by Fiona Murphy
He stepped away, and she could breathe deeply again. “Then I’ll leave you to it.”
She refused to turn as he made his way back to his desk and opened the ledger to begin.
Declan’s phone rang, and she was surprised that he not only answered with her there, but after listening for a few minutes he seemed to speak freely. “Yes, Douglas, I have the estimate, and I’m going over it now. I’m not yet done with it, but I have to tell you, these costs look fair. I do not think Robert is attempting to rip you off. I know the prices have changed since Robert took over for his da, but his da had been giving the same prices for thirty years, and he had only three sons working for him, and a nephew from time to time when the work got away from him. Sean was a good man, but there were things he neglected, like making sure his workers were protected. Robert has taken on two more men. He needs to pay them fairly and make sure they have what they need, as he’s responsible for them now.
“I know, Douglas, you’ve had a tough time this year; many of us have. I want to finish the estimate and have a talk with Robert and then I’ll call you back.”
Hanging up he entered a number. “Theresa? It’s Declan Kelly. I was calling you about your da. I know the estimate was more than you expected. Yes, I know that the updates are needed. Yes, your da asked me to look through your plan for the store, and I’m sorry if it hurt your feelings. You know your da by now, Theresa—he’s got to have the approval of everyone for miles on before he’ll pick out what he’s having for lunch.
“Here’s the thing, my dear. I cannot in fairness ask Robert to bring his estimate down for your da only. I was wondering, I know you have three boys that, from what I have heard, could pass for grown men. Do you think you could put them to work for their granddad? It could help out on the work Robert has to do.
“Theresa, don’t be so sweet to me now. Your husband is two of me and would cut me down without a second thought. No problem at all, my dear. I’m glad I could help you and your da out.”
He called another number. “Robert, it’s Declan.” He laughed. “Yes, I have been talking with Douglas, and I told him I did not think you were cheating him. No, Robert, I will not be asking you to change your prices for him. I know you have to make a living and I won’t be putting you in that position. I was wondering if you would be willing to make use of Theresa’s boys to help out so it isn’t so much on them. I know, Robert, you have men that need hours, but better to have some with Douglas than none at all, when he uses someone who doesn’t know what they’re doing and charges him less for it. No one would win then.
Thank you, my friend. Of course, I knew you would do it. Theresa will be talking to him tonight about it.” He laughed as he hung up.
She tried not to listen in, but over the course of the next hour, she listened to him solve relatively minor problems for two other people. It sounded like nothing she would have thought about him. A young woman needed help with preparing for a job interview, and had somehow never created a résumé before. He made one call and sent another woman to her for help. Another woman was upset that her father’s nurse had quit suddenly, and she needed help finding a nurse that could be trusted. With just one call, yet another problem was resolved.
It was odd that she was slightly let down hearing him act not much different than a small-town mayor. A player from a mob movie he didn’t seem to be at all. Miranda wasn’t sure if that was reassuring or disconcerting. She needed to be able to keep him at a distance. It was far easier to think of him as a bad guy, rather than the person he was turning out to be.
As she finished reviewing the prior year and making notes, her stomach made it clear that food was mandatory. She checked her watch to see it was only a little over an hour after she had arrived. Eight o’clock was too soon to leave, but her stomach grumbled. It needed something now.
“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” He was up, and moved toward her. Her stomach grumbled in answer, and he could hear it. “Ah, hunger pains, we can’t have that. What would you like?”
Embarrassed, she shrugged. “I’m not picky. A sandwich will be fine.”
“I can do that, no problem. turkey or chicken?”
“Chicken, please.”
“Mustard or mayo on it?”
“Mustard, just a little.”
“I’ll be right back.”
Only five minutes later, he was back with a sandwich that was better than anything she could make. The bread was a dark, soft, thick rye. The chicken was a thin breast that was moist and tender. Tomatoes and leaves of fresh spinach completed the tasty treat. She did her best not inhale it, but it was hard.
