by Evie Hunter
Andy wanted to kick himself when her face crumpled. It was pretty underhanded to play the guilt card, but Roz had to see the reality of her situation. She was alone and penniless in a strange country and she had nowhere to go. ‘I’ll get onto Niall. He’ll see that Frankie is taken care of.’
Suspicion flared in her eyes. ‘And what do you get out of it?’
It was time for honesty. ‘A fiancée.’
Her lips parted, then firmed. ‘Are you asking me to marry you?’
He couldn’t read her face, but her voice was strained. Fuck, of course she didn’t know his situation, and thought he was trying to mess with her head. ‘No, of course not. It’s for my parents.’
She picked up her cup and took another sip of the coffee before she replied. ‘Yeah, I can see why you’d need a fake fiancée. Your technique could do with a lot of polishing or you’ll never get one by normal means.’
Ouch. He had asked for that one. ‘My parents want me to settle down. I’ve been home less than a week and already they’re parading me about the place like a stallion at Tattersalls.’
A smirk twisted her mouth. ‘Poor little rich boy. My heart bleeds for you.’
He reached for her hand. ‘Please Roz. If I can’t find you a safe house, then Niall or Interpol will. The time for running is over.’
‘That’s blackmail.’ Roz tugged her hand away and folded her arms across her chest. As she stared out the window, Andy watched her reflection. He had always thought that she was identical to her sister Sinead, but there were subtle differences.
Roz had a tiny scar beneath her chin. Her cheekbones were a shade higher and her nails were short and unpolished. He was coming to realize that there was a world of hurt and anger simmering beneath the tough, uncaring façade she presented to the world.
Finally, she turned to face him. ‘Okay. I’ll do it.’
‘Great.’ Andy smiled, waiting for the catch. With Roz, there would always be a sting in the tail.
‘But I need clothes. Your house is posh, isn’t it?’
To him, Lough Darra was home, but he supposed it would look posh to an outsider. He nodded.
‘Then I need a new wardrobe. I can’t arrive dressed like this. Oh, and I want a ring.’
He swallowed. ‘A ring?’
Roz didn’t bother to hide her glee. ‘Yes, a nice, big, expensive one, the kind that you’d buy for me if I really was your fiancée.’
She sat back, waiting for him to refuse. But he wasn’t going to back down.
‘Done. Now, let’s go.’
They couldn’t go shopping for a ring dressed like two extras from Braveheart. Security would stop them before they got into the first store. First stop was an outlet store off the motorway, where he purchased a dress for Roz. When he returned to the car wearing a cheap new shirt and dark jeans, Andy allowed her to clean his cuts with baby wipes, enjoying the small, tender touches. He was turning into a sad bastard.
While he drove, Roz managed, in a complicated manoeuvre, to wriggle out of her costume and into the new dress without revealing an inch of flesh.
‘Stop perving,’ she snapped at him. ‘I can see you looking at me in the mirror.’
Andy kept his eyes on the road, trying not to grin.
In Belfast, with a vague memory of where a former girlfriend shopped when she was in the city, he took her to Cruise. Roz stroked the fine fabrics with pleasure until she saw the price labels. She immediately headed to the sale rail to study what bargains were left over from last season, looked at the price tags and backed away from that.
Andy remembered the wardrobe in her flat in London. Cheap clothes and expensive shoes and gloves. He cursed himself for not thinking about it sooner. Roz would never spend money on herself. He would have to do it for her.
‘My girlfriend’s luggage got lost on the flight here,’ he informed the sales assistant quietly. ‘Why don’t you help her select a whole new wardrobe?’ Andy placed his credit card on the counter.
Roz was bundled into a dressing room and one outfit after another was passed to her to try on. A couple of times, he heard her laugh at the more outrageous selections, but eventually, they emerged from the store carrying half a dozen bags.
Her face was flushed and her eyes had an unfamiliar sparkle. ‘What’s next?’ she asked.
