Up Close and Personal

“So all we need is a giant down payment.”

“Yes,” Georgia agreed wryly. “That’s all.”

“Okay, won’t be easy, but if we really work the next few months, we should be able to swing it. I could take out a second on this place and—”

“No.” Georgia spoke up fast and firm. “That’s crazy, Laura. You’re not going to risk your home for this.”

“Our home,” she corrected.

“Thanks for that, but I still say no. We’ll find another way.”

Thankfully, even in a bad housing market, there were always a handful of people looking for upscale homes. Enough of those commissions and they’d be able to manage it.

“Okay then, we’ll find a way to make it work.”

“Now see,” Georgia said, catching her sister’s eye, “why is it you can be positive about our prospects for getting enough money together to buy the building but not about Ronan?”

“Can we not?” She stared down at her laptop, willing the darn thing to boot up already. Why did it take so long? She could be typing, entering information, focusing on work and more able to shut out Georgia’s questions.

“I’m supposed to be the cynical one,” her sister pointed out. “I am the one with the loser ex-husband. The one who had to move in with you when she got divorced because said loser took everything out of our bank accounts on his way out of town with Busty the Cheerleader.”

Laura laughed shortly at the description. It was dead-on. Georgia’s ex-husband had been a football coach at a small college in Ohio. Two years ago, when their season ended, the beloved coach and the head cheerleader—who also happened to be the Page sisters’ distant cousin—ran off to Hawaii, taking every cent out of a joint account and most of Georgia’s self-confidence.

It had taken her sister a while to work her way through the betrayal and the humiliation of being tossed aside. But finally, the Page family temper had come in handy and Georgia had finally gotten angry. Much easier to live with than feeling sad—as Laura knew all too well.

“So,” Georgia said, “I know why I don’t trust men in the slightest. But my question is, are you ragging on Ronan because of what Thomas did to you?”

Thomas Banks. Her ex-fiancé. Five years ago, she had lost a dream, but it was so long ago now, that she barely remembered why she had thought herself in love with the man anyway.

“No. This is different. Thomas was supposed to be forever—well, until he broke up with me in favor of Dana—”

“May she’ll go blind from the sun glinting off that tacky huge ring he bought her,” Georgia put in.

“Good image, thanks!” Laura took a deep breath. “Anyway, losing Thomas didn’t really hurt, Georgia. I don’t think I ever loved him and he deserved better.”

“So did you,” Georgia put in.

Smiling, Laura said, “And I shouldn’t let myself be hurt by Ronan, either. I knew going in that he was just temporary. He’s danger. I’m cozy. I’m stay at home, he’s adventure. Never the twain is going to meet or whatever.”

“And yet, you kept his dog.”

There was that small ping of guilt again. Especially when she recalled the dumbfounded expression on Ronan’s face when she refused to hand the dog over. “Well, it wasn’t Beast’s fault who his owner was.”

“Was?”

Beast whined in his sleep, and Laura reached a hand down to pat him. “Beast is mine now, and he’s going to stay mine.”

“Good luck with that.”

She’d need it. Yes, Ronan had left, but he’d be back. Laura knew that. Ronan Connelly didn’t accept defeat. Ever. Ronan was the kind of man who made things happen to suit himself. He had built his company into the premier private security business in the world. He traveled by private jet. Knew the famous and the infamous and swept through life with the confidence of a gladiator.

Which was both attractive and annoying. Impossible to have a good argument with a man who never thought he was wrong.

“This isn’t really about the dog anyway,” Georgia reminded her softly, “and we both know it.”

Laura’s gaze flicked to her sister’s, and she braced herself. She didn’t want to talk about this.

But Georgia was too stubborn to let it go.

“You can’t blame him for something he didn’t even know about.”

“I’m not blaming him,” Laura countered, though a part of her did, as ridiculous as that sounded. “I’m really not. Ronan’s in the past, that’s all. That affair of ours had an expiration date stamped on it. I knew that going in.”

“Doesn’t have to be over,” her sister suggested.

“I’m not the one who ended it, remember?”

