Lifelong Affair

But that didn’t help her now, and after calling the hospital to check that both her mother and father were sleeping comfortably she rang the airport to book a flight out to England, only to be told the first available seat was late morning. She took it, knowing she was doing no good sitting here.

Dawn saw her seated at the breakfast bar in her galley-kitchen, drinking the remains of her third pot of coffee, the heavy look in her eyes evidence that she hadn’t slept at all, her almost fixed gaze on the wall telephone telling its own story. Alex Hammond still hadn’t called.

Her mother telephoned a short time later to assure her that her father was doing well, that he seemed a lot better. She seemed as perplexed as Morgan over Alex Hammond’s silence.

Her suitcase was packed, her creased denims changed in favour of a tailored dress, her hair flowing freely about her shoulders, and she couldn’t stand to sit here in her apartment another minute longer waiting for a call that obviously wasn’t going to come, so she telephoned for a cab to take her to the airport.

When the doorbell rang a few minutes later she expected it to be the driver, but she opened the door to a barrage of questions and flashing intrusive lights.

‘How do you feel about your sister’s death, Morgan?’

‘Will the funeral be here or in England?’ asked another reporter.

‘Will Glenna and her husband be buried together, Morgan?’ persisted another.

Morgan had blanched at the sea of faces outside her apartment door; microphones and cameras were pushed into her face, a couple of them for television.

She had remained undisturbed by reporters all night, as her address was known to few but her closest friends, although it now seemed someone had released the wolves at her heels.

‘Were you close to your sister, Morgan?’ a beautiful, chic female asked at her continued numbed silence, and this avid curiosity about her grief sickened her.

‘We hear your father collapsed when told of the crash—can you confirm this, Miss McKay?’ one determined reporter pounced.

Morgan swallowed hard, unable to comprehend this hounding over such a private grief. What sort of people were they, to ask her such questions!

‘Did you—–’

‘That will be enough!’ rasped an authoritative voice, startling the members of the media into stunned silence.

A man was pushing his way through the crowd to Morgan’s side, although he didn’t need to push for long, for people stepped aside as they recognised a force stronger than themselves.

Alex Hammond. It could be no other man. She might only have met him once, but the memory of him had stayed indelibly printed on her brain for some unknown reason. Possibly because she had never met anyone quite like him before.

Tall, taller even than Sam, he had a force of energy and determination that would make him stand out in any crowd; the dark hair was showing signs of greying at the temples now, the eyes were still the same icy grey she remembered, his nostrils flaring angrily now in his displeasure, his mouth thinned for the same reason. He wore a dark three-piece suit and snowy white shirt, and looked for all the world as if he hadn’t just spent an exhausting eleven hours on a plane.

He grasped her arm in a vice-like grip. ‘Let’s go inside,’ he muttered.

Morgan was only too pleased to comply, wondering why Alex Hammond had felt it necessary to fly over here rather than just telephone her. Unless he felt her father’s collapse was enough on his conscience for one day! She could have told him she was past collapsing, that the long hours she had spent beside the telephone had at least given her time to calm, to realise that Glenna really was dead.

‘Who the hell is he?’ The members of the media weren’t silenced for long. They might have recognised the authority of this man, but it was a recognition that had only made their curiosity all the deeper. ‘Where did he come from?’

‘With shoulders like that I don’t care where he came from,’ drawled the beautiful chic television reporter. ‘I’m just glad he’s here. Sir, are you a friend of Morgan McKay’s?’ There was more than a little personal interest in the blonde woman’s question, although a microphone was thrust aggressively into Alex Hammond’s face.

‘I thought she was seeing Sam Walters,’ murmured someone else.

Alex Hammond’s hand had tightened on Morgan’s arm at the intimacy of the woman reporter’s words, and he pushed the microphone away from him with a dark scowl. ‘I believe Miss McKay’s privacy has been invaded enough for one day,’ he snapped, his hand firm on her arm now as he turned her back into her apartment. ‘If you’ll excuse us—lady, gentlemen,’ he nodded dismissively.

‘Hey, the guy’s English—–’

‘Your powers of deduction are amazing,’ Alex Hammond taunted dryly, caring nothing for the ruddy hue that coloured the younger man’s cheeks, pushing Morgan the rest of the way into her apartment and closing the door in the face of the renewed questioning. ‘Like vultures!’ he muttered as he followed her through to the lounge, then his silvery-grey eyes narrowed as he saw her packed suitcase standing next to a chair. He looked up at her with a frown. ‘Are you going somewhere?’