As they passed a lingerie store, she stopped with a wistful expression. Wisps of lace and satin were draped artfully on a velvet chaise longue and the mannequin in the window wore a steel boned corset that reminded him of Lottie le Blanc. The thought of Roz wearing something like that made his cock stir. Andy relieved her of the bags and inclined his head towards the doorway. ‘You have one hour. Make the most of it.’
He found a coffee shop nearby where he could observe the entrance to Orchid Lingerie and settled down to wait for her. He had to file a report and he wasn’t looking forward to it.
‘Andy,’ the voice responded almost immediately. ‘Report. I have reports of a shooting on a movie set in Tullamore.’
Trust Niall. Nothing escaped his attention. ‘How did you hear –’
‘Because it’s a fucking movie set and Jack Winter is one of our clients.’
Andy closed his eyes. Jack had been nowhere near the shooting but the media would hype it up within a couple of hours. ‘Sorry, boss. Hall turned up unexpectedly.’
‘Is Roz – ?’
‘She’s fine.’ Andy reassured him. ‘I’m taking her to a safe house until things calm down.’
But Niall wasn’t put off so easily. ‘What safe house?’
‘Lough Darra.’
Andy heard an intake of breath, followed by a charged silence. ‘Let me get this straight. You’re bringing a former dominatrix home with you?’
‘Yes,’ Andy mumbled.
‘And how do you plan on explaining her to your parents?’ Niall was the only person in his professional life who had ever met his parents. Or even knew they existed.
‘That she’s my fiancée.’
Andy held the phone away from his ear while Niall vented his feelings. He couldn’t blame him. It was barely lunchtime and already he was in the middle of a clusterfuck. ‘Make sure she doesn’t get into any more mischief until I have a chance to sort this out.’
‘Don’t worry, boss. Roz will be completely under my control at all times.’
Niall snorted and hung up.
Andy glanced at his watch. It had been over an hour but there was no sign of Roz. She couldn’t be shopping for all this time. He collected the bags and walked slowly to the entrance and slipped inside.
In the curtained-off changing area, he heard two women laughing. One of them was Roz. ‘Absolutely not,’ she said. ‘There is no way that I’m buying this.’
‘But it’s perfect. Look at your curves.’
‘It costs over two hundred pounds.’
Andy very much wanted to see what was behind the velvet curtain and he wasn’t overly concerned what it cost. ‘She’ll take it,’ he announced.
The shop assistant turned around and Roz popped her head out from behind the curtain. ‘Thanks, but I’ve spent enough.’
He didn’t want to add up what he’d already spent. A couple of hundred quid wouldn’t make that much of a difference. ‘Wrap it,’ he mouthed to the sales assistant.
He handed over his credit card again. There was no point in wincing. They had yet to hit the jewellers and he had no idea what that would cost.
Roz was positively glowing by the time they left the shop. She had changed into one of the outfits she’d bought in Cruise, a figure hugging dress that celebrated her body, and a pair of soft leather boots.
‘So we’re done?’ he asked.
She glared at him. ‘Are you stupid, or joking? I need make-up.’
He looked her over. She was naturally pale, with the sort of creamy skin that cosmetic companies promised to the gullible who used their products and her lips were wide and kissable. ‘You look great to me. Why do you need anything?’<
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Roz blew him a kiss. ‘Okay, you’ve redeemed yourself a little. But I really do need a bit of slap. Trust me, this is not my best.’ There were dark circles under her eyes and he supposed that she probably wanted to do something with paint.
‘Waste of time, as far as I’m concerned, but see what you can find in the Castle Court Centre.’
Twenty minutes later, she had a bulging cosmetics bag and an evil grin on her face. Andy took her arm and led her to a nearby jewellers. The brightly lit window contained dozens of rings, all gleaming and shiny. He stopped at the entrance. If he was putting a ring on her finger, it wasn’t going to be something ordinary.
‘Getting cold feet?’ Roz smirked at him.
‘No. But this isn’t my kind of place. Let’s go somewhere else.’
Roz looked at the entrance to Malcolm’s with apprehension. Its understated display whispered class but at least the rings in the window had more character than those in the high street jewellers.