When Georgia would have argued, Laura spoke up fast. “He’s not here forever, Georgia. He’s going back to Ireland and we both know it. Well, I live here. And besides all of that, we want different things. Move in different worlds. It’s just … doomed.”

“And you’re not going to tell him what’s behind all of this? Don’t you think he’s got a right to know?”

“Maybe he does.” Laura shifted her gaze to the trees outside and watched the last few yellowing leaves flutter in the wind before snapping free of the branches and flying off in a twisting dance. Rain pelted from the sky in a burst and tapped at the windowpanes like impatient fingertips against a table.

Funny, their mother had always hated fall and winter. She’d actually called autumn the Death of Hope season because it would be so long until summer again. Funny that she’d chosen to move to such a rainy place. Laura hadn’t thought of that in years. Now, it seemed unerringly apt.

Because in this Death of Hope season, she was finally accepting that what she had had with Ronan was over. Finished. Hope was ridiculous when there was absolutely no reason for it.

Turning her gaze back to her sister’s, Laura said, “What point is there in telling him that I miscarried his baby?”

“You said it yourself,” her sister pointed out gently. “It was his baby. Maybe that’s point enough.”

But it wouldn’t change anything, Laura thought. And what if she told him and he didn’t care? She didn’t think she wanted to find out what Ronan’s reaction would have been to almost being a father.

Two

He didn’t go home.

Instead, Ronan went to work.

Even with jetlag clawing at him, he knew he was in no mood to rest. At their new office in Newport Beach, his company, Cosain—Irish Gaelic for ‘defend’—was just taking root. Situated on Pacific Coast Highway, the two-story building was small, but elegant, with a view of the sea. More important, Cosain was now in the center of one of the wealthiest communities per capita in the United States.

Here, the powerful and the paranoid lived, exactly the kind of clientele Cosain depended on. Here, Ronan was building the American branch of his company.

Of course, there were other security companies out there. Some very good ones. Like King Security. Also headquartered in California, though they’d opened up a European branch in Cadria several months ago.

Ronan smiled to himself. If the Kings moved into his territory, it was only right that he move into theirs. Besides, Cosain didn’t go after the same jobs as the Kings. They specialized in security for buildings, events. Cosain specialized in personal security. Bodyguards. And if it pissed off the King family to have Ronan’s company here, then that he considered a bonus. Not that the King cousins weren’t good guys. They were. But competition was healthy, wasn’t it? Business rivalries always inspired everyone to be their best. And Ronan being in what the Kings would no doubt consider their territory just made his success that much sweeter.

Ronan wasn’t a man easily satisfied, even with success. There was always more to be found. And in this community of celebrity and money, Ronan was going to make Cosain the most talked about game in town.

Winning. It was about winning. Ronan had learned that early from his father. A ruthless man, the elder Connolly had made a fortune by buying up badly run businesses and turning them around. He used to say the first thing to do was separate the wheat from the chaff—firing the dead weight and promoting the ones as ambitious as himself. He hadn’t made many friends along the way, but he had taught his son that winning—coming out on top—was everything.

Ronan walked through the ground floor, his heels sounding out against the gleaming hardwood. His sharp-eyed glance took everything in. Pale green walls were dotted with paintings by local artists and by framed photos of grateful clients. Though most of those he worked for preferred to fly under the radar and not have their personal business known, there were always the celebrities who came alive at the sight of a camera.

There were a few comfortable couches, a low-slung table with an array of magazines fanned out on top of it. A pedestal table held a crystal vase filled with bright blossoms that scented the air like springtime.

A tidy receptionist sat at a desk and she nodded warily at him as he strode past. “Morning, Mr. Connolly.”

He nodded and went past her, disregarding her nervousness. Ronan’s mind was already busy with racing thoughts—not all of them about his business.

He took the short flight of stairs to the landing and then to the second floor above. The bustle of this floor, associates at their computers, muted phone conversations and the purr of a printer, soothed him. Centered him. This was why he’d come to California. This was what was important in his life. Not a woman. Not a dog.

Business.

What the Connollys did best.

He’d had it hammered into him from a young age that a man took hold of his life and shook it until it fell into place. Well, he’d done just that, though he knew that if his father were still alive, the old tyrant would refuse to be impressed.

