If that thought gave him another pang of regret, he ignored that, as well.
“I’ve looked at your architect’s ideas for expanding the gardens,” Aine said, leaning over his desk to point at the sketch she was referring to.
“Problem?” He turned his head to look at her.
Eyes narrowed, she said, “Only that he wants to remove four-hundred-year-old oaks to do the job.”
“What?” He scowled at the drawing, then turned to his computer and pulled up the series of photos he had of the castle and the grounds. He was flipping through the pictures looking for the right one when Aine came around his desk and bent down close. Her scent engulfed him and tantalized every breath he drew. Her hair fell, soft and silky against his neck, and he took a short, tight breath in response.
“There, that’s it,” she said and reached across him, her breasts pressing against his shoulder as she tapped the computer screen with the tip of her finger. “You see how the trees shade the front of the castle. They’ve stood centuries, Brady, and to be torn down for a wider lawn, a circular drive, a plot of dahlias and a sign announcing Fate Castle seems a sin.”
How the hell was he supposed to care about centuries-old trees when all he could think about was how close she was? How easy it would be to pull her down onto his lap and ease his hunger with another long taste of her? Brady fought down his impulses and focused. She was right. They weren’t going to lose the damn trees because a California architect thought a sign would look better in their place.
Because he was speaking through gritted teeth, his voice came out much harsher than he’d meant. “You’re right. The trees stay.”
“Wonderful,” she said, joy in her voice as she straightened up, thank God. She didn’t move away, though, merely stood at his side looking down at him.
“Something else?” He hated that his voice sounded strangled and hoped to hell she didn’t notice.
“Actually, yes,” she said and bit at her bottom lip before saying, “Do you remember when I first got here, we spoke about having Irish workers as part of the crew to do the renovating?”
He frowned, but nodded. “Yeah?”
“Well, a few days ago, I spoke to my mother and she tells me that the people in the village aren’t happy with the way things are moving at the castle.”
He leaned back in his chair and swiveled around to look at her. Brady felt at a slight disadvantage because he was forced to look up to meet her eyes, so he solved that problem by getting out of his chair to stand. She was close enough to touch, but he didn’t. “What’re the villagers angry about?”
“It’s the American crew, you see,” she told him in a rush of words so musical he could have listened to her for hours. “Your man’s brought his own people from the States and hasn’t made a move to hire locally. The people in the village feel that Irish workers should be having a hand in the work done to our castle.”
His eyebrows lifted. “Your castle?”
She sniffed and lifted her chin. “As it’s been centuries there and you’ve only just now learned of it, I think it’s more ours than yours.”
“Except,” he reminded her as he perched easily on the edge of his desk, “for the little fact that my partners and I bought it.”
She waved that aside with a flick of her fingers. “Aye, you paid money for it, but the people in the village and beyond come from those who have fought and died for it. Castle Butler is more than just a hotel to us. It’s our past. Our history.”
“And if not for me, Sean and Mike, it would be left to rot.”
“I’m not arguing that, am I?” she countered reasonably.
“What exactly are you arguing, then? Cut to the bottom line.”
“Fine, then. The bottom line, as you put it, is that if you want the support of the village,” she said and lifted one finger in a sign to let him know she had more to say, “and you’ll need that support as you go on, then you’ll bend a bit in the remaking of the castle.”
“Is that right?” He folded his arms across his chest and said, “Is this some form of Irish blackmail?”
“Not at all,” she said quickly, clearly offended. Then her voice softened as well as her eyes. “I’ll remind you we talked of this before and you agreed. Brady, don’t you see? It’s good business. And as you’re such an astute businessman, I’m sure you can see the truth of it. If you’ll have your man talk to Danny Leary in the village, he can provide as many skilled workmen as are needed.”
Brady scowled at her, wondering if all of this was about her securing a job for her boyfriend. “Who’s Danny Leary to you? Boyfriend? Lover?”
Stunned, her mouth dropped open and she blinked at him as if she couldn’t believe what she’d just heard. Then an instant later, she laughed and shook her head so hard her beautiful hair went flying. “Danny Leary? My lover? His wife would be surprised to hear it—as would his daughter, Kate, who was with me in school.”
Well, didn’t he feel like an idiot. She was still laughing, and the sound of it dipped inside him and heated him through. The woman was turning him inside out, and the worst of it was she didn’t even have to try to accomplish what no other woman ever had.
She was watching him through eyes twinkling with amusement and damned if he could blame her. He was acting like a jealous teenager and he had no right. “Fine,” he said abruptly. “I’ll contact my crew manager tomorrow and have him get in touch with Danny Leary.”
“That’s lovely, thanks.” She laid one hand on his forearm and he swore he could feel the imprint of her hand burning its way into his skin, right through the shirt fabric. Then her hand dropped away, stealing the heat as it went. “Anyone in the village can tell him where to find Danny.”