‘I—I’d given up on your call.’ Her voice came out husky—and slightly defensive. She shouldn’t need to explain herself to this man, damn it! ‘I’m booked on a flight to England in a couple of hours’ time.’

He merely nodded acknowledgement of the fact, seeming impatient to end the conversation before it had started. ‘Is it true, has your father collapsed?’

Her antagonism faded as quickly as it had begun. Of course, her mother had said her father collapsed after Alex Hammond called—he didn’t even know about it! ‘It’s true,’ she admitted heavily. ‘There’s no danger, but it’s hit him hard, harder than I realised. He wanted boys, you see,’ she knew she was babbling, but she couldn’t seem to control herself. ‘That’s why we were named Glenna and Morgan; he didn’t have any names for girls.’ She broke off. ‘I’m sorry, you don’t want to hear all this.’ She avoided his all-seeing gaze, realising she had revealed too much of herself with these unguarded words.

She and Glenna had never doubted their father loved them, but they had always known of his desire for a son, had known their names had been chosen for boys and converted for the girls that had come in the place of the sons he wanted. She hadn’t even realised her own feelings of inadequacy until she found herself telling it to Alex Hammond!

‘I had no idea your father had collapsed.’ He chose to ignore her lapse into the melancholy, confirming her thoughts that he hadn’t known; his silver eyes were icy, his expression cold. ‘Although it’s been a shock to all of us.’

Then how did he manage to look so unmoved! Morgan knew she looked haunted, her parents and his mother were deeply shocked, and yet Alex Hammond looked—detached. There was no other way to describe the way he looked.

Morgan swallowed hard in the face of that detachment. ‘They said—on the television—that there were no survivors.’ She searched his face for some sign of that information being wrong. Not by the flicker of an eyelid did he show emotion. Oh, he was a cold bastard! She shuddered at the vehemence of her feelings, having taken even more of a dislike to this man.

‘They were wrong,’ he stated flatly.

Hope leapt in her heart. ‘They were?’

‘Yes. It appears—Sit down, please,’ he told her abruptly.

She looked startled. ‘I—I’m fine. I—–’

‘I said sit down, Morgan.’ He didn’t raise his voice, his expression didn’t change, and yet Morgan sat, knowing the words were an order and not a request. ‘It appears there were half a dozen survivors—all of them severely injured, but alive nonetheless.’

‘Glenna—–’

‘Was not one of them. Neither was Mark.’ Still the man showed no emotions.

Her breathing became ragged as the full impact of his words hit her. ‘They—they’re both dead?’ she choked, having been given hope for a few seconds only to have it taken away from her again.

‘Yes,’ Alex Hammond stated flatly.

‘Oh, God!’ She hadn’t realised how much hope she had still been harbouring, secretly believing that no news was good news. It was all gone now. She didn’t doubt for a minute that Alex Hammond knew what he was talking about.

‘But their son is very much alive,’ his softly spoken words interrupted her weeping. ‘And well.’

Morgan raised a tear-wet face, swallowing hard. ‘Their—son?’

He nodded. ‘Glenna was one of the survivors. She lived for two hours after the crash, badly—fatally injured herself. And somehow she kept alive long enough to give birth to her child. She had a son. His name—the name she chose for him—is Courtney.’

This time Morgan cared nothing for his lack of emotions. ‘Courtney …!’ she gave a choked sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a cry. ‘That’s my father’s name!’

‘Yes,’ Alex Hammond acknowledged. ‘And I’m sure your father will be very proud of his grandson.’

‘You—you’ve seen him?’ She wiped away her tears with the back of her hand.

‘Briefly,’ he acknowledged tersely.

She was under control again now, hardly able to believe what he was telling her. Glenna had a son, a son who was alive! ‘What does he look like? Is he like Glenna or Mark? Is—–’

‘He’s like all newborn babies,’ Alex Hammond dismissed impatiently. ‘Small, pink, and he cries a lot. And incredibly like Glenna,’ he added gruffly, showing he wasn’t quite as unmoved by the baby’s existence as he appeared.

‘I want to see him,’ she decided firmly.

