by Maggie Cox
Scribbling a reminder on a pad to get Morgen to send some flowers to his mother’s address in Marylebone, Conall pulled open the door and decided there was no time like the present. She was seated at the computer, her slim straight back towards him, so Conall swung round to the front, where she could see him.
‘A dozen long-stemmed yellow roses to that address, please. By lunchtime, if you can.’
‘Any message?’ Regarding him coolly above her computer screen, nonetheless Morgen felt her body grow uncomfortably hot beneath his sweeping blue glance.
‘Sorry, can’t make tonight after all. Ring you soon. Love, Conall.’
Glancing at the name and address on the sheet of paper he’d handed her, Morgen moved her head gently in a semi-nod. Victoria Kendall. Was she a girlfriend, fiancée, significant other? For the first time she considered the possibility of him being married. The thought elicited strangely mixed feelings, but right this minute she refused to delve too deeply as to why. Even if she had been remotely attracted to him—and she most definitely wasn’t—Conall O’Brien was as way out of her league as Simon had been, even more so, perhaps. And look how that liaison had ended.
‘I’ll get onto it right away, Mr O’Brien.’
‘Good. By the way, I trust you had a pleasant evening with your “favourite” person?’
For a moment Morgen didn’t have a clue what he meant. Then she remembered what she’d said in the car last night, and her brow knitted in confusion at the suggestion of anger in his tone.
‘I did, thanks.’
‘I imagine a woman like you has a lot of favourite people?’
What the hell was that supposed to mean? Tossing her head, Morgen strove to keep an even tone. ‘If you’re implying something not quite complimentary, then I’d be pleased if you kept your thoughts to yourself. If you don’t mind.’
‘Why so secretive? Who is this favourite person of yours you clearly don’t want to discuss?’
A muscle throbbed at the side of Conall’s temple as he studied her, revealing that despite the controlled, polished, suave appearance he liked to project he was perhaps not at present as in control as he liked. Morgen wondered at that.
‘I’m not trying to be secretive, for goodness’ sake! And even if I were, aren’t I allowed a private life?’
‘Without a doubt.’ Conall’s response was clipped. ‘I was merely expressing an interest. Aren’t I “allowed” to do that?’
Her whole body tensing beneath his dogged determination to somehow extract the truth out of her, Morgen sighed irritably. Perhaps if she told him she’d spent the evening alone with her daughter that would be an end to his interrogation once and for all?
‘The person I spent the night with is Nee—’
‘Morning, all. Got any coffee going, Morgen? I’m going to need it.’
They both glanced round at the slightly rumpled figure of Derek Holden as he came ambling through the door, and it was all Conall could do not to curse his timing out loud.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE door swung open. After nearly two hours ensconced in his office, Derek preceded Conall out through the door, his slightly bewildered expression reminding Morgen of a prisoner suddenly released from confinement after a long period and wondering what exactly he was supposed to do with himself. Scratching his head, he gave her a lop-sided schoolboy grin. That grin concealed a multitude of torment, she didn’t doubt. It squeezed Morgen’s heart and she smiled back unreservedly.
‘Well, Morgen, it looks like you’ve got yourself a new boss for the next six weeks. It seems I’m to take an enforced sabbatical—get myself straightened out. Think you can cope without me?’
Listening to his comments, Conall had to refrain from rolling his eyes. As far as he could glean Morgen had been holding the fort for several weeks now, while Derek showed up sporadically at best. Considering the pressure she must have been under to conceal her boss’s ‘little problem’ as far as she could, as well as tackling the considerable workload, he had to admit a grudging admiration for her being able to pull it off. It was only in the past couple of weeks that it had really come to the attention of the associates upstairs, and then only because Stephen Ritchie had personally been on the phone to them about all the times Derek had let them down by not showing up on site. Alarm bells had started ringing and investigations had been made.
‘You just get yourself better soon. Eat well and get some rest,’ Morgen advised. ‘We’ll manage here just fine.’
