Ireland (Crossroads #1)

Chapter 10

“You look like hell.”

Ronan glanced up from the article he was reading at the dining table and shot an arch glance over the top of his glasses as Jules sauntered into the living room.

“ Bon matin to you, too,” he growled, rubbing a kink in his neck. His mood was foul and made worse by the envie he had for chicory coffee that could not be satisfied, just as his hunger for a stubborn, unreasonable tigress was also not being appeased. Yet another sleepless night did nothing to sweeten his temper.

“Did you sleep on the couch?” Jules stared at the pillow and blanket tossed haphazardly on the flattened sofa cushions. He was dressed in a sleekly tailored suit the color of turmeric. While the color was striking—Jules preferred it when everyone noticed him entering a room—it was saved from being overwhelming by classic lines and quietly luxurious accessories.

“I didn’t sleep at all,” Ronan shot back. “And I’m damned tired, so don’t test me today.”

His brother’s laughter conveyed biting amusement. “I never thought to see the day a woman tied you into knots. When Scarlett couldn’t do it, I figured it couldn’t be done.”

“ Ah, but Ireland Vidal’s millennial joie de vivre is captivating for a GenX old man like our beau-frère , non? ”

Claudette entered the room, not looking the least bit guilty for eavesdropping. Unlike Jules, her style was so understated as to be almost severe—wide-legged slacks in navy paired with a champagne silk shell with a bow at the throat. She wore her dark hair in thick, loose curls over one shoulder, and pearls hung from her ears.

Both of his half-siblings were now so far removed from the neglected, malnourished children they’d once been. They were now thriving, which helped dispel the lingering nightmare of what had happened. Ronan was profoundly grateful that they’d beaten the odds and had been placed together with a foster couple who genuinely cared for their wellbeing when he’d been unable to see to it himself.

“I’m not old,” Ronan groused, his mood darkening further. He tried not to dwell on Ireland’s youth. The woman could decide for herself which men she dated. There were many reasons he was unsuitable for her that ranked higher than his age.

“Let him have fun, Jules,” Claudette went on. “A last hurrah.”

“What’s fun about cold showers and sleeping on the couch?” Jules challenged. “Care to explain it to us, beau-frère?”

“We are not talking about this, Jules.” Ronan returned his attention to his tablet, silently damning the spirits for putting Ireland in his path. She was a curse; he knew that now. A bane. A damned trevail .

Her visit had left him with a bed that smelled so erotically of her perfume and sex he couldn’t sleep in it. He’d never smelled anything as delicious as her. The need to bury his mouth between her long sleek legs and tongue her sweet pussy was so strong it was a torment. He wanted his hands and mouth on every inch of her silky skin. He wanted to take her body in every filthy way possible. He wanted to wallow in a bed with her for days, gluttonously feasting on her tempestuous passion until he’d had his fill and craved no more.

Jules snapped his fingers in front of Ronan’s face. “Earth to Ronan. Come in, Ronan.”

Embarrassed to be caught daydreaming, he pulled his glasses off and tossed them on the table. “Shut up, couillion! I have a lot on my plate at the moment.”

“Which usually makes you cool and precise, not hotheaded and grumpy.” Jules pulled out the chair next to him and grabbed a mug from the coffee service Ronan had ordered after abandoning sleep. “We’re meeting with Elizabeth Vidal at nine.”

Ronan sat back. “We should’ve had her commitment long before the meeting yesterday. We’ve shown our hand before the showdown.”

“The loan defaulted at 12:01 a.m. yesterday,” Claudette reminded, joining them at the table and waving off the steaming mug Jules attempted to slide her way. “Owning Elizabeth’s shares will expedite things, but we’ve got the company by the throat either way. Elizabeth can string us along all she likes, but from now on, we have no incentive to offer her more and should consider offering less.”

“So cutthroat, petite s?ur ,” Jules teased with a grin. “I expect we’ll wrap things up this morning. Elizabeth is wily and has to know that we’ve reached the ceiling of what we’ll offer for her shares.” Jules sipped his coffee and winced. “ Sacre bleu, c’est terrible.”

