In Her Boss's Bed

A single mother with a six-year-old daughter and a mortgage to pay, Morgen couldn’t afford to lose her job right now. Her day had started badly, because she’d been up all night nursing Neesha’s cold. Then falling asleep at her desk due to exhaustion—could this day get any worse? she wondered. While she was contemplating this, eyes the colour of a freezing Atlantic Ocean in a squall bored unmercifully into hers, and Morgen knew she had a long way to go to redeem herself in front of this man.

‘I know this doesn’t look good, but Mr Holden has been working terribly hard lately. Yesterday he definitely looked under the weather. I’m not surprised he isn’t in today.’

‘Never mind that. Why weren’t you aware that we had a meeting? Dammit, it was arranged only last week. Presumably you and your boss do communicate?’

To Morgen’s alarm he shrugged off his trench coat and threw it on a chair beside the window that reflected the impressive high-rise vista of the city of London. He was dressed from head to foot in bespoke tailoring that screamed quality and money. The suit was a deep dark blue with a very faint pinstripe, matched with a royal blue shirt and silk tie, and its wearer exuded the kind of power that mostly only those born to wealth and privilege could effortlessly carry off. Coupled with that watchful intelligence in those ‘I’m not missing a damn thing’ arctic blue eyes, and those intimidatingly broad shoulders, he clearly wasn’t a man to be trifled with. Though right now Morgen wasn’t trifling at all. She was fighting for her life in deadly earnest.

‘Of course we communicate. Derek—Mr Holden obviously meant to tell me to put it in the diary, but because he was so busy he unfortunately forgot. I can assure you it’s very unlike him, Mr O’Brien. Why don’t I pour you a cup of coffee and maybe send out for some food, if you’re hungry? And in the meantime I could ring Mr Holden at home and tell him you’re here. He could jump in a taxi and be here in about twenty minutes or so, I’m sure.’

‘From that comment I take it that he’s not exactly at death’s door, then?’

Feeling her face burn, Morgen dissembled. ‘I’m afraid I don’t have any details at present.’

‘So go get the coffee, then get me Holden on the phone—I’ll talk to him myself. Don’t worry about food—I’ve got a lunch appointment at one, so it will keep.’

Pulling out a chair from the wall, he dropped down into it opposite Morgen’s desk, his impressive frame all but dwarfing it. Yet she would swear there wasn’t so much as an ounce of superfluous flesh on that awesome physique. Intensely aware of every single thing about the man, she didn’t miss the yawn he swiftly suppressed or the faint look of weariness that briefly glimmered in those quick-witted blue eyes.

She couldn’t help but be relieved when she escaped from the room into Derek’s office, to pour some coffee from the percolator that was always kept on simmer. As far as Morgen was concerned the air around Conall O’Brien was far too rarefied for her liking, and she wondered how the people in his office coped with the man. When Conall said ‘jump’, did they all jump automatically? Probably…either that or risk being fired.

Crouching down in front of the cabinet where she kept the best crockery, only used when Derek was in conference with VIPs, Morgen cursed softly as several empty whisky bottles fell out onto the thick grey carpet and rolled towards her feet. As she quickly started to gather them up the door opened quietly behind her, and she found herself in the humiliating position of being caught red-handed.

‘Very unlike your boss to “forget” our appointment, you say, Miss McKenzie?’ His voice dripping with icy disdain, Conall fixed his unforgiving gaze on Morgen. ‘I guess if I had a belly full of whisky I’d be inclined to forget my commitments as well…wouldn’t you agree?’

Her startled green eyes widened as she glanced up at him, and her stomach turned decidedly queasy at the fact that poor Derek’s unhappy drinking problem was no longer exclusively their little secret. ‘If you’d—if you’d like to wait outside I’ll just get rid of these and make your coffee.’

‘Leave them.’

‘It’s all right. It will only take a minute, then I’ll—’

‘Leave the damn bottles, Miss McKenzie, and get that feckless boss of yours on the phone, pronto!’