Realising that she had included Conall in that statement, she flushed with embarrassment. She knew that yesterday he’d mentioned he would be taking things over for a while, but that could mean just until he found someone else to step in for Derek. It didn’t mean the man himself would be staying around indefinitely. At least, she hoped not. Her gaze slid away from both men as she deliberately returned her attention to the screen in front of her.
Conall accompanied Derek to the door, and after a final few words bade him goodbye. When he turned back to survey Morgen behind her desk he popped open the buttons of his suit jacket and pulled the knot of his tie away from his collar. Stopping to pour a cup of water from the cooler, he took a long, thirsty draught, then jettisoned the polystyrene cup expertly into the bin. Beneath his outwardly calm exterior he was secretly stewing on that last remark of Morgen’s just before Derek showed up and interrupted them. ‘The person I spent the night with,’ she’d said. Right now he hardly trusted himself to speak to her, he was so irrationally angry.
‘How are you getting along with those letters?’ he asked.
‘Fine. You haven’t just left him to his own devices, have you?’ Morgen demanded anxiously. She parried the flash of irritation in those perfectly blue eyes and stared right back at him to show she wasn’t going to back down.
‘Does that maternal streak of yours come out for every man, Miss McKenzie? Or is that particular trait reserved purely for the Derek Holdens of this world?’
‘You’re deliberately misinterpreting me—but then why should that surprise me? For your information, I’m not mothering Derek at all. I’m simply acting out of concern for a man who has been very good to me as a boss. He may have had his own troubles to deal with, but he’s always treated me well and with respect. Which is more than I can say for some of the men I’ve worked for!’
Conall flushed slightly beneath his tan at the barely disguised reprimand. Did she think he didn’t treat her well? That stung. As for Derek…well, clearly Morgen thought the man some kind of plaster saint! The throb of jealousy presently zinging its way through his system wasn’t pretty.
‘I’m sorry to hear that.’
He was about as sorry as an elephant who’d trod on an ant, Morgen decided. ‘Perhaps when it comes to treating staff decently you couldn’t go far wrong if you took a leaf out of Derek’s book.’
In a pig’s eye, Conall reflected with heat. But part of him couldn’t deny that he felt irritatingly guilty at her reprimand. He’d always thought of himself as fair, but firm—could he help it if the woman seemed to rub him up the wrong way? He winced at his own poorly chosen analogy. Still, it wouldn’t do to let her imagine he was party to any such weakness as guilt.
‘It’ll be a cold day in hell before I take a leaf out of the book of a man who lets a woman leaving him reduce him to a drunken, shambolic wreck!’ he ground out harshly. ‘The man should have a bit more self-respect.’
Feeling all the colour drain out of her face, her fingers gripping the desk, Morgen wondered how she would restrain herself from walking out there and then. But just because Conall was clearly disparaging of a man like Derek, who had suffered emotionally after his wife’s abandonment of him, it didn’t mean that Morgen should take his comments personally and resign. She might not like what Conall had said, but from now on she would apply a much cooler head to the situation, and somehow remain aloof from the feelings of rage the man engendered inside her.
But, just the same, she’d be damned if she�
��d let him have the last word.
‘You’re so sure of yourself, aren’t you?’ Her green eyes sparkling with fury, she gripped the desk even tighter. ‘You’ve probably never had a woman you cared for walk out on you. Beggar or king, it hurts, you know…to be abandoned by someone you love. Perhaps when it does eventually happen to you you might have a little bit more compassion for the rest of the human race!’
‘Not likely, Miss McKenzie. I wouldn’t let a woman get close enough to hurt me like that…though I’m not averse to getting close in other ways…’
Although his gaze never so much as wavered from her face Morgen received the disturbing impression that his contemplation of her was definitely bordering on the X-rated. Squirming in her seat, she wondered how he’d react if she told him that if he continued his inappropriate comments she’d report him for harassment. But even as the thought occurred she knew she would do no such thing. Who would take any notice of her when he was the boss?