Andy’s hand at her back guided her in. Three men in business suits had stopped him to say hello. Their strong Belfast accents were hard to understand but she picked up that they were asking about his father’s health.
Andy was at ease answering them. Roz was good at reading body language. In spite of his cheap jeans and the stubble giving him a dangerous air, he was an equal to these men who wore expensive suits and carried leather briefcases that probably cost five hundred pounds.
Roz didn’t want to think about the bill she had racked up so far, but she was feeling guilty about demanding a new wardrobe from him. She hadn’t actually expected him to carry through, and certainly not in such style. A couple of pairs of jeans and a dress from M&S was usually her limit. She stroked the sleeve of the simple wool dress that clung to her curves, making them more dramatic while giving the impression that she was stylish and demure. Whatever this dress had cost, it was worth every penny.
A large-bosomed woman walking along the street paused to give Andy the once-over, then smiled and nodded towards a nearby pub. Roz scowled. Could the woman not see that he was with her? Her red hair made her hard to ignore, but the cow seemed to think she was invisible.
‘Are we going inside or not?’ she snapped at Andy.
‘Anxious to get my ring on your finger?’ he asked. ‘So many have tried …’
‘I’d rather put a ring somewhere else.’ Damn it, she was not going to fall into the trap of being attracted to him. The cow had reminded her that she was dealing with Andy McTavish. He flirted with every woman he met. And every one of them flirted back. He was a walking, talking vision of male perfection. And he knew it.
That was an image which should keep her heart safe. She couldn’t afford to fall for him. Her only advantage was that she knew from the outset that he wasn’t interested in her. She was a job to him, nothing more. Andy knew the real Roz Spring. He wasn’t fooled by a leather cat-suit, dark eyeliner and a stern voice into thinking she was some sort of kinky goddess.
He wasn’t going to fall in love with her. She certainly wasn’t going to fall in love with him. Simple. Everyone happy.
‘Most women don’t think I need a cock ring, but if you insist …’ Andy’s words jerked her out of her depressing reverie, and she gasped.
She recovered and said in her most crushing voice, ‘I’m not sure they have one small enough, but we can ask.’
‘It’s not that sort of shop.’ Andy grinned wickedly. ‘But we can go to Gresham Street later and get one, if you like.’
She didn’t want to ask what was in Gresham Street, but she could guess.
Inside the shop was dim, with the jewellery on display in discreet cases. Idly, she worked out three scams for stealing something from it. Her dad would have come up with at least six. But she was finished with that business now.
She missed the conversation between Andy and the owner, and was surprised by the tray of rings being pulled out for her to peruse.
They were gorgeous. Old and valuable. There was a delicate band of diamonds. A ruby solitaire gleamed at her and she shuddered. After stealing the Fire of Autumn from her sister’s museum, she never wanted to see another ruby. Taking that stone had been a big mistake and she was still paying for it.
She turned her attention back to the display. There was a trio of black pearls that teased her. An eternity ring which looked older than Charleville Castle. She picked up an antique sapphire flanked by two diamonds and slipped it on. It fitted as if it were made for her.
She admired the way it caught the light, until she saw the small label with the price tag. Seventeen thousand pounds. Roz shuddered and put it back.
The pearls were nice, and she could imagine wearing them. The ring only cost three hundred pounds. That was okay. She turned to the owner to say she had decided on her ring, and found that Andy was putting away his credit card. He opened the velvet box containing the sapphire and took out the ring. ‘It had to be this one,’ he said.
She was all too conscious of the sales assistant watching as he slipped it onto her finger and took her into his arms to kiss her.
His kiss was hot and possessive, and all too brief.
He raised his head. ‘Later, darling,’ he said.
Only Roz could hear the mockery in his voice.
15
Andy’s stomach growled on the drive north. Had they eaten today? He couldn’t remember. Roz was quiet, watching the scenery fly past. She was a real city girl. He wondered how she would cope with Lough Darra. ‘Before we arrive, we need to work on a cover story.’
‘Okay.’ She nodded. This was something Roz was familiar with, getting into the part, hiding behind a character.