Morgen’s knees were shaking as she got to her feet. Her lips pursed, she turned away from the accusing glare of a pair of wintry blue eyes and went to reach for the phone on Derek’s desk.

‘Wait a minute.’

‘What?’

‘On second thoughts, right now I need a caffeine fix more urgently than I need to tell your dear Mr Holden his services are no longer required.’

Her heart sinking, Morgen replaced the phone shakily back in its cream-coloured rest. ‘You don’t mean that.’

‘What?’ A briefly amused quirk of perfectly sculpted lips brought the first glimpse of a smile, but Morgen steeled herself against falling into such a trap. He wasn’t going to lure her into any sense of false security so easily. ‘You don’t believe I need a caffeine fix?’

‘It’s not that. I just—I mean, you can’t fire Derek! He’s a good man. Honestly…he’d do anything for anybody. His wife left him recently, and he hasn’t coped with it very well. I’ve no doubt he’ll turn things around, given the chance.’

‘Spoken like a loyal and true assistant. Is that all you do for your boss, Miss McKenzie? Help him in the office?’

The insinuation was so blatantly obvious that for a moment Morgen was dumbstruck. Then, with trembling hands, she drew the black lapels of her suit jacket together over her blouse and, with all the dignity she could muster, raised her gaze to look Mr High-and-Mighty O’Brien straight in the eye.

‘I don’t care for your crude implications, Mr O’Brien. If you knew Derek Holden then you’d know that he only had eyes for Nicky, his wife. And if you knew me then you’d also know that I make it an absolute rule never to get involved with anyone at work.’

‘Never?’ The brief smile suddenly became teasingly wider, revealing perfectly white teeth against his tan, and Morgen had to concentrate hard so that she could think.

Folding her arms across her chest, she deliberately didn’t smile back. How dared he? How bloody well dared he make casual sexual insinuations when she was in fear of losing her job as well as her boss? But then she guessed that not many people would dare stand up to this man without fearing the consequences. Well, perhaps he’d met his match in her. Because, as much as she needed this job—and God only knew how much—she wasn’t about to cower in a corner because this man had the power to intimidate.

‘Absolutely never, Mr O’Brien. Now, if you’d care to wait in the outer office, I’ll get you that coffee you’re apparently so desperately in need of.’

For a long tension-filled moment, during which Morgen would swear the only thought in his mind was to give her the sack on the spot, Conall treated her to one of his hard, unrelenting stares, then surprisingly turned away to move towards the door.

‘Strong and black, Miss McKenzie—no sugar. You don’t mind if I use your office to do some work?’

‘Go ahead.’

Feeling like a deflated balloon, she almost sagged against the desk when he’d gone. When she next saw Derek…she couldn’t decide whether she’d read him the Riot Act or simply wring his neck.

Conall drew out a sheaf of papers from his briefcase and rubbed at the pain throbbing in his temple. If he didn’t catch up with some sleep soon they’d have to carry him out of there on a stretcher. It wasn’t because he was unaccustomed to a long working day, or even working seven days a week—it was all grist to the mill as far as he was concerned. That was how he’d built up the business when his father had retired to ‘let his son take the reins’. But, having had non-stop meetings five days running and then two consecutive long-haul flights—one from California to New York, where he’d touched base at the office, then from New York on to London—his body needed sleep like a prisoner on Death Row needed to stay awake.

Taking another mouthful of the strong black coffee Morgen had brought him, he stopped reading the writing on the page in front of him and thought about the woman he’d just met. Where he lived they used the expression ‘hot’. As far as her figure and her face went, Morgen McKenzie was on fire. Even though his rage at her boss’s ineptitude, as well as finding her asleep at her desk, had almost made him lose it big time, his hormones wouldn’t have been in prime working order if he hadn’t reacted to the beautiful girl in front of him. And, God knows, he’d reacted.

