Stitches in Time (2 page)

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” Her face red with embarrassment and anger, Maggie had to work to keep her voice from echoing throughout the establishment.

“Now hold on. There was a man who was going to pick your pocket.” Liam paused to let his gaze wander along her curves. She had no pockets in the trim suit she wore. “Or steal you purse.”

“Liam
Finnerty
, I can take care of a purse snatcher and I don’t need you to protect me. I am perfectly capable of handling myself.” Maggie tugged her jacket back into place and smoothed her hair back into its knot. Scowling, she marched up to the registration desk. “Are our rooms ready yet?”

Again, her voice was harsher than she meant it to be. When had she become so uptight? It was that blasted scrap from the old
tapestry, that
was what it was. It brought to the surface all the dreams she had buried long ago. She was a grown-up now and her family expected her to behave as one. Maggie knew she should rephrase her question to the man behind the counter and she made an effort to still her anger and soften her voice. “Excuse me.” Plastering a smile onto her face, she poured sugar into her voice and asked again. “I would like to be shown to my room now. Ms. Andrews.” At the man’s blank look, she added, “I have a reservation here. Ms. Maggie Andrews?”

A nervous man by nature, the concierge’s weak smile did not please Maggie in the least. Her eyes narrowed as the man fussed with the papers on his side of the high desk. Liam sauntered over, deciding that getting into another argument with Miss-High-And-Mighty right now wasn’t worth it. They had two weeks in the Emerald Isle and so far, the time felt like it was a lifetime sentence. Still, why wasn’t the manager answering her?

“What’s the matter, man? Are our rooms ready or aren’t they? My secretary made the reservation. One room for Miss Andrews, another for me—check under Liam
Finnerty
.”

“According to our records, Mr.
Finnerty
, there is a room reserved for you—only.” The man’s Adam’s apple bounced as he swallowed and looked at Maggie as if he expected an eruption. Earlier, he had been on the receiving end of her tongue when the rooms were not prepared for their early arrival. It was only after the couple had gone for their walk that the man discovered only one room had been reserved.

But Maggie did not erupt. She got quiet.
Deadly quiet.
“Then get on the phone and find me a room in another hotel.
Now.”

“I’m sorry, Madam, but I have already tried. We pride ourselves on our service and I have called every hotel in the city. There are no rooms in any of the better hotels. Even the motels are filled. It is St. Patrick’s Day, day after tomorrow, after all.”

“Well, I am not going sleep in the street!” Her voice broke and her pleasant
demeanor
cracked wide open. Between the stress of the flight over, seeing the tapestry in the little shop, and being forced to accompany a man who hated her, she was tired, cranky and the dam was about to burst.

“How many beds are in the room reserved for me?” Liam could see the floodwaters rising. Let her be mad at him rather than this poor old sot who was obviously scared of the petite woman beside him. Her glare at him was hot enough to melt iron, yet he steadfastly ignored her.

“There is only one bed, sir. It is a queen size bed, but there is only one in the room.” The man sidled toward Liam as if for protection.

“I am not going to sleep in your bed, Mr.
Finnerty
. Try again.” She crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes and glowering.

Liam sighed and turned again to the flustered man. “Is there a cot in the place that could be sent up?” He turned to the angry woman. “I’m not much in
favor
of sharing a room with you either, but you can have the bed and I’ll take the cot.”

“Sorry, sir, no cot.”

“So much for your chivalry.”
Maggie tossed her head as if daring him to respond to her tart answer.

But Liam just shrugged. “We’ll take it. Have the lady’s bags sent up along with mine.”

“What? We will not…Leave those bags right where they are—”

But the manager had his answer. The shrew was this poor man’s problem now. Ignoring her, he
signaled
to the bellhop to do as he had been told. Maggie was outnumbered.

