In Her Boss's Bed Page 2

  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?’

  ‘I found you asleep at your desk, Miss McKenzie. In my book that’s a sacking offence.’

  His jaw was very square and very hard-looking, and right now Morgen wanted to punch it and knock him off his chair.

  ‘And does the concept “innocent until proven guilty” ring any bells with you?’ She was shaking so hard that she was barely able to get the words out.

  Conall leaned forward to lay his sheaf of papers on her desk, then leaned back again with his hands behind his head as if amused.

  ‘What’s to prove? There is no doubt in my mind that you were asleep when I walked into the room. Unlucky for you the last time I had my eyes tested I was assured I had twenty-twenty vision.’

  ‘There was a perfectly good reason that I fell asleep—and it was for all of five minutes, if that!’

  She heaved a breath that strained at the buttons on her blouse and Conall became transfixed by the sight. He wanted to ask her to have pity. It seemed the lady just had to take a breath and lust took the place of the cool professionalism he usually maintained. His gaze drifted back to her face and those flashing green eyes of hers. He had no intention of sacking her, but he wasn’t averse to playing a little cat and mouse either.

  ‘Okay. Convince me.’

  He was just so smug and self-righteous sitting there that suddenly Morgen lost the urge to prove anything. Let him think what he damn well liked, for all she cared! There were other jobs besides this one. She’d just have to temp for a little while until she found something more permanent. Though the thought didn’t hold much appeal, and she was genuinely upset at the idea of leaving Derek in the lurch. Particularly now, when he needed all the support he could get. Still…

  ‘I’ve changed my mind.’ Smoothing down her skirt with a trembling hand, she turned on her heel and stalked back into Derek’s office with her head held high.

  Stunned, Conall pushed himself to his feet, loosened his tie and followed her. He found her pulling files from a tall mahogany cabinet and laying them out on the desk.

  ‘I said convince me, Miss McKenzie.’

  ‘Go to hell! And if that’s a sacking offence too, then I’ve well and truly been given my marching orders, haven’t I?’

  ‘It would mean so little to you, losing your job?’ Frowning, Conall watched her stalk to and fro from the cabinet, somehow deflated that he had pushed her too far. If that wasn’t bad enough, there was a little niggle in the centre of his chest that told him he might just be wrong about Morgen McKenzie. That being the case, he didn’t want to lose someone who might turn out to be a valuable employee.

  ‘There you go again, making assumptions about situations you know nothing about!’ She stopped her agitated stalking and dropped her hands to her hips. ‘My job is very important to me, Mr O’Brien, and if you’d care to ask around in the office you’d more than likely find out that I do it well—at least, I haven’t had any complaints so far. Unfortunately Derek isn’t here right now to corroborate the fact. Perhaps when he does come in you can ask him.’

  ‘And do you really believe his good opinion is honestly worth having?’ Raising his eyebrow, Conall waited with interest for her answer.

  ‘If you’re referring to the bottles…’ Morgen’s eyes drifted towards the now closed cabinet and a tinge of pink highlighted her beautiful cheekbones. ‘The fact that he’s got a problem with drink doesn’t make him a bad person, or a man whose opinion doesn’t count. He’s won awards for this company, Mr O’Brien, as I’m sure you must be aware. He’s a talented architect with a bright future. Right now he needs help and support. He doesn’t deserve to lose his job because his world suddenly fell apart when his wife walked out.’

  ‘And what about what this firm deserves, hmm?’ Rubbing at the smooth tanned skin between his brows, Conall frowned. ‘We have our reputation to think of…clients who expect a first-class service. If that level of service starts to suffer because of individuals like Derek Holden, who can’t cut it when their personal lives start to encroach on their work, then I’m sorry—but we’re not in the business of extending patience indefinitely. If he can’t get his act together pretty soon then there are plenty of other ambitious young architects waiting to fill his shoes.’

  Several thoughts jumped into Morgen’s head at once, but one inched ahead of all the rest. The man was ruthless…unbending. He didn’t care if Derek was suffering the torments of hell. All Conall O’Brien cared about was that right now Derek wasn’t ‘cutting it’—e
rgo, he wasn’t making any money for the firm. It would serve him right if she walked out right now in protest. Nobody was indispensable, that was true, but he was going to have a hell of a time making sense of things without her around to explain them. Especially when all the other secretaries were run off their feet as well. She was tempted to do it, too.