Drumming his fingertips on the table, Ronan felt rushed by the ever-accelerating timeline. Once they controlled Vidal Records, there were a million reasons to return to Louisiana and only one reason to stay—a reason who presently wanted nothing to do with him.

Putting his mug down in disgust, Jules sat back. “Depending on how long you think you’ll be panting after her daughter, you might be relieved to know Elizabeth’s beauty hasn’t faded in the slightest. She’s still a smoke show. I’d have a go at her if she were at all receptive.”

“You have a go at every woman who’s receptive,” Claudette said impudently.

“He’s not known for his discernment,” Ronan agreed.

Jules’s brown eyes took on a hard, chilling light. “Well, I’m not the prodigal son of the illustrious Boudreauxes forced into making a high society match for respectability. That’s your fate, beau-frère, and I’m grateful to leave high-maintenance women like Scarlett Claiborne to you. I’m just a Robicheaux, the irrelevant son of a dirty cop who had the devil’s own heart and a cesspit for a soul. I enjoy proving that I’m just as much a scoundrel as they say.”

“You can set down that cross you bear at any time,” Ronan drawled.

Snorting derisively, Jules tossed a careless hand. “What would be the fun in that?”

“Indeed.” Ronan flipped the cover of his tablet closed. “I’m going to work in the Vidal offices today.”

“Is that so? To rub salt in Vidal’s wounds,” Jules queried, “or to try for another round with his delectable daughter?”

“I said we’re not discussing this.”

“You know, her mother gets this look in her eye when I mention her ex-husband. No man wants a woman wearing that look while thinking about him.” Jules caught himself before picking up his mug again. “Ireland had the same look when she realized who you are. You can’t trust her. If I were you, I certainly wouldn’t want her anywhere near my dick.”

Pushing back from the table, Ronan stood. “You’re not me.”

“You’re taking this far too seriously, Jules.” Claudette tore into a croissant from the breadbasket. “Ronan loves a challenge, and women tend not to offer him any. Let him enjoy this one who will.”

“She wasn’t a challenge before yesterday!” Jules said crossly. “He could’ve spent the weekend fucking her out of his system before she even knew what was happening. All these months of mooning over videos of her, Googling hundreds of pages deep to find the most obscure information about her, insisting on staying in this specific hotel room in the armpit of New York… This isn’t a game, petite s?ur . He’s obsessed and putting everything we’ve worked so hard for at risk!”

Ronan gathered up his belongings. “I researched all of the Vidals, not just Ireland. I could leave nothing to chance.”

“You can lie to yourself, but I’ll never believe it, so save your breath. I bet you can name every man Ireland Vidal has dated but haven’t a clue who her brothers have hooked up with.”

“Her brothers have been married for years,” he dismissed. “A romantic interest can cause travails, and Ireland is the kind of woman a man fights tooth and nail for. It was important to assess all possible interventions.”

Jules’s smile was icy. “ Mon dieu , no one can bullshit like you. But the clock is ticking. We’re just about done with this city. I meet with the Lees tomorrow about the warehouse in Queens. Should’ve been today, but they wanted to postpone the inevitable, so I gave them an extra day. I expect we’ll be enjoying Marcelle’s café au lait before the end of the week.”

The thought of Marcelle and the comforts of home was unequivocally appealing and always would be. Claudette and Jules had wanderlust and were often elsewhere, mainly for McCaffrey business but occasionally for pleasure. Ronan was more rooted and usually felt out of sorts to an uncomfortable degree while on the road. Playing music could quiet the noise of being other and out of place, but Ireland could silence it entirely.

How would it feel to have her with him in places where he always felt settled? Would he need to take her home to break the spell holding him captive to her? It would take more luck than he had to convince her to travel with him anywhere when she was avoiding him entirely.

But she’d once imagined being in the bayou with him. Perhaps she could be made to imagine it again. He could scheme and would. He’d warned her that he was an immoral man for whom the ends always excused the means.

