed out of his opponent as he sank to his knees.

Just to make sure that he had the upper hand, Noah wound his forearm around his neck and considered doing the specialised jerk that would send him into the ever after.

‘You think you can put your grubby hands on my woman? Put a knife to her throat? Cut her?’ he demanded, his voice rough.

He heard a faint gurgling and Morgan’s desperate pleas from the other end of the long tunnel he was in. He continued to threaten his captor, tightening his grip with every word he spoke.

Morgan’s hand smacking his head jerked him toward reality.

‘The guy is turning blue! Let him go! You’re going to kill him!’

Noah looked up at her, ignored her tear-filled eyes and shrugged. ‘He hurt you. No one hurts you and gets away with it. You’re bleeding.’

‘It’s a scratch, Noah. Look—the police are here. Let them take care of him.’ Morgan slapped his head again. ‘Let him go!
Now!
Please, Noah. Don’t do this.’