  Seeing the conflict in her troubled green eyes, Conall feigned a look of boredom, wondering what she’d do if he called her bluff.

  ‘So, Miss McKenzie…are you staying or going?’

  ‘I won’t let Derek down.’ She was fidgeting with her hands, and her angry glance slid away from Conall’s un-flinching stare. Her emphatic statement made it quite clear that it was Derek she owed her allegiance to—not him or the firm.

  He wanted to admire her loyalty—no matter how misplaced, in his opinion. After all, hadn’t her boss let her down too, leaving her to face the music while he drowned his sorrows at home? But Conall found he couldn’t. It irked him immensely that she insisted on trying to protect a man who clearly didn’t deserve it.

  ‘Good. Now that we’ve established that you don’t want to make yourself unemployed, perhaps we can get some work done around here?’

  The expression on Morgen’s face told him she wanted to throw something at him. The fact only hardened his resolve to deal with the situation in his own inimitable way—the way that had turned his father’s business into the successful firm it was today. Conall gestured at the unopened files on the desk. ‘Are these current projects?’ When she nodded mutely, he slipped behind the desk and sat down in the big leather chair that Derek Holden usually occupied. ‘Bring me some more coffee and I’ll take a look while I’m here.’

  Biting back ‘I’m not your servant,’ Morgen swallowed her pride and reluctantly returned to the outer office to fetch his cup. As she poured coffee with a shaking hand, she couldn’t help wondering for how long she and her boss would keep their jobs now that their dictatorial senior partner had made his ominous presence felt.

  CHAPTER TWO

  THE ringing of the phone on her desk made her jump. She snatched it up guiltily, wondering if Conall was straining an ear to keep tabs on her movements. Glancing at the door to Derek’s office, and seeing it closed, she breathed a sigh of relief.

  ‘Morgen McKenzie.’

  ‘It’s Derek.’

  ‘For goodness’ sake! Where are you?’ Cupping the mouthpiece with her hand, she turned her head again, to make doubly sure the door to the other office was shut.

  ‘I’m at home. Where do you think I bloody am?’

  As Morgen had expected, he sounded irritable and hung-over. Her stomach knotted with deep apprehension.

  ‘Do you know who you missed an appointment with this morning?’

  ‘Don’t play games with me, Morgen, I’m not in the mood. Whoever it was I’m sure it will keep. Thankfully, you always come up with the perfect excuse to explain my absences. That’s what makes you such a priceless assistant.’

  ‘And that’s supposed to be a good quality? Lying?’

  ‘What?’

  She heard the chink of glass, then something heavy thud to the floor. Instinct and experience told her that he had already been drinking this morning and probably still was. If Conall caught so much a whiff of the fact they’d both be for the high jump.

  ‘Your meeting was with Conall O’Brien, Derek. Does the name ring any bells?’

  ‘Oh, sh—!’

  ‘My sentiments exactly. However, that doesn’t do either of us any good. He’s still here in your office, waiting to see you. First impressions predispose me to believe that he’s prepared to wait quite a while until you show up.’ Though he had mentioned to Morgen that he had a one o’clock lunch appointment, she remembered. Glancing down at her watch, she saw that it was a little after twelve-thirty. Thank God the man would be leaving soon—but, more importantly, how soon would he be back?

  ‘Have pity, Morgen! I’m in no fit state to deal with that man. I can’t possible—possibly come in today. You’ll have to tell him I’m ill or something.’

  Gritting her teeth, Morgen glared at the phone. ‘I’ve already told him that, Derek, but quite frankly I don’t think he believed me.’ Now wasn’t the time to reveal that Conall had wandered into his office the very moment Derek’s empty whisky bottles had rolled out onto the floor in front of him. If he knew that he’d been rumbled—by the head of the firm, no less—there was no telling what Derek might do in his present state of mind. ‘You’ll just have to try and come in. Make some coffee, then grab a quick shower. I’ll order you a taxi and meet you downstairs in the lobby.’

  He sighed noisily in response. ‘I can’t do it. I feel like death, if you must know. You’re asking me to do the im-impossible.’

  Damn Nicky Holden for leaving him in the lurch! But what was the use of blaming his wife? It was Derek’s reaction to the whole sorry mess that was making things worse. Who would have thought that a successful, confident, bright young man who designed major projects worth millions of pounds would fall apart like a house of cards because his marriage hadn’t worked out? Morgen could only wonder. It wasn’t that she was unsympathetic. She had been through a similar scenario herself, and been five months pregnant to boot when her husband Simon had walked out. The difference being that she just hadn’t had the option of falling apart. Not when she had a baby to take care of and a widowed mother who constantly looked to her for support.