Didn’t matter. What he did, he did for himself, not to please a long dead parent who had never approved of him anyway. He made a sharp left and headed for his own office.

“Mr. Connolly!”

He recognized Brian Doherty’s voice, but didn’t slow down. Brian had come with him from Ireland to help get the new branch up and running. He’d been with Ronan long enough to know his boss slowed down for no one.

“What is it?” he asked, even as he reached for the sheaf of papers Brian held out to him.

“The Bensons. They’ll be here in a few minutes for the meeting you scheduled from the plane.”

“Right.” Shaking his head in disgust, Ronan realized he’d actually forgotten about the meeting with all the drama at Laura’s house. The woman was not only affecting his life but his business. Just went to show how tired he actually was.

Turning his mind to the task at hand, he pushed thoughts of Laura aside to be dealt with later and mentally reviewed the Benson file. Benson Electronics. Jeremy and Maria, wealthy, devoted parents of two teenagers who had already burned through a series of bodyguards from lesser companies. Now they wanted to hire two of Cosain’s guards on a long-term contract. Just the kind of client Ronan preferred.

“Send them in as soon as they arrive,” he said, stepping into his office. He closed the door, and stalked across the room. Taking a quick look around, Ronan assured himself that nothing had changed in his absence. Six weeks was a long time. If he hadn’t had Brian onsite and access to Skype, satellite phones and fax machines, he never would have been able to take a job himself at this stage. But Cosain was a well-oiled machine, and though they were new to this country, Ronan had brought along much of his already trained staff to ensure a smooth transition.

Frowning, Ronan sat down at his desk, then reached for the phone and stabbed in a number. In a moment or two, the connection was made and on the second ring a familiar voice spoke up, the music of Ireland coloring his words.

“Ronan. That you?”

“Who else would it be calling from my phone?” he countered.

“Thought it would be one of your minions as I knew you were out protecting that awful child singer.”

“I’m back,” he said, though he had to admit the child in question really was terrible. How she became a sensation was beyond Ronan. “And I’ve been to Laura’s to collect my dog.”

“Ah, Beast,” Sean said. “And how is he then?”

“I wouldn’t know. Barely caught a glimpse of him.” And that fact was still irritating. No one got the best of Ronan Connolly. Yet, for the moment, Laura seemed to have managed the impossible.

“Well why the hell didn’t you?”

“She wouldn’t let me in her bloody house,” Ronan ground out.

“Ah. Still angry then, is she?”

“Angry she is, about what I’ve no idea.”

Sean actually chuckled. “She seemed no fan of you when I spoke with her last.”

“It makes no sense,” he muttered, more to himself than his cousin. The woman had been cool as cream when he’d ended their relationship two months ago. She’d not argued with him over it. Though he thought back now and remembered the flash in her eyes as she stood in her doorway blocking his entrance like a virgin guarding her virtue.

“Women are confusing creatures at the best of times,” Sean said. “Maybe she’s simply wanting you back again, though why she would is beyond my imaginings.”

Ronan scraped one hand across his face. Was that what this was all about? Did she want him back in her bed and thought holding his dog a prisoner a way to accomplish it? “If that’s all it is, why doesn’t she just bloody say so?”

“If I understood women,” Sean told him, “I’d write a book and make a fortune selling it to the rest of the men in the world.”

Good point, Ronan thought.

“So, how will you get Beast back if she won’t let you in the house?”

“I’m working on that. But why the devil you took my dog to my ex is still beyond me. What were you thinking, Sean?”

“I had to move fast. The Knock airport was meeting on whether or not to allow my jets a slot in their schedule. Had to be here to win the battle.”

That he could understand, Ronan thought grimly. Business came first in the Connolly family. And his cousin was no different than he. Sean had been working for months, trying to wedge his airline, Irish Air, into the flight schedule at Knock, an international airport in the west of Ireland. “And did you win?”

“Of course,” Sean said. “Irish Air will now be flying to the Continent three flights a day. To start,” he added. “We’ll build from there.”

“Congratulations then. I might not push my fist into your face after all.”

