"Gus, there’s a conflict."
"What conflict, for heaven’s sake?" Gus boomed.
"I just feel uncomfortable. He makes me feel uncomfortable." Morgan flushed and flicked another strand of hair behind her ear. "I think a more professional approach would be to have someone else handle the day-to-day contact with him. I’ll still be doing everything behind the scenes as I’ve always done."
"Morgan, I’ve listened but the answer is no. We have just a few weeks left until the start of the exhibition. There is a lot of work for everyone--you especially--to get through in the time remaining in order to guarantee a smooth opening. Any number of things could go wrong without us setting up a situation that we know is certain to cause us grief."
"I can --"
"No. And you have always known that I will not under any circumstances risk upsetting the man who has the power to make or break the museum’s immediate future. We need that torque in our collection and I couldn’t live with myself if I permitted a situation that led to the piece going elsewhere. Relationships are everything in this business, Morgan."
For a brief second, Morgan shut her eyes and imagined she was somewhere else, a leafy glade with a waterfall trickling gently in the background. It was her retreat when things became crazy. But she couldn’t focus, her eyelids trembled and she opened her eyes to meet Gus’s implacable brown ones.
He tugged on his beard. "Morgan, I hope you understand what I’m saying, I really do … for all our sakes."
Morgan nodded mutely. She did understand Gus’ position and knew he was right. That wasn’t the issue. When she’d finally plucked up the courage to knock on her boss’s door after minutes hesitating on the threshold, she’d been ninety percent sure that he would turn down her request to remove herself from the liaison role. It was part of her job description so she had no rights to expect any flexibility unless there had been an extraordinarily unusual circumstance. There wasn’t. Unless she could think of something fast, she was stuck with him.
Gus merely grunted as she left his office, no doubt glad to get rid of his least favorite member of staff. Morgan racked her brains to think of an alternative solution that would have the same effect of moving her out of Hunter Riley’s sphere but, if there was one, it eluded her.
She walked slowly back to her own office and slumped down in her chair. Andrea looked up from her desk where she was reviewing the invitation list for the launch that the PR office had sent down earlier. Morgan wanted to ensure they didn’t accidentally twist someone’s nose out of joint by omitting them from the launch, particularly not one of their key patrons or associates.
"Hey boss!" Andrea smiled broadly at her. Morgan scowled back, wondering grouchily how the girl managed to stay so goddamn perky all the time.
Andrea raised her eyebrows. "Gus at it again?" she said sympathetically. "Don’t worry, he’s on everyone’s case. You know how anxious he gets before big events."
"It’s not that," Morgan muttered. "I asked him if you could handle Hunter Riley for the time being. I’m up to my neck and --"
"Oh, Morgan. I’d love to. I’ve been here two years and he’s never trusted me to do anything important in all that time." Her mouth turned sulky. "He even called me an airhead once. To Marshall."
Morgan hid a smile. "Sorry, Andy. He said no. Wouldn’t accept any of my arguments. But I take your point about giving you some added responsibility and I’ll look seriously at it. You need to progress in your role."
Now it was Andrea’s turn to scowl. "That’s too bad. I wouldn’t have minded looking after Mr. Sexy Riley." She glanced cheekily at Morgan. "As long as I wasn’t stepping on anyone else’s toes, that is."
"Well, Gus says --"
"Hey!" Andrea interjected. "Does stuffy old Gus need to know? I mean your next meeting with Riley doesn’t even involve Gus. There’s just Marshall but there’s no reason for him to go blabbing to Gus about who was and wasn’t there. I’ll take the meeting, report back to you and you brief Gus. Simple."
Oh, if only. "Well, it could work but I hate to put you in this position."
"What could go wrong? As long as you cover all bases in your brief, it’ll be fine."
Morgan wasn’t so sure but it did provide some respite. She didn’t want to have to confront Hunter in a professional setting again tomorrow. It was too soon. She knew it wasn’t a long-term solution but she was so, so tempted to agree to Andrea’s suggestion.