“I’m sure.” For a moment or two, he wondered what it might be like to have the kind of connections that were obviously so important to her. He’d been a loner most of his life—at first through no fault of his own and later by choice. He avoided the very familiarity with people that she seemed to thrive on.
Brady had always felt that life ran much more smoothly when you traveled light. No ties. No strings. The Ryan brothers were the only exception to his rules of living. The only people he’d ever allowed to get close to him. No woman had ever made it past his personal defenses—before Aine.
Desire he understood. Hell, being this close to Aine was pure torture. But love, commitment, those words had no place in Brady’s world. And he liked it that way, he reminded himself.
Watching her, Brady asked, “Anything else?”
She pushed one hand through her hair, and Brady tracked that slow, sexy movement. “Not at the moment,” she said, “though I was wondering how much longer I’d be here.”
Truth be told, she could go home anytime, he thought. They’d done most of what he’d wanted her here for, and the rest could be handled via the internet. But as much as he wanted her gone, he just plain wanted her more. So he wasn’t ready for her to leave yet, which made no sense at all, since keeping her here was only extending the confusion he felt around her.
“Anxious to be home?”
She turned her head for a quick look out the French doors to the patio beyond. “I’ll be sorry to leave this lovely warm weather, but yes. I miss home. Don’t you when you travel?”
“No,” he said abruptly, stepping back and away from her. “I don’t have a home.”
“I’ve never known anyone who lived in a hotel before,” she said softly. “Maybe what you need is a place of your own—something less impersonal than the hotel.”
He laughed shortly at the idea. Brady just couldn’t picture himself mowing a lawn or dealing with nosy neighbors. He wasn’t a suburbia kind of guy. “No thanks. The hotel works for me. I can get twenty-four-hour room service, and maids clean the place daily. It’s all I need.”
“Is it really
?”
Defensive now, he said, “We’re not all looking for friendly villages.” He walked across the room to snatch his jacket off a hanger in the closet. They had a dinner reservation to get to, and he could really use a drink. When she didn’t speak, he turned to look at her and frowned when he saw the insult in her eyes.
“No offense,” he said, though he knew he’d done just that even without meaning to. “My life is exactly the way I want it to be. How many people can say that?”
“Anyone can say it,” she mused, her gaze locked with his. “A better question might be, for how many people is that true?”
He frowned as she passed him and walked through the open door. He didn’t much care for the fact that she always got him thinking, reconsidering who he was and what he did. For years, Brady had followed the path he’d laid out for himself, and until Aine Donovan showed up in his life, that path had been straight and smooth. Now there were too many damn bumps.
Staring after her, Brady told himself he’d do well to not underestimate her, since Aine Donovan had the annoying habit of being able to dig under his skin and stay there. A dangerous woman.
Seven
By the time they left the restaurant after dinner, it was later than Aine might have guessed. Shops were closed, traffic on the street was light and they had the sidewalk to themselves. The air was cool, the breeze brisk, but not as cold as at home. The lightweight dark green sweater she wore over her simple shirt and slacks was enough to keep her warm even as Brady steered her toward his car, parked at the curb.
“Tired?” he asked.
“Not a bit,” Aine said. The man nodded but didn’t speak. But then he hadn’t spoken much during dinner, either. It was the tension, she told herself. As taut as a wire, it hummed between them whenever they were together and only got tighter with every passing day.
“All through dinner you barely spoke,” she said as he opened the car door for her. “Is there something wrong?”
“Nothing more than usual,” he grumbled, then waved her into the low-slung sports car.
Sighing, Aine slid inside, then buckled her seat belt as she waited for him to join her in the car. The street was nearly empty, which suited her fine. She couldn’t quite get used to riding on the wrong side of the street. She was forever flinching or stepping on an imaginary brake.
He climbed in, settled behind the wheel and she asked, “Is it something to do with work?”
“No,” he said, jamming the key into the ignition and giving it a twist.
“Is it me, then?” She reached out one hand, laid it on his forearm.
He paused, looked down at her hand, then slowly lifted his gaze to hers. What she saw flaring in his eyes had Aine’s heart catching in her chest. Mouth dry, she drew a short, sharp breath and stared into his eyes. She couldn’t have looked away if her life had depended on it. For days and days, it had felt as if her blood was at a slow simmer just beneath her skin, and now it began to boil. Slowly, she drew her hand back, and still the raw connection between them remained.
“Yeah,” he finally ground out through gritted teeth. “It’s you, Aine.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t say anything,” he advised. “Safer that way.” He shifted his gaze from her to the street, put the car in gear and it nearly leaped away from the curb. “I promised myself after that kiss that we’d stay away from each other.”
“Aye, I remember,” she said wryly.
“It’s not an easy promise to keep.”
Swirls of heat ribboned through her. She liked knowing he was having a difficult time keeping his hands off her. She wished fervently he would stop trying.
Streetlights were a blur as they passed. A light rain left droplets across the windshield that shone like diamonds. The roar of the engine was the only sound and seemed to reverberate through the car. Her fingers curled around the armrest and held on as Brady drove through the night, headed for the hotel.