“Let’s get everything wrapped up tight,” he said as he headed toward his room for his jacket and satchel. “Call me when you get the agreement signed by Elizabeth Vidal.”

Ireland rubbed her damp palms over her denim miniskirt and paced the smaller of the two meeting rooms, the one that could be used as the living room set of a television show. Outfitted with deep-cushioned sofas, a squat coffee table, and a faux fireplace with a television mounted above it, this was where the informal meetings took place rather than at the conference table.

The glass-walled meeting area was directly outside the elevator and opposite the main conference room. It was the most neutral location to tell Christopher that she’d become the majority shareholder as of—she checked her phone—fifty minutes ago. Her mother had signed the shareholder agreement electronically mere moments after the wire transfer was deposited. Within twenty-four hours, Ireland had gone from the beginning of a dizzying romance to its shocking end, from having little say in the business to controlling it.

The elevator doors opened, and she felt a spurt of anxiety. It worsened when Christopher stepped out, whistling, one hand tucked into the pocket of forest green dress slacks. He wore a charcoal dress shirt with a soft sheen and a tie that was a lighter gray shot with a diamond pattern in the same hue as his slacks. A messenger bag was slung across his lean torso. Unlike Ronan and Gideon, Christopher seldom wore blazers or jackets during the warmer months.

Her brother’s mahogany hair was darker than their father’s but just as wavy. Objectively, she knew he was a very attractive man. Her high school friends had always dissolved into infatuated giggles whenever he entered the room.

Christopher saw her through the glass as she moved to the open doorway of the meeting room, and he gave her a bright smile that pricked her heart a little. While she’d always been a little afraid of Gideon’s commanding presence and emotional reserve, Christopher had been her playmate, schoolmate, and friend her whole life. She loved him wholeheartedly.

“Hey,” she called out, her hands wringing together. “Can we chat a minute?”

“Absolutely. I was going to hunt you down. What the hell was the uproar yesterday?” Pulling the strap of his bag over his head, he joined her in the room.

She shut the glass door. “Dad didn’t tell you?”

“He took off after you did, with whomever he was conferring with yesterday. And an off-site meeting with a music director ate up my afternoon.”

Gesturing for him to sit, Ireland did the same. She had little energy to be angry at their parents for leaving the disclosures to her. She’d learned long ago that her mother demanded the appearance of perfection from her children and spouse. Reality could be tumultuous as long as the surface was serene to anyone who might look. There was no way that Elizabeth Vidal was interested in a conversation with one of her children that was likely to get messy.

As for their father, Ireland was coming to realize that she needed to spend more time with him and learn more about who he was beyond the role of parent.

What was most important now, though, was making the role reversal between her and their father as frictionless as possible for her family and their staff. While it would’ve been easier for her if their parents had shouldered some of the responsibility for their choices, it was better if Christopher heard everything at once from her rather than in bits and pieces from multiple people.

And now that running Vidal was her responsibility, uncomfortable meetings were something she needed to get good at. Conceivably, her father thought the same, and that was why she was left to handle her brother.

“Vidal is in serious trouble,” she said bluntly. “One of our shareholders is attempting to take us over.”

A confused frown replaced her brother’s smile. “What? No way.”

“McCaffrey Holdings has been quietly buying out the other investors. I’m not sure if Dad was aware of what was happening before it was too late or not.”

The confused frown turned into a scowl. “Why does the name McCaffrey sound familiar?”

“Did Dad discuss the funding for the overhaul of the recording studios with you?”

Christopher’s face blanked, then his eyes widened. “Oh, yeah. They financed the loan. They’re a private equity group.”

“Is that what Dad told you?”

“Yeah.”

“And you didn’t look into it?” she asked, keeping her tone as smooth and even as possible.

“Why would I?”

“Because Dad almost bankrupted the business before. Maybe he’s not so good at making financial decisions.”

Her brother’s gaze narrowed. “You’re blaming Dad?”