But even as she thought that Morgen knew she couldn’t lie to herself. When Conall O’Brien levelled his smoky looks at her, like him or not, the sensual nature that she had long buried since Simon walked out actually revelled in the attention, God help her. And now she was faced with the possibility of working for this man for the next six weeks!
Not wanting to fight any more, she swallowed down her uneasiness and decided to make another attempt at reaching her implacable new boss on Derek’s behalf.
‘If you just leave Derek to his own devices he’ll simply drink himself to death and that will be that! Don’t you recognise the signs? The man thinks he’s got nothing to lose since Nicky walked out. He’s not thinking straight. How could he be? Couldn’t you find it in your heart to help him in some way?’ She hesitated to say if you have one…
‘I hate to see you stress yourself out over this, Morgen. Confidentially, Derek’s been booked into a very expensive and very exclusive drying-out clinic in the country, paid for by the firm. He’ll have his every need catered for—except, of course, his need for alcohol. I’ve also arranged to receive weekly reports as to how he’s faring. That put your mind at rest?’
Linking her hands together on the desk in front of her, Morgen exhaled a slow, difficult breath. All along he’d arranged treatment for Derek, and yet he’d let her rant on as if the last thing she could expect was for a man like Conall to help him. ‘If you want to know the truth,’ she admitted quietly, ‘it does. I’ve had sleepless nights, worrying about what might happen to him.’
‘And now your fears are hopefully laid to rest. He’ll be in good hands.’
His reply was terse, dismissive. What could she expect when she’d been so outspoken in Derek’s defence? Rude, really. She certainly hadn’t pulled her punches. Reaching the door of Derek’s office, Conall turned back at the last moment to glance thoughtfully her way.
‘You should have talked to someone about your concerns for his welfare. That’s what we have a human resources advisor for.’
‘What, and have his dirty laundry aired all around the office?’ In spite of her vow to keep a cool head, she twisted her mouth scathingly. ‘I don’t know what it’s like in the New York office, but here the gossips would have had a field-day. It’s a shame, but people are only too eager to make their minds up about someone without knowing all the facts. Guilty until proven innocent. They would have had poor Derek hung, drawn and quartered before he had time to blink. Never mind his reasons for turning to drink in the first place. The man was in immense emotional pain. Right now they probably think you’ve given him the sack. By lunchtime the news will be all over the building.’
She was right, of course. He should have thought of it himself, Conall admitted silently. Hadn’t he behaved in a similar fashion when he had had Morgen ‘guilty as charged,’ having discovered her asleep at her desk, without even knowing the first thing about her? It pained him to think that she had such a poor opinion of both him and her colleagues, despite the fact that he personally believed a lot of Derek Holden’s emotional pain was self-inflicted and therefore didn’t warrant such concern from her.
‘Perhaps we ought to arrange some kind of informal meeting—make it official that Derek is on sick leave but expected to return in a few weeks’ time? If it comes from me that ought to put a stop to any further speculation about him possibly losing his job.’
Directing the mouse on her computer pad to ‘print,’ Morgen inclined her head in immediate agreement. ‘I could organise something for four o’clock this afternoon in the communal staffroom. Would that be okay?’
‘I’ll leave it in your capable hands. By the way, can you also organise me some lunch?’ Conall’s features relaxed into an unexpected smile. ‘I’m going to be making a start on clearing some of Mr Holden’s backlog. A sandwich at my desk will suffice. Something with chicken will do fine. Thanks.’
Morgen bet he could be almost charming when he tried, if that ‘knock your socks off at twenty paces’ smile of his was any indication. But she didn’t want to be charmed by him, did she? His superior, arrogant manner she could handle, but his charm was another thing entirely…
Morgen sneezed, then sneezed again. As she slammed the driver’s door shut a wave of heat descended, making her suddenly dizzy.
