DESPITE BEING ON a teleconference with his Northern Europe management team Patrick found himself zoning out of the conversation about a project delay and losing himself in memories of how good it had been to kiss Aideen last night. The soft fullness of her lips, the press of her breast against his biceps, the low purr of frustration when he had forced himself to pull away...
It had been a stupid and reckless kiss...but a large part of him didn’t care. How could he regret something that had felt so good?
But how was he going to play it with her now? In truth, he wanted to throw caution to the winds and kiss her again. And possibly even more. But what of all the messy awkwardness that doing so would cause?
A movement at his office door had him looking away from his screen.
Dressed in navy jersey shorts and a white tee shirt, a pair of white trainers on her feet, Aideen smiled at him cheekily and waved two tennis rackets in the air.
Her long legs were toned, as was the rest of her tall, strong but curvy body. She brimmed with fresh vitality and health. She stepped into the room and he was unable to look away. An image of her brown eyes heavy with pleasure, the heat of her mouth last night, popped into his brain.
The sound of someone coughing had him looking back at the screen. Seven pairs of eyes were looking at him speculatively, no doubt wondering what had caught his attention.
He looked at his team, and then back at her.
He shouldn’t. He really needed to finish this call.
‘Elsa, take over for me.’ He looked towards Aideen and raised an eyebrow, challenging her. ‘And, Elsa? Please decide and implement whatever strategy you deem appropriate to get the project back on track. Update me only if there are any issues.’
Aideen was right. It was time he had some fun in his life.
He cut the connection on seven even more stunned looking execs and leant back in his chair. ‘I was in the middle of a conference call.’
‘You’ve been in this office since six this morning. You know what they say—all work and no play...’
He stood and walked towards her, doing his best not to allow the threatening smile to break on his lips. ‘Are you saying I’m dull?’
He took unexpected pleasure from the blush that blossomed on her cheeks.
She swallowed hard before she spoke. ‘No. Never, ever dull.’ There was a hint of breathlessness in her voice and she blushed even harder.
‘So what’s with the rackets?’
‘Well, as there’s a tennis court worthy of Wimbledon sitting unused outside, I thought we should use it.’
He placed his hands in his pockets and looked at her with playful sternness. ‘Is this a not too subtle way of making me “get a life”?’
‘You have me rumbled.’ She grinned back cheekily. ‘So, are you up to the challenge or are you too scared?’
When she put it like that there was no way he was saying no. ‘Give me ten minutes.’
As she turned to leave she said, ‘I must warn you, though. I was under-thirteen champion at my tennis club.’
He caught up with her out in the corridor. ‘So you think you might be able to beat me?’
‘I’ll certainly try.’
‘How do I put this nicely...? You don’t have a hope.’
To that she playfully threw back her head in a gesture that said she wasn’t going to listen to him and walked away. About to turn the corner, she turned around. ‘Nice delegation, by the way.’
‘And I did it without even flinching.’
She gave him a wicked grin and turned away.
She was right. He did need to delegate more. He had a talented and ambitious team surrounding him. And he was starting to suspect that he was holding them back by insisting on such centralised decision-making. He needed to empower his subsidiaries more.
He had once. When he had started out he had given them plenty of autonomy. But in the past few years, as the business had exploded in size, he had reigned them in. The truth was as his home life with Orla had become more fraught he had used work as a way of feeling in control, driven by the thinking that if he couldn’t support her emotionally he would at least do so financially. By pulling the businesses back under his control he’d felt as though he was achieving something and he’d been able to bury the feelings that went with failure.
But centralised control wasn’t sustainable. It had to change. But relinquishing that control wasn’t going to be easy.
* * *
Two hours later he threw his racket up in the air in elation. Aideen stood at the opposite end of the court wearing a deep scowl.
‘That was not out.’
‘It was out by a mile. I told you I would win.’
‘You didn’t give me as much as an inch.’
‘Like you did me any favours!’
She shook her head and stomped down towards the net. ‘I didn’t realise you were so competitive.’
‘Aideen, in comparison to you I reckon I’m almost comatose.’