  Sighing now, she scraped her hand through her hair and completely dislodged the little tortoiseshell comb that held it in place. The dark silky strands of her shoulder-length hair escaped to slip round her face.

  ‘There’s only one thing for it, then. I’ll come to you and help you sort yourself out. I’ll be with you just as soon as I can order a cab. For God’s sake, stay put—and, Derek…?’

  ‘Yes, Morgen?’

  ‘Don’t drink any more. If you want to make yourself useful put the kettle on and have a bite to eat. Got that?’

  At the other end of the phone the receiver clattered down without a reply.

  Morgen was just grabbing her coat off the chrome coat tree when the door swung open and Conall strode back into the room. His sudden appearance put the fear of God into Morgen, and she hated the fact he could so easily intimidate her. His arms folded across that impressively wide chest of his, he eyed her consideringly, like a big cat about to play with a mouse. Damn, damn, damn! Wasn’t she allowed any luck today? It seemed not.

  ‘Going to lunch already, Miss McKenzie?’

  ‘I’ve got an appointment. I’ll only be about an hour, if that. I was just…I was just coming to tell you.’

  ‘Were you, indeed?’

  Was the man always so untrusting? Morgen huffed an exasperated breath and tried valiantly to meet his gaze. No easy undertaking when those cold blue eyes looked as if they would spear shards of ice into her body at any moment.

  ‘I know you don’t believe me, but I really have to be somewhere right now. I promise I won’t be long, and if you need me to stay late tonight I’ll be only too happy to do so.’ It almost killed her to say it when she knew Neesha was probably pining for her. Her little girl loved her nana, but it was Morgen she wanted when she was feeling poorly. Still, she would do all she could right now to keep her job. She only prayed that Neesha would be feeling much better by the time she got home.

  ‘Would you be going to meet your boss, by any chance?’ Intently studying the suddenly surprised green eyes, Conall knew he had struck gold. Loyalty in general he admired—but subterfuge to dig her boss out of a hole? Well, that was a whole different ballgame in his book. He didn’t know whether to be more furious with Morgen, for thinking she could pull the wool over his eyes, or the errant Derek, who had let himself slide from grace so ignominiously.

  Worrying at her lip, Morgen swept back her hair with her hand. It drew Conall’s appreciative male gaze to the luxurious glossiness of it.

  ‘He’s going to come into work. He
just needs to freshen up a little and sort himself out.’

  ‘And you’re going to help him? What are you going to do? Hold his hand while he gets into the shower?’ The very idea of this raven-haired temptress and a shower did things to Conall’s libido that could be constituted as sexual torment.

  Morgen didn’t think it would do her case any good to confess that it wouldn’t be the first time she’d gone to Derek’s house with rescue in mind. She was practically as familiar with the layout of the once swish Westminster apartment, with its stunning Thamesside view, as she was with her own small terraced house in Lambeth. Only the inside of Derek’s once lovely home was no longer quite so lovely, due to neglect. Even his cleaner had quit, telling Morgen that she was tired of disposing of empty bottles of booze at every turn.

  ‘Like I said before, he just needs a little bit of support through this difficult time. We can’t just abandon him.’

  ‘We?’ Conall’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline.

  ‘The firm…me. Don’t you want him to get better?’

  She frowned, like a little girl who didn’t understand some particular adult peculiarity, and something told Conall that she was too damn caring for her own good. However, it wasn’t enough to make him restrain his temper. ‘I’m running a business here, Miss McKenzie, not a care home.’

  He saw her blanch. Did Derek Holden in his alcohol-ridden state know that his beautiful raven-haired assistant was championing his cause while he was away? Probably…no doubt the man was using that very fact to what he hoped would be great advantage.

  ‘Don’t bother calling a cab; I’ve got a car downstairs. I’m coming with you…to see if I can’t help to talk some sense into him. Lead the way.’

  ‘But what about your one o’clock meeting?’

  ‘I’ve already postponed it. Now, let’s go and discover what kind of condition your boss is in.’

  Derek’s already pallid face turned deathly white when he saw the visitor Morgen had brought with her. Stumbling back inside the wide hallway, with its once shiny parquet floor, he drove his hand through his dishevelled brown hair, desperate to regain some composure but failing miserably.