* * * * *

Considering the amount of money the company was paying for this room, it certainly wasn’t very big. The bellhop led them in, depositing the two suitcases and two carry-
ons
at the foot of a beautiful, four-poster queen-sized bed. It was the old-fashioned kind, with drapes hanging to the sides of the bed, drawn back against the posts. Squeezing himself between the luggage and the wall, the boy opened the drapes, letting the sun in to light up the tiny room. Only then could they see the Celtic dragons carved into the wooden headboard.

Between the far side of the bed and the wall with the window there was just enough room for one person to walk. Sitting on that edge of the bed to put on one’s shoes wasn’t an option. Not unless that person wanted to sit with his head out the window while doing it.

The near side had quite a bit more room—enough for the ornate dresser that sat beside it and doubled as a nightstand. A small door facing the bed led to the bath, the bellhop explained. The place spoke of a previous era and
a certain
quaintness—which was the polite way of saying the hotel was old and out of date.

Maggie let Liam tip the bellhop—it was his room, after all. Of course, she would probably find it on his expense account when they returned. All right, maybe she was being unfair. But she was in no mood to think pleasant thoughts about anyone.
Unwrapping
her scarf and shrugging out of her coat, she dropped both onto the bed and then peeked into the bath.

A wonderfully large, claw-footed, porcelain tub took up most of the room. The bedroom, decorated in nondescript beige, paled in comparison to the dusty rose and burgundy scheme of the bath. A pedestal sink just barely large enough to wash one’s face, and a white toilet with a flowered seat cover squeezed into the tiny space that remained. No showerhead poked out of the wall; no curtain enclosed the tub. Maggie checked the door—the sliding bolt would serve to protect her privacy.

Liam closed the door to their tiny boudoir, clicking the lock home as he did so. A small closet behind the door held a few coat hangers, but was otherwise empty. The initial plan called for the two of them to remain in Dublin, meeting with potential clients for two days before moving out to several other Irish cities—that gave them three nights together in the hotel. He sighed and felt the tension gathering in his shoulders.

The water was already running in the bathroom as, in two long strides, he crossed the distance from the door along the short corridor and into the room proper. His jaw set when he saw her coat thrown on the bed and he stepped into the bath to tell her to hang it up. But the words died on his tongue.

Maggie had turned the water on to begin filling the tub;
her
back was to the bathroom door. As Liam watched, her slender fingers reached up behind her to loosen the tight bun at the crown of her head. She pulled out one, two, three pins and shook her head to loosen her hair. It cascaded down, a river of auburn waves. With her head thrown back, she sighed and ran her fingers from her temples back through her hair, combing out the tension the day had wrought in her psyche. Her arms stretched to either side and as she lowered them and brought her head up a yawn escaped.

How many times had he dreamed of watching that hair fall? Graceful curls fell from her shoulders beyond the middle of her back. He longed to run his fingers through that mass, to feel its silky softness caress his chest, his stomach, his…

She started to turn and Liam quickly backed away. For the second time in a day, he had caught her in an unguarded moment and the sight took his breath away. By the time she re-entered the bedroom, he had moved to the tiny closet to hang up his own coat.

Without a word, Maggie picked up her overcoat and waited until he’d cleared the corridor. There wasn’t room for two people, at least, not unless they knew each other very well. And she had no intention of getting to know Liam
Finnerty
any better than she already knew him. As she passed him, she glared at him as if to dare him to say anything about her unbound hair.

Liam knew better than to bite. Instead, he opened his own suitcase and called out to her. “I’ll take the bottom two drawers and you can have the top two.”

Maggie eyed him with suspicion; he was being nice to her. What was he plotting? She hung her coat
beside
his, being sure to leave plenty of room between the two. Shaking her head at her own childish foolishness, she took the three steps back to the bedroom proper.

At least the man was efficient. She watched in silence as he took out his carefully folded shirts and set them on the bed. Her suitcase already lay on the bed, ready to be opened. She distinctly remembered the bellhop putting them on the floor. Her eyes narrowed again. Why was he being so nice to her? What was his game?

“Thank you for putting my suitcase in such easy reach, Mr.
Finnerty
.” The sweetness dripped from her voice as she simpered over to the bed and unzipped the case. She gave him a coy smile and batted her lashes at him for good measure to be sure he got the point.