With a laugh she conceded, ‘I hate losing.’
‘So I gathered. Come on. I think we could both do with a drink.’
They walked to the kitchen and he prepared them each a large glass of sparkling water mixed with fresh orange juice. They took them out on to the terrace to drink, a light breeze cooling them down.
Across the table from him she stretched her arm in and out a number of times.
‘Cramp?’
‘I think I might have pulled a muscle on a return volley.’
‘You did throw yourself about the court.’
At that she gave a sheepish shrug. ‘I admit I can get carried away sometimes. I spent my childhood trying to keep up with my two older brothers. I couldn’t help but develop a competitive streak.’
‘Your competitiveness...hating to lose...was that one of the reasons why losing the business was so hard for you?’
‘I guess. Despite my less than tidy ways, I’ve always pushed myself hard. I suppose my pride did take a dent. It was the first time in my life I failed at anything.’
Her words immediately resonated with him. His business success highlighted just how badly he had messed up with Orla. It made the success seem somewhat hollow when you didn’t have someone to share it with.
She flexed her arm again, and said, in a thoughtful almost sad voice, ‘I know I have to think about the future and move on. But it’s really not that easy to just wipe away the past. To ignore everything that happened. To bury the pain. I can’t help but wish that things had turned out differently.’
Something sharp pierced into him and he practically growled out, ‘Were you in love with Ed?’
She blinked rapidly and her mouth fell open. Eventually she answered, ‘I thought I was.’
A strange sensation of jealousy seeped into his bones and he had the sudden urge to punch something. He had never felt so possessive of a woman in his life. He needed to change the subject quickly—to distract them both.
‘Try to forget him—and everything that happened. I appreciate it’s hard, but it’s vital you focus on the future. Tell me about your dreams, what you personally want to do in the coming years.’
She eyed him with a mixture of surprise and suspicion. But then she shrugged and said, ‘Well, that’s a big question.’ For the longest while she paused, her brows knitted together in concentration. ‘Nothing extraordinary, really. I’ve always wanted to visit St Petersburg. And travel to Dharamsala in India. Where the most incredible mulberry silk is woven. Afternoon tea in Vienna has always sounded like fun. Oh, and I want to learn how to bake a soufflé.’
‘A soufflé?’
‘They always sink on me—it drives me crazy.’
Curiosity got the better of him and he couldn’t help but ask, even though he wasn’t certain what answer he wanted. ‘And family and relationships?’
She eyed him warily and it was a while before she answered. ‘Check back in with me in a few years’ time. Right now I’m not exactly in the mood to be in a relationship. All you men have a black mark against your names.’
‘All three and a half billion of us?’
‘Yes, every single one. Well, apart from my dad and my brothers.’ She hesitated, glanced at him briefly, and then said in a rush, ‘And possibly you if you continue being such a good neighbour.’
Trying but failing to ignore the reality check her words had caused, he answered drily, ‘Glad to hear that.’
‘So what about you? What’s on your list?’
Like her, it wasn’t something he had overly thought about. And yet it was a question that filled him with unexpected excitement. ‘I want to continue on with the restoration of Ashbrooke. The east wing in particular needs conservation work. And there’s an old bathing house on the grounds I want to restore, as well.’
‘You really love Ashbrooke, don’t you?’
‘Yes, I do. I suppose I have a lot of emotional attachment to it because of Lord Balfe. His family owned the estate for generations and it was a huge honour that he was happy to sell it to me. There were several other interested parties, but he chose me. He spends most of his time in the Caribbean now—growing old disgracefully, by all accounts.’
‘Do you see him often?’
‘Unfortunately, no. Maybe I should buy a business in the Caribbean so I’d have an excuse to go there.’
‘Or...an easier solution...you just take a holiday and go and visit him.’
She smiled cheekily at him and he couldn’t help but laugh.
For a while they just looked at each other, the warmth and understanding in her eyes causing his heart to thump in his chest. A deep connection reverberated between them.
A slow blush formed on her cheeks and she leant into the table, her fingers drawing down over the grain of the wooden tabletop. ‘What else is on your list?’ she asked quietly.