“I’m saying you and I have been riding in the backseat, assuming Dad’s following directions, despite him getting us lost before. We should’ve been paying attention to where we were going. I’m as much at fault as you.”

“Wait a minute.” He bristled. “You’re accusing me of something?”

“That came out wrong.” She took a steadying breath and gathered her thoughts. She’d rehearsed this conversation dozens of times to prepare and couldn’t remember half of it now. “It doesn’t matter how we got here. I’m not looking for anyone to blame. What’s done is done. Dad’s meeting yesterday was with McCaffrey Holdings, and that’s why things got so heated. The loan defaulted first thing yesterday morning, and McCaffrey is taking ownership of Dad’s shares.”

Christopher snorted and shook his head. “Don’t get worked up, okay? I’m sure everything’s fine. We’ll either pay off the loan or refinance it. Dad must’ve just forgotten the date. He’s a little scattered sometimes, you know that. And with Mom’s news, he might have been more distracted than usual.”

She wanted to point out that Christopher himself had said that their mom remarrying wasn’t a problem for their dad, but she would never argue. “We can’t afford to pay off the loan. It didn’t just fund the new studios. Dad also needed to cover wages, bonuses, and tour support. We haven’t been profitable for a few years now, and there has been a persistent shortfall. And we financed with McCaffrey because no other lender would extend the amount of credit Dad wanted. We weren’t going to be good for it, and everyone knew it, especially McCaffrey.”

She'd learned they had been hemorrhaging money since shortly after Gideon pulled out, which drove home how vital it was to properly manage a business’s expenses. Christopher had chafed under Gideon’s cautious approach to spending, saying it was “miserly” and hampering the company’s ability to grow. Ireland had secretly agreed, not knowing any better.

Stupid. She couldn’t stop kicking herself for being so willfully blind.

“You must have misunderstood what Dad was saying,” Christopher said, pale beneath his summer tan. He stood. “I’ll talk to him and get this sorted out.”

Her hands were so tightly linked in her lap they were bloodless and hurting. “I know you didn’t intend to insult me, and I’m trying not to take offense. Please sit down. I’m not done explaining the situation.”

He lowered back onto the sofa. “Hey, I’m sorry. I’m trying to calm you down, but I’m a little wigged out right now, so I’m blundering through it.”

“I get it. I went through the same shock and disbelief, and I’m still trying to shake it off.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Ireland saw the elevator doors open. When Ronan stepped out in a tan business suit with a leather satchel in hand, her heartbeat quickened with unwanted joy. Then, the apprehension kicked in. Having him show up ready to work was nothing but a bad sign for her. He headed toward the reception desk with his seductively unhurried stride, then suddenly turned his head and found her as if he knew instinctively that she was nearby.

Their gazes locked. For a heartbeat, they just looked at each other, so many emotions flickering across his face. And likely hers. Then Ronan’s mouth curved in that slow, easy smile that made her pulse leap because it revealed so clearly that he was happy to see her. She could only stare back, longing for and resenting him in equal measure. He winked at her, and it struck her suddenly that he must not yet know about her mother’s shares.

Then again, neither did her brother.

“So, what else do I need to know?” Christopher prodded just as she refocused on him.

Everything in her recoiled against saying anything that might cause pain or anger. It went against her ingrained nature to disturb the peace in her family. “Well… with Mom gearing up to marry Daniel, she mentioned wanting to cut all financial ties with Dad. So” —she said the rest in a rush— “I’ve bought Mom out.”

Christopher stared at her unblinking for an endless minute. “What do you mean you bought Mom out?”

He had to have understood what she’d said. He just couldn’t believe it.

“I’ve bought the shares she was given in the divorce,” she restated. “I now own twenty-five percent of Vidal. McCaffery had been courting Mom, trying to buy the shares from her, which would’ve given them the majority. This way, McCaffrey and I are even. And you’re the tiebreaker.”

His gaze narrowed dangerously. “So, Dad is out? That’s it?”

