The Funny Thing about Love: Feel Good Sweet Romance stories

by Laura Burton

  “I take it the meeting didn’t go well?” he asked.

  “You can tell?”

  Martin smiled at her, but it was a pitying smile that set her teeth on edge.

  “We knew it was a long shot, didn’t we?”

  Jenna nodded.

  “We did,” she answered. “But – you’ve spent all afternoon looking over the plans. Did you find anything?”

  She couldn’t keep the desperation from her voice. But before she’d even finished asking, he was shaking his head.

  “They didn’t leave anything to chance,” he said. “Every environmental impact report has been filed and honestly, the construction plans are sympathetic to local infrastructure and wildlife. I’m sorry, Jenna.”

  She nodded again, not a bit surprised.

  She’d only spent thirty minutes with Conor King that afternoon and in that time had been able to tell that he was a force to be reckoned with. He knew what he was doing.

  “Why don’t you let me take you to dinner? Cheer you up a bit, hmm?”

  “Oh, um – “

  Jenna felt awkward and panicky all of a sudden. She wished Kate hadn’t left. This wouldn’t have happened if Kate was there.

  How was it that she’d managed to get herself asked on a date twice in one day? She hadn’t even thought about dating since she’d moved back here two years ago.

  Men were in short supply in Dunkilly, and Jenna rarely stepped foot outside the town.

  She looked at Martin Forster. Brown hair, brown eyes. Even a brown sweater.

  He looked – dependable. Nice. He was nice.

  Only nice wasn’t exactly interesting or exciting.

  Conor King didn’t look nice. He looked like all sorts of trouble.

  Those piercing eyes and blonde hair and cocky grin.

  Even remembering him and his attitude raised her temper.

  She should just forget him. Go to a nice, uncomplicated dinner with Martin. Forget all about Conor King and his horrible plans.

  “I suppose I – “

  Her phone pinged and she smiled her apology, lifting it off the table and ignoring the sense of relief she felt at the interruption.

  Her heart raced when she saw it was an email from her contact in the Historical Society.

  Maybe they’d found something that could be used to halt construction on the castle.

  Jenna hastily unlocked her phone and clicked into her email.

  Jenna, I hope this email finds you well.

  The Historical Society were contacted today by Mr. King himself. The CEO of King Enterprises.

  Mr. King very kindly offered to talk us through his plans for Dunkilly Castle. After speaking to him and considering his plans in detail, we feel confident that the rejuvenation of the castle will be a wonderful project. Mr. King assures us that he plans to maintain historical accuracy and will still allow access to the grounds for locals and history enthusiasts alike.

  What a charming man he is! He’s offered members a free pass as it were, to view proceedings whenever we like. I have a granddaughter coming over from Edinburgh next week. A single granddaughter. So, I thought I might pop along then on the off chance that he’s still here.

  I know that you were concerned about the preservation of the castle’s illustrious past, so I’m sure this will put your mind at ease. And the extremely generous donation that The King Foundation has just made to our Historical Society will go a great way in ensuring that our work can continue both here in Kerry and countrywide.

  My best to your grandmother.

  Mary Allen

  Sec. South West Historical Society of Ireland

  Jenna’s stomach dropped as she read Mrs. Allen’s email.

  That was it. Her final hope. Out the window with a hefty donation and the prospect of a son-in-law.

  Well, she was going to be disappointed since the mighty King was planning on going home tomorrow.

  “Is everything alright?”

  She heard Martin’s question, but she couldn’t take her eyes off her phone and that email.

  How was she going to tell Gran? How was she going to tell everyone?

  She had to find another way to fight this.

  Kate’s words came back to her.

  You catch more flies with honey than you do with vinegar.

  Was it time to play nice with Conor King?

  The thought of being nice to him set her teeth on edge. But if it worked…

  “I have to go.”

  Martin blinked in surprise at her outburst.

  “I’m sorry, Martin. I would love to have dinner with you, but I really have to go.”

  That wasn’t true. She wouldn’t love to have dinner with him. She would have done though.

  But Conor King was leaving tomorrow, and that meant that tonight was probably Jenna’s only chance to use her honey. Or at least test if she had any.

  “Oh, ok. Are you—?”

  “Bye,” she interrupted him as she grabbed her bag and headed for the door.

  “Bye, Dad,” she called on her way out.

  She didn’t check if he said anything or if he even noticed her exit.

  She was halfway to Conor King’s hotel before she wondered vaguely if it might be deemed borderline stalking to show up at his hotel.

  It wasn’t her fault she knew where it was though. His lawyers had suggested it as a meeting place before she’d decided that it would be a power move to have him come to her office.

  Of course, she hadn’t accounted for how tiny and filled with his presence it would feel when he got there.

  “It doesn’t matter,” she told herself fiercely. “It’s not stalking if it’s a business meeting.”

  And, ok, it wasn’t technically a business meeting if she turned up unannounced at 9:00 pm. But there was no point in worrying about the details.

  Jenna switched on the radio and found an 80s channel to distract her.