His blood thundered in his ears at the strength of the connection he felt with her. He wanted to tell her about Orla and his dreams of them being close once again. But where would he even start to explain the jumbled up, contradictory one hundred and one emotions he felt for his sister?
Instead he said, ‘I want to take part in the Isklar Norseman Xtreme Triathlon in Norway.’
‘Now, that sounds impressive.’ Her eyes sparkled with admiration, but the sparkle slowly faded. ‘And relationships?’
What would she say if he told her he could never be in a permanent relationship? That he wasn’t interested in being in one? That he was no good in relationships? That he had lost everyone he had ever loved and never wanted to expose himself to that again?
It was easier to be non-committal rather than get into a debate about it. ‘Some day, perhaps.’
She moved forward in her chair, a familiar look of determination growing. ‘You won’t meet anyone if you’re stuck in your office twenty-four-seven.’ When he didn’t respond, she asked bluntly, ‘Are you going to sacrifice the rest of your life to work for ever? Are you so determined not to let other people in?’
He gave a disbelieving laugh. ‘I spend my days speaking to people on the phone. I travel. I speak to my staff.’
‘Okay, let’s call a spade a spade, here. Work conversations and travel don’t count. You don’t really have people in your life—meaningful relationships. And you want it that way. Plus, you’ve stopped knowing how to have fun.’
Thrown by the uncomfortable truth of her words, he chose to answer only her latter accusations. ‘No, I haven’t.’
‘Prove it.’
‘And if I don’t?’
‘I’ll cook dinner for you tonight.’
‘Am I supposed to be scared of that prospect?’
‘Just imagine the mess I’d make of your kitchen.’
Despite his best efforts he winced. ‘Fine. If you want fun, we’ll go out tonight. I’ll take you to dinner at one of my favourite restaurants.’
‘You’re on. But I’m paying.’
‘No. It’s my idea. I’ll pay.’
She threw him a stern look. ‘I’m sure you appreciate why I would want to pay.’
He breathed out in exasperation. ‘I wish you would just accept my help.’
She looked at him with quiet dignity. ‘I don’t want to feel like a freeloader.’
Something pulled in his chest and he said in a conciliatory voice, ‘Let’s just go out and enjoy ourselves. By all means you can pay.’
* * *
Though she had insisted she would be paying for the meal, the moment she got back to her bedroom, fretting at the likelihood of jaw-dropping décor with matching prices at his favourite restaurant, she checked her online bank account’s balance. Thankfully she wasn’t yet in the red.
But it turned out that the restaurant was a traditional bistro, located in the back streets of St Germain. The menu proudly announced that it had been established in 1912. She guessed that the décor—Bakelite lights, simple wooden tables and chairs, tiled floors—hadn’t changed a whole lot in all that time. It was utterly charming.
After they’d been shown to their seats by the maître d’ she continued to look around. ‘It’s really lovely here.’
‘This is one of my favourite restaurants in Paris. The cooking is excellent and the service friendly.’
Yes, and it was also very romantic, with its low lighting and small, intimate tables with a single candle on each. In fact they were surrounded by fellow diners who were totally engrossed in one another.
This was awkward.
She shuffled in her seat and looked away from the amused glance he threw in her direction.
She was saved from further embarrassment by the arrival of their waiter, who brought them a glass of champagne along with their menus.
Holding his glass up towards her, Patrick said, ‘Here’s to the success of Little Fire.’
Taken aback by the sincerity in his voice, and his support of her cherished dreams, she felt unexpected tears form at the backs of her eyes. She blinked them away rapidly and took a sip of her champagne.
She read the menu with both relief—she could afford the prices—and growing excitement. Every item on the menu was a mouthwatering classic of French cuisine.
‘They have Grand Marnier soufflé for dessert—I’m going to have to order that.’
‘Why don’t you order dinner for both of us?’
She looked from him back to the menu and then back at him, taken aback and slightly horrified. ‘But I have no idea what you like.’
He shrugged with amusement. ‘I don’t care.’
