Flirting With the Forbidden by Joss Wood Read Free Book Online Page B

fifty-thousand-dollar camera, popped up. Seeing Morgan’s thundercloud face, he lifted an eyebrow in her direction.
    ‘This is why I hate going anywhere with you in New York,’ Noah complained in his best petulant tone. ‘Nobody ever pays any attention to me !’
    Morgan looked startled for about two seconds before her poker face slid into place. ‘Are you whining?’ she demanded, not totally faking her surprise.
    ‘I’ve been nominated for three BAFTAs and I’ve won a BSA but do I get the attention? No!’
    Both Morgan and the pap looked puzzled. ‘A BSA?’ the pap asked, confused.
    ‘British Soap Awards. And you call yourself a pap? Your UK counterparts would kick your ass!’
    ‘Who are you again?’
    It went against every cell in his body, but Noah forced himself to toss his head like a prima donna. ‘Oh, that’s just wonderful!’ He looked at Morgan. ‘I’ve wasted enough time—can we please go now?’
    Morgan’s lips twitched. ‘Sure.’
    Noah gripped Morgan’s elbow and turned her away.
    She sent him an assessing look from under her absurdly long lashes. ‘Who are you again?’
    Noah grinned. ‘He’s going to spend the next couple of hours combing through photos of Brit celebrities before he realises that he’s been hosed.’
    Morgan grinned. ‘Excellent. Quick thinking, soldier. It won’t stop him from printing the picture, but it did stop him from hassling me further.’
    ‘Cretin.’
    ‘Um...is there anyone back home that might get upset by seeing us together? If there is, you should give them a heads-up.’
    Who would care if his photo appeared in a society column? It took a moment to board her train of thought. Ah...a wife, partner, girlfriend or significant other. He thought he saw curiosity in her eyes about whether he was involved with someone or not.
    ‘I’ll bear that in mind.’
    Frustration flicked across her face at his reply. Yep, definitely interested—which was, in itself, interesting.
    ‘Does that happen often? The cameras in your face?’
    Morgan jabbed the ‘walk’ button to cross the road. ‘All the time. It’s deeply annoying and I wish they’d leave me alone.’
    ‘Well, you are one of the world’s wealthiest heiresses.’
    Morgan’s pulled a face as they crossed the famous street. ‘Moreau International is wealthy—me, not so much. And I’m not that much of a social butterfly. Much to my mother’s despair,’ Morgan said quietly as she pulled oversized Audrey Hepburn sunglasses out of her black bag and slipped them on. ‘Would you believe me if I told you that I’d rather pound a stake into my ear than attend a soirée or a cocktail evening?’
    He wouldn’t, actually. Look at her—she radiated confidence, class and poise. She was Morgan Moreau and her blood ran very blue. Unlike his, which was of the cheap Scottish whisky variety.
    You’re a long way from home, lad. Remember that.
    ‘Then why do you do it?’
    Morgan sent him a surprised look, opened her mouth to reply and shut it again. She dodged around a group of teenagers looking in a storefront window and looked resigned. ‘So, what did you think of Sylvester Cadigan?’ she asked a few moments later.
    Change of subject, but he’d circle back round to her later. ‘He seems competent. He wasn’t happy that I demanded a complete and detailed dossier of the security arrangements they put in place for the last ball. He thought that I was questioning his professionalism.’
    ‘Weren’t you?’ Morgan sent him a direct look with those bottle-green eyes.
    ‘Sure I was. I don’t trust anyone.’ Especially when it was his rep on the line. ‘I’ll have a lot more questions for him tomorrow, after I’ve reviewed the dossier he’s emailing me.’
    ‘Do you need someone from Moreau to attend that meeting?’ Morgan asked as they approached the gold and white façade of Moreau’s Gems.
    ‘No. We’re going to investigate entrances and exits, look at the surveillance system. I think I can