“It’s appreciated,” Sean said with a laugh. “Though I remember the last time we brawled, it was your nose that was broken, not mine.”

“True.” Ronan lifted one hand and rubbed a fingertip over the bump in his nose. “I still owe you for that.”

“No hurry to pay me back on that one.” The roar of a jet taking off sounded in the background and Sean waited until it died away before continuing. “How much longer will you be in California then?”

“Not sure,” Ronan admitted, swinging his desk chair around to stare out at the sweep of sea and sky. Dark gray clouds roiled overhead while the ocean, the color of pewter, frothed with whitecaps. The view reminded him of home—dark skies, wind howling, the churning ocean—and he suddenly missed Ireland with a sharp pang. “I’ve yet to find a place suitable for the permanent offices. Until I do that, I’ll be staying.”

“So there’s time then to win your dog back from Laura.”

Scowling at the phone, Ronan snapped, “There’s no reason to ‘win’ him back. He’s mine, isn’t he?”

“Well then, go claim your mutt and let me get back to the meeting you’ve pulled me out of.”

Ronan hung up soon after and was still frowning when there was a sharp knock on his door. Pushing thoughts of Laura, Sean and anything else that wasn’t centered on business from his mind, Ronan stood and called, “Come in.”

Brian opened the door, then stepped back to allow a couple to enter the room. “Mr. and Mrs. Benson, Ronan Connolly.”

“Thank you, Brian,” Ronan said, and waved a hand at the chairs in front of his desk. Speaking to the husband and wife, he said, “Please, sit down.”

“Thank you for seeing us,” Maria said, folding her hands over the top of the designer bag she held in her lap.

Ronan nodded and shifted his gaze to her husband. “Happy to. What can Cosain do to help?”

As Jeremy Benson started talking, Ronan lasered his focus on the task at hand. Just as later he would use that same focus on the problem of Laura.

Beast was snoring.

It was a comforting sound, since Laura was pleased at least one of them was getting some sleep.

Outside, the storm was still raging, sending fits of wind-driven rain pelting at her windows. It was a cozy sound, one she normally would have enjoyed. Tonight, it was simply background noise to the thoughts churning in her brain.

She kept hearing Ronan’s voice in her mind, the music of his accent and the way it deepened and thickened when he was angry. She saw his mouth, tight and grim, his eyes flashing and couldn’t help remembering the sizzle in the air between them.

Trying to sleep was pointless, since she couldn’t seem to settle, so instead, she sat propped up in bed, a romance novel open in her hands, lamplight spilling across a page she had already read ten times. It was infuriating to admit that Ronan could so shatter her thoughts she couldn’t even concentrate on reading.

When she heard the front door open and softly close, she assumed it was Georgia coming back early from her date. Not a good sign, Laura thought and wished her sister could find happiness again. She thought about getting up and checking on her sister, but then they would be drawn into conversation about Georgia’s failed date and Laura’s failed romance. No, thank you.

Turning slightly, she reached out one hand to the pillow beside her and remembered Ronan lying there, giving her that slow, sly smile that never failed to turn her insides into swirls of lava. She stroked her fingertips over the cold sheets and pretended that she felt instead a warm, muscled Irishman.

“It was good,” she whispered to the empty room. “For a while anyway, it was very good.”

Her bedroom door opened, and she turned to face her sister.

Ronan’s gaze locked with hers. Then he saw her hand, stretched out across the mattress. “Miss me?”

She jolted up in bed, her book sailing to the floor to land with a thump.

His hair was damp. Raindrops on his black knit sweater glittered like diamonds in the lamplight and his eyes were fixed on her. Her heart rate jumped into high gear even as a burn of something familiar began inside her.

“What the— How did you— Why are you—”

“I’ve still got the key you gave me,” Ronan said, holding it up for her to see before tucking it into the pocket of his faded jeans.

“Well, give it back.”

“I’ll not be doing that,” he said, moving into the room and closing the door behind him.

Laura hitched backward on the bed, plastering herself against the headboard and drawing her pale lemon duvet practically up to her chin. A little late to be protecting herself around Ronan. But knowing her own body’s reactions to him, better safe than sorry.