Ed would have walked over hot coals rather than allow her to order for him.
‘Are you sure?’
He watched her with an assuredness and yet an intimacy that had her looking back down at the menu with a ricocheting heart.
‘Absolutely.’
As she ordered she couldn’t stop fretting that he wouldn’t like her choices. She exhaled in relief when he proclaimed the Pinot Noir she had chosen perfect. But when his starter of rillettes and her warm artichoke salad arrived she pushed the food around her plate nervously.
‘Aideen.’
She looked up at the command in his voice and her breath stalled when she looked into his formidable serious eyes.
‘My food is delicious... Why are you so nervous?’
Giddy relief mixed with her trepidation, causing nervous energy to flow through her veins. She inhaled a shaky breath. ‘I guess I’m waiting for an argument.’
‘Is that what would have happened with your ex?’
‘Yes.’
A tense silence settled between them. A quick glance told her that he was still studying her.
‘How about we leave him in the past and you assume that I’m an okay guy?’
He said it with such quiet forcefulness that her stomach and heart did a simultaneous flip. God, he was right.
She lifted her head and met his gaze. ‘You’re right. And you’re more than an okay guy.’
He gave a wry smile. ‘I guess I don’t have to worry about getting a big ego around you.’
With a cheeky grin she said, ‘I compliment where it’s deserved.’
‘Are you telling me I have to work harder to earn your compliments?’
‘Possibly.’
His eyebrow rose slowly and sexily and at the same time his eyes darkened. In a low, suggestive voice he said, ‘I’ll have to remember that.’
No! That wasn’t what she’d meant! And why was she blushing? And why was her heart hammering in her chest? And did the couple next to them have to look so in love?
They spent the rest of the meal chatting about the countries they had visited, the movies they loved, the books they adored, but beneath all that civility a spiralling web of deep attraction was growing between them all the time. In every look, in every smile.
And the intimacy was only added to by her excitement at the amount of new books and places she had to try, based on his enthusiastic descriptions. It was as though a whole new and exciting world was opening up to her because of him.
‘Mademoiselle, would you care to follow me to the kitchen?’
Confused, Aideen looked at their waiter. She’d only just noticed he was standing there, and said, ‘Sorry...?’
‘The chef is waiting for you.’
Perplexed, she looked towards Patrick, in the hope that he might understand what was going on.
With a sexy grin, his eyes alight with mischief, he said, ‘Remember how you said you wanted to learn how to make a soufflé? Well, this restaurant is world-famous for them. You’ll find no better place to learn.’
Dumbstruck, she stared at him. She leant towards him and whispered, ‘What if I mess up? You’ve seen the way I work in the kitchen. This is a professional kitchen, for crying out loud. I might set off the fire alarm or something like that.’
‘Maybe the chef will teach you how to work tidily as a bonus?’
She gave the waiter a quick smile and whispered impatiently, ‘Patrick, I’m serious.’
He shook his head, amused. ‘Go and have some fun. You’re the one saying all the time that we both need to be spontaneous. Well, now’s your chance.’
She sat back and took a deep breath. ‘You’re right.’
The waiter held her chair as she stood. She moved to the side of the table and leant over and kissed Patrick’s cheek. ‘This is the best surprise ever. Thank you.’
* * *
A while later Aideen returned to their table, triumphantly holding the biggest soufflé Patrick had ever seen, and smiling so brightly that the people at the tables around them burst into spontaneous applause. She took a playful bow, then sat and looked at the dessert, enraptured. The woman at the next table leant across and admired the creation, and Aideen enthusiastically described her experience in the kitchen.
He could not stop watching the delight dancing in her eyes, the warmth and humour with which she spoke to the other woman.
Two things hit him at once. First, the realisation that tonight wasn’t just about helping Aideen and giving her support. He genuinely wanted to be in her company. He wanted to get to know her better. For the first time in years he had met someone he could talk to—a woman he deeply admired for her optimistic and determined take on life. And secondly the realisation came that he wanted her in his life as he’d never wanted a woman before.
Both things left him absolutely confounded.