When he’d discovered her on her knees in Holden’s office, trying to hide the blatant evidence of the man’s drinking problem, it had taken just one dazzling glance from those big green eyes of hers to almost make him forget what he was there for. It hadn’t helped matters either when the vee of her blouse had gaped a little, unwittingly giving him a very sexy glimpse of her gorgeous cleavage, white lace bra and all. He’d received a sexual charge so acute that for a moment his thoughts had been scrambled to the four corners of the earth.

Of course he couldn’t help being angry that she’d been asleep at her desk. He had a reputation for being hard but fair to his employees, and could be generous to a fault to the people who deserved it, but he absolutely deplored slackers—workers who didn’t pull their weight. One look at Morgen and he’d hazarded a guess that the lady had been burning the candle at both ends—no wonder she was tired! With looks like hers she doubtless had a queue of admirers going round the block—what reason would she have to stay home and mope when she could be out on the town every night? Never mind the effect it had on her performance at work. The thought made his blood boil. Who would blame him if he gave her her walking papers along with her boss?

Conall sighed and rubbed a hand round his beard-roughened jaw. Trouble was, Derek Holden had been a rising star amongst the young architects in the UK office. Up until recently Conall had only received the best reports. One of the main reasons for his visit—apart from appeasing his mother—was to find out what had been going wrong. Of course he wasn’t about to reveal as much to the provocative Miss McKenzie. He decided he’d let her stew for a little while—keep her guessing as to whether she or her boss were about to lose their jobs. That at least ought to get some proper work out of her.

‘Can I get you some more coffee?’

She breezed into the room, a flush on her pretty face that was immediately arresting and her dark hair floating loose from its fastening. Conall sensed straight away that she’d been up to something.

‘Who were you phoning?’ he asked smoothly, using the time to make another leisurely inventory of her face and figure. ‘Could it be the hapless Mr Holden, by any chance?’

Guilt was written all over her face as plain as day, and Conall wondered if her feelings were always so transparent.

‘If I’d spoken to Derek I would have told you,’ she replied testily. ‘If you must know I rang my mother—to let her know that I’d probably be home late.’

‘You live with your mother?’ Now she had really surprised him. Conall studied her features with renewed interest, momentarily mesmerised by her sexily shaped mouth with its highly desirable plump lower lip. He put down his coffee cup and made a discreet adjustment to his sitting position.

‘She’s staying with me at the moment because she hasn’t been very well.’

Morgen hesitated to reveal that the real reason her mother was staying with her was that she was looking after Neesha, her daughter, who had been poorly these last few days. Her stomach tightened at the thought of her little girl suffering in any way, but she couldn’t afford to take time off when Derek was absent from the office more often than he was in. Especially not now, when she had the big boss breathing down her neck, probably looking for any reason—however trivial—to sack her. She didn’t want him automatically assuming, as so many employers did, that if she had a child she would be somehow less reliable or committed to her job. The truth of the matter was that she was even more reliable and committed to her job because she had responsibilities at home.

Frustration bit along her nerves. She wished he wouldn’t look at her so closely, as if she was some sort of interesting foreign object beneath a microscope. Ever since that remark earlier, about what she did for Derek, she’d been feeling extremely self-conscious. If only he would go! Why was he hanging around in her office when he could surely hang around with the VIPs upstairs? Was he laying some sort of trap to catch poor Derek out?

‘I’m sorry to hear that, but if you think I’m going to be more lenient with you because you’ve got troubles at home, then I’m afraid you’re going to be disappointed, Miss McKenzie.’

Was he going to sack her? A wave of anger washed over her at the thought. It was so unfair! She hadn’t had one day off since she’d started this job, and she stayed until at least six or six-thirty most nights. Just her luck to doze off at her desk and for him to walk in right at that moment! She’d even given up several Saturdays to accompany Derek to site meetings and take notes, but what would Mr Big-Shot know about that? No, he’d simply taken one look at her and assumed the worst. Well, she wasn’t going to go down without a fight, that was for sure!

‘Are you threatening me, Mr O’Brien?’