Should she, shouldn’t she? The debate swirled endlessly around in her head, ensuring another sleepless night. At least it kept her dark pursuer from her dreams. She was no more decided at the break of day and arrived at work exhausted and fraught. In the end, she prepared a full and detailed brief for Andrea and talked her through it before the meeting. Just in case. And then she worried the issue some more. It wasn’t simply that she was defying her boss’s strict instructions – in itself probably an offense that warranted an official warning--it was that she felt like the biggest coward alive.
Morgan sat rigid at her desk for the full two hours that Andrea was in the meeting. She couldn’t even answer the phone when it rang. By the time Andrea returned, a tension headache was forming across her brow. Even when Andrea told her everything was fine, that Hunter had signed off on everything and hadn’t had a problem with her absence, Morgan still couldn’t relax. She’d always prided herself on being the ultimate professional and now she was backing off from her usual standard because the guy had kissed her once. Apart from letting herself down, she was still anxious that Gus might find out and blow a fuse. Not that she would blame him but it sure wouldn’t make their working relationship any easier. As to what might say to her the next time they met – well, she refused to even think about that.
* * * *
Damn her to hell!
Hunter threw his battered briefcase on the desk and glared at Suzie through the glass partition. She hastily returned her attention to her work, not looking like she possessed even the remotest inclination to ask her boss how the meeting went. It was a wise move, thought Hunter. If anyone said a word to him, he would explode into a tirade of vile abuse about womanhood in general and one woman in particular.
Part of him was ticked off in a very male way that Morgan wasn’t following the plan. Meet. Fall into bed. Fall in love. Simple except he’d somehow managed to achieve stages one and three at approximately the same time, and stage two seemed as remote as ever. He drew a hand over his stubbled jaw. He’d been relying on the fact that, even if she refused to see him socially, she had to see him professionally. Now she’d found even a way around that. How the hell was he supposed to convince her of his credentials as a bed and life partner if she would even see him?
For the first time since he’d met Morgan, a vague sense of doubt drifted across Hunter’s mind. He was just about to hit forty, for shit’s sake. Forty. He wanted a partner. He wanted a family. The decision should have been the hard part, not the execution, but he’d reckoned without his chosen woman being more stubborn than the proverbial mule.
From the moment he’d seen her photo, he’d perceived Morgan McClellan as some vulnerable creature that needed taking care of, and himself as her rescuer. Now he had to admit that his image had been rather two-dimensional. Yes, she was vulnerable but she was also passionate, volatile, determined, independent, ambitious and stubborn as hell. And scared.
Hunter’s expression brightened as he grasped the significance of that last thought. If she didn’t care, she would have turned up at the meeting.
She was running scared.
Hunter’s smile grew broader.
* * * *
Andrea finally packed up her desk and left at five, and Morgan let her shoulders droop under the accumulated pressure of the day. When her phone rang, she hoped it was Mary. She needed a heart to heart. It wasn’t. It was Hunter.
"I expected more from you," he said quietly.
"Hunter, I --"
"What did you think? That I’d leap across the ta
ble and try to ravish you?"
"No, of course not. I’ve just been swamped." It sounded lame, even to her own ears.
"You’re a coward, Morgan McClellan," he gritted. "Too scared to reach out and take what you want."
That was precisely the problem, thought Morgan tiredly. She wanted everything. But admitting to her desires was something else.
"I’m sorry --" she started to say but the flat dial tone at the end of the line told her he’d ended their call.
Slowly Morgan lowered her head until it rested on her arms on the desktop. She couldn’t have screwed things up worse if she’d tried. "What a mess!" she said to herself, wondering how on earth she could straighten things out and get back on top of her responsibilities. The minutes ticked by and the hour hand of the clock rotated. Finally it was close to half past six and still she sat there. The only thing that came to mind was the mantra that had seen her through every tough situation she’d encountered so far.
Tackle it head on.
Morgan raised her head and stood up, squaring her shoulders. She’d had tough situations in the past, but she’d always summoned up the courage to deal with them openly. This was different because it involved not only her professional responsibilities but her emotions and, well admit it, her body.
