The man was cool and deliberate, as distant as he’d been when she first met him. It was as if the Brady she’d come to know had vanished. When he spoke, she was sure of it.
“I think it’s time you went back to Ireland.”
“What?” She simply stared at him.
He stopped dead, crossed his arms over his chest and braced his bare feet wide apart. “You wanted to go home. I think you should. Right away.”
“That’s your answer to tonight?” she asked, hardly believing what he was saying. Yes, she would have gone back home in a week or so anyway, but this felt as if he was throwing her out of the country simply to avoid an awkward situation. “To send me away?”
“Don’t make this more than it is,” he snapped, then caught himself and took a breath. “Tonight’s got nothing to do with it. You did a good job. Now it’s time to go home. With a raise.”
“A raise, is it?” Her voice sounded as thin and sharp as a blade, yet she couldn’t seem to change it. With her heart in her throat it was a wonder she could get any words out at all. If he’d slapped her she couldn’t have been more shocked.
Rage and pain twisted into tight knots in the pit of her stomach. She was being dismissed, was all she could think. He was throwing money at her as if to buy her silence about what had happened between them. Or worse yet, as if she were nothing more than a passing fancy who could be bought off with the ease of writing a check.
Her cheeks flushed with heat. She felt it and knew it was the result of being treated as if she was disposable. A mistake to be quickly erased and forgotten. Shame rose up to choke her, then spilled out in a rush of words.
“I did a good job?” she repeated. “Where do you mean? On the castle or right here?” She waved one hand at the rumpled bed.
“You’re putting words in my mouth again.”
“There’s no need. You were plain enough. You think I’m to be bought off, is that it?” She didn’t wait for an answer, just swept on, riding the tide of her own fury. “Though I’m your employee, I’m no servant to be sent off for getting too close to the master of the house.”
He scowled at her, his brows lowering dangerously. “What the hell are you talking about now? This isn’t about us sleeping together.”
“Of course it is,” she shouted. “Let’s be honest here at least.”
“How is giving you a raise and sending you home an insult?”
“You know very well,” she said, kicking the duvet out of her way and stalking toward him. “You’ve decided to rid yourself of me in the most expedient way. Am I to be grateful, then, for this raise you’re dangling in front of me?”
“If you don’t want the damn raise, don’t take it,” he told her, staring down at her. “And you’re not a damn servant. Having sex was a mistake. We both knew going in that it would be, Aine. I’m just trying to do what’s best for both of us.”
How could his eyes be so cold when only minutes earlier they’d burned with passion? And how could she feel so alone standing right in front of the man she loved?
“If you’d calm down and think,” he advised tightly, “you’d see that this is the only solution. You were never staying here anyway, and to stay longer now would just be...awkward.”
“Aye,” she whispered. “It would be, wouldn’t it? Having a temporary lover about might be problematic. Especially if you have your eye already on your next temporary lover.”
He blew out a breath and scrubbed both hands over his face. “This isn’t about the sex. I’m not looking for a lover and I’m not throwing you into a dungeon, for God’s sake—I’m sending you home. The home you said you missed. Well, now you don’t have to miss it.”
“Oh, I’m sure I’ll be grateful as soon as I calm down and think.”
He winced when she threw his words back at him. Then Brady reached for her, but Aine scuttled backward, because she knew she couldn’t bear it if he touched her. She was sure she would simply shatter like a crystal vase dropped on stone.
“So it’s as it was after that first kiss. It’s you who decides what the ‘right thing’ to do is.”
“Are you actually trying to tell me this wasn’t a mistake?” he asked.
“I’ll not try to tell you anything,” Aine said softly. It hadn’t felt like a mistake. It had been a revelation. At least for her. She’d found love, finally, and now the man she loved was looking at her as though he regretted ever meeting her. “What would be the point?”
“Aine...”
“Please leave.” She wanted—no needed—to be alone. Aine couldn’t bear the thought of him seeing her cry, and tears were so close to the surface now it was all she could do to hold them back. “I’ll go home, and gladly. I’ll send you reports on the castle’s progress, and I’ll earn every penny of the raise you’ve offered.”
“And you’ll tell me if you’re pregnant.”
His voice was hard now and as distant as the moon. She felt his absence as if he’d already left, because she knew in his heart he had.
“I’ll do that.” She wouldn’t, though. He’d made himself clear enough, hadn’t he? He’d no interest in her, so why would he care about a child that came from her? No, this time with Brady was done. Their connection, if they’d ever really had one outside her own idle daydreams, was over.
Without a word more, he walked past her. She watched him leave and didn’t speak. She heard him gather his clothes, let himself out of the suite and close the door behind him and still she stood alone in the shadows. She expected the tears to come then, but they didn’t.
They were as frozen as her heart.
Eight
Five months later...
“How long are you gonna be in Ireland?”
Brady looked over at Mike and shrugged. “Shouldn’t be long. I just want to check on the progress being made.”
“Uh-huh.” Mike sat back in his chair and lifted his feet to the edge of Brady’s desk, crossing his legs at the ankle.
