Flirting with the Forbidden. Joss Wood

awkwardness and to decode social cues. She still battled with new situations, and she knew that many people took her occasional lapses of concentration and her social shyness as self-absorption and disinterest. Nothing could have been further from the truth. She generally loved people, but she could never tell if they loved her back.

      When she added that to her ‘I wonder if he sees me or just the family money’ concerns, dating was a bit of a nightmare...

      And, really, she would rather have a beer in a pub in jeans and a T-shirt than be in a ballroom in shoes that hurt her feet.

      Riley smiled at her and Morgan recognised the mischievous glint in her eyes.

      ‘You poor child...being forced to dress up, drink the best champagne in the world and eat the finest food at functions that are by invitation only. It’s almost abuse—really, it is.’

      Morgan’s searing look promised retribution for Riley’s teasing and her encouragement of her mother’s campaign to get her to be the reigning young socialite of New York City.

      Morgan wrinkled her nose at her mother. ‘You and James just do it so much better than me. You’re suave and sophisticated and far more charming than I’ll ever be—with or without the big D. Look, we’ve discussed my contribution to the ball so can I go now?’ Morgan asked hopefully.

      ‘No, I’d still like you to attend this first planning meeting with Riley, Jack—our PR director—and the new consultant James has appointed to assess security,’ Hannah said as they walked down the carpeted passage to the boardroom.

      On the walls either side were framed photographs of the Moreau collection of jewels.

      ‘Why can’t Moreau’s own Chief of Security handle it? He always has,’ Morgan said, because she felt she should show some interest.

      ‘Since the last Moreau ball there have been a number of armed robberies on jewellery exhibitions.’ Hannah rapped her fist against the frame that held a picture of the Moreau Diamond—a gem Morgan’s three times great-grandfather Moreau had bought from a broke Russian aristocrat and which had once been owned by Elizabeth of Russia. ‘Fifty-three carats, D-colour, flawless. Worth more than five million dollars. You want to risk it getting stolen?’

      When she put it like that...

      ‘Our jewellery collection is priceless, Morgan, so James has contracted Auterlochie Consulting to look at every security hole we have and to plug it. Their best operative will be in charge...’

      Auterlochie...Auterlochie... Why did she know that name?

      ‘In you go, darling, and smile!’

      Hannah placed a hand on her back and she bared her teeth at her mother as she stepped into the conference centre. Her hand still on the doorknob, she looked around—and her head jerked back as dazzling blue eyes connected with hers.

      Deep brown hair... Auterlochie... A deep Sean Connery voice explaining that it was a town in the Scottish Highlands, situated on a loch, and he’d once visited it with a friend. Two young boys had fished and explored the icy banks there, and he’d told her when he opened his business it would be called Auterlochie something.

      It was the one of the longest sentences he’d strung together, and Morgan had been enthralled by his Scottish accent and the light of determination in those fantastic cobalt eyes... Noah Fraser.

      Morgan’s heart splattered as it hit the floor. Bats on a broomstick.

      She stepped back behind the door and squeezed her eyes shut. Eight years and she still wished she could acid-wash the memory out of her brain.

      ‘Excuse me. I really need to go to the bathroom.’

      ‘Oh, Morgan? Right now? The meeting...’

      Hannah’s voice followed her down the hall.

      In the upscale visitors’ bathroom where she’d fled after Hannah had dropped her verbal meteor strike, Morgan sat on the lid of a toilet and stared at her hands. She knew she had to get moving, get to the meeting, or her mum would hunt her down like a rabid fox but she didn’t know if she could face Noah Fraser again.

      She’d rather flush herself down the toilet bowl.

      ‘Morgs?’ A fist rapped on the door. ‘You in there? Your mum is not a happy camper.’

      Morgan leaned forward and flipped the lock to open. Riley pulled the door open and frowned. She sent her a pointed look. ‘Why are you hiding out in the bathroom?’

      Morgan bit the inside of her cheek. ‘Did you meet Noah Fraser?’

      ‘The security guy? Yes. Very intense, very hot.’

      Morgan swore and dropped her face to her hands.

      ‘And the problem is...?’

      Morgan briefly explained her history with Noah and Riley lifted her hands in confusion. ‘So you made a move on the guy and he said no? It was a long time ago, Morgan.’

      Morgan knew that if there was anyone who would understand what she was about to say Riley was it. They’d been friends forever and she had witnessed Morgan’s constant struggles with the system. Shortly after the incident with Noah she’d moved in as Morgan’s flatmate. Riley had watched her struggle through college to get her diploma in Gemology and Jewellery Design—it had taken her double the time to get as anyone else, even with a scribe—and she knew the challenges she faced on a daily basis and had supported her through the hard times.

      ‘Okay, I need more details. So tell me about Mr Melt-My-Panties. And hurry up—your mother is going to have both our hides soon.’

      ‘When I was nineteen the parents had some kidnapping threats made against them by some weird group and Noah was assigned as my bodyguard.’

      ‘Uh-huh...’

      ‘After a week of hanging with him I threw myself at him—actually, I threw my naked self at him.’ Morgan nodded at Riley’s wince. ‘He kissed me, discovered I was a virgin, and then he declined the offer. I was so humiliated. I liked him—felt so at ease with him despite the fact that he hardly spoke—and his rejection felt like—’

      ‘Like what, hon?’

      ‘I can’t explain it, and I don’t know why, but his rejection made me feel swamped with shame. Every emotion I’d ever experienced with my dyslexia—the lack of self-belief, the fear of judgement—dropped on me like a ton of bricks. It was horrible. He made me feel worthless again. And now is not the time to tell me that nobody can make me feel worthless!’

      ‘Okay. No lectures. Did he know that you were dyslexic?’

      ‘No, I was very careful to keep it from him. For that summer I was Morgan without the big D. That’s what made it even harder, I think... He rejected me anyway. Around him I was the most normal I had ever been and it still wasn’t enough. I still can’t think of that night without feeling cold and clammy.’

      ‘Oh, honey... Well, you know you’re not worthless. You’ve worked hard to climb out of that pit of feeling less than and not valued. Why are you letting those feelings, and that man, chase you into a bathroom stall? You’re better than that.’

      She was, dammit. ‘I know that...’ she muttered.

      ‘Then get your butt out of there and pick up your chin. You’ll be fine. Me, I’m not so sure.’ Riley wiggled her butt.

      Morgan lifted her hands in query. ‘What’s the matter with you?’

      ‘I think my panties are starting to melt...can I hit on him?’

      ‘Sheez, Ri!’ Morgan snapped. ‘No, you can’t hit on him! I mean, yes, you can... Aarrgh!’

      Riley’s chuckles followed her out of the bathroom.

      * * *

      This time he’d sent her running.

      Judging