That deep burning sensation spread like a wildfire, lighting up her bloodstream and sending her hormones into overdrive. What kind of penance was she paying that even furious with him, even knowing she had to let him go from her life, she still wanted him so badly her whole body ached with it?

“What’re you doing here, Ronan?” she demanded, curling her fingers into the silky duvet material as if she were holding on to a lifeline.

“Came to talk, Laura,” he said, strolling closer to the bed. Closer to her.

“There’s nothing to talk about, and by the way, why do you still have my key?” And how had she forgotten to get it back? Well, to be fair, when he gave her the speech on how it wasn’t working out and that they wouldn’t be seeing each other again, she’d felt too bruised to remember to ask for it back.

Which she was kicking herself for now.

He patted the pocket where he’d deposited the key. “You gave it to me.”

“We were together at the time,” she pointed out and winced as her own voice went a little high. Beneath their conversation, Beast’s snoring continued on.

“Could be again,” he said, then glanced down at Beast so he didn’t see Laura’s eyes go wide.

“Easy to see why you want to keep the Beast,” he noted wryly. “A vicious guard dog such as this one would make you feel safe.”

Beast snored even louder.

“He’s company.”

“Aye,” Ronan mused, “quite the conversationalist.” He bent down, rubbed one hand across Beast’s exposed stomach and said, “Wake up, you lazy hound.”

The dog’s eyes reluctantly opened. He saw Ronan and rolled over, pushing himself up high enough to welcome his former owner with a kiss.

Ronan laughed and the sound seemed to rumble through the room before settling in the pit of Laura’s stomach and jittering there. She tried to remind herself that they were exes. Tried to remember how she’d felt the night he left her. Tried to remember the pain she’d suffered later when she lost—

Steeling herself, she said, “Ronan, you don’t belong here. You should leave.”

“But I am here, and I’m not ready to go just yet.”

In the lamplight, his blue eyes shone and she read amusement in their depths, which only served to make her angrier. A good thing.

“Yes, you’re here. Without invitation.”

“And would you have invited me in?”

“No.”

“There you are then.” He shrugged and took a seat at the end of the bed. Beast moved to lay his big head on Ronan’s thigh and both man and dog watched her.

He was far too close.

“So, your guard dog doesn’t seem to mind me being here.”

Feeling oddly compelled to defend the dog, she said, “He knows I’m not in danger from you.”

Ronan tilted his head to one side as his gaze speared into hers. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that, were I you.”

Her stomach did a slow swirl and spin. She shoved one hand through her hair, then grabbed up the duvet again and held it even closer. “Ronan, you should go.”

“No. Not until you tell me what it is that’s really at the heart of all of this.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She scooted even farther from him, smacking her back against the headboard.

“Aye, you do, but for some reason, you’re not telling me.” Nodding, he glanced down at the dog, then back to her. “It’s not about Beast at all, is it? There’s something that’s driving you.”

“If there is, it’s none of your business,” she countered.

Outside, the wind moaned under the eaves and the rain hammered at the window glass. He was watching her as if waiting for her to speak up and give him exactly what he wanted. Which was just so like him. Well, Laura wasn’t going to satisfy his curiosity.

“You broke up with me, remember? How did you put it? Oh, yes.” As if she could forget. “I believe your exact words were, It’s been a grand time for the both of us and now it’s done.”

He frowned thoughtfully. “And you weren’t ready for it, were you, Laura love?”

She gritted her teeth at the easy endearment, knowing it meant nothing.

Smiling now, he gave Beast one last pat on the head, then stood up and paced off a few steps before turning and walking back to her. He stopped in the circle of the lamplight and looked down at her thoughtfully. “You see, I’ve done some thinking, and I’ve figured out what the problem is.”

“Congratulations,” she snapped, scooting to the other side of the mattress. She couldn’t stay in her bed and talk to him. It was disconcerting. Tempting. And oh, how she hated to admit that, even to herself. Once her feet were firmly on the floor she added, “Now, go away.”

Still smiling, he walked around the bed and came close to her. Here, there were more shadows. The golden glow of the lamp didn’t reach this far. She refused to back up and let him corner her against the wall. So she stood her ground.