‘I have no doubt you will,’ he drawled. ‘But there’s something else I think you should know before we go any further. Glenna also made provision for her son’s future. She made you and me Courtney’s legal guardians. Jointly,’ he added pointedly.

CHAPTER TWO

MORGAN blinked; she was too stunned to do anything more than that. She was overjoyed, thrilled, at the thought of her nephew being alive and well. But she had no idea how both Alex Hammond and herself could be the baby’s guardians, one living in England, the other in America.

Obviously Alex Hammond couldn’t either. ‘Of course it’s impossible,’ he said abruptly, placing his briefcase on her dining table. ‘I have some documents here,’ he unclicked the lock. ‘Legal documents, drawn up by my lawyers, relieving you of all moral and legal obligation to Courtney.’

Morgan stood up slowly, feeling the anger burning up from within her. Just who did this man think he was! He came here and told her that her beloved sister was dead but that the child she had been expecting was alive. And now he calmly suggested she reliquish all rights to that child. The man was insane!

‘No,’ she told him bluntly.

He raised dark brows, halting in the removal of the official-looking papers from his briefcase. ‘No?’

‘Certainly not!’ Her green eyes sparkled in challenge, her tall slender body as taut as a ripcord in her fury. ‘Courtney is my nephew, and if my sister wanted me to be his guardian then that’s what I intend being.’

‘He has two guardians,’ Alex reminded her. ‘You and I.’

‘So Glenna made a mistake,’ Morgan snapped. ‘Nobody’s perfect!’

The haughty face took on an even more withdrawn expression. ‘I don’t believe insults are going to help the delicacy of this situation,’ he told her quietly.

‘Neither is your insensitivity,’ she glared at him. ‘My sister has just died,’ weakness washed over her in waves, ‘and now you calmly suggest I reject her son from my life—my own nephew, my parents’ only grandson!’ Her voice rose shrilly.

‘My nephew too, my mother’s only grandson,’ he pointed out dryly.

‘But not her only grandchild! And when you have a son—–’

‘The same applies to you in regard to your own parents.’

She gave an impatient sigh at the way this man had an answer for everything. ‘Giving up my guardianship of Court is not—–’

‘Courtney,’ he substituted firmly.

‘Court is short for—–’

‘He was named Courtney, let’s stick to that, shall we?’ he said abruptly.

‘I’m sure Glenna meant it to be shortened to Court, like my father,’ she insisted stubbornly.

‘But Glenna isn’t here—–’

‘You bastard!’ Morgan choked raggedly. ‘You cold-blooded, unfeeling bastard! You—–’ she sank slowly to the floor as blackness overcame her.

She woke up to find herself stretched full length on the corner unit sofa, her head propped up by several cushions, the darkly intent face of Alex Hammond bent over her. She snatched her hand away selfconsciously as she realised it was held between long tapered fingers, the fingers of the other hand lightly tapping against her pale cheek.

Alex Hammond moved back instantly and sat back on his heels, seeming unexerted from having to carry her to the sofa; and she might be thin, but she wasn’t a lightweight. Still, those shoulders and arms looked capable of great strength.

She sat up awkwardly, moving back and away from him. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said abruptly.

He nodded distantly. ‘I’ve been expecting something like it ever since I arrived and found the press harassing you.’

‘How clever of you!’ Her voice was brittle.

Alex stood up, very dark and forbidding in Morgan’s openly bright apartment, dwarfing it. ‘You were at cracking point. I doubt you’ve slept all night. I had no idea of the added worry of your father’s illness.’

Morgan swung her legs to the ground and stood up, feeling at less of a disadvantage, her own height being considerable, although Alex Hammond still topped her by a head. She swayed slightly as she stood, not as recovered as she thought she was, although her back was straight, her gaze steady as she faced Alex Hammond across the room. Like adversaries. And she had a feeling that was exactly what they were.

‘It was waiting for your call that stopped me sleeping.’ Her words were defensive because of the weakness she had shown by fainting in that way. ‘You didn’t have to come all the way to Los Angeles, you could have explained everything over the telephone and saved yourself the trouble of flying out here. I could have told you no just as easily that way,’ she added hardly.

His mouth tightened. ‘You won’t even look at the papers I brought with me?’

‘No.’

‘Even though you know Courtney will be better off with us in England?’

