Linda Miles - Heading For Trouble!

He wouldn’t care what happened to the children—all he cared about was good TV. And if he remembered a certain embarrassing incident at a Christmas party...

Morgan shuddered. The worst of it was, she thought uneasily, that he might well feel that the last few hours had given him a few more debts to pay off. Well, she would just have to dodge him for another two days, before he remembered he had a score to settle.

She was on the point of going to the bathroom to clean her teeth when a sudden, horrible thought occurred to her. So far he hadn’t connected the unfamiliar name with the organisation he’d heard of at that fateful party. But just avoiding him wouldn’t keep him in the dark for long when her old room was crammed with the old material. The unmemorable LECDC—London Educational Centre for Displaced Children—might not ring a bell with him, but she wouldn’t bet on it. There was no help for it; she would have to get them out at once.

With a little shrug she walked rapidly down the corridor to her own room.

There was no light beneath the door; it was only quarter to ten, after all, and there was no reason to expect anyone upstairs for at least another hour. Morgan slipped into the room. Most of the materials should be on the desk; feeling somehow safer with the light out, she felt her way cautiously across the floor.

Just as she reached the desk she heard footsteps in the corridor. There was no way that she could escape with the damning literature; hastily she pulled open the bottom drawer, thrust the stack of papers firmly down in it and slammed it shut. The door opened and a sliver of light cut the darkness.

‘I’m sorry about the washing-up, Richard—we don’t usually work our guests quite so hard.’ Morgan couldn’t see Elaine, but the tone of slightly forced amusement gave her some idea of the reckoning in store for her—and that was if Elaine didn’t discover her lurking half-dressed in Kavanagh’s room. Morgan held her breath; the voice in her head seemed to be too disgusted even to say, You idiot.

‘That’s all right; I was glad to have a chance to hear some of your ideas.’ At least the door hadn’t opened wider—he didn’t seem to be bringing Elaine in. ‘Goodnight, Elaine.’

There was quite a long pause before Elaine replied, ‘Goodnight, Richard.’ It didn’t take much imagination to guess what had filled it.

Then Elaine’s footsteps retreated. The door opened wider, and the light came on. Morgan stood blinking in the glare. There was a short silence.

‘Well, well,’ said Richard Kavanagh. ‘Alone at last.’

He closed the door quietly behind him.

There was a watchful look in his eyes. Morgan remembered suddenly the story that Elaine had told her about the girl at the hotel and found herself blushing furiously. What on earth could he think? She scowled at him defiantly, daring him to think the obvious.

‘This is actually my room,’ she said awkwardly, uncomfortably aware that the T-shirt seemed to be a lot shorter than it had been when she’d put it on. ‘I’m sharing with Elaine. I just wanted to get a few things before you came up.’

‘I see.’ His face was unreadable. ‘Sorry. I hadn’t realised you’d been put in with Elaine to give me a room for myself.’

Morgan detected a criticism of the sleeping arrangements in this remark, and sprang automatically to Elaine’s defence.

‘I hope you don’t mind being put in my room,’ she said apologetically. ‘Leah is rather conservative, and she doesn’t—er—’

‘Like people doing the dirty deed under her roof?’ he completed helpfully.

‘No! That is-’

‘Never mind, I get the picture. Raving sex maniac that I am, I’ll naturally have to endure agonies of frustration—’

Morgan was surprised to detect a note of annoyance in his voice. ‘I never said that,’ she protested. Why on earth was he being so prudish all of a sudden? He was supposed to be the sophisticated one. He was the one who’d just been kissing Elaine outside the door.

‘You implied something very like it.’ He thrust his hands into his pockets. ‘To tell the truth, it never occurred to me that we might share a room,’ he added offhandedly. ‘Do you think Elaine expected it?’

‘No, but-’

‘You thought it up all by yourself. How kind.’

Morgan reminded herself that she had promised Elaine to behave like a civilised adult. Civilised! She’d like to black his eye. Her right hand automatically curled into a serviceable fist; she forced it open again. No.

‘I’m sorry to have barged in,’ she said in a carefully controlled voice. ‘I’ll clear out now.’

There was a short pause, and when he spoke again she had the impression that he too had been reminding himself of the demands of civilised behaviour.

‘No, don’t go,’ he said, and he began to move towards her, the spark of devilry very bright in his eyes. ‘We’ve some unfinished business.’

He’d remembered. Morgan stared at him in horror. ‘H-have we?’ she stammered.

‘Of course.’ He paused automatically, with his familiar and maddening instinct for timing, then added, ‘I wanted to apologise for this afternoon, remember?’

With the rush of relief came anger. How dared he torment her and then turn around and pretend to be polite? ‘But you already have,’ said Morgan guilelessly.

‘What? When?’ he asked, startled.

‘This afternoon,’ she replied instantly. ‘You said, “All right, damn you,” when you saw the children. I distinctly heard you.’

His eyes met hers for an electric moment, and then, to her astonishment, he laughed out loud—not the short, cynical laugh which was his stock-in-trade, but an unpremeditated shout of laughter which seemed to involve the whole of that long, lean body. The grey eyes, meeting hers, seemed to sparkle with delight.

‘Where have you been all my life?’ he asked, grinning. ‘I did very handsomely admit to being in the wrong, now you come to mention it—but let’s say I feel I owe you a more conventional apology. Do you forgive me?’

‘Yes,’ said Morgan.

He did not seem entirely satisfied by this. ‘I know I overreacted—there’s something about persecution by fans that brings out the worst in one. I don’t know how the real superstars stand it year in year out; as far as I’m concerned, the past couple of years have been absolute hell, never knowing when some fool of a woman is going to do something perfectly idiotic—’

He broke off, and gave her a rerun of the charming smile. ‘Sorry, I don’t mean that the way it sounds. The worst of it is it makes every other woman think you must have a swollen head—that you must go round expecting every woman you meet to fall flat on her back the moment you say hello.’

Morgan found that she was literally grinding her teeth at this self-congratulating excuse for an apology. What a charlatan the man was! Was she really supposed to fall for this? Answer—yes, like a ton of bricks.

‘Oh, I’m sure you’d buy a girl a drink,’ she said, suppressing several pithy replies.

‘Or even two,’ he agreed imperturbably. ‘I must say you’re taking it very well.’

‘Well, I didn’t take it very seriously,’ she said. ‘After all, it’s just what you do on your programme all the time. If I’d been a fan I’m sure it would have given me a terrific thrill to see the real thing.’ Her amused, husky voice endorsed his dismissal of the idiocy of fans. ‘Let’s forget all about it,’ she added magnanimously.

‘It’s not quite what I do on my programme...’ he began, with a slight edge to his voice.

‘I know,’ Morgan said sympathetically. ‘Censorship is such a nuisance.’ She closed her lips tightly on the little bubble of laughter that came on the heels of the words.