Romance In Paradise: Flirting with the Forbidden / Hot Island Nights / From Fling to Forever. Sarah Mayberry
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with, and she didn’t require sympathy, pity, or for anyone to make allowances for her. She’d just insist on short reports and plough through them at night...she’d make lists and check and double-check them.
Yay! What joy.
As for her almost-lover and new bodyguard...
She was intensely irritated with Noah on so many different levels that she wasn’t sure which one she ranked highest. How dared he and James talk over her head and make arrangements for her safety as if she was a child? Okay, there was a crazy Colombian gang who wanted to use her as a bargaining chip, but Noah could have asked how she felt about him guarding her. She wasn’t sure what her answer would have been if he had asked her... No, I’d rather shag you instead?
James would have had a coronary on the spot.
Noah irritation number two. How could he switch gears so easily and smoothly? Oh, she was royally ticked that one moment his hand had been tipping her into orgasm and the next he’d been all work—Mr I’ll-Protect-Her-and-Give-You-a-Discount!
And on top of that there wasn’t any chance of her getting lucky now; she knew that Noah took his duties seriously, and if he wouldn’t sleep with her while she’d simply been organising the ball then there was an ice chip’s chance in a fat-fryer that—having taken on the role as her bodyguard—he’d even consider picking up where they’d left off earlier.
And, really, did she want to get it on with a man who could flip it on and off with such ease? He had too much control and she too little...where he was concerned.
Well, no more. She was going to stop acting like a tart around him; she’d be cool and calm and collected.
Cool. Calm. Collected. Yep, she could do the three Cs!
‘Sulking?’ Noah asked from the doorway and she whirled around, her heart slamming against her ribcage. She had shut the door behind her, hadn’t she? She was sure she had...
‘Heard of knocking?’ she demanded, hands on her hips.
Noah crossed one ankle over the other as his shoulder pressed into the doorframe. ‘There’s broken glass and whisky all over the floor and it’s not in my job description to clean up because you lost your temper. Or are you too precious to use a dustpan and broom?’
‘Bite me.’
Noah smiled. ‘Can’t. I promised your brother I wouldn’t lay a hand—or lip—on you.’
Morgan felt the bubbles in her blood start to pop.
‘You don’t have to sound so pleased about it!’ Morgan stormed to the doorway and brushed past him, the red mist of temper clouding her vision. What was it about this man that made her long for more? They didn’t know each other really, but the fact that he could brush their heat off so easily made her want to throw more than a glass.
Maybe him. Off the twenty-first-floor balcony!
Noah reached out, snagged the waistband of her pants and pulled her to a stop. ‘Cool your jets, Morgan, and take a breath.’
‘Let. Me. Go,’ Morgan muttered through clenched teeth.
‘No,’ Noah’s said.
His fingers were warm against the bare skin of her lower back. She cursed the tremors of attraction that radiated up her spine.
Noah kept his fingers bunched in her pants and moved round so that he was standing, far too close, in front of her. ‘Talk.’
More orders? ‘Bite me,’ she said again
‘Stop being a duchess and talk to me. Why are you so annoyed that I am guarding you?’
Morgan folded her arms across her chest to form a barrier between their bodies and glared up at him. ‘You didn’t want to listen to me when I spoke earlier—why should I bother talking to you now?’
Noah winced. ‘Okay, maybe we were a bit heavy-handed.’
‘Maybe?’
‘Don’t push it,’ Noah snapped back. ‘I wanted to be the one to guard you and I was damned if you were going to talk James out of it.’
Morgan glared at him. ‘Because I’m a way to get in with James for you to get more MI business.’
Noah’s eyes darkened with fury. ‘Stuff the MI business. I did it because no one will protect you as well as I will. Being kidnapped is not a walk down Madison Avenue, Duchess!’
‘Uh...’
Noah shoved his hand into his hair and tugged. ‘God, you live in this protected little world, kidnapping threats or not. You have no idea what happens to rich people who are ’napped. You want me to go into details?’
Morgan, her temper rapidly subsiding, shook her head.
‘So sue me for wanting to keep you safe above wanting to have sex with you!’ Noah roared, twin flags of temper staining his cheeks.
He stepped back from her and she could see that he was trying to control his temper. So he had one? Why did that reassure her rather than scare her?
Morgan tipped her head. ‘You don’t like losing control, do you?’
He lifted a finger and pointed it at her. ‘You...you...nobody spikes my temper like you!’
‘Ditto,’ Morgan replied quietly as green eyes clashed with blue. After a tense, drawn-out silence, Morgan raised her shoulders and spoke again. ‘Are you finished yelling at me?’
Noah released a long breath and slapped his hands across his chest. ‘Maybe.’
‘Okay, then.’ Morgan pushed her hair back behind her ears. ‘So, I’ll go and clean up the broken glass.’
Noah nodded. ‘I need to go downstairs for five minutes to pick up my bag and laptop.’
‘Well, at least I have a spare bedroom this time.’
Noah rubbed his forehead. ‘Does it have an inter-leading door that can stay open?’
Morgan shook her head. ‘No.’
‘Then we sleep with the doors open.’
‘That’s not necessary. We have two doormen, and this is one of the most secure buildings in the city.’
‘The doors stay open.’ Noah walked to the door and when he reached it turned to face her. ‘I can’t allow myself to be distracted by you, Morgan. Your safety depends on it. So help me out, okay? No propositions, no flirting, no walking around naked.’
There was that arrogance again, and she hated the fact that it turned her on. Determined to show him that he didn’t affect her, in any way, she lifted her nose in the air. ‘I’ll try and restrain myself.’
‘You do that, Duchess.’
* * *
Noah stood on the balcony in the bright sunshine and looked down into the leafy greenness of Central Park, idly noticing that the park was full of early-morning joggers, cyclists, walkers. Whoever would have thought that Noah Fraser, that angry boy from Glasgow, would be standing here looking at one of the best views in the city. Certainly not him. If he ignored the fact that Morgan was a kidnapping target and he couldn’t touch her now, it was one of those stunning spring days.
Spoilt, unfortunately, by his father’s voice whining in his ear...on and on and on.
Noah had been sixteen when he’d lost his mother and taken over the care of his paralysed and violently angry father and his two brothers, six and four years old. And if Michael had been a mean bastard on two legs then he’d become even worse on none.
Noah had cooked, cleaned and cared for his siblings while Michael had cursed God and cursed them. By keeping Michael’s attention directed on him, he’d managed to shield the kids from the worst of his verbal and—when he had the opportunity—physical