Minutes later, he was parking his car and holding the door for her. “You don’t have to walk me to my room,” she said, and her voice sounded rusty, raw.
“I always do. Tonight’s no different.”
But it was. Everything felt different. She was both nervous and exhilarated. The cool March wind tugged at the edges of her sweater and ruffled her hair, but Brady’s hand at the small of her back ensured that she felt nothing but heat. It was a short walk to the hotel and then through the lobby to the elevators.
Once inside the lift, they stepped to opposite sides of the car like opponents in a boxing match, each of them waiting for a bell to ring to bring them together. When the doors opened, Brady pushed away from the wall, took her hand and half dragged her down the well-lit hall to her door. Her skin against his buzzed with sensation. Her stomach swirled and jumped with nerves.
“Key,” he said.
She pulled it from her purse and handed it to him as she had every other time he’d brought her home. But this time when her fingers brushed his palm, it was like a match strike against already sensitized skin. She sucked in air like a drowning woman and wondered what would happen once he had her door open.
Was he really planning to leave her? Or would he come inside? Would he kiss her again? Take her to bed and relieve the nearly painful ache that had been a part of her life for days now?
The door swung open and he didn’t move. He stood at her threshold like a man at a crossroads, trying to decide which path to take. After a long moment, he turned his head, looked down at her and said, “I should go.”
Disappointment warred with common sense. He should leave, she knew it. To do anything else would be foolish. Crazy even. But, oh, she wanted him to stay.
“Aye,” she said at last, surrendering to sanity and putting aside her own wants and needs. “I suppose so.”
“Staying would be a mistake,” he said, still standing there between in and out.
“It would, no doubt.”
“Leaving makes sense.”
“It does,” she agreed, looking into his eyes, letting him see in hers that she shared the need clawing at him.
He scrubbed one hand across the back of his neck. “Common sense is overrated.”
Relief and desire pumped through her all at once, a tangled mix of emotions that left her breathless. “I’ve thought so myself,” she said and went to him when he reached for her.
Sweeping her up in his arms, he held her close, spun them both into her hotel suite and kicked the door shut behind him. Holding her fast, his hands moved up and down her back, sliding low enough to caress her behind and then back up to hold the back of her head while he kissed her until she felt her brain swim.
If they were wrong, Aine couldn’t care. Too many days and nights had been spent thinking about this moment. Now that it was here, she didn’t want to think at all. This man had slipped into her mind and heart completely, until he was all she thought about. He was cold and generous, lonely and warm and so many confusing things at once that he was mesmerizing.
She held on to him when as a man unhinged, he turned around, leaned her against the wall and ravaged her mouth. Aine gave as well as took, tangling her tongue with his, tasting his breath, his hunger, as well as her own. He threaded his fingers through her hair and held her still as he devoured her. Their heartbeats thundered in time, their bodies burned from the same fire and soon the clothes separating them became a barrier neither could stand for another moment.
He didn’t let her go, yet somehow he still managed to strip them out of the clothes that were an irritant. Then they were naked, bodies meshed together while frantic hands swept up and down, exploring, stroking.
Aine’d never felt anything like this. She hadn’t known she could feel this. Everything that had come before this moment with Brady paled in comparison. She’d had sex
before. There’d been Brian, and before him there’d been another, and with both of them the experience had been...pleasant.
Not earth-shattering.
Everywhere Brady touched her, Aine’s skin burned, hummed with electricity and energy that pitched and peaked inside her until she thought she might explode with the tension within. And just when she thought she couldn’t take it another moment, he made her feel more.
Brady’s right hand swept down to the juncture of her thighs, cupped her heat, and made Aine’s legs collapse. If he hadn’t been holding her so tightly, she might have just puddled on the floor. One touch, her mind screamed, just one and she was on the ragged edge of a screaming orgasm. Then he deepened their kiss and at the same time slid two fingers into her heat, stroking and caressing her needy body from the inside.
Impossible sensations flashed into life and she gasped, eyes wide as she let herself go to feel it all. To revel in what he was doing to her. She clung to him, hands curled at his shoulders, mouth fused to his as he pushed her higher and higher. His thumb brushed across the sensitive heart of her and started the cascade of explosions inside her.
That first climax hit Aine so hard, it left her shuddering in his arms and grateful for the strength of him holding her up. She couldn’t breathe and didn’t care. She was trembling, her skin alive and bristling with the overload of sensations still rumbling through her. And he didn’t give her time to savor any of it.
“Again,” he murmured, tearing his mouth from hers, dragging his lips along the line of her throat, licking the pulse point in her neck and sending that pulse into a fiercely wild pounding with another touch.
“I can’t,” she insisted, groaning, tipping her head to one side, to give him better access, to invite more kisses, more nibbling.
“You can.” He threaded his fingers through her hair, pulled her head back and stared down into her eyes when he rubbed his thumb across her center.
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