Sweet Surrender with the Millionaire

It was more than that and they both knew it. Willow hugged her sister. ‘I love you,’ she whispered softly, marvelling at how her world—which had seemed so disastrously out of kilter when she had stumbled through the snow to Morgan’s house earlier—was righting itself. If she had the courage of her convictions, that was.

The waiting room was in semi-darkness when she reached it, the subdued lighting presumably so that its occupants could grab a little sleep if they needed it. It had worked with Morgan anyway.

Willow tiptoed in. How he had managed to fall asleep on one of the so-called ‘comfy’ chairs in the waiting room she didn’t know. The wooden arms and plastic stretched tight over lumpy stuffing would have kept a sleeping-sicknesssufferer awake. But he was dead to the world, his long legs stretched out at an impossible angle and his head draped over the back of the chair.

It was the first time she had been able to study his face without fear of those piercing eyes arresting her. He looked exhausted. Her gaze stroked over the tough masculine features. But younger, more susceptible than when he was awake. How couldn’t she have seen his vulnerability before?

Because she had been too hung up on the past to look beyond herself and her own feelings.

The truth was uncomfortable but then it often was. When he had spoken of his childhood and youth she hadn’t pressed him for details, telling herself it was probably too painful for him to share. But that had been an excuse. She had been frightened of learning anything that would endear him further to her. The experiences he had gone through as a boy had shaped him into the complicated and enigmatic man he was today, that was for sure, but he had a capacity for love and tenderness she couldn’t ignore any longer. She couldn’t let him slip through her fingers.

She had to tell him how she felt and trust she hadn’t ruined everything. She nodded to the thought, ignoring the panic that accompanied it. She owed him that at least.

Willow knelt down beside the chair, drinking in the sight and scent of him. He’d discarded the thick leather jacket he’d worn in the car and his sweater did little to disguise the width of his chest and muscled strength of his shoulders. His hair had got damp as they’d walked and now it curled slightly over his forehead, accentuating the suggestion of boyishness. He was a man of contradictions, impossible to fathom.

‘Morgan?’ She touched his arm gently, her voice little more than a whisper. ‘Morgan, wake up. It’s me, Willow.’

His eyelids flickered and opened slowly but he didn’t move. His voice so low she could barely make out the words, he murmured, ‘I was dreaming of you.’

‘A good dream?’ she whispered, loving him so much it hurt.

His eyes seemed bluer than she’d ever seen them before and the faint lines radiating from their corners crinkled as he smiled. ‘X-rated.’

It was probably unfair to take advantage of him when he was still half asleep, but it was now or never. ‘I lied to you this afternoon,’ she said softly. ‘I do love you. I love you like I never thought it was possible to love anyone and I’ve known it for a while. Can—can you forgive me?’

He didn’t move, not a muscle. For what seemed an endless moment he stared at her, his face unreadable.

Willow stared back, equally immobile, holding her breath as her heart thudded so hard she was sure he must be able to hear it. Let it be all right, she prayed. Please let it be all right.

And then, as though lit from within, the hard rugged features melted in a smile that was beautiful. He opened his arms as he sat up in the chair and she scrambled into them, tilting her head back for his kiss, her mouth as hungry as his.

‘I love you, I do, I do,’ she murmured feverishly between kisses. ‘And I’m so sorry I hurt you. I hated myself this afternoon but I was so scared, Morgan. I still am scared. I can’t help it.’

‘And you think I’m not?’ he murmured against her lips. ‘Sweetheart, this frightens me to the core. My life was all mapped out and I was doing very nicely until you came along and blew me out of the water.’

‘Did I?’

‘Did you what?’

‘Blow you out of the water.’

‘Oh, baby, did you ever.’

They kissed again, straining together in an agony of need and murmuring incoherent words of love until a sound in the corridor outside brought them back to earth. Raising his head reluctantly, Morgan said softly, ‘Beth? How is she?’

‘She’s fine, the baby too. They’ve got a little boy and you’re allowed to see him, just for a minute. You’re not supposed to but Beth got special permission.’