She flicked quickly through her contact book as she shrugged her black woolen coat over her lavender jersey dress and wrapped a silky scarf around her throat, making a note of Hunter’s office address which she stuffed into her bag. She had no idea whether he would still be there but she had to try.
* * * *
Hunter’s assistant, Suzie Green, smiled quizzically at her and motioned her to a vinyl seat that looked like something from a rummage sale. If Hunter had money he sure didn’t spend it on furniture. Or clothes, she smiled inwardly. For some reason she had associated the Riley name with wealth, but perhaps not. Then it came back to her. It had been mentioned almost in passing in one of the article’s she’d read that Hunter’s mother was from old money. Virginia and Declan Riley, both anthropologists of repute, had been killed in a plane crash in a remote part of Zambia when Hunter was a teenager. There was a substantial inheritance that had allowed him to pursue his passion for archaeology.
"He’s due back shortly so you won’t be waiting long. Will you tell him I said goodbye? My boyfriend has tickets for the theater tonight and I can’t be late." Suzie dragged a woolen hat over her curly brown hair and said goodbye.
"Sure. Enjoy the show." Morgan smiled politely at the girl as she dashed out towards the stairs.
On the third floor of an old red brick building in a seedy area of town, Hunter’s office was cluttered with the detritus of years of haphazard filing and an outdated catalogue system. Books, files, ceramic and bone fragments--even a complete skull--crowded the shelves and most of the floor space.
Morgan sat for a few minutes on the battered chair trying to wriggle into a more comfortable position. She stared at the shelves where papers, files and books seemed to stuffed any which way, and bit her lip. She really shouldn’t touch Hunter’s working space but her inner neat freak urged her to at least get the books into alphabetical order. It was no easy task. Many of the titles meant little to her and she had to guess at the content in some cases. She found a small step ladder and was busy stacking books on the top shelf when the door opened.
"What the hell!"
Morgan gasped. The step ladder wasn’t high but the sudden noise made her over-reach with the pile of books. She listed precariously, dropping the books and flailing for a hand grip on the ladder when strong arms seized her around her hips and dragged her against a hard male body.
"Idiot," he muttered and then Hunter’s hot breath was mingling with hers as his mouth came down on hers. With an effort she pushed away from him, her hands against his shoulders holding him at arms’ length. He stood there his chest moving up and down with the force of his breathing, and Morgan sensed a volcano was about to explode.
"I wanted to tell you…."
"I don’t give a damn what you wanted to tell me. It never makes sense." Hunter’s voice was cold but his eyes were hot.
Morgan took a deep breath and reached out a shaking hand to steady herself on the back of the chair. Her knuckles showed white where her slim fingers gripped the torn vinyl.
"I’m sorry about the meeting today. I panicked. I’m not good at this."
"You can say that again." Hunter’s mouth was a straight line, giving nothing away.
"I know it. You don’t have to say it again." She was bitterly ashamed. She knew what he was thinking. "I know what I did was cowardly. I should have faced you."
"A person’s actions speak louder than words." Hunter watched her speculatively. Morgan had the sense he was goading her.
"I --"
"I’m not playing your games, anymore." He pulled the glasses from his face, setting them down on his desk, and rubbing the bridge of his nose tiredly with his fingers. "Look I’m tired. It’s been a hell of a day, one way and another."
"My games? What about yours? The umbrella thing, the way you knew my address," Morgan shot back at him. "And I’m tired, too. That’s why I’m all over the place. I’m not deliberately jerking your chain, believe me."
"Well from where I’m standing you’re behaving like a first-class cock tease," he told her crudely. "Morgan, I’m forty in March, not some pimply seventeen-year-old for you to test your wiles on. I don’t doubt you have every man in the vicinity wanting to get in your pants but I’m through flirting."
Morgan felt her cheeks heat at his words. "Hunter, you’ve got it all wrong. I’m not trying my wiles out on you. I’ve never been like that."
Hunter stared at her, disbelief written on his face. "Yeah right," he said sarcastically.