Brady stifled an impatient sigh. It had been five months since he’d last seen Aine. Five months of emails and short, terse phone calls once a week. True to her word, she’d kept him up-to-date on the renovation and according to her, everything was on schedule. So there was no real reason for him to fly to Ireland—and Mike knew it. So naturally, his friend had to rag him about it.
“It’s a business trip,” Brady said, stacking the last of the papers on his desk before tucking them away in the top drawer. “That’s it.”
“Right. This from the same man who said a few months back that with the 360-degree videos there was no reason to go to Ireland in person.”
“That was before the renovations started,” Brady argued.
“Did Aine say there was a problem?”
“No.” In fact, she never said much at all. Irritation simmered deep in his gut. Her emails were rarely more than a sentence or two long. She called once a week without fail, and he could feel the ice in her voice despite the thousands of miles separating them. As far as work went, he had nothing to complain about. She was businesslike and organized and so damn far away it was driving him nuts.
The memory of that last night with her rose up in his mind suddenly, and he could see her as clearly as if she were in the room with him. Her eyes wide and wounded, her hair tumbling around her shoulders in a wild dark red tangle and the duvet she’d held to herself while she’d stared at him in shock.
Hell, it had all gone downhill so fast. The next morning, she had come into the offices, said goodbye to everyone and left for home that afternoon. In a blink it was as if she had never been there at all. Except for the fact that he couldn’t go more than an hour without thinking about her.
Then there had been the awkward phone call a few months ago when he’d asked if she was pregnant and she’d told him he had nothing to
worry about. He’d almost been disappointed—if there’d been a baby, he’d have had an excuse for seeing her again. But the reality was it was better this way since he knew nothing about being a father. How could he know when he’d never had a father?
“So there’s no problem, but you’re still hopping a jet.” Mike grinned. “Why don’t you just admit you miss her?”
Because he didn’t miss her. That was ridiculous. Brady Finn didn’t get close enough to women to miss them when they were gone. Maybe he hadn’t been with anyone else since she’d left, but that was because he’d been busy. It had nothing to do with the fact that he could still hear her voice, musical with the sound of Ireland. That he could still see her eyes, as green as a forest. That her taste was still inside him, smothering any other needs in his continuing hunger for her. No, he didn’t miss her. He just needed to see her again to clear his mind and then he could return to his life. That was what this was about, he assured himself. Closure.
He needed to look into her eyes, say a clean goodbye and then leave again with a clear conscience. He didn’t want the memory of her hurt and insult in his mind anymore.
“Missing a woman isn’t a crime, you know.”
Brady stiffened, then shot Mike another look. “I don’t miss her. I talk to her once a week, don’t I? Look, she works for us,” he said reasonably. “I’m going to check on the hotel I’m in charge of remodeling. It’s business, Mike. That’s it.”
His friend snorted, dropped his feet to the floor and stood up. Shoving both hands into his pockets, Mike said, “If you really believe that, you are some kind of sad, my friend.” He turned and strolled to the door. When he got there, he glanced over his shoulder and said, “If you’re just lying to yourself, then good luck with that.”
Brady didn’t need luck. All he was going to do was check out the castle, make sure the work was going well. Seeing Aine—was Mike right? Was he lying to himself? Brady scrubbed both hands over his face and grumbled, “Damn it, Mike, stay the hell out of my head.”
His friend’s laughter floated to him from the hallway.
* * *
Aine loved her family. She really did. But since she’d moved into one of the bedrooms at the castle and had her own space, it was much easier to love them. Her mother and Robbie had been nothing but supportive since her return home. She’d slipped back into her life almost as if California hadn’t happened. Almost. She’d been raw and hurt and sick to her soul when she came home and echoes of that pain were still with her.
But working at the castle kept her busy enough that most of the time Aine could push thoughts of Brady Finn to the back of her mind. It was only the nights that were crowded with memories of him. When she couldn’t sleep for thoughts of him, Aine would wander the halls of Castle Butler and have to admit that Brady Finn was doing something wonderful here.
Despite the hurt she felt when thoughts of him settled in her mind and heart, Aine could see the difference in the castle and almost see what it would be when finished. The changes were many, some subtle, some outrageous, but the castle itself remained strong, a reminder to her that whatever changes she faced, she, too, could overcome them.
“But don’t take that the wrong way, love,” Aine said, sliding her palm across the rounded bulge of her belly. “You’re a change I’m looking forward to.”
Five months’ pregnant and unmarried, some might think she’d be in a panic. But she wasn’t. Certainly she worried a bit about the future, as being a single mother was a frightening situation. Still, she was twenty-eight years old and didn’t care about village gossip a bit. Her family loved her and she had a good job, a place to live and, in a few short months, she would have a living connection to the man she had loved...and lost.
Aine shrugged deeper into the heavy cream-colored Irish-knit sweater she wore and stuffed both hands into the pockets. She walked downstairs to check on the workmen already making a storm of noise, and while she went thoughts of Brady once more drifted through her mind.
