Sweet Surrender with the Millionaire

Willow took a breath and tried to ignore what the feel of his warm flesh on hers was doing to her equilibrium. She might not have anything to fear from Morgan—although that was a mute point—but she had plenty to fear from herself where this man was concerned. She had to remember that and be on her guard. Morgan had been kind to her and she was grateful, but there was much more to him than met the eye. Much more.

CHAPTER SEVEN

WILLOW awoke in her own bed the next morning and listened to the faint echo of the bells in the village church calling the faithful to the Sunday morning service. Sunlight spilled through the window but the air was cool as she slipped out of bed and made her way downstairs to the kitchen wrapped in her thick robe. It was sparkling clean after Morgan’s spring clean.

After making herself a pot of coffee she poured a cup and wandered through to the sitting room. The sofa and chair were still a little damp from Morgan’s ministrations the day before and so she opened the French doors and sat on the steps, much as he’d done. The air was actually warmer in the garden than it was in the house, she thought with a stab of surprise. The solid walls of the cottage had the effect of cooling the rooms somewhat. Morgan had given her the name and telephone number of a local plumber the night before so she could see about having central heating fitted before the worst of the winter.

Morgan…She bit down on her bottom lip pensively. He’d behaved like a perfect gentleman after that one scorching kiss. They’d eaten Kitty’s wonderful dinner, talked, laughed a little and enjoyed coffee with a fine liqueur before he’d seen her home to her front door. He’d tucked her hand through his arm as they had walked the short distance down his drive and into the lane before reaching the cottage, and although she’d known it was merely a casual gesture it had seemed strangely intimate to feel the pressure of his body close to hers. Once at her door she had prepared herself for the goodnight kiss. Only it hadn’t come. Not even a fleeting peck like the one he’d given her after the scorcher. She could have been his maiden aunt, she thought crossly.

Willow frowned to herself, inhaling the fragrant scent of coffee as she idly watched two blue tits hanging from a nut feeder she’d hung from one of the trees bordering the garden, their distinct blue crests on tiny black and white heads vivid in the sunshine.

Not that she had wanted him to kiss her, she assured herself firmly. The close embrace hours before had been enough to convince her that where Morgan was concerned she’d be playing with fire. No, far better to keep it light and easy. And that was exactly what he’d done. Her frown deepened. Which was fine.

She finished the coffee and fetched another cup, settling herself down again in the same spot and feeling intensely irritable.

She was being ridiculous. She nodded to the thought. And hypocritical, which was the one human failing she loathed above all others. A hot arrow of guilt pierced her. She couldn’t insist Morgan kept his hands—and his mouth—to himself and then feel miffed when he did exactly that. She was being monumentally unfair and capricious and unreasonable, but why hadn’t he mentioned seeing her again? Why had he just walked off without a word?

Because you’re just the neighbour he helped out.

She lifted one shoulder in answer to the thought, the motion defensive, almost aggressive. In that case he’d had no right to kiss her as he had, had he? She took a long pull at the coffee, scalding hot though it was. He hadn’t; it had been grossly unfair.

She was being ridiculous. He’d explained that kiss as one of those things that happened now and again between members of the opposite sex, and that was what it had been. It wasn’t his fault that it had been the most devastatingly, incredible, amazing experience of her life and had left her wanting much, much more.

Her heart jolted violently and then jump-started itself into a machine-gun gallop. She put her hands to her chest as though to calm it down, her mind racing.

No, no, no. She shut her eyes tightly as she struggled for calm. He had said friends and that was exactly what their relationship—relationship?—was. Friends. Neighbours. Nothing more. Nothing less. Anything more would be disastrous.

She opened her eyes. The blue tits were back, having been disturbed temporarily when she’d gone to fetch her second cup of coffee. They twittered happily, positively frolicking on the nuts.

She had no right to feel let down. No right at all, and yet she did. More than she could have imagined. Which only proved she had been absolutely right when she had told herself that Morgan Wright was dangerous and to be avoided.

‘So she didn’t stay another night?’ Kitty said disapprovingly.