Sweet Surrender with the Millionaire

‘I never get bitten and there’s not much of Beth visible under this rug. Besides, she needs the sleep,’ he said fondly.

Great. Just great. She marched into the house.

Half an hour later she’d showered and dressed in the new, deceptively simple frock she’d bought that week, a demure, sleeveless, jade-green number, which was highnecked and slim-fitting but with a naughtily high slit up one side. Her hair, shining like silk thanks to a wickedly expensive conditioner, was looped on the back of her head and she was wearing the long jade earrings her parents had bought her for her birthday just before the accident, which were infinitely precious for that reason.

She stared at herself in the mirror. She had been so demoralised during the years with Piers, so crushed and ashamed, so angry with herself for letting him hurt her over and over again but unable to rise above the control he’d exerted, that she’d forgotten what it felt like to dress up for a man who desired her. For the first time in what seemed like aeons she was pulling out all the stops and dressing to impress.

Panic sliced through her, undoing the elusive moments of pleasure she’d felt at her reflection.

Forcing herself to breathe deeply, she shut her eyes for a few moments. The emotional claustrophobia that reared its head at the thought of involvement was a legacy of her marriage and nothing more, she told herself grimly. It wasn’t even connected to Morgan, not really. It could be any man taking her out tonight and she would feel the same way. The feeling of walking into a trap, of losing her freedom and independence could be overcome. Beth had said she was letting Piers still influence her life and that had rankled ever since. Because—she opened her eyes and stared at herself again, her mouth rueful—it was true. So she had to master this feeling and herself.

‘Wow! You look a million dollars.’

She hadn’t heard Beth come up the stairs and now she swung round to face her sister, smiling at the expression on her face. ‘It’s only me,’ she said with an embarrassed giggle.

‘You look fantastic.’ Beth was grinning like a Cheshire cat. ‘Absolutely fantastic. So, this going out is a date with Morgan, I take it?’ She plonked herself down happily on the bed.

Prevarication was out of the question. Willow nodded.

‘And you want us to get out of your hair?’

Willow smiled. ‘You’re prepared to make the ultimate sacrifice?’ she said lightly. ‘Greater love hath no sister…’

‘Grudgingly.’ Beth laughed. ‘What time’s he coming?’

The knock at the front door was answer enough. They heard Peter open the door, the murmur of male voices and then Peter called, ‘Willow? Morgan’s here.’

‘Sorry.’ Beth’s voice was apologetic but her eyes were sparkling with delight. ‘Looks like it’s too late to escape.’

‘I won’t be a minute,’ Willow called down, before eyeing her sister severely. ‘No third degree, OK?’

‘I wouldn’t dream of it.’ Beth managed to look shocked.

‘Course you wouldn’t.’ Willow sighed. Her worst nightmare.

When they entered the sitting room the two men were standing with a drink in their hands deep in conversation. Willow’s heart stopped, then bounded when she caught sight of Morgan. As always, he looked bigger and tougher and sexier than she remembered. ‘Hi,’ she said, faintly.

‘Hi, yourself,’ he said very softly, intimately.

He smiled and the sun came up, or that was how it seemed. ‘You’ve met Peter,’ she said, relieved at how calm she sounded. ‘And this is my sister, Beth. Beth, Morgan Wright.’

‘Nice to meet you, Beth.’ Morgan held out his hand and Beth took it after one swift glance at Willow, which was all too eloquent. Tasty didn’t do this man justice.

OK, Willow told herself wryly. Hadn’t she known all along it would be the bee’s-knees reaction? What woman could resist him?

She listened to Beth gabbling that they were so-o-o sorry they’d delayed Willow, but they were leaving right now and it was so-o-o nice to have met Willow’s friend, whom they’d heard so much about.

OK, Willow thought. Stop right there, Beth.

Morgan’s whole face was smiling now. ‘Likewise,’ he said warmly, ‘but do you have to rush back straight away? Why don’t you join us for dinner? We’d love that, wouldn’t we, Willow?’

Willow saw Beth’s eyes widen. Game, set and match to Morgan, she thought resignedly. In one fell swoop he’d won her sister for ever. He was good. He was very, very good.

Beth did the ‘Oh, we couldn’t possibly’ thing very well, but Willow could tell her sister’s heart wasn’t in it. Within a short while she was seated beside Morgan in the Aston Martin and Beth and Peter were following behind in their faithful old Cavalier. She sat feeling a little shell-shocked.