Up Close and Personal (9 page)

And more than that, Ronan realized, he just wanted her with him. He didn’t care to explore the reasons why. So he made her an offer he knew she would find hard to refuse.

“Go with me, Laura, and I’ll buy the place you showed me yesterday.”

Her jaw dropped. “You’ll—”

For the first time, Georgia spoke up. “Which house?”

“The Barret estate,” Laura said, her gaze locked with Ronan’s even as she answered her sister.

“Are you kidding?” Georgia pushed herself to her feet and went to her sister, sending one curious glance at Ronan as if she couldn’t believe what he was saying.

But he meant every word. He needed a place, and he’d only been dragging out the looking for the chance to have Laura to himself. If he got her on his plane, that part of the puzzle was solved. Besides, the estate wasn’t far from the home he was renting now. Though it was bigger, closer to the ocean and boasted a lot of acreage for such a small beach town.

In fact, the place was damn near perfect. He just hadn’t wanted to buy it and end this time with Laura. Now though, he could use that purchase to his own advantage—the only way Ronan liked to conclude a deal.

“The Barret estate’s been for sale for a year and a half,” Georgia said.

“I know.” Laura looked at her sister, then to Ronan. He could see the wheels in her brain turning. Considering.

“The commission on that house would be—”

“I
know
,” Laura said. “It would be enough for us to buy our building.”

“Boy howdy,” Georgia whispered, slanting a look at Ronan. “You’re
good
.”

He gave her a nod. “Thank you.”

“This is blackmail,” Laura said.

He smiled. “What’s your point?”

Georgia snorted and Laura gave her a dark look.

“You realize that if I do this, you’ll have to handle the business on your own for a week.”

“Or two,” Ronan put in.

“Or
two
,” she corrected.

“Yeah, that’ll be rough. In case you haven’t noticed? Business is not booming,” Georgia reminded her, and Ronan knew that was another weight on his side.

If it were just for herself, Laura might tell him no just on principle. But he also knew her well enough to know that she would do this for Georgia. Because it was important to her to do what she could to protect her family. He could admire that even while using it to get what he wanted.

“You bring the sale papers with you and once we’re in Ireland, I’ll sign them.” His gaze locked with hers, and he waited, letting her think. Letting her worry it all out in her mind, though they both knew she would agree in the end.

“She’ll do it,” Georgia said flatly.

“Hey!” Laura turned on her.

Ignoring Ronan, Georgia looked at her sister and said, “Please. Don’t be an idiot about this. I’ll take care of Beast and work and you’ll take a vacation and come back with enough money to buy our building for us. It’s a no-brainer, Laura. For God’s sake, don’t be stubborn about this.”

“Thanks for the support,” she said wryly.

“Oh, I’m supportive,” Georgia told her, then shot a look at Ronan. “But I’m not stupid, either. He’s got his reasons for inviting you—”

“Hey now,” Ronan blurted.

“—and you’ve got reasons to accept. It’s like a devil’s bargain only everybody wins.”

“Bargains with a devil?” Laura asked, turning her gaze to Ronan. “Does that ever work out well?”

Ronan walked to her and held out one hand to seal their deal. “Try me and see.”

He had her; he knew he had her. He felt it in his bones. So why then, he wondered, did he not relax until she slid her much smaller hand into his and say, “Okay, devil. You win this round.”

He intended to win them all.

* * *

Laura was used to living on the periphery of the rich and famous. She dealt with wealthy clients all the time, yet she’d never actually been treated as though she belonged.

Until today.

Flying on a luxurious, private jet, being waited on by a flight attendant, drinking champagne at lunch. Taking a whirlwind trip through New York City in the back of a limo while the jet was being refueled.

She felt like a princess.

And Ronan, darn it, was the perfect Prince Charming.

Every time he looked at her, Laura’s heart ached a little because it was all so wonderful and so doomed. Nothing had changed. This spur-of-the-moment trip wouldn’t lead to happily-ever-after, and she knew it. It was blackmail, plain and simple. He’d dangled financial freedom in front of her, knowing that she couldn’t turn it down—not just for herself, but for her sister.

