Romance In Paradise: Flirting with the Forbidden / Hot Island Nights / From Fling to Forever

‘How do we get personally invited to the ball?’

‘How much do you think we have to bid to secure a ticket?’

‘Do you have a theme yet?’

‘Do remind your mother that we served together on the blah-blah-blah committee and worked together on the meh-meh-meh project.’

Didn’t these people have any pride?

But Morgan just smiled, changed the subject and moved on to another group if the person was too persistent.

‘Don’t you think so, Noah?’ Morgan asked, and Noah sent her a blank look.

Morgan’s lips lifted, and he knew by the gleam in her eye that she knew his thoughts were miles away.

‘That this year’s ball is going to be utterly amazing?’ she clarified.

‘Uh...yes...’

Wrinkly cleavage leaned across Morgan and showed him far more of what he didn’t need to see. ‘So, how long have you two been dating?’ she demanded.

Oh... Noah looked at Morgan and waited for her to answer.

‘We’ve known each other a long time, Vi,’ Morgan said softly, her eyes on his mouth.

The twitch turned to an ache.

‘Well, he’s a lot better that a lot of those other creatures you’ve dated, Morgan.’

Morgan’s lips lifted with amusement and she tipped her head. ‘You don’t think he looks too bodyguardish? All “don’t mess with me or I’ll wipe the floor with your face”?’

‘Sitting right here,’ Noah reminded them.

‘Is that a bad thing?’ Vi demanded. ‘He does have very nice shoulders.’

‘Mmm...and a nice butt.’

Noah glared at Morgan and lowered his voice. ‘Morgan...enough.’ As in Behave yourself or I’m going to retaliate.

He knew that she’d got the message because her eyes narrowed at his challenge. Noah looked up at the waiter who had placed the next course in front of her and saw the other plate he held—his plate!—wobble as his young knees buckled under the force of that smile. He couldn’t blame him, so he snatched at his plate before the mini-cheese platter ended up in his lap.

Morgan smiled at him before turning to another man on the table. Noah sneaked a look at his watch...it was after eleven already, and people were table-hopping or getting up to dance.

Maybe they could leave soon...

‘Morgan, my honey, it’s so nice to see you. We don’t see enough of your pretty face at these events.’

Noah lifted his eyebrows at the plummy tones and looked at Morgan. The man had his eyes fixed on Morgan’s chest and his manicured fingers rested on her shoulder. Noah, reacting instinctively, slid his arm around the back of Morgan’s chair, knocked his hand away and cupped her slim shoulder in his hand. Soft, silky...

Morgan turned slightly, leaned back towards him, and he caught a whiff of her hair: citrus and spice. Lust rocketed to his groin.

‘Morgan...’ It was another voice demanding her attention.

Give the girl a break, Noah thought, turning to look up into the face of an elderly gentlemen who looked as if he could do with more than a couple of sessions in the gym and a year on a low-carb diet. Manners pulled them both to their feet and Noah watched as Morgan’s knuckles were kissed in an old-fashioned gesture.

‘It’s so wonderful to have you here at the benefit, Morgan, and the room is abuzz with the news that you are taking over the reins of the charity ball from Hannah,’ he gushed.

‘Well, not quite, Alexander,’ Morgan hedged. ‘Mum is still in charge.’

‘As you know, this ball aims to raise money for scholarships for deprived students in the poorer areas of our great city.’

Noah did an inner eye-roll at his pompous words, but Alexander wasn’t quite done with the speechmaking.

‘Our foundation was a recipient of a portion of the money raised from your ball five years ago, so I thought that you could do a short speech about the ball. In a couple of minutes? Wonderful.’

Smooth, Noah thought, he hadn’t given her much chance to refuse.

‘And who is your escort, Morgan?’ Alexander held out a hand to Noah, which Noah shook. ‘Alexander Morton—of Morton’s International...banking, dear boy.’

Even when he’d been a boy he’d never been anyone’s ‘dear boy’, Noah thought as he shook the soft, fishy hand and resisted the urge to wipe his own on his pants leg.

Morgan made a couple of standard responses to Alexander’s queries after her family, but he could hear the tension in her voice, could see it in her suddenly tense jaw.

She was seriously and completely rattled. He wondered why.

* * *

Pretend they are naked, Morgan told herself as she gripped the podium and looked out over the expectant faces below. No, don’t think they are naked, you’re feeling traumatised enough. They are cabbages...they are dolls...