‘And who is us?’ she derided scornfully. ‘You and your mother? A bitter and resentful widow and an unfeeling man?’

Icy grey eyes raked over her with cool disdain. ‘Or a fun-loving young actress with no morals?’ he rasped.

‘You mean me?’ she gasped. ‘Where did you get that impression, Mr Hammond?’

‘Glenna was very proud of your first English televised role,’ he drawled. ‘We were all made to watch your undoubted talent as Mary-Beth Barker.’

That was what she had thought. ‘Talent is the right word, Mr Hammond,’ she taunted. ‘I was acting a part—I thought you were intelligent enough to realise that.’

‘Maybe I am,’ he nodded. ‘But I have no reason to believe Courtney would be happier with you than with us. You must work very hard, very long hours. I doubt you would have a lot of time to bring up a young child.’

She dismissed the wisdom of his words. Glenna had wanted her to have a part in bringing up Court, and that was what she was going to do. ‘I have a plane to catch, Mr Hammond,’ she told him briskly. ‘I have to get to the airport.’

He closed his briefcase with a decisive click. ‘I’ll come with you.’

‘That won’t be necessary.’

‘It’s very necessary,’ he told her grimly. ‘I have a seat on that plane too.’

‘Oh.’ Her eyes were narrowed. ‘You didn’t intend staying long. Or were you so sure of what you thought my answer would be that you just expected to come here, have me sign those documents, and then return home?’ Her eyes took on a dangerous sheen as she saw by the tightening of his mouth that that was exactly what he had thought. ‘Glenna wasn’t happy with your family, Mr Hammond,’ she told him frostily. ‘I’m beginning to understand why.’

‘Indeed?’ he bit out grimly.

‘Yes!’

‘And I’m beginning to see that you’re as uncompromising as your sister was. Oh yes, we knew of Glenna’s unhappiness,’ he mocked her gasp of surprise. ‘She made no secret of the fact. But I think I should point out once again that Glenna gave her son two guardians, she didn’t cut the Hammonds out of Courtney’s life as if she hated us.’

Morgan wondered if this man had a habit of always being right; if he did it was an annoying habit! ‘Instead of arguing I suggest we get to the airport—I wouldn’t want to miss the plane. I’ll just go into my bedroom and call my mother at the hospital. She’s been as anxious as I have.’

If Alex Hammond was affected by her deliberate move to shame him he didn’t show it, settling his long length into a chair, sitting back to close his eyes with a weary sigh.

Guilt instantly washed over her. This man might seem like a cold robot to her, but his brother had just died, and he had just spent all those hours on a plane; he must be exhausted. ‘Can I get you some coffee?’ she offered huskily. ‘Or something to eat?’

His eyes flickered open, silver-grey, showing no sign of the tiredness she suspected. ‘Tea?’ he queried hopefully.

Morgan smiled, and the tension instantly eased between them. ‘I have tea,’ she nodded. ‘It’s a habit I picked up when I went to England for the wedding. Milk, sugar?’

‘Thanks,’ he nodded.

Her mother came to the telephone straight away once she had been paged, and it was the hardest thing in the world to tell her that Glenna really was dead; her mother finally broke down now that she knew there was no hope of ever seeing her elder daughter again. Morgan broke down and cried with her, offering no resistance as Alex Hammond came in and took over, too overcome by grief herself now that her shock was passing to talk coherently.

‘Your mother is overjoyed by her grandson’s existence,’ Alex Hammond rang off to assure her. ‘She hopes she and your father can go to England to see him soon. In the meantime, I don’t think you’re in any condition to fly to England. Maybe it would be better—–’

‘I’m coming with you,’ Morgan told him determinedly. ‘I want to see Court-ney, and also I have to—to attend Glenna’s funeral. Someone from the family should be there.’ She went to the bathroom and washed her face in cold water. ‘I take it the funeral will be in England.’

‘As soon as—Yes,’ he substituted abruptly. ‘Eventually.’

Her spine stiffened at the addition of the last word. ‘I understand,’ she said heavily. ‘I’m ready to leave now.’

‘Are you sure—–’

‘I’m very sure.’ Her expression was stubborn.

‘Your work?’

‘Will just have to wait,’ she told him with bravado, not in the least sure how the studio would react to her taking off like this. They surely couldn’t object to a couple of days, not in the circumstances. If they did they would just have to sue. She doubted they would want to do that. ‘I intend coming with you, Mr Hammond—make no mistake about that.’