Still high in the sky, with the jewel of Ireland beneath them, shining a brilliant green against the deep blue of the ocean, Ronan looked at her. As if he knew what she was thinking, he asked, “Do you have the papers ready then?”

“I do,” she told him, and reached into her purse. Pulling out the folded sale agreement, she handed it to him and watched as he gave it one final look.

He’d already read the contract from front to back during the first hour of their flight, so it didn’t take him long to flip through to the back page and sign his name with a flourish.

When he gave the contract back, Laura smiled. No matter what happened now, she and Georgia would be able to buy their building. Grow their business.

“You can fax the contract to Georgia from my home office,” he said. “Then it’ll be official.”

“Okay, I will.” She folded it back up, tucked the contract away in her purse and told herself she wouldn’t give it another thought.

The promise of financial security might have gotten her here, but now that she
was
here, she was going to take Georgia’s advice. As the jet prepared to land, she looked at Ronan and smiled. He gave her a wink and she remembered exactly what her sister had said just before Laura left for the airport.

“You’ll have two weeks with him, sweetie. And in two weeks, you can either get him out of your heart altogether—or you can let him back in.” Georgia gave her a hard hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Either way, this is the trip of a lifetime, so try to enjoy it.”

Laura intended to.

“Welcome to Ireland.” Ronan’s whisper sounded in her ear as Laura stepped off the sleek, private jet and was met by a cold blast of wind that slapped color into her cheeks and stole her breath.

She stood at the top of the stairs—she knew there was another word for them, she just couldn’t think of it—and looked out around her. They were in a small, regional airport somewhere in County Mayo, according to Ronan. Here there was no huge terminal. There was just an open tarmac, surrounded by fields so green, it almost hurt to look at them. The artist in her itched to find a paintbrush and attempt to capture what she saw.

A smile curved her mouth as she whipped her head from side to side, trying to take everything in at once. She might still be furious at how he’d blackmailed her into the trip, but she wasn’t foolish enough to let her anger spoil her first trip to Europe.

Although, the first thing she realized was, she shouldn’t have worn a dress and heels. She was already cold. But flying on a private jet had seemed to require a bit dressier appearance than her normal slacks and shirt.

“Cold?”

“A little,” she said, grateful at least that her dark green dress had long sleeves even if the scooped neck left too much of her chest exposed to the wind. Her black heels wobbled slightly on the metal stairs, but that might have been nerves.

Ronan took her hand in his and the heat that jumped from his body to hers eased the chill of the Irish wind, but only stirred the flutters in her stomach into double-time. He was dangerous to her and no matter what happened on this trip, she’d better keep that in mind.

He led her down the steps and walked beside her to the waiting car.

“I hope you’re not too tired. It’s an hour or so to the village and my home,” he was saying as she walked to the passenger side, him right behind her.

“I’m not tired at all,” she admitted, flashing him a wide smile in spite of her trepidation. “I’m in
Ireland
.”

He chuckled, then put one hand on her arm. “Did you want to drive us then?” he asked, a smile in his voice.

“What? No.”

“Then perhaps you should go to the other side.”

Laura looked down and realized that she was standing at what should have been the passenger door. Of course over here, the steering wheel was on the right.

“Oh, okay. Weird.”

“’Tis only weird to you. To me, it’s the proper way of doing things.”

While their luggage was piled into the back of the Rover, Laura took her seat and buckled in. Ronan then fired up the engine and headed out.

“We’re headed for the village of Dunley and my home beyond.”

“Didn’t you say Cosain was headquartered in Galway?”

“It is,” he said, steering the car down a road that seemed to shrink in width the farther they drove along it. “But my home is in Dunley.”

She turned her head to stare out the window at the passing scenery. “I’ve never seen so many different shades of green. It’s so beautiful. Everywhere I look, it’s a picture. A painting waiting to happen. I wish I’d thought to bring my paints with me.”

“We can pick up some paints and things for you in Westport. It’s not far from the village.”

She shot him a quick look over her shoulder, trying to read the expression in his eyes. Was he just being nice, or was there some other motive behind his offer? Hard to tell, so she’d just accept it for what it was. “I’d love that.”