Odd that she’d gone her whole life without feeling these conflicting emotions. She’d been engaged, and had never once felt the swift tugs and pulls that Brady engendered in her. Why was it the man she wanted most was the one man she could never have? Why was he so determined to pull away and shut himself off from any kind of real love and connection?
That was why she hadn’t told him about the baby. He was so determined to be alone, so convinced he needed no one, she knew he wouldn’t want to be a father to her child. Oh, he would do the dutiful thing, she’d no doubt. He had integrity aplenty, and he would once again sacrifice himself because it was the “right” thing to do. But she needed no sacrificial saint to help raise her child. If he couldn’t offer love, he had nothing she and her baby needed.
“Aine, love,” Danny Leary called to her from the far side of the banquet room. “Have you been to the kitchen yet today?”
Danny was built like the trunk of one of the ancient oaks surrounding the castle, though coming in much shorter. He was thick with muscles gained from years of hard work. His gray hair was cut short, his blue eyes as sharp as diamonds. He was strong as a bear and gentle as a lamb and one of her late father’s oldest friends.
“No,” she said, determinedly pushing thoughts of Brady aside. “Why?”
“We’ve a decision to make there.” Danny shifted the hammer he held from hand to hand. “The new stove’s arrived, and it’s too wide to fit.”
She sighed and buried a quick flash of temper at the latest annoyance. “Who did the measurements?”
“I did them myself and they were good, but the company’s made a mistake. So now,” he said with a shake of his head, “you’ve a choice. We can have them ship it back and send out another, but the time delay will hold off the painting, the new counters and the new flooring, as well.”
Not a catastrophe by any means, just one more bump in a road that had proved itself to have plenty of ruts in it. “What has to be done to make it work?”
He grinned. “If we take out one of the lower cabinets, she’ll slide in as if the spot were made for her. And this stove’s two more burners on it than the one ordered in the first place, so it could be a blessing in disguise.”
“Let’s have it, then,” she said, making the decision on the spot. “I trust you to do the job right.”
“There’s a girl,” Danny said and winked at her. “Now, then, there’s something else, as the slate tiles for the roof have been delayed again.”
Her shoulders slumped. It had been months now they’d waited for those tiles. They’d had to be specially made, to keep with the medieval feel of the castle. But with this latest delay it pushed back the renovation of the rooms on the top floor. No one could redo floors and walls and then have rain come through the holes in the roof and ruin everything.
“I’ll call them again.”
“Good. You could also call about the flagstones for the garden, as they arrived broken and will have to be replaced.”
“For pity’s sake,” she muttered, and pulled her phone from her pocket, making notes on who to call next. It seemed always there was one problem after another.
But Danny wasn’t finished. “Now, if you’ve another moment or two, Kevin Reilly could use your decision on the paint color for the washrooms off the main lobby.”
Aine nodded and walked off in that direction. It felt as though she walked miles every day, from one end of the castle to the other. Her steps matched the rhythm set by the crack of hammers and the buzz of saws, not to mention the traditional music pumping from a radio tucked on a ladder nearby. Everyone had a purpose, and Brady’s dream was happening before her eyes.
The banquet room was nearly finished, with its tapestries hung, the oversize mantel carved and in place over the refurbished stone hearth. There were what looked to be mile-long tables with benches drawn up to them. Le
aded windows let in the watery sunlight peeking through storm clouds, and the refinished floors were covered by protective tarps. She felt the castle coming to life in a way she’d never expected. The murals in the banquet room were otherworldly, true, but they were also beautiful. She shouldn’t have worried on that score. Brady had been right—she’d have to remember to tell him that when she made her weekly progress report call tomorrow.
Talking to him every week was getting harder, because as the baby grew and stirred inside her, it felt more and more as though she was cheating him. Her heart urged her to tell him he was to be a father, but her mind kept insisting he wouldn’t want to know. And Aine couldn’t bear to hear him make excuses—or worse yet, offer her duty when what she wanted was love. So she would keep her secrets and her memories to herself.
* * *
The road was so narrow that if another car came at him, Brady thought, he’d just have to die. There was no room to pull over. The thick hedges Aine had told him about crouched so close to the narrow track he drove along, they actually scraped against his impossibly small rental car at nearly every turn.
Brady checked the GPS on his phone and knew he was less than twenty minutes from the castle. His blood hummed in anticipation. It wasn’t the damn castle he was interested in seeing, it was Aine. The deeper he drove into her country, the sharper the memories of her became. Her voice. Her smile. That quick flash of temper that disappeared as fast as it erupted.
He’d thought that sending her home would get her out of his thoughts, but instead, the opposite had happened. When he couldn’t see her, his brain provided a stockpile of images to make sure he didn’t forget her. But memory was a tricky thing, he knew, and he was sure that somehow his own brain was making her seem more than she really was. This trip would settle it. Would show him that she was just another woman and then he could move the hell on and leave her behind.
Having Her Boss's Baby Page 11