They were people waiting for her to fall flat on her face. She wasn’t going to disappoint them...

Dear God, she thought, sucking in air, this was her worst nightmare. The room whirled and swirled. She couldn’t find the words, didn’t know what to say...what was she doing up here? She didn’t—couldn’t—do speeches, especially unprepared ones.

Her knuckles whitened and she gnawed on her lip as the murmurs from the restless crowd drifted up towards her.

Help. She pulled her tongue down from the top of her mouth and managed to find a few words. ‘Um...good evening, ladies and gentlemen.’

Bats! What now? She couldn’t think, couldn’t find the words...frozen, there was the word. She was utterly iced up.

Then Morgan felt movement next to her and a large, familiar hand rested on hers and gently lifted her stiff fingers from the podium.

‘Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, my name is James Moreau. Thank you for allowing Morgan and I a few minutes to tell you about the Moreau Charity Ball.’

James... She hadn’t even known that he was at the ball tonight. Rescued again. Morgan briefly closed her eyes and felt the panic recede. Thank you, my darling big brother.

Morgan squeezed James’s hand in gratitude and linked her fingers in his as she listened to his fluid off-the-cuff speech. He soon had his audience laughing and eating out of his hand...the smooth-talking devil.

‘I owe you,’ she said under cover of the applause. ‘I was bulldozed up here.’

‘Then bulldoze back, Morgs,’ James retorted. ‘What would you have done if I wasn’t here?’

‘I don’t have a clue,’ Morgan admitted as he led her back into the clapping fray. She tugged her hand out of James’s and wiped her glistening forehead with the tips of her fingers. ‘I need to visit the ladies’ room.’

James gave her a critical look. ‘You’re as white as a sheet. You need lipstick and a shot of brandy.’

Morgan placed her hand on her sternum as her stomach churned. ‘At the very, very least,’ she agreed.

* * *

On the edge of the dance floor Morgan took the hand that Noah held out and stepped into his arms. He felt solid and strong...and best of all real. Just for a moment she wished she could place her head on his shoulder and rest awhile. This was why she hated the social swirl so much; the party-girl cloak she pulled on to get her through evenings like this weighed her down. She felt exhausted and such a fraud.

‘So, what was that about?’ Noah asked, his voice somewhere above her temple.

‘What?’ It was a stupid question because she immediately knew what he was referring to.

‘James rushing to your rescue? I never imagined that you would be at a loss for words. You looked like your knees were knocking together.’

Why did he have to be so perceptive? James had assured her that they’d pulled it off, that most people had thought she was just waiting for him to join her at the podium, but if that was so then why had Noah noticed her nerves? And if he had noticed how scared she was, who else had? Oh, bats, did that mean that everyone was laughing behind her back? Sniggering?

She stepped back, lifted her hands and tossed her head. ‘I want to go home now,’ she told him, pleased that her voice sounded reasonably steady.

‘Why?’ Noah demanded.

Because I feel like a fool... ‘I have a headache.’

‘Not buying it, Duchess.’

Noah placed his hand on her hip, picked up her hand again and pushed her back into the dance. She followed his lead automatically and wished that the floor could swallow her whole. She felt hot with humiliation and cold when she thought about what was being said behind her back.

Morgan made herself meet his far too discerning eyes and didn’t realise that her pulse was beating a hard rhythm in the base of her throat.

‘Noah, I simply don’t care whether you think I am talking rubbish or not. I’m done with this evening, I’m done talking and, frankly, I’m done with you too. I need some space and some time alone.’ She shoved a hand into her hair. ‘Can you, for once, just act like a bodyguard? Can you stop talking, keep your opinions to yourself and just leave me the hell alone?’

Noah’s head jerked back and his implacable remote mask dropped into place. ‘Certainly.’

He gestured to the edge of the floor and kept a respectful distance as they walked back to the table. His voice was devoid of emotion when he spoke again. ‘If you’ll give me a minute, I’ll just organise the car.’

Morgan felt a wave of shame as she watched his broad back move away. She’d taken a hunk of his hide because she was feeling vulnerable and mortified. But mostly because she knew that he was strong enough, secure enough, to take it.

It was the perfect end to a long and terrible evening.