“Yes, although I suggested he continue working with our artists because we need his magic touch, and he’s agreed. We worked out an appropriate salary, although if we don’t find a way to start making money, we won’t be able to afford him.”

“You’ve taken a majority position and made Dad an employee? Am I hearing that right?”

Ireland rubbed at her increasingly upset stomach. She’d hardly slept or eaten since leaving Ronan’s hotel suite, only picking at the orange chicken Alina had brought her for dinner. Her stomach was an acidic mess, with a pot of coffee being the only thing she’d had so far that morning. “It’s the only way to keep Dad here,” she said simply.

Sitting back, Christopher ruffled his hair absently, his thoughts clearly running through everything he’d learned. “When did you find out about all of this?”

“Sunday morning.” She looked at Ronan as he moved away from the reception desk and headed toward the conference room. He settled on the far side of the conference table, with her in his direct line of sight. Knowing he was watching her increased her nervousness to an unbearable degree. She hadn’t forgotten that reading lips was one of his talents.

“Two days,” Christopher snapped. “You’ve known about this for two days ? And I’m just now hearing about this?”

She wanted to point out that she’d felt precisely what he was feeling after discovering the entire family—except possibly their mother—had known about Graham for days before she was told. However, her primary focus was keeping them all connected and working together rather than against each other. Her childhood had been fraught with ruptures in the family, a pervasive sense of bitterness and resentment, all glossed over by her mother’s need to keep up appearances.

Ireland could only shrug helplessly, unable to accuse their father of failing to keep them both in the loop.

Christopher leaped to his feet, filled with restless energy that worsened her anxiety. “You guys all saw the deadline coming and didn’t tell Gideon or me? You just let this McCaffrey group seize Dad’s shares?”

“Gideon has already bailed us out before.” It felt like she was vibrating inside, so violently she might rattle into pieces where she sat.

“So what?” he countered angrily. “Way better— waaay— to have family running things than some outside outfit! Now we’re relying on some equity group with no clue about the music biz to get us back on track?”

The room tilted a little as Ireland looked up at her brother with a pounding heart. “McCaffrey doesn’t want to turn Vidal around. They want to shut it down. Permanently.”

He stared at her with the kind of hot, mean look he used to reserve for Gideon. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he yelled, drawing the attention of their receptionist. “We had the chance to shut these guys down, but you all just decided to hold the door open for them? What the hell were you thinking?”

“Christopher—”

“Dad couldn’t afford to buy Mom’s shares, so you’re sweeping in to save the day? Is this supposed to demonstrate that you’re ready to step up? Or have you been thinking that you can run things better this whole time?”

“I’m trying to save the company for you!” she argued, her throat so tight and dry it ached. “For your kids and?—”

“You could’ve told me what was happening and let me help!” He threw up his hands, and the violent motion made her recoil back onto the sofa. “We’d be solid now. I have zero problem talking to Gideon about saving this company. Running a business doesn’t mean you do it all yourself. You have to ask for help when it’s needed!”

It was so painful to look at her brother’s furious face that Ireland’s gaze dropped to the floor. “I’m not afraid to ask Gideon. But he’s got his own problems. If you and I can’t save Vidal, maybe we’re not meant to have it.”

“Jesus Christ!” He stood over her, casting a shadow that deepened the chill inside her. “So, you’re good with letting the company go under rather than ask your brothers for help? Wait until Gideon finds out about this. As pissed as I am, how do you think he’s going to react?”

“I hope he respects my intentions.”

“Really? What was the point of buying Mom’s shares if you’re unwilling to do everything possible to save Vidal? Whatever you think you’re proving, you’re missing the mark by a mile!”

“I’m not trying to prove anything,” she said curtly, staring at the laces on his chestnut oxfords. “I’m trying to keep the company afloat.”

“Sounds like you let that chance expire,” he said bitterly, his hands on his hips. “And why? Because you think I’ve screwed up somehow? That I’m not doing my job? Or is that I’m just not any good at it?”

“I didn’t say anything even remotely like that!”