‘Stick to the truth as much as possible. We met in Paris when I was working for the O’Sullivans.’
Roz frowned at the memory.
‘We met again in London a few months ago and we’ve been in touch every day since then. You missed me so much when I returned to Ireland that you hopped on a plane and followed me.’
‘Okay, I can do that. So, where do I live in London? Please say Chelsea? Please. Please. I’ve always wanted to be posh.’ Roz batted her eyelashes outrageously at him.
Andy suppressed the desire to laugh and then shook his head. He was certain that his mother had friends in Chelsea and it could lead to all sorts of complications. ‘No. You live in Greenwich.’
‘Fine. And what do I call you? Do I have a pet name for you?’
‘No pet names,’ Andy said, horrified at the thought of it. Knowing Roz she would come up with something outlandish to torture him with. Pet name indeed. He would make her pay for that later, but first they had to run the gauntlet of his parents and the staff.
Almost there. He turned off the narrow country road and swung through the iron gates. He would have to think about improving security. Open gates were an invitation. If he got his hands on the teenagers who had tried to rob the place, he would teach them a lesson they wouldn’t forget.
‘This is it?’ Roz perked up and looked around her as they drove up the tree-lined drive.
His inner imp made him park the Jeep at the front of the house instead of the rear as usual. The gardens ran down to the lake, the waters glittering in the spring sunlight. To someone who hadn’t looked at it almost every day of his childhood, the view was pretty spectacular.
Wide eyed, she turned to stare at him. ‘Please tell me you’re joking. You can’t actually live here?’
‘It’s just a house.’
‘And Charleville Castle is a charming country cottage. Damn it, Andy, I’m nervous as hell. What if your parents hate me? What if they –’
‘Come here.’ He pulled her into his arms. The slight tremble in her shoulders brought out his protective streak but he knew better than to mention it. ‘They’ll adore you. Just remember that I’m completely and utterly in love with you.’
‘Oh.’ For once, Roz was speechless. A delightful flush stained her cheeks. She was confused and embarrassed, but she ralli
ed quickly. ‘I really want to see you pretending to be in love with me.’
‘Do you now?’ Andy cupped her face and brushed his lips against hers. He hadn’t intended it to be more than a teasing kiss to reassure her. But hunger flared, bright and hot as a flame.
With a soft murmur, she opened her lips to his and then they were both lost. Hot, open mouthed, the kiss was endless. Nothing existed but her and the soft curves of her body against his. He cursed the dress she was wearing. He wanted to touch her bare skin. Andy stroked her hip, sliding his palm down to the hem of her dress and working his fingers beneath. Stockings and suspenders. Sweet Jesus, she was trying to kill him.
A tap on the window jerked him back to reality.
‘Andrew. Is that you?’
Roz jerked herself out of his arms. What the hell was she doing? Letting Andy McTavish under her skin was the worst idea she’d ever had, and she’d had some humdingers.
She looked around to see who had interrupted them.
A small, stylish woman with short, grey hair stood there beaming at them. She was dressed in a pair of well-cut trousers, a white shirt, wellies and a sheepskin jacket. There was something familiar about her eyes.
‘Mother,’ Andy said, with what sounded suspiciously like a groan. Yes, that was it. Her brown eyes were the feminine version of his.
Oh great. She had been caught necking in the car by Andy’s mother. A wave of heat crawled up her face.
‘You idiot,’ Roz snarled. ‘This is all your fault.’
He grinned shamelessly at her. ‘Come and meet my mother. She’ll love you.’
Roz knew better. Mothers of men like Andy did not like women like her. She would take one look at Roz and peg her for what she was. Out of her class. Out of her depth.
This was the sort of fancy rich woman who was begging to be fleeced. More money than sense. She made herself watch as Andy swept his mother up in a rough hug, kissing both her cheeks and telling her she needed to button her jacket.
‘Silly boy, put me down,’ she told Andy, patting his cheek, even though she had to stand on tip-toe to reach. ‘But I’m cross that you didn’t tell me you were coming or that you were bringing a visitor. Please introduce me to your friend.’