* * *

‘Where’s Noah?’ Riley asked, dumping her files on the coffee table in Morgan’s lounge. Sinking to the silk carpet, Riley took a grateful sip from the glass of white wine Morgan handed her.

After nearly a week of living together, in the non-biblical sense, Noah had finally realised that she was safe alone in the apartment by herself, and every day after work he left her to make use of the state-of-the-art gym and indoor swimming pool within the apartment block, Morgan explained.

‘So, how does it feel to be living with a man?’ Riley asked, kicking off her heels and crossing her legs.

Morgan sat down on the edge of the couch opposite her and half shrugged. ‘Weird, actually.’

‘And are you still in separate beds?’

Morgan glared at her. ‘What do you think?’

‘Judging by that killer look, I’d say your hormones are on a constant low simmer.’

‘You should know,’ Morgan replied.

As Riley was the only person outside of her family who knew about her dyslexia, Morgan was the only person who knew that Riley had fallen in love with James at first sight and had never quite managed to tumble out of it. She covered her feelings towards him by acting like a diva artist whenever he was around.

‘He wants me to do an underwater theme for the windows next month,’ Riley grumbled, reading her thoughts.

‘Why?’

‘Because he’s just been scuba diving in Belize and was “blown away” by the coral reefs. I told him that I needed personal experience to do a theme like that.’

Knowing that would never have been the end of their conversation, Morgan tipped her head. ‘And he said what in reply?’

‘He used that super-sarcastic tone of his and said...’ Riley tossed her bright red hair and lowered her voice. ‘“Then why don’t I just take you with me next time?”’

‘Jeez, I just wish you and James would get your stuff together, find a room, get it on and then get on with living happily ever after.’

‘Like he’s ever going to see me as anything other than your best friend.’ Riley tapped her nail against her glass. ‘Oh, wait—are you talking about us or about you and Noah?’

‘Both of us. Although that won’t happen to Noah and I.’

‘Why not?’

‘This thing between us is purely physical, Ri. We don’t discuss anything personal.’

‘Why not?’ Riley repeated.

Morgan shrugged.

‘Don’t want to venture further down the rabbit hole?’ Riley asked.

Morgan looked up at the ceiling.

‘I think he might be the one guy who’d understand the dyslexia, Morgs.’

‘I doubt it,’ Morgan replied, leaning back and putting her feet up on the coffee table. ‘He’s a perfectionist: highly driven and ambitious. Besides, Noah and I...it would be just about sex—about this crazy chemical reaction we have to each other.’

‘You like each other.’

‘We don’t know each other.’ Morgan took a huge sip of wine and rested the glass against her cheek. ‘Anyway, I’m not looking for a relationship with Noah. Sex—yes...have you seen that body?’

‘Shallow as a puddle.’ Riley grinned before leaning back on her hands. ‘To be honest, I think you don’t tell the guys you date about the dyslexia because you hope they’ll bail.’

‘Oh, come on!’

‘Oh, you so do. How many times have you met a nice guy? You date and then you sleep together. Things go really well until he starts picking up that things are a bit off. That you don’t write down a message properly or you get the directions to a restaurant wrong. You don’t explain and you retreat.’

‘I don’t do that,’ she protested, even though she knew she did.

Riley gave her a hard look. ‘Noah isn’t like that, Morgan. He wouldn’t hold the dyslexia against you.’

‘Back away, Ri,’ Morgan warned. ‘Nobody understands until they have to live with me. You know what I’m like. Sometimes the reading is easy; other days I can barely read my own name. I would drive him crazy in six months. I’m inconsistent, and that’s annoying and confusing. Some days I can take on the world; sometimes I can’t even read simple instructions. I hate those black holes, and if I find them difficult to deal with how would my lover feel?’

‘You should at least respect them enough to give them a chance to try.’

‘I respect myself too much to be constantly putting my heart out there to possibly be broken,’ Morgan retorted.

‘Are you feeling comfortable in your little self-protected world?’ Riley asked sweetly.

‘Yes, thank you very much! The world expects something from “the Moreau heiress” and being chronically dyslexic isn’t part of the package.’

Riley mimed playing the violin and Morgan threw a cushion at her head. Riley groaned as it hit her wine glass and wine splashed all over the table.

Noah walked in through the front door as the wine glass fractured and broke. He looked from Riley to the broken glass and back to the spilt wine before finally looking at Morgan. ‘Duchess; are you throwing a temper tantrum because another of your subjects has disagreed with you?’