“You might as well have! And despite what you think, I could’ve dealt with McCaffrey on Sunday before the clock ran out. Negotiated some sort of extension. It’s not in anyone’s interest to let the company fold. That’s basic business 101.”

“It’s not business for them,” she explained faintly, holding back tears.

“The hell it isn’t! No one lends money hoping they won’t get it back. And if they’ve acquired twenty-five percent, they stand to lose much more than just the loan. You and I evidently have issues to sort through but let me deal with McCaffrey for now. I’ll set them fucking straight.”

“ I’m right here to be dealt with. ”

At the sound of Ronan’s dangerously calm drawl, Ireland turned toward the door and found him standing on the threshold. His grip on the brass handle was white-knuckled.

Her pulse accelerated into a panicked rhythm. A confrontation between Ronan and her family was inevitably layered. He was the first man she’d ever been involved with to stand in the same room with both her and the people she loved. That he was also their enemy made the encounter even more fraught with danger. She was torn between opposing desires: to stand in front of him protectively and to battle him head-on.

Christopher pivoted to face him. “Who are you?”

“McCaffrey.” Ronan’s gaze was dark and flat. “You can direct your anger at me moving forward, but you’ll be waiting a moment for that. Ireland, may I have a minute of your time?”

“It’s not—” she began.

“Why don’t you just deal with me,” Christopher interrupted.

“I look forward to it.” Ronan’s half-smile was glacial. “But Ireland wields the power here, and I’ll speak to her first.”

She gave him a pleading look, desperate to avoid a fight between the two men. She didn’t think she could bear it.

“I don’t like your tone,” Christopher retorted.

Ireland winced. “Christopher…”

“You won’t like anything about me,” Ronan said flippantly. “Ireland?”

She stood on shaky legs but rolled her shoulders back and lifted her chin. “Come with me, Mr. McCaffrey.”

“Whatever you need to say, you can say to both of us.” Christopher’s arms crossed. “It seems the three of us are the last remaining shareholders.”

Ronan stepped aside to let Ireland pass. “You’ll have my undivided attention when I’m good and ready to give it to you. Best you don’t anger me more than you already have before then.”

She walked toward her office, her stride steadying as her tensed muscles began to ease with movement. Her heartbeat hammered in her chest, the dread of another confrontation spiking her adrenaline.

Ireland wields the power here . He must know now. Her mother had told her about the meeting with Jules and Claudette, which would’ve started almost an hour before Christopher and Ronan had arrived at the offices.

She turned into her executive suite and moved toward her desk, needing to put the substantial piece of furniture between them. Even after leaving the windows open all night, the room still smelled of paint.

“Wait, cher ,” he murmured.

The sound of the door shutting and locking turned her around. The dark circles beneath his beautiful eyes provoked something akin to triumphant regret. And wasn’t that just the way it was with him? Her feelings had been chaotic from her first sight of him onstage at Jazzie’s.

She held her ground as Ronan approached cautiously as if she were a skittish mare. Then his arms opened. She stumbled back, her eyes wide. “What are you doing?”

His mouth was a hard, disapproving line, but his gaze was soft with remorse and sympathy. That look, and all the emotions it conveyed, blurred her vision with tears.

“You’ve worn yourself down to the bone,” he chastised softly. “Did you get any sleep last night?”

“You’re looking a little ragged yourself,” she shot back.

“And feeling that way, too. So this hug is as much for me as for you.”

She lifted her hand to ward him off, but he just caught it in his, the chaste touch electrifying.

Her tone was biting. “Are you seriously trying to comfort me when you’re the reason I need comfort in the first place?”

“Consider it penance,” he cajoled.

He pulled her slowly toward him, closing the short distance between them. Ireland could’ve resisted the physical pull, but the maddening attraction was undeniable. His arm slid cautiously around her waist, giving her time to protest further. When she didn’t, he enfolded her, cradling her against his warm chest.

