18. Declan
18
DECLAN
T hree hours after I’d put Catie to bed, I was still hammering out work things on my laptop.
It didn’t mean anything that I was working in the living room, where I’d be sure to spot Olivia as soon as she came home. It didn’t mean anything at all.
So far I’d checked off three projects on my to-do list, and called Thomas for an update on our real estate fight against O’Rourke. Apparently, when the town council refused to lift the old law, O’Rourke had given up on selling his first-choice property. He was now in the process of trying to sell his third oldest property, which, unfortunately, wasn’t the mansion. But Thomas had assured me he’d found a way to drag out that sale, too. There was an error in the will that passed the property to the person who sold it to O’Rourke. If the will was deemed legally invalid, then the property might belong to a local music teacher, instead of O’Rourke. And if O’Rourke didn’t own it, he couldn’t sell it.
According to Thomas, no judge would actually take the property away from O’Rourke. But the local music teacher was one of the many people in town Mark O’Rourke had pissed off, and she was willing to help Thomas make O’Rourke’s life a nuisance for a month or two.
I thought of O’Rourke’s angry face the other day on the sidewalk and felt a wave of satisfaction. Despite his attempts at haughtiness, I’d been able to see that he was a man desperate for money. That meant he wasn’t going to be able to wait two months for a legal decision. That left him with two older properties that could be sold—one of which was the O’Rourke mansion.
I smiled wolfishly, practically tasting victory.
Then I glanced at the clock.
Victory would taste better if I knew Olivia wasn’t out laughing up at another guy. Wearing a dress that poured over her curves in a way that should be illegal, and heels that made her legs and ass impossible to look away from.
Don’t think about that, I ordered myself.
I typed out another email to my assistant. Then another to our head programmer. Then another to Anil.
If I just kept working, I wouldn’t think about Olivia.
Hell, I’d even asked out @1000words, although I didn’t think meeting an anonymous pen pal for a friendly coffee was what Olivia had meant when she suggested I go on a date.
I checked my phone, but @1000words hadn’t responded yet. It had been hours, and I could tell she’d read the message.
So now I had two women to avoid thinking about.
I sent Anil another email. I was surprised when I got a notification that I had an incoming video call from him less than a minute later.
I answered, and his friendly face filled my laptop screen.
“Hey,” I said. “Did you see my email about the possible fixes for that bug? I like option A, but?—”
“This is an intervention,” Anil interrupted me. “Step away from the computer. Have a life. Ask a girl out.”
I scowled. “I did.”
“Oooooh,” Anil said, with instant sympathy. “She turned you down?”
“She hasn’t answered. I’m trying not to think about it. Or the fact that my nanny is out doing God knows what with Brendan fucking Carr.” I ran a hand through my hair.
“How dare she,” Anil said, because he was nothing if not a supportive friend. And then he asked, “Who’s Brendan Carr?”
“Some guy I went to school with. Good at rugby. Bad at women.”
“And yet, your nanny likes him,” Anil pointed out mildly.
I flipped him off.
“Why do you care who your nanny goes out with?” he asked.
“I don’t,” I protested.
Anil snorted. “What’s going on? I’ve never seen you like this about a woman.”
“I don’t know ,” I said, frustrated. “She just…and she was wearing this dress…”
Anil blinked. “Wow. I didn’t believe Thomas, but it sounds like he’s right. You’ve got it bad.”
“I do not,” I said. Then the rest of what he’d said registered. “Wait. You and Thomas talk about me? You barely know each other.”
“Rude. We met at the thing in Dublin last year and we’ve kept in touch. Unlike some people, Thomas thinks the memes I send are funny.” He checked his watch. “Right, I have to go meet up with a singer/actress who just dumped her boyfriend and wants me to console her.”
I sighed. “Don’t let her break your heart. When are you going to stop letting women use you as a rebound?” If my problem was being too unattached in romantic relationships, Anil had the opposite problem. He was a hopeless romantic, and since he became filthy rich, the women of Dublin used him like target practice.
“Better to take a risk than spend my nights torturing my colleagues and employees with endless emails,” he shot back. “Seriously, though. Stop working. Your assistant is worried about you.”
He logged off, leaving me staring at a blank screen.
I checked the clock. It was after midnight. How long was Olivia going to stay out with this guy?
I felt tense, restless. Olivia didn’t strike me as the type to go home with a guy after a blind date. She wouldn’t feel safe yet. She’d need more time to get to know someone.
Shit, what if something had happened? What if he’d been a bastard, or there’d been an accident on their way home, or…
If she needs you, she’ll call , I told myself firmly. And if she doesn’t call, it’s none of your business.
I stood up and started pacing. The problem was, it felt like my business. Olivia was in a foreign country, and she barely knew anybody but me. She was too sweet for her own good, and she was wearing a dress that looked like sin itself, and it was driving me out of my mind.
I wasn’t a man used to standing on the sidelines. I was used to going after what I wanted with everything I had.
And what I wanted was Olivia. I couldn’t deny it anymore.
Fuck professional boundaries. She was mine.
I was striding to the door, with some hazy idea of going after her, before I remembered I couldn’t leave Catie alone in the house.