“When did you eat last?”
“I had lunch.” Miranda detected a note of censure, and stiffened. No way would she admit that it had only been a chicken breast with a small salad and yogurt. Her ex-husband had wanted her to fit a certain mold, and had set her on a workout plan that lasted over an hour every day so she could be the size six he thought she should be. Once he had moved out, she refused to be a slave to the gym ever again. To maintain her figure, she ate simply and walked everywhere but to and from work.
“Hmm, that was a long time ago. I’ll make sure you have something waiting tomorrow before you begin working.”
She shrugged as she wiped her mouth and then returned to the ledger.
Another hour and she was done in. Her neck ached and her eyes were crossing. She sighed as she began to organize her work for tomorrow. She heard him lift the phone from his desk and key in a number.
“Mark, bring the car around to take Miranda home.”
“That won’t be necessary,” she said as she stood up.
Declan was already standing and around his desk. “Of course it is. It’s late and I won’t have you walking home or using public transportation alone. You are a beautiful woman and this city isn’t safe. It will only be a moment. Mark lives next door.”
“Fine, thank you.” She turned to go, but she should have known he wouldn’t let her go so easily.
“Miranda.” A gentle command that refused to be ignored.
She turned to face him and crossed her arms, setting her expression to bored. “What?”
How had he gotten so close, she wondered. Declan was only a step away from her. His hands slid to her hips and burned through her clothes, and once again her body betrayed her. Heat flooded through her, and she couldn’t move away from him. He brushed against her, and she melted into him. That damn smile was back, wicked and enticing, full of dark and naughty promises. His mouth teased along her cheek and up to her ear. The feeling of his breath hot against her skin had her fighting to swallow a moan of longing.
“I would like you to think about this attraction between us and allowing it to run its course. I will make sure your body knows every satisfaction and that you scream with pleasure. It likely will not last long, a fire so strong is likely to burn out fast but in the time that it does, outside of sexual pleasure, I will treat you with every respect you deserve and be with no one but you.”
Declan was sincere, almost heartbreakingly so. Miranda knew she should tell him then, but couldn’t. Words were too hard for her to form. Then he pulled her tighter to him, and the evidence of his desire was pressed against her stomach. He was large, hard, and thick. Her body froze, and heat fled her all at once. It gave her the strength she needed then. Pushing him away was so hard, but she only shook her head and walked away. She barely remembered to grab her bag from the closet, but she closed it with a snap and opened the door with numb hands. She walked down the wide porch and into the night.
Thankfully, Mark was quiet as he drove her home. Her mind replayed Declan’s words in a constant loop. The feeling of him pressed against her played again and again, as if it had been burned into her. She only had to close her eyes to feel him again. As she exited the car and made her way inside her dark and empty home, she couldn’t stop playing the loop. An offer so clear and honest she had no doubt he would do whatever it took to fulfill his p
romise. She undressed and climbed into bed naked, a way she had never slept before, and wondered what it would be like in Declan’s bed. Would she find pleasure she had never known before, or would it all blow up in both their faces?
Chapter Four
Miranda slept deeply that night, and again her dreams were filled with Declan and sex. Her shower was slow and hot enough to leave her skin red as she dried off. Her bra and panties were a matching set in dark red, soft and delicate whispers of silk. As she stood in front of her closet, she found a silky black skirt that moved with a breeze. Her blouse was silk and caressed her skin; the light pink complemented her coloring, and she left the top two buttons undone. Putting her hair up into a severe ponytail, she slipped into her black flats. She didn’t check the mirror before she left, not able to look herself in the eye.
Work was an agony, and she felt every minute of the day. Butterflies filled her stomach as she rang the doorbell. Mark was there again, opening the door for her. She handed him her purse without him asking, and he nodded his thanks.
“Please, ma’am, if you’ll have a seat at the table. He’s a mind for you to have dinner before you begin. He’ll be with you in a minute.”