The tears came, hot and stinging. She slipped her cold hands under his jacket, rubbing the hard muscles of his back to absorb his heat. He shivered without protest and gripped her more firmly. He nuzzled her hair, inhaling deeply. She felt the tension leave him in a slow ebb as his hands caressed her, soothing her as she quaked with sobs against him.

Burrowing into him, she cried silently, her exhaustion profound. The tears flowed unchecked, draining the anger and frustration until she was limp against him. Ronan supported her with ease, and as the storm inside her passed, she felt the movement in his chest…

…and realized he was singing to her—in French.

Ireland tilted her head back and caught his soulful gaze. His voice, even barely above a whisper, was like moonlit magic—deep, mysterious, and incandescent. It touched an unfamiliar and unreached place deep inside her. “What is that you’re singing?”

Catching her face in both hands, he brushed the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. “It’s an old Cajun song,” he murmured.

“About what?”

“A man whose woman leaves him for her family.”

She gave him a dry look.

His wicked smile ruined his innocent shrug. “Ah, I’ve amused you. ?a c’est bon.”

“Please don’t be charming,” she said guardedly, pulling away.

“How can I help it?” He caught her by the elbow, suddenly serious. He waited a moment, letting his somberness penetrate so she could steel herself for what he’d say next. “Your mother’s shares are worthless. You shouldn’t have wasted your money, cher . I was prepared to take the loss, are you?”

Her chin lifted, and she used his words. “How could I help it?”

Ronan’s harsh exhale was long-suffering and resigned. “And your father left you to explain everything to your brother.”

“With great power comes great responsibility. Isn’t that how the saying goes?”

“That might explain why your father no longer has power,” he said wryly.

“Ronan…”

He held up both hands in surrender. “Not another word about him.”

Giving him a narrow-eyed glare, she walked around him to the bathroom and turned on the light, wincing at the sight of her reddened nose and eyes in the mirror.

He appeared in the door's opening, leaning insouciantly against the jamb. “I want you to know that my body—which, I’ll remind you, is available for your use at any time—can also serve this purpose. You may not find the comfort you need from your family when you need it.”

She favored him with a level look. “The only reason a man tolerates a crying woman he’s not related or married to is to get in her pants.”

“Two birds, one stone.”

Snatching the hand towel off the bar, she spun and snapped it at him. He jumped back, laughing.

“Get out!” she ordered.

“Fine.” He paused at her office door with his hand on the knob, all teasing gone. “You good for now?”

She studied him, realizing how easily he could recenter her. He was wholly civilized now, wearing a jacket and tie, his sleeves buttoned at the wrists. His hair was slightly tousled from his hasty backward retreat, and the effect of it against his polished urbanity was sexy as sin.

“Yes. I’m better.” It was on the tip of her tongue to thank him, but it seemed wrong to do so.

“I’m not the problem,” he pointed out somberly. “I’m merely the result of the problem. It’s an important distinction I ask you to keep in mind.”

The doorknob rattled in his hand; then someone pounded on the door. “Ireland! McCaffrey! Why is this locked?”

Ronan opened the door, and Christopher stumbled in with his fist raised mid-thump. Catching himself, he glanced around, finding Ireland standing several feet away in the bathroom.

He paused, seeing the ravages of crying on her face. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m just tired.”

His nose twitched, and he turned around, taking in the almost unrecognizable room she and Alina had painted and redecorated. “I can see why.” He faced her with angry color on his face. “You move quick.”

“Your mistake,” Ronan drawled, “is in thinking she wants any of this. She’s doing it all for you. And you haven’t even the grace to be grateful.”

Christopher’s fists clenched at his sides. “What do you want, McCaffrey?”

“Why don’t we discuss that out here and let the boss see to more pressing business?”

Her brother marched out the door, his shoulders stiff, and Ronan shot her a last look before following.

Eva smiled through the windshield and waved good-bye to her Aunt Katherine, who waved back from the cottage's doorway. Then she stepped on the gas and circled the drive.

Her phone rang, and she hit the button on the dash to answer. “You have the most impeccable timing, Mr. Cross,” she said by way of greeting.