SEVEN

After ordering pizza from their favourite pizzeria Morgan called James, checked that he was home and told him to come down and share their meal. He arrived with two bottles of her favourite wine: a Merlot from their winery in Stellenbosch.

‘One for you and one for Riley, my two favourite wine-o-holics,’ he said, depositing them on the kitchen counter. ‘Hey, Ri.’

‘James.’

James yanked open a drawer and pulled out a corkscrew. ‘Started on the designs for my underwater window yet?’

‘Yeah, I’ve scheduled it in for...never. Does that work for you?’ Riley replied as she opened a cupboard door and took out four glasses.

‘You do remember that I sign your paycheque, don’t you?’ James retorted.

‘Then fire me; I’ll pick up a job with Saks or Bergdorfs with one phone call. And they’ll double my salary,’ Riley replied in the same genial tone. ‘Actually, why don’t you double my salary and I’ll consider staying?’

‘Okay, I’ll schedule that in for...never. Does that work for you?’ James dumped some wine into her glass and handed it over. ‘Cheers.’

‘Bite me.’ Riley took the glass and stomped over to the lounge, resuming her seat on the floor next to the coffee table.

Morgan rolled her eyes at Noah, who was sitting at the dining room table, his laptop in front of him, a glass of whisky at his elbow. He was dressed in battered faded jeans and a casual cotton shirt and his feet were bare. Sure, he was a sexy man, but he was also a man who didn’t hold a grudge. They’d had a rocky day or two following her outburst at the ball and now they were back to being friends.

But it would be so much more fun if he was hanging around because he wasn’t being paid to do so.

‘Is anyone doing anything about finding those kidnappers?’ she demanded, putting her hands on her hips and glaring at James.

‘Only the NYPD, our own security and another private investigation firm I hired to find them. That not enough for you, Your Majesty?’ James pushed a glass across the granite counter in her direction.

‘Your Majesty? That’s even better than Duchess!’ Noah smirked.

‘Call me that and you’re dead,’ Morgan warned him. ‘Riley and I need to talk about themes for the ball,’ she said, hastily changing the subject. ‘Would you like to be part of that conversation?’

James and Noah exchanged identical horrified looks. ‘Sports channel?’

‘Hell, yeah!’ Noah agreed, and followed James to the smaller second lounge. It held a large-screen TV and two comfortable couches.

He spoke over his shoulder to Morgan. ‘Call me when the pizza arrives. I’ll go down and get it. Do not leave the apartment.’

‘Blah-blah-blah,’ Morgan muttered in reply, and pulled her tongue at his back.

‘I saw that!’ Noah called, without turning around.

Morgan pulled her tongue again at his reply.

‘I saw that too.’

Grrr.

* * *

‘Treasure ship, masked ball, burlesque, the Russian Court, Vegas,’ Morgan listed through mouthfuls of pizza. They were surrounded by files of fabric samples and Riley’s rough sketches. Morgan was curled up into the corner of the couch, Riley was still in place on the floor, and James sat in the chair behind her, his long legs on either side of her slim frame. Noah sat in the other chair, a glass of gorgeous red wine on the table next to him.

It could be a group of friends in any other lounge in any other city in the world, just hanging out and eating excellent pizza. It was so normal, and he was still coming to terms with how normal the Moreau siblings could be. Yes, James ran a multi-billion-dollar corporation, and Morgan had an unlimited trust fund, but nobody, seeing them now, would guess that.

‘I like the burlesque theme. Bold, opulent, sexy.’ Morgan said dreamily. ‘We could have various stages scattered throughout the ballroom with different acts to the same singer. Burlesque routines, circus acts, acrobatics...’

‘Strippers?’ James asked hopefully, and Noah smiled.

Morgan sent him a cold look. ‘Would you like me to get disinherited? Or to be dead because our mother has killed me? Anyway, we could have models dressed in corsets and thigh-high stockings and masquerade masks, all wearing Moreau jewellery.’

Noah’s head whipped up as her words made sense in his head. ‘Not a chance,’ Noah told her. ‘No live models wearing any jewellery.’

‘Why not?’ Morgan demanded. ‘It would be brilliant...’

‘It would be stupid,’ Noah replied. ‘You’re adding a human element that can be exploited; nobody but me and your curator gets access to those jewels.’