  She was just coming up to the hotel carpark when Eye of The Tiger came on.

  It was a sign!

  A sign that she couldn’t give up.

  If Rocky could run up about a thousand steps and not die of exhaustion, she could save her castle.

  With a determined squaring of her shoulders, she stomped inside the hotel and straight to the desk.

  She wasn’t here to be confrontational.

  She was here to be nice. And pleasant. And to catch her fly with honey.

  Pasting a smile on her face, she asked the receptionist to tell Mr. King she was here to see him.

  This was her last chance. She had to make it count.

  Chapter 7

  Conor hung up the phone, a smirk on his face.

  He was fairly sure that Ms. McCarthy hadn’t changed her mind about having coffee with him.

  So, his best guess was that she was here to yell at him. Maybe she’d gotten wind of his call to the Historical Society earlier that day.

  He must remember to thank her for the tip off.

  A hefty donation and the right noises about the woman’s obvious attempts to pawn him off on her granddaughter, and he had the Society in his pocket.

  He didn’t feel it necessary to mention that he’d be on the other side of the world when the woman’s granddaughter arrived.

  A knock sounded on the door of his suite.

  Not the hammering he was expecting but short and quiet.

  He decided to make her stew for a minute, picking up the phone to reception once more and putting in a request for room service.

  A knock sounded again as he finished. This one louder.

  He picked up his phone, scrolled through the emails, checked his messages.

  Bang, bang, bang.

  Only when the door was shaking on its hinges did he move to answer it.

  Pulling it open, he was met with the furious glare of Jenna McCarthy.

  “Ms. McCarthy, what a pleasant surprise.” He grinned, quite enjoying the flash of anger in her wide blue eyes.

  He wondered i
f she knew that she wore her every emotion on her face. She’d make an awful businesswoman. She was way too open with her feelings.

  He let his eyes rake her head to toe. She was in skinny jeans that hugged those incredible legs. Her shoes were flat and made it so she didn’t even reach his chin.

  Her blue sweater was loose, but that didn’t stop it looking incredible against the dark waves of hair that fell around her face and down her back.

  Once again, her beauty caught him by surprise. He was used to perfectly manicured nails, perfectly applied but no less heavy make-up, false lashes, painted on brows.

  None of that applied to Jenna McCarthy.

  Her beauty was all natural, and he was shocked by how appealing he found that.

  Expecting a sarcastic comment, he was surprised and even a bit disappointed by her suddenly pleasant smile.

  “Thank you so much for agreeing to see me, Mr. King. I know it’s presumptuous of me to interrupt your evening.”

  He studied her for a minute trying to detect sarcasm, but she looked sincere enough.

  “Of course. I never pass up the opportunity to spend the evening with a beautiful woman.” He smiled, standing back to let her walk in.

  If he hadn’t been watching her closely, he might have missed the slight tightening around her mouth at his words.

  Ah.

  So, she wasn’t all sweetness and light tonight.

  He’d never usually use a line like that and expect it to work. But this nice version of her was a lot less fun than the version he’d met earlier in the day and weirdly enough, hadn’t stopped thinking about.

  If laying it on a bit thick brought that out in her then it was worth it.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” he asked as he closed the door and followed her into the seating area of the suite. He watched her eyes flick to the bed then dart away.

  “Ah, no. No, thank you. I won’t take up too much of your time.”

  Conor shrugged and moved to the two-seater sofa, sitting down and patting the cushion beside him.

  Her eyes widened slightly, but she tilted her chin and walked over to where he sat.

  At the last second though, she veered to the left and sat in one of the armchairs, holding her purse in her lap.

  “Mr. King – “

  “Call me, Conor,” he interrupted smoothly.

  She snapped her jaw shut before smiling again, but it looked a lot more strained than the first one.

  “Conor,” she repeated stiffly. “I wanted to talk to you about our meeting earlier. And – “

  “No need to apologise, Ms. McCarthy. I’m sure you were just a bit upset.”

  Her eyes flashed again, and if she clenched her jaw any tighter, she was liable to break her teeth.

  Conor smothered a laugh.

  But she didn’t take the bait.

  She inhaled a deep breath through her nose then smiled that fake smile again.

  “Call me, Jenna,” she offered through clenched teeth, and he just knew she didn’t want to give him even that concession, but he’d take it anyway. “And – um – thank you. For understanding. The castle – “

  She sighed and suddenly the act was gone. Her shoulders slumped, and she looked so despondent that he almost felt guilty.

  Almost.

  But this was business. And he’d learned a long time ago that there was no room for sentiment in business.

  He let Callie run their charitable endeavours, and The King Corporation donated hundreds of millions a year to her various causes. So, he’d never felt bad about being somewhat ruthless.

  “The castle means so much to the people of Dunkilly, Mr – ah Conor,” she said softly. “And to me. And that cottage – it’s not just my client’s. It’s my grandmother’s. So, this whole thing is just – just important, really.”

  Her words surprised him. As did his reaction to them.

  Surely, that wasn’t guilt he was feeling?

  “Jenna, I – “

  “I have a proposition for you,” she blurted over him.