‘Damn, damn, damn!’ Shaking her head, she silently cursed the fates for giving her Neesha’s cold. It really was the very last thing she needed, today of all days, when Conall was chairing a board meeting in the VIP suite and she was supposed to be taking notes. It was warm in there at the best of times, and if she got any hotter than she was at this moment it would be frankly unbearable.
Leaving the underground car park and making her way out onto the main road opposite the offices of O’Brien and Stoughton Associates, she had stepped off the pavement to get to the other side when suddenly a car whooshed by, practically taking the polish off her fingernails. At the same time a steely hand clamped her arm to yank her none too gently back onto the pavement. Before Morgen could recover herself Conall jerked her round to face him, jaw clenched and steely blue gaze swirling with anger.
‘Have you got a death wish or something? Why the hell didn’t you look where you were going?’
His heart was still beating much too fast. He hadn’t been able to believe it when he’d suddenly spotted Morgen, stepping out into the busy main road with a car bearing down on her at around thirty miles an hour. Seeing it swerve at the last minute to avoid her, he’d had to sprint to pull her back before the car that came after mowed her down. Now she was staring at him, her cheeks flushed and her pretty green eyes watery and confused.
Oh, Lord! She wasn’t going to cry, was she? Conall prided himself on being as tough as the next strong, red-blooded male, but to be honest he was a sucker for weeping women, sick children and hurt animals. Frankly, all three were capable of hitting him where it hurt.
‘Hey.’ His voice turning gruff, he drew his knuckles gently down her cheek. A single tear gathered at the corner of one eye and slid down her flushed skin. ‘I didn’t mean to frighten you.’
Feeling as if there wasn’t enough air to breathe, Morgen dug into her bag for a tissue, her insides quaking—more because Conall had touched her than because of her dramatic near-miss. Apart from realising that she had almost got herself killed, she was scared and confused that one man’s touch could disorientate her so.
The roar of the traffic all but drowned out her shaky reply. ‘You didn’t frighten me. I was distracted for a moment, that’s all. I should have been paying more attention to what I was doing. Thanks for coming to my rescue.’ The thought occurred that if he hadn’t her little daughter might well be motherless by now. That sparked off another tear, then another, until she was biting her lip to try and keep them at bay.
‘Come on, let’s go and get some coffee and talk a while.’
Slipping his hand beneath her elbow, Conall guided her into a small Italian coffee bar just a little way down the road. Meanwhile Morgen was dabbing a little d
esperately at her tears—hardly able to believe that she was disgracing herself so badly, and in front of the one person she couldn’t afford to show vulnerability to. He already had the opinion she was a shirker and not up to the job—now he would think she was a complete flake too.
A few minutes later, her senses assailed by the steamy fragrant aroma of coffee and newly baked rolls, Morgen sat facing Conall. His large frame dwarfed the chair, as usual, and his concentration was focused one hundred per cent on her—despite the steady stream of office workers dropping in for their early-morning refreshment. Her hand shook a little as she raised the creamy café latte to her lips, and the big man opposite frowned.
‘Now, what’s brought all this on? Maybe I can help?’
He really wanted to, Conall realised with an upsurge of longing. The distinct impression had been growing on him over the past few days that Morgen mostly went it alone, helping others without question and consequently neglecting herself. Just yesterday he’d wandered in on her comforting a distraught junior secretary whom he’d later found out had boyfriend trouble. He wondered if the ‘favourite’ person she had mentioned—Neil, or whatever his name was—really gave her enough support.
Then the thought of her boyfriend made him clench his jaw in irritation because, dammit, as far as Conall was concerned that was an obstacle he really didn’t want to have to surmount.
‘I’m fine, honestly. I’ve just picked up a cold and I haven’t been sleeping very well.’ Her glance was nervous and slid quickly away to avert further close examination.
Conall looked down into his coffee, then back again into her wary green eyes. ‘I don’t buy that as the only reason you’re upset. What’s been worrying you, Morgen? If it’s anything to do with work I’m probably the best person you can talk to. The people who work for me are this firm’s greatest asset. Therefore their wellbeing is my concern too.’