‘But...’ Morgan started to protest.

Noah stared her down. ‘My reputation, my rules. Remember?’

‘Arrgh. We’ll discuss it another time,’ Morgan said.

She was like a dog with a bone, Noah thought. Stubborn and wilful. Why did that turn him on? Then again, everything about her turned him on.

Riley leaned her head on James’s knee and yawned. Noah noticed that James lifted his hand to touch her hair, thought about it and dropped it again. Oh, yeah, there was definitely something brewing with those two. Some day the lid on their self-control would pop and they’d find themselves in a heap of trouble.

Just like he would...

Living with Morgan was killing him. Not sleeping with Morgan made every day a torture. And he knew that she felt exactly the same way. He saw it in the way she looked at him; her eyes would deepen with passion and her breath would catch in her throat and he’d know...just know...that she had them naked and up against the wall. When...if...they finally got to do this, New York would experience a quake of significant proportions.

Unfortunately his problems with Morgan went a lot deeper than he’d ever thought possible. Right down to the core of who he was.

He’d never had such a physical reaction to anyone, ever. Why it had to be Morgan he had no idea. She could send him from nought to sixty in a heartbeat and have him laughing while she did it. And that was the reason why he had to keep his distance from her—physically, emotionally. He would never give anyone control over him.

She had the ability to make him lose it; definitely in bed, possibly emotionally and, most terrifying of all, in anger. She really knew how to push his buttons. What if they had a fight and he was pushed too far? What would he do? Who would he become? Would he revert to that angry feral boy who’d stood in that grotty kitchen and held a knife to his father’s throat? The kid who had watched as droplets of blood beaded on that stubbled neck, enjoyed the sour smell of fear that permeated the air? The Noah who had seriously considered ending it all...the insults, the abuse, the weight of responsibility that had landed on his shoulders?

That person scared him: the uncontrolled, wild, crazy person he could be when he allowed emotion to rule. He was currently locked in a cage and sensible; controlled Noah kept guard over him. And sensible Noah could only do that if he stayed away from emotional complications. Like Morgan.

He couldn’t afford to let Morgan in, to allow his guard down, to be the person he could be...

It wasn’t going to happen with her or with anyone else.

‘What do you think, Noah?’ James asked him.

Noah pulled himself back to the conversation. What had they been talking about? Were they still discussing the theme of the ball?

‘Burlesque sounds good,’ he said lamely.

Morgan laughed as she tossed the crust of her slice of pizza into the empty box. ‘Where did you go? We’re talking about going home for the wedding. We’re leaving in a fortnight.’

Noah sat up, ran a hand over his lower jaw and slapped his brain into gear. ‘Back up. Going home? Where? What wedding? Why didn’t you tell me about this?’

Morgan pouted. ‘I’d hoped this would be over by then.’

‘I asked you for a detailed schedule of everything you were committed to in the foreseeable future. Why wasn’t this wedding on it?’ Noah demanded. How was he supposed to protect her if she didn’t keep him informed? Honestly, it was like dealing with an octopus with twenty tentacles.

Riley looked at James. ‘I think this is our cue to leave so that they can fight without an audience.’

‘I do not fight,’ Noah growled. ‘I negotiate.’

‘No, he orders. He just tells me what to do and expects me to stand there and take it,’ Morgan agreed, unfurling her long legs. She stood up, kissed Riley and then James on their cheeks as she said goodnight.

James hugged her, stood back and brushed her hair from her forehead. ‘You’re my sister, and I know you can be a pain in the butt. Don’t make this harder for him than it has to be. Don’t forget to tell him about Johnno’s exhibition tomorrow night, and the Moreau Polo Cup Challenge on Saturday at Liberty Park. Then we go to the wedding in Stellenbosch in two weeks’ time.’

‘Got it.’ Morgan cut Noah a glance, and when she spoke again her attitude was pure factitiousness. ‘Noah, we have an art exhibition tomorrow night, a polo cup on Saturday and a wedding in Stellenbosch in two weeks’ time. Put them on the schedule.’

Noah’s face promised retaliation. Bring it on, soldier.

Noah bade Riley and James goodnight and waited until the door had closed behind them before turning back to Morgan. ‘Stellenbosch, South Africa?’

‘Yep,’ Morgan answered flippantly.

He didn’t respond—just waited for a further explanation for why she hadn’t thought it was important to fill him in.