‘Then perhaps you’d better call me Alex,’ he derided. ‘I don’t intend calling you Miss McKay for the next twelve hours or so.’

‘Morgan,’ she supplied abruptly.

‘I know that,’ he nodded. ‘Glenna spoke of you often.’

She would have liked to return the compliment, but Glenna had been surprisingly reticent about her brother-in-law, talking about him little, and then only in connection with Mark being at work. Apparently Alex Hammond kept to himself, spending little time with the family.

‘Feel up to braving the media again?’ he queried distantly. ‘I doubt if they’ve left yet. Especially if news of survivors has filtered through.’

Completely in control of herself now, Morgan was able to move determinedly at Alex Hammond’s side as they made their way downstairs to get into the cab that he had ordered to wait for them ten minutes ago as she cried. Alex ignored the questions thrown at them; his expression was distant, his hold on Morgan’s arm unbreakable, despite the pushing and jostling going on about them.

‘The airport,’ he instructed the cab driver arrogantly, pushing Morgan in the car ahead of him.

She wasn’t used to being dominated in this way. She had been brought up to be independent, to stand up for herself; Alex Hammond was obviously used to being dominant with the women in his life.

Morgan studied him curiously on the drive to the airport. There could be no doubting that he was very attractive, in an austere way, and yet Glenna had never mentioned him having a woman in his life. But he certainly didn’t like men! His gaze had been critical of her, but it had definitely been male in its intent. No doubt there were women from time to time, just nothing serious. She wondered why. Alex was thirty-eight, surely that was quite old for a man not to have been married. He probably thought twenty-six was old for a woman not to have married either!

‘Something funny?’

Her smile faded as she realised he was looking at her. ‘Not really,’ she dismissed. ‘Is Courtney at your home?’

Alex shook his head. ‘He’s being kept in hospital for a few days. It’s a standard thing for new babies,’ he added at her worried frown. ‘He really is very well, Morgan. Perfectly healthy, even if he is eight weeks premature.’

‘Thank God!’ she shuddered.

‘Yes,’ he agreed curtly.

All was chaos at the airport; the members of the media who had been outside her home had obviously telephoned ahead to their colleagues, for a dozen or so reporters were continuing the harassment. Morgan wasn’t in the least surprised when Alex secured a private lounge for them, and strode off to deal with their seats himself.

Morgan took this opportunity to call Sam and Jerry, something she hadn’t had time to do in the trauma of the last hour. Sam was very understanding, and Jerry had already rearranged the work schedule to allow her to take a week off. A week should be long enough to convince the Hammonds that Glenna’s baby belonged with her.

‘Just don’t be any longer than that,’ Jerry warned in a growl, ‘or the wrath of Zorbo will come down around your head!’

Morgan laughed softly, ringing off. Frank Zorbo was a small Greek man, the head of A.M.X. Broadcasting Company, and quite harmless until something put out his carefully organised programme schedule. Then he was like a roaring tornado.

‘Everything is organised,’ Alex came back to assure her. ‘We’ll be boarding in a few minutes.’

For the moment it just felt good to let him take over the details; her mind was not functioning as fluently as it usually did. Alex looked as if nothing ever deterred or upset him.

It came as a surprise to her when she was shown into the first class section of the plane, to the seat next to Alex Hammond. She had been booked into a seat much farther down the plane, had been told that there were no other seats available.

‘I already had a seat reserved for you,’ Alex told her at her qustioning look.

Her eyes widened. ‘You knew I would be coming with you?’

‘I told you, Glenna talked of you a lot. I was able to assess what your reaction would be.’

‘But you flew over here yourself anyway?’

‘It was worth a try,’ he shrugged.

‘Never,’ she shook her head firmly. ‘I’ll never give Courtney up.’

Alex sighed. ‘I suggest we save any further talk of the baby until a less emotional time.’

Morgan instantly felt guilty. This man had another long flight in front of him—he was likely to meet himself on the way back!—and what he needed at the moment was to rest. She deliberately stopped talking, although her tension began to rise as the engines of the plane roared for take-off. Everything had happened so suddenly, so quickly, that until this moment she hadn’t given a thought to the flight itself. Glenna and Mark had just died in an aircraft very similar to this one, what if—–