In Her Boss's Bed. Maggie Cox

her lip, and her expression was all eyes.

      Feeling as if she had a lead weight in her stomach, Morgen clasped her daughter’s small plump hand in her own and forced a smile.

      ‘Nana had no right saying such a thing to you, honey. She doesn’t want to accept that your daddy was scared about being a father. She thinks there must have been something I could have done to make him stay.’

      No matter how ‘nice’ she might have been to Simon, he wouldn’t have stayed. She knew that for a fact. Now there was a lump in her throat too. Not because she pined for him, but because she could see the confusion on her child’s face. Why had her daddy abandoned her? How was a child supposed to understand that? Oh, how could her mother have been so selfish and stupid to say such things to her?

      ‘Some people just aren’t cut out to be parents, darling. It’s a hard fact of life, but true, I’m afraid.’

      ‘Then why did you and Daddy have me?’

      ‘We made you because we wanted a baby—even if Daddy got scared later on and couldn’t stay. And when I held you in my arms that very first time I thought you were the most beautiful, most perfect, most amazing little person that I’d ever seen in all my life, and I loved you with all my heart and always will.’

      Clutching the child to her breast, Morgen breathed in the fresh clean smell of her hair, the impossibly soft black silky strands tickling her nose while the heat and softness of the sweet little body pressed fiercely against her own.

      ‘I love you too, Mummy. You’re the best mummy in the whole world and the prettiest. When I grow up I want to look just like you!’

      Gently tucking her back down into her bed, with its quilted pink counterpane, Morgen smiled. ‘You’re good for my morale, you know that?’

      ‘What’s that?’

      ‘Morale means your confidence—the way you think about yourself. You make me feel good when you say such sweet things to me. That’s what I mean.’

      ‘Good. I want you to feel good. I hate it when Nana makes you sad. I’ll say goodnight now, Mummy, I’m feeling rather tired.’

      ‘Okay, gorgeous. You snuggle down now, in your cosy bed, and I’ll see you in the morning. You don’t mind going back to school tomorrow?’

      ‘I’m looking forward to it. I miss my friends.’

      ‘I’m sure they’ve missed you too, poppet. Goodnight, angel, God bless.’

      Back in the living room, Morgen stooped to pick up a purple stuffed elephant and an anatomically unlikely Barbie doll from the carpet, along with two dog-eared storybooks that were Neesha’s favourites. Straightening the soft velvet cushions on the couch, she flopped down wearily, at the same time reaching for the remote and flicking on the television.

      The choice of viewing was pretty dismal. Between a documentary on car crime, an awful soap whose soundtrack instantly depressed, football and one of those mindless reality TV programmes where members of the public were only too eager to humiliate themselves in front of the viewing masses, there was nothing to remotely tempt her. Pushing herself to her feet again, Morgen rifled through the bottom drawer beneath the television for a video.

      When her hand settled on a much-loved romantic comedy, she knew that if the trials and tribulations of the perfect couple onscreen couldn’t capture her attention then nothing would. Slipping the film into the VCR, then making a quick detour into the kitchen for a bag of crisps and some cheese, Morgen tucked her feet beneath her on the couch and settled back to enjoy the film.

      When ten minutes had passed, and she realised she’d barely registered any of the action unfolding before her because her mind was unwittingly preoccupied with Conall O’Brien, she frowned deeply, then turned up the volume on the film to drive any further troublesome thoughts away. There was nothing about him she liked, she decided. Just because he was too handsome for his own good and was impressive under fire didn’t mean that she was going to join his fan club. Along with his assets he was autocratic and domineering, and clearly possessed of a heart made of stone or something equally unbreakable. Thank God he was in the UK on a purely temporary basis, as far as she knew, and as soon as either Derek was back or they found a suitable replacement, Conall O’Brien would be back on a plane to America.