I closed my eyes and pressed a fist to my forehead. “I’m going mad,” I muttered.
That’s when I finally heard it. The sound of a car in the driveway.
I was deciding whether to retreat to the living room, so it wouldn’t look like I’d been up waiting for her, when the door opened and Olivia stepped inside. Her cheeks were rosy, and her hair tumbled down around her shoulders in wild curls.
“Oh, Declan. You’re still up.” She smiled sleepily. She looked like she’d had a great time.
I wanted to punch something.
“How was the date?” I made myself ask nonchalantly.
“Eh, not great.” She bent to take off her shoes, giving me a clear view of soft, creamy cleavage. I looked away, but it took a monumental effort. “He wasn’t you. But Molly and I went for drinks after and that was fun.”
My pulse seemed to slow down, like a predator who’d spotted a weakness. “Olivia. What do you mean by ‘he wasn’t you’?” The words came out of my mouth before I could stop them.
She jerked upright and blushed. “I didn’t say… Well, I didn’t mean… I mean, I did, but I work for you, so it’s not appropriate…” She swallowed. “It’s not appropriate to want?—”
I didn’t let her finish.
I closed the distance between us and cut her off with the kiss I’d been holding back for far too long. My mouth found hers a second before I backed her into the door, and fuck , she was sweet. Her lips parted for me with the softest gasp, and then her hands were in my hair, and she was kissing me back. Giving as good as she got, like she always did.
I wrapped my hand around the back of her neck, and she shivered.
“Fuck appropriate,” I growled. “If you want it, it’s yours.”
I didn’t quite dare say what it was. My body. My time. Maybe even my heart. I didn’t know how hot this thing between us would burn, or how long it could last, I just knew I was done trying to fight it.
Olivia’s head fell back against the door as she looked up at me, eyes dark with desire. She looked so good, I had to kiss her again, and then I had to trail my lips over the soft skin of her neck, until I found a spot that made her moan and clutch my shirt, arching into me.
My hands found her hips, pressing the softness of her body against my hard cock. When was the last time I’d wanted someone as badly as I wanted— needed —Olivia?
“Oh,” she gasped. And then a smile fluttered across her face in a way that was sweetly, deliciously feminine. I didn’t know how it was possible, but that just made me want her more.
I was on the verge of ordering her to take off the dress so I could give her all the pleasure she wanted, and then some. Until she couldn’t think straight. Until she couldn’t think about anyone but me.
I knew she’d say yes, even if she regretted it in the morning, when the weight of our professional relationship came crashing back on to us. But that was a problem for tomorrow.
The words were on the tip of my tongue when someone knocked on the door.
Olivia jumped, ducking away from the door and me.
“Olivia?” Molly called from the other side of the door.
I swore and turned to yank open the door.
“Oh, hey, Declan,” Molly said, completely unfazed by my scowl. She leaned around me, holding up a phone for Olivia to see. “You left this in my car.”
“Oh my gosh! Thank you,” Olivia said, stepping forward to take the phone.
“Yes, thank you,” I said, trying to close the door on her.
“Actually, can I use the bathroom while I’m here?” Molly said. “I think that last beer just hit me. Also, Olivia said you have the fanciest bathroom she’s ever seen.”
I sighed and opened the door wider, giving in to the inevitable. Olivia pointed her toward one of the bathrooms.
And then Olivia and I were alone again.
“Well. Um. Goodnight,” Olivia said, and turned to go.
I caught her arm. “Oh no you don’t. We have unfinished business.”
She bit her lip. “Don’t you think it should stay unfinished? Would a one-night stand really be worth the risk of messing things up between us?”
Yes, I thought. But something about the idea felt off. Insufficient.
I wanted more than one stolen night, I realized. I wanted to be the one taking Oliva out, making her smile and laugh for hours. I wanted her to come to my bed without regrets. And I wanted her to stay there, for as many nights as she’d give me.
I eased my hand down her arm, trailing my fingers against the back of her hand. “Let me take you out tomorrow, Olivia,” I said. “On a proper date. One that doesn’t end with you hiding in a pub with Molly.”
She arched a brow. “And where does a ‘proper’ date end?”
I moved closer, lowering my lips until they hovered a hairsbreadth from hers. “Wherever you want it to, a ghrá .”
She leaned into me, restless and eager, and I felt a surge of masculine victory.
Still, Olivia bit her lip, uncertain. “Declan, if we start something… It could get complicated. Even more complicated than a one-night stand. What if it ends badly? Or gets messy?”
It was already messy. I’d spent the last few hours out of my mind with jealousy. But that wasn’t her problem. It was mine.
I reached up and ran a thumb over her lower lip. Marking my territory until she let me return. “We’ll keep it light and fun. I promise.”
She hesitated.
“You deserve someone spoiling you for a bit,” I said, my voice low and soft. “Let me give you that, Olivia.”
She searched my face. I did my best to look casual and relaxed, and not at all like I was dying to fuck her against this wall.
I heard the sounds of a door opening and footsteps in the hall. Molly would be back out here in seconds.
“Light and fun,” Olivia repeated. “You promise?”
“Absolutely. Exactly what you want.” And then I stole one last kiss, to hold me over until our date.