Green fields, crisscrossed by stone walls and dotted with black and white sheep spread out on either side of the car. In the distance, a smudge of purple on the horizon heralded the mountains. The sky was gray, the wind tearing across the fields. There were ruins, too. Crumbling stone towers that told stories of chivalry and greatness centuries ago.

“So many,” Laura mused, voice soft. “Castles and towers and they’re all still here.”

“Aye,” he said, glancing at the nearest crumbling spire of stone. “Their battles are done, their stone walls chipping away, but the echoes linger. They remind us. Always.”

“Remind you of what?”

He shot her another fast look. “That the Irish fight for what we hold dear. What we want, we get.”

There was a rumble of warning in his voice and she shivered at the sound of it. “And what if they don’t want it anymore once they’ve got it?”

“Well then, that would be a whole different problem, wouldn’t it?”

A few minutes later, they were parked in the road, waiting while a woman herded a cow toward home.

“You have interesting traffic jams,” Laura said, laughing.

“Aye,” he agreed. “And there’s no point in honking. It would be considered rude and the cow wouldn’t care at any rate.”

“It’s great. And it explains why you’re so patient with the traffic in California.”

“Ah, you don’t know traffic until you’ve waited for an entire herd of sheep to make their way along the road.”

“You’re happy to be home,” she said, watching him.

“I am at that.” He looked away from her, to stare out over the fields and Laura watched his features soften. “Every time I come home, I can’t imagine why I ever left.”

“You know, I watched the way people hustled around all day, leaping to do your bidding.”

“My bidding?” he countered with a short laugh. “You make me sound like a tyrant.”

“Not a tyrant,” she corrected. “Maybe a king.”

“Ah, King Ronan,” he mused. “I like that.”

“I’m not surprised,” she said. “But my point is, on the plane, in New York, you were distant. More formal. But now you’re—”

He turned his head to look at her and in the soft morning light, his features were shadowed, his blue eyes burning with intensity. “I’m what?”

“Different.” Since landing in Ireland, it was as if Ronan’s heart had opened up. She saw it in his eyes, on his features as he looked around at the country he loved. He was more…
real
, than she’d ever seen him. And that made him more dangerous to her heart than ever.

She’d convinced herself to enjoy this trip and then let go of the controlling, bossy, arrogant businessman Ronan Connolly, despite how it hurt to let go of the dream.

But this Ronan…Laura didn’t know if she’d be able to let him go when the time came.

“What do you think of my island then, Laura Page?”

“So far,” she admitted, when he gave her a quick look, “I love it.”

“Good answer,” he said, smiling. “A very good answer.”

A few miles further on, he turned off the road into a wide gravel drive lined by chrysanthemums, their bright colors looking bedraggled by wind and rain.

The lovely house at the end of the wide, gravel drive was gray stone, two stories tall and spread out from the middle into two wide wings. Windowpanes glittered in the early morning sun.

“Home,” Ronan told her and shut off the engine.

Stunned, Laura climbed out of the car to stand on the graveled drive. Her gaze swept over the manor house, the grounds around it and finally, to him, only to find Ronan watching her.

“Okay, now I understand why you didn’t like any of the houses I showed you.” She looked back at the house that had no doubt stood for centuries. “If you were comparing them to this one, there’s just no contest.”

“Oh,” he said, “there’s one house at the beach that has something this one doesn’t.”

“Really?” She shifted her gaze back to him. “Which one?”

“The one where you live, Laura.”

She pulled in a long deep breath and let it out slowly, hoping to steady herself. But who was she fooling? There was no balance around Ronan. Ever. And being on his home turf now, she knew she was asking for trouble. Yet, she couldn’t seem to care.

The front door was painted a bright cherry-red and when it flew open a deep
woof
shattered the quiet. A huge, black-and-white English sheepdog bolted from the house and
flew
across the drive, headed right at Ronan.

“Deirdre!” He laughed, braced himself and only rocked in place when the giant dog slammed into him. His big hands scrubbed at her fur, scratched behind her ears, sending the dog into spasms of ecstasy.