“I live to please you, angel mine.” The slight rasp in his smooth, cultured voice was both familiar and exciting. “Swing by the main building, please, and pick me up.”

She blinked, then her brows lifted. “You’re here?”

“Seems like.”

Heaving an exasperated breath, she tightened her grip on the steering wheel. “You are the most obstinate man, you know that? How long have you been here?”

“Not long.”

Yeah, right.

Following the drive, she turned onto the main entrance road and drove toward the turreted mansion. In short order, she circled the large fountain and pulled into the porte-cochère. One of the arched double front doors opened, and Gideon stepped out with a briefcase in hand. Her heart skipped with joy at the sight of him.

She’d missed seeing him get dressed that morning. His sense of style was flawless and watching him swiftly and without inner debate select the various pieces of his attire and accessories was her favorite way to start her day. Sometimes, she was so turned on by observing him clothe his magnificent body that she undressed him again and made them both late for work. She’d even added a small coffee station and seating area in their massive walk-in closet so she could ogle him and caffeinate herself simultaneously.

Today’s suit was a black pinstripe, and he wore her favorite cerulean tie, the colors playing off the inkiness of his hair and those magnificent eyes. When he bent to smile at her through the passenger window, she found that her throat was so tight it ached. His smile faded instantly.

Instead of opening the door, he put his briefcase on the car’s roof and came around to the driver’s side. She was already unbuckling her seatbelt and pushing the door open when he reached her.

“Hey,” he murmured, easily absorbing the blow of her throwing herself into his arms. “I’ve got you.”

She clung to him, the emotional toll of the day suddenly too much to contain. One of his hands cupped her nape beneath her hair, and the other held her by the hips, his lips at her temple as he gave her all of his warmth and support.

“You always know when I need you.” She sniffled. Her eyes were dry and burning, her emotions too complicated to be expressed through tears.

“I would hope that’s all the time, not just occasionally.”

She gave a watery laugh and pressed grateful kisses to his cheek. “I should scold you for not listening to me.”

“Oh, but I did. You’re right that we need to take some dedicated time just for us, but the weekend is too far away.” He cupped her jaw in his hand and held her gaze. “Let’s go to the beach house now.”

The sudden longing that assailed her almost weakened her knees. “I wish we could! But the masquerade is Friday, and there are a million little things to manage before then.”

“I’ve already spoken with the foundation’s events team, and they assure me that everything is well in hand, and they can take it from here.”

She gave him an indulgent look. “You do understand that you’re you, and they’d never tell you that they didn’t have things under control.”

“That’s because they’re paid to run things smoothly, not to run my wife ragged.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. “The jet’s ready and waiting, the flight crew is presently spoiling Lucky, and I turned my phone off the minute you pulled into sight. We’ll fly back Friday morning for the masquerade and out again that night. Or possibly Saturday morning if seeing me in a tuxedo has the usual effect on your libido.”

“You can’t blame me for your hotness, ace.”

His mouth curved. “I’m absolutely not complaining.”

Catching her lower lip in her teeth, Eva debated all the reasons they couldn’t just take off on a whim.

“We haven’t played hooky in a while,” he contended. “And think of how many trees we’ll get planted to offset our carbon emissions.”

“That’s a truly terrible argument,” she grumbled.

“But was it effective?”

She kissed him, long and slow and deep. “You alone are all the incentive I need to do anything.”

“Are you driving, or am I?” he asked, his lips moving against hers.

“I am. I’ve missed it.” Pulling back, she brushed a wayward strand of hair away from his magnificent face. “Did you get any work done?”

He smiled. “Ireland gave me a heads-up about a building she thought I might have a use for. I had the acquisitions team look into it, and she’s right about its potential. It also has the side benefit of a new tenant in a recently vacated property.”

“So, it was a productive day for you.” She placed her hand over his heart. “I’m glad because I’m really happy you’re here.”

“Angel, with you is the only place I ever want to be.”