"It’s true," Morgan said. "In fact, I’ve never had men chase me at all. I’ve always been the serious type that men avoid." She sighed and looked away from him. "To tell you the truth, I’m not very experienced and I haven’t dated at all since I joined the museum. I’m just nervous around you. Nervous and confused."
"I can’t believe you don’t have the men flocking around you." Hunter’s voice softened. "You’re the most stunning creature I’ve ever seen in my life."
"Yes but.…" Morgan smiled and indicated the table where his spectacles rested. "You’re blind. Admit it."
"Mad, maybe. To think I might have a chance with you." His smile was whimsical. A little sad.
"Hunter. You’re a really nice guy. I like you … a lot. I just need time to think."
His harsh laughter cracked the quiet room like a gun shot. "That’d be right," he said tightly, his fury only just contained. "Good old Hunter. Shame he never gets the girl. He’s just too nice."
Morgan winced. She had used that word, nice. But she’d meant to insult him. He was nice. Sweet and funny. And very sexy.
Hunter saw her expression and misinterpreted it.
"I’m right, aren’t I? You thought I was nice. Not someone you could ever have strong feelings for." His tone was bitter. "Great to have as a friend but not as a lover. God forbid!"
"Hunter, no!" Morgan was astounded. "I admit I think you’re one of the sweetest guys I’ve ever met. I haven’t known you long but everything I’ve seen so far tells me you’re warm-hearted, witty and charming."
"But not exactly Valentino, huh?"
"Hunter!" Morgan came towards him and laid her hands on his shoulders, looking deeply into frustrated golden eyes. "You’re incredibly --"
"Sad about old Hunter," he interrupted, his voice bitter. "Did you hear about his bitch of a fiancée? They were engaged for two years but she kept shying off from the final commitment, till one day she finally said yes. And then told him she was pregnant.
"Good old Hunter was delirious with joy thinking he was going to be a husband and a dad until he did the calculations and worked out that he couldn’t possibly be the father. Poor bastard had been away on a dig at the time of the conception. Turned out s
he’d been screwing another guy, and he’d had no idea. He never even thought about cheating on her and just assumed she felt the same way."
Morgan was shocked into silence for a second before reaching up a hand to stroke the hard plane of his face. "I’m sorry, Hunter. You didn’t deserve that."
Hunter brushed her hand away angrily. "Yeah, well, I’m not messing around. What you see is what you get so make a decision. If you want me then prove it. Take me. Now. Otherwise get out."
"Hunter, I…." She didn’t want to lose him from her life; she just needed time.
He shoved one hard hand between her legs in an uncharacteristically crude gesture, his fingers gripping her crotch.
"How much more plainly can I put it? If you want sex then you can stay, if you don’t, then get out."
Morgan stared at him, frozen by his hostility and aggression. Where was the sweet, kind Hunter she knew?
"Too late." Her hesitation wasn’t overlooked by Hunter who pulled her roughly to him, one hand reaching out to curve roughly around her breast. She gasped as his thumb glanced against a nipple.
"Hunter, wait!"
"No, I’m through waiting. You had your chance to run and you didn’t take it."
"Hunter, please. Not like this."
"Exactly like this." His voice was deep, harsh. His large hand cupped the back of her head, spilling her hair free from its barrette. He pulled her head to him until she felt his breath, warm and heavy on her face.
"Hunter. I do want you. You must have felt it."
He shook his head. "I thought you felt it too. But every time we touch, you pull back."
Morgan’s eyes pleaded with him. "We need to talk about this."
"No more talk. Just sex. Right here. Right now." His voice was husky as he lowered his mouth to hers. Despite his words the first touch of his lips was delicate, like butterfly wings against a flower.
For some reason, the sinful sweetness of his lips scared her more than the intent of his words or his hands at her breasts. Panicked, Morgan pushed away from him and turned towards the door, but he came after her, an arm hooking around her waist. Her left foot tangled with his in the rush and Morgan cried out as his bulk propelled her heavily to the floor.
Darkest Desire Page 6