  His curiosity was piqued as more than one interesting scenario ran through his head.

  “Do you now?” he asked and watched, fascinated, as she blushed.

  He didn’t know women still blushed.

  “Not – not like a proposition proposition,” she stuttered. “Just a – a proposal. Of sorts.”

  Before he could ask what it was, another knock sounded on the door.

  Conor moved to answer the door.

  A hotel porter stood with a trolly of the room service he’d ordered.

  “Set it down on the table, thanks,” Conor said as he pulled a €20 from his pocket. He knew it wasn’t custom to tip in Ireland the way it was back home, but it was a habit he’d never really been able to break.

  Handing over the twenty, he closed the door and turned to see Jenna jumping to her feet.

  “I’m so sorry,” she muttered. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your dinner. I’ll leave you to it.”

  “Jenna.” He stopped her before she could brush past him. “Please, stay and join me. You haven’t even propositioned me yet.”

  She rolled her eyes at his quip before glaring at him.

  He looked innocently back because it was way too easy to rile her up and honestly, he was having fun. Conor couldn’t remember the last time he’d had fun.

  And then the strangest thing happened.

  The longer they looked at each other, the more Conor felt like a spark was igniting between them. Without either of them speaking a word.

  Callie, he knew, would have a field day if she heard him talk like that.

  But it was true. He’d always scoffed at her ridiculous romance novels and Hallmark movies.

  But in that moment, he would have sworn that the air between them was electric.

  Without even realising he was doing it, Conor leaned forward.

  And that slight movement seemed to spook her because she stumbled back, and the connection was broken.

  “I really do have to go,” she mumbled, and this time he let her because whatever the hell had just happened between them felt more than a little scary to him.

  “Alright well, I leave tomorrow,” he said. “So – “

  “Don’t.” She spun back to face him, her eyes wide and pleading.

  “Don’t what?” he asked.

  “Don’t go tomorrow,” she said. “Please. Just – “ She stopped before huffing out a breath and squaring her shoulders. “Look, my friend Kate said I should come here to appeal to your better nature. Don’t worry,” she continued dryly. “I told her you might not have one.”

  He frowned and shook his head.

  It felt very much like she was about to ask him a favour.

  Who asked someone for a favour by insulting them?

  “But just in case you do, here goes. I understand that the castle is nothing but a heap of stone with dollar signs attached to you,” she said. “And I understand that you think Gran should be kissing your feet for offering to make her a rich woman. But – “ she shrugged her shoulders, and he found it oddly endearing. “That castle is so much more to the people here. To me. And Gran is already rich in everything she wants by being in that cottage surrounded by nothing but the land that she loves.”

  She stepped closer, and he caught the scent of coconut, which he’d never much cared for before but was now pretty much his favourite scent in the world.

  “My proposal is this: Give me a week. A week to try to save my castle. I know you’re busy. And I’m sure you have loads of other nature spots around the world to destroy in the name of capitalism but just – please. All I’m asking you for is one week.”

  “Jenna, I don’t want you getting your hopes up,” he said, feeling that strange guilt again, even in the face of her insults. “Everything to do with this deal is above board. All of my business transactions are. You’re not going to find a way around this.”

  There was that flash in her eyes again.
/>   She really did struggle to hold onto that temper of hers.

  “And now that the Historical Society is on side – “

  “Yeah, because you paid them off,” she scowled. “And practically promised yourself to Mary Allen’s granddaughter.”

  “Well, we might hit it off,” he drawled. “And the castle hotel would be the perfect wedding venue, don’t you think?”

  There went the uneasy truce between them.

  And because he found it oddly entertaining to annoy her, he grinned and winked.

  She stomped past him muttering under her breath, but he caught enough to know she had quite the muck mouth when she was annoyed.

  “You know what?”

  By now she’d pulled open the door to his suite and marched into the corridor, but she spun back to face him, eyes blazing, hair wild around her face.

  “You go ahead and go back to New York and back to your soulless, money-driven life.”

  “You don’t know anything about my life,” he retorted, but damned if that hit hadn’t landed.

  His life was pretty soulless and money-driven, wasn’t it? He’d built it like that.

  “But good luck trying to get builders past the protestors.”

  Her words dragged him out of his introspection.

  “Wait, what?” he asked.

  Her smile was way too triumphant for his peace of mind.

  “You heard me,” she said. “I don’t care if we have to camp out until next year. You’re not touching a stone of that castle.”

  “Watch me,” he said like a child. But she was already walking away.

  Chapter 8

  “I would love to camp out. I would. But it’s my arthritis, you see.”

  “I don’t like the dark. Never did. And where would I plug in a night light if I was camping?”

  “Ah, it’s a grand castle but not worth catching pneumonia for, Jenna.”

  Jenna looked around in dismay at the gathering of people in Gran’s kitchen.

  Only a few nights ago they were all willing to do whatever it took. They were even offering up their livestock, for Pete’s sake!

  But now – now they were abandoning her.

  Dad had gone home but strangely, Martin Forster had offered to stay on a while.