Entering his office, she found the two club chairs had been removed to make room for a small, linen-covered table set for two. She sat down with unease. This wasn’t a good idea. The tapping of high heels on the wood stairs drew her attention, and she saw a stunning, ethereal woman go down the stairs and down the hall and right out the front door. Jealousy stung hard. There was little doubt the woman was coming from Declan’s bedroom.
Mark set down a plate in front of her, and she flinched, as she hadn’t even realized he was speaking to her. Her eyes took in the appealing food, but her mind was tortured by the thought of Declan with the woman.
Miranda looked around the room as Mark left, and wondered how the hell she had come to be here. Here she was mooning over a man who was a criminal and was only interested in a roll in the hay. She had said no, so he’d found someone else. Declan Kelly had done an excellent job in reminding her of every reason he wasn’t for her. She would remember that as she ate with him, and until she finished what they had agreed she would do. When she was finished, she would be thankful that she hadn’t fallen into his bed, and in weeks, he would be nothing more than a bad memory.
When he entered the room a few minutes later, she was proud of herself for the dismissive nod she gave him when he apologized. Only to ruin it with her reply. “I hope I didn’t run your girlfriend off.” Anger flared in herself for even mentioning the stunning woman.
“Sweetheart, you have no need to worry about Karen. Lovely girl she is, no doubt about that, but I’ve made it clear that I have no woman. No, sweetheart, it was simply a case of Karen helping me with the no small problem that my cock wouldn’t go down for the wanting of you. Three days of pain was more than I could take. I’ve been told numerous times that her mouth is a treasure, and I found her skills not exaggerated. It’s as simple as that.”
At the idea of another woman’s mouth on him, rage punched Miranda in the stomach and flared out to every inch of her body. She dropped her gaze to her clenched hands in her lap, and she worked to even out her expression and hide her grief from him. She sniffed her disdain. “Well, I hope you paid her well for something so disgusting.”
“Disgusting? No, sweetheart, giving your partner pleasure is not disgusting at all. It is a beautiful thing. I know that I am very much looking forward to learning the taste of your pussy.”
A blush at his casual and shocking words washed over her entire body, along with want and need. Her nipples became so tight they were almost painful, and she wanted to scream at him to shut up. Fighting her body was hard enough without fighting Declan’s caressing and enticing words in that light, intoxicating brogue. She pushed her chair back to leave the table. She couldn’t take it anymore. “I’m tired of this. I’ve said it before: it isn’t going to happen. If that’s all this is about, then this dinner of yours is a waste of time, and I’d rather just finish the audit and go home and eat.”
Grateful her legs held her up, she moved toward the desk, but in a flash he was up and at her side. He sighed as he stepped toward her, and she took a step back. “I apologize, sweetheart. My desire for you gnaws at me and makes me act poorly. I admit, I am also feeling guilty that you saw Karen leave. It wasn’t right for me to use Karen for the release I want from you alone. I told myself the use of her mouth wasn’t the same as the use of her body, but it was the same thing, and I’m sorry. I promised you that I would be with no one but you, and although you have refused, if I still want you then I shouldn’t have used another woman for my pleasure. If I had found out you sought relief from the desire you feel for me with another man, he wouldn’t be breathing on his own.
“Please, Miranda, accept my apology and allow us to begin this evening again. Sit back down and eat. I do not like the idea of you working while you are hungry. I promise I’ll be on my best behavior.”
He stood back and gestured toward the table with an inviting smile. Her chest went tight at his apology of using Karen to satisfy him when she wouldn’t. The idea of him as violently jealous as she had been made her wonder what was beneath his cool exterior. His cool was unlike any other Irishman she had encountered in and around the city. His lack of swearing alone surprised her. The truth was she wanted to know more about him. So although she wanted to refuse him, she didn’t want him to think she couldn’t contain herself in the face of his seduction. With a heavy sigh, she gave in.
