his stay in the UK indefinitely.
‘I can handle anything you care to throw at me, Mr O’Brien. Why don’t you try me and see? Part of my secretarial course curriculum was how to deal with difficult people. In fact I specialised in it! See you back at the office.’ And with that Morgen slipped out of the car, slamming the door behind her.
Conall laid his head back on the cream rest and mused that her hostility was probably a bonus. It would make it all the sweeter when she finally decided it was worth her while to be nice to him. Priding himself on knowing women as well as he did, and having personal experience that wealth and status in life were powerful aphrodisiacs—especially when it came to attraction—Conall didn’t doubt that that would soon be the case…
CHAPTER THREE
AT THREE-THIRTY that afternoon Morgen made her way to the ladies’ washroom to freshen up. Staring at her reflection in the bank of mirrors, she frowned at the soft bluish shadows beneath her eyes. She’d be lying to herself if she didn’t acknowledge she looked just about as tired as she felt, but her spirits were lifted a little despite the tension of the morning because she’d heard from her mother that Neesha was more or less back to her old self today.
Reflecting on that fact now, she let her shoulders drop a little with relief. That meant that her daughter could go back to school tomorrow and her mother could go back home. Relationships were strained between them at the best of times, but none more so than when Morgen asked her to take care of Neesha for her when she was sick. Lorna McKenzie did not approve of women working full-time when their children were small. Truth to tell, Morgen might have shared the same conviction if Simon hadn’t walked out on her less than a year into their marriage, drastically diminishing her options.
For a man who’d initially been over the moon to hear she was pregnant, he’d soon changed his tune as his wife’s pregnancy had advanced. He dealt with sick people all the time, but he had professed he was unable to cope when Morgen was wretched with morning sickness. That, coupled with her lack of desire to socialise with his friends and never seeing eye-to-eye with his parents, had been good enough grounds for him to end the marriage as far as he was concerned. Besides, he really hadn’t liked the idea of being ‘tied down,’ he’d explained as he was leaving. His career came first, and he really hadn’t been sure whether fatherhood was for him after all. He was willing to help support her and the baby, but only until Morgen could return to work full time, at which time his future contributions would be for the child only.
‘The child.’ Simon still rarely referred to his daughter by her given name. She didn’t see him from one month to the next anyway. By now Simon had made Specialist Registrar, and was on the fast track to becoming a consultant. He worked long hours and in his free time liked to play sport and socialise with his well-connected friends. As far as Neesha’s grandparents went, Elizabeth and Terence Vaughan-Smith wanted nothing to do with their grandchild—they hadn’t agreed with the marriage in the first place, so why should they acknowledge a child of that union?
Morgen stared hard into her own eyes and bit back the overwhelming desire to cry.
‘Don’t you dare, Morgen McKenzie!’ she whispered harshly through gritted teeth, returning her pale rose lipstick to her make-up bag. ‘You didn’t cave in when the bastard walked out on you; you’re not caving in now!’ Her defences were low because she was tired, that was all. But her heart ached just the same for Neesha, because her father and his family had more or less rejected her.
Oh, well. Such was life. She wasn’t the only one who’d had hard times and she certainly wouldn’t be the last. Look at poor Derek. What would become of him if he were unable to turn his addiction around? At the thought of her boss she glanced down at her silver-linked wristwatch, noted the time, then grabbed up her bag from beside the sink.
Hell’s bells! She didn’t dare be late for Conall O’Brien—not when they had a four o’clock meeting to get to at Docklands. The man already thought she was lazy and incompetent—why make life even more difficult for herself by compounding that impression?
As she hurried back along the thickly carpeted corridor to her office, Morgen prayed she’d get there before Conall. She wasn’t craving his approval, but neither was she courting his disapproval—and if he started to have a go at her, the mood she was in she’d probably tell him to stick his job where the sun didn’t shine, and then where would she and Neesha be?
But luck, it seemed, wasn’t on her side today. Standing by the window, gazing down at the London traffic through the slats in the blind, Conall turned as she entered, causing Morgen’s heart to flutter like a moth flying too close to a flame. Newly showered and shaved, and wearing another impeccably tailored suit—this one a dark charcoal-grey matched with a pristine white shirt and burgundy-coloured tie—he looked like a man who meant business. He was clean-shaven, tanned and gorgeous, with piercing blue eyes that had her cornered the instant she set foot in the room, and it seemed that the world tilted more than a little when Morgen gazed back at him. The sensation made her strangely angry, not to mention defensive as hell.
‘I haven’t kept you waiting, have I? I literally just popped out to the washroom for a minute. Are you ready to go?’
‘You look tired, Miss McKenzie. Are you sure you’re up to this?’
Now he was casting aspersions on the way she looked, as well as her ability to do her job! Striding across the room, Morgen deliberately ignored him. Instead she gathered up the papers and plans on her desk, slid them into a large manila envelope, tucked it under her arm and walked back to the door.
‘Shall we go, Mr O’Brien? It’s already twenty to four. I just hope the traffic is in our favour.’
She’d tied back her hair, Conall noticed, almost as if trying to regain some lost control. The idea intrigued him, made him wonder if there were areas of her life where she willingly gave up the desire to stay in control. Like when she was in bed with a lover, for instance?
Although personally he preferred her beautiful hair left unconfined, however she wore it she would command attention—because Morgen McKenzie was not a woman who could pass unremarked. Her fitted suit accentuated a figure that veered more towards the voluptuous than the fashionably thin, but because she was tall as well—at least five eight, by his calculations—she could wear a black polythene sack and still look amazing. But he hadn’t missed the dark circles beneath her lovely eyes either, and he was sure she was ready to kill him for noticing. Was his first impression of her right? Was she a party girl burning the candle at both ends most nights after work? And—more to the point—did she have a man in her life?
‘That’s what I like to see—enthusiasm for the job. It’s going to be a long afternoon, by all accounts. I’ve already spoken with the client. Have you met Stephen Ritchie before?’
‘We’ve only spoken on the phone,’ Morgen replied, tension edging into her shoulders as she reflected on the irate telephone calls of the past week, not to mention the threats to sue the firm. All in all, Mr Ritchie did not sound like the kind of man she was eager to meet.
‘Well, it’s no exaggeration to say he’s baying for our blood—or Derek’s blood, at least. We’re going to have to jump through hoops to come out on top. Think we can save the day, Miss McKenzie?’
He paused in the doorway, crowding her with his impressive physique. His expression seemed to increase in intensity, causing a sudden outbreak of goosebumps beneath Morgen’s clothes. Trouble was, the sexy fragrance of his cologne—along with the highly alluring and more subtle scent of the man himself—kept drifting in and out of her nostrils, making it hard to think. Unable to wrench her gaze away from his, Morgen sucked in a shaky breath. His seductive blue gaze had become a perilous ocean, and she was in mortal danger of becoming irrevocably lost at sea.
‘I wish you would stop using my name as a means to taunt me, Mr O’Brien. I don’t like being intimidated.’
‘Is that what I’m doing? Intimidating you?’ Frowning, Conall let his gaze sweep her features with genuine surprise.
Morgen