He did. Damn woman. A scowl crossed his features as he sought to regain the upper hand. “Don’t let that tub overflow in there or it’s you who will be paying the hotel bill.”

“I’m paying it anyway,” she shot back. “Or did you forget you charged the room to your expense account?”

He had. Damn her again. Slamming the drawer shut, he opened his mouth to blast her. A knock at the door, however, saved her from the blistering he had been about to deliver.

Maggie didn’t wait to see who was at the door. She collected her kit from her bag and headed into the bath. Tempted as she was to slam the door on his insufferable attitude, she heard the bellhop’s voice and decided discretion was the better course. Closing it gently but firmly, she locked the door and sighed.

The steam from the hot water had already filled the room and Maggie took another deep breath, letting the moist air fill her lungs and cleanse her of the tension she carried. A third breath left her entire body sagging against the door as the ‘professional woman’ mask fell away.

She felt defeated today. The plane ride over had been a nightmare, having been forced to endure the company of that man. As she tested the water, Maggie tried to determine just why the two of them had taken such a dislike to one another—and why she was so attracted to him in spite of that dislike. The water was perfect. With a deft twist, she turned off the faucets,
then
opened a small bottle she had brought with her. Pouring in a small amount of liquid soap, she recapped it and took off her no-nonsense business suit before swishing her hand around in the water to make the bubbles foam.

Only a few bubbles today.
While submersing herself in a tub filled to the brim with opalescent globes was her
favorite
way to relax, her practical side had packed only a small bottle of her
favorite
bubble bath. One thing her father’s financial decree had taught her was the value of small luxuries.

Feeling slightly hedonistic, Maggie dropped her clothes on the floor; her frugal nature usually dictated a more careful handing of the few expensive pieces she allowed herself.
But the hell with it.
She was stuck in a perfectly beautiful country, in a wonderfully quaint little hotel room, with the most rude, obnoxious, and gorgeous man to walk the earth. She might as well enjoy her time in the bath.

A wicked thought made her grin. In here, she would have the privacy denied her by the hotel’s mistake. Liam
Finnerty
might be a cad, but he wouldn’t come in here while she was bathing. Stepping into the hot water and sinking down into the bubbles, she moaned in delight with the combined relaxing of her muscles and the realization that, at the moment, she had the upper hand.

For several moments, she let her mind wander as her body adjusted to the temperature of the water. Closing her eyes and letting out a satisfied groan, she let the hot water carry away all the stresses, the tensions, the lost dreams, the realities of life. In bliss, she soaked, letting her arms float on the water as she slid her knees up until the water was at her chin. Childlike, she blew on the bubbles and watched several float up and away to burst like little rainbows on the bathroom mirror.

Voices broke through her reverie although she could not understand the words. Liam must be talking to the bellhop, she decided.
Too bad for him.
He could deal with any problems that arose while she sat here and got waterlogged.

He certainly could handle the problems her father threw at him. She might be learning his job, but it was not one she would ever be able to perform with the same panache.
Being outgoing and polite, cajoling customers and distributors while balancing the demands of the company at the same time made Maggie dizzy.
But Liam always knew what was going on; always remembered to ask about a customer’s spouse and kids; always made everyone feel welcome.

Except her.
Sometimes he treated her like a child and then at other times he looked at her as if she were a sex object. Did he think she wanted his job? Was that why he seemed so demeaning? What for? There was a much better one waiting for her in a few years. In fact, Maggie was hoping to move to vice-president after this trip. Or did Liam want that promotion? Well, if he did, he could wait. Within the next five years, her father planned to retire and turn the reins over to her. Liam could move up then, if she decided he could play nice. Extending a long, slender leg, she admired the shapely curves of her calf as the soap ran down her thigh to the water. Smiling, she knew these legs attracted men’s glances—whatever Liam might think of her, men still found her attractive. Someday she would have time for men again.