“Fine, whatever. Let’s just get this over with.”
His hand was at her back guiding her into the chair, and his touch, even through her clothes, set off a fire inside her. Seeing nothing, her whole body was focused on his touch. When he moved away, she trembled at the loss of his heat. She avoided his eyes as she removed the silverware and settled the fine linen napkin over her lap. Forcing a smile of thanks as he filled her glass with wine, she was relieved when she finally got her body under control.
“One glass only. I’m not much of a drinker.”
“Please don’t feel you must drink, then. There are other options, and I do not want you to feel as if you must.”
“It’s fine. I didn’t say I never drank. I do enjoy a glass of wine with dinner from time to time.” She shrugged as she tucked into the still-steaming plate. The salmon was delicious, and the soft, fragrant jasmine rice and lightly crisp asparagus fit the salmon perfectly.
“This is good. Did you cook this?”
“No, my housekeeper did. I’ll admit, if it were up to me my eating habits would be rather poor. She makes sure I manage to get my fruits and vegetables in. I’ll pass along your compliments. So tell me about yourself, Miranda.”
Shaking her head, she sipped the wine, which was, of course, absolutely perfect for the meal. “No, you know just about everything about me. It’s your turn. I’m interested in knowing what would have happened to me after you finished making some poor man who had no idea you existed breathe through a tube.”
He smiled and met her eyes, his amber eyes gold. “I would have dragged you to bed and spent hours wiping the memory of his touch from your mind. Your body might feel pain through the night, but never violently, always with your pleasure in mind. I have no taste for violence aimed at a woman or pain for just the sake of pain.”
His answer twisted her up inside, and she sipped her wine to cover it. Frantically, she thought of a question to fill the silence. “Were you born here in the States? Your accent is often thick, yet it doesn’t quite sound like it.” The question had nagged her since the first day she met him.
Declan was quiet for a long minute, and then he answered her question. “I was born here in Chicago, in this house. Apparently I took my parents by surprise, and by the time they were ready to leave, I had made my appearance. My da settled here just a year before I was born. One of my uncles felt the need to return home, and my parents’ marriage wa
sn’t doing well, and they decided a change of scene might help. For a while it worked, because here I am, but it didn’t last, and after only three years she left without looking back.
“The lack of an accent is actually from my father’s insistence I attend private schools throughout my education. He knew that times were changing and that education and the connections I would make in school with children of men with money would be important. In private schools, everything is uniform, even the way you speak. When I went to Ireland, I caught it bad, the heckling for lack of an accent.
My da passed when I was fifteen, and I was shuttled back to Ireland to live with an uncle. I enjoyed my time there, but it never felt like home, and by the time I finished school I asked my uncle if I could return. He agreed, but only if I continued on to university. I applied to Northwestern and got in, and moved back in here with a cousin who had taken over when my da died. My cousin was relieved and ready to return to Ireland, and pushed me to finish university so that I could take over for him.”
She wanted to ask more about his mother, but his tone had gone completely flat when he spoke about her, and she let it go. “How many uncles do you have, and what’s your degree in?”
“I’ve three uncles and five aunts. Economics, I picked it on a lark, thinking I would change it eventually, but I never did. Much to my surprise, I grew quite fascinated.”
“A lark? Usually when people pick a major as a lark, they don’t pick economics, they pick psychology.”
“Psychology. Alas, the Irish put no stock in such nonsense. Fairies and saints carry more weight than Freud or Jung.”
She couldn’t hold back her laughter at his teasing smile. “So this is a family business? How come your family keeps going back to Ireland? Don’t they like Chicago?”
“Ah, there are many things said about an Irishman’s ties to his home country. With my family it seems to be true. They never seem to stay very long, except Mark. He’s one of my many cousins, and he was smart enough to wait and marry a wife here in Chicago so she isn’t pushing for a return to home.”
