Hot Heroes: The Rules Of Her Rescue

Using him though, was way too tempting.

His cell phone rang. Ronan checked the readout and stood up. “I’ve a need to take this, sorry.”

Laura shrugged, but wondered who was calling. One of the millions of women already making her move? She watched him go, headed for the kitchen and some privacy. Her gaze fixed on his butt, and she sighed a little at the view.

“Oh, yeah.” Georgia muffled a laugh. “You don’t want him. That’s so clear.”

“I love you,” Laura said. “Now, shut up.”

“I just don’t get why you have to torture yourself. What does it prove? That you’re tough? Well congrats. We all know how strong you are.”

“This isn’t about being strong”

“Then what is it about?”

“Being safe,” she said before she could think about it. When the words were out, she realized that was the simple truth. She’d allowed Ronan to mean too much to her. Allowed fantasies and dreams to replace reality. She’d set herself up to be disappointed. Hurt. Ronan had walked away because he didn’t want what she wanted. Well, nothing had changed, had it? They were still light-years apart on that score. Why go back for more pain?

“Safe is overrated,” Georgia said, watching her.

“Says the woman who hasn’t had a date in six months.”

“I’m picky.”

“You’re scared.”

Georgia scowled at her. “I’ve got reasons.”

“So do I,” Laura said, “so let’s leave it at that.”

Georgia hit the mute button on the TV and turned around in her chair so she could face Laura. “You know I love you, right? But you’re nuts.”

“What?” She shot a look at the kitchen doorway, making sure Ronan was out of earshot.

“Are you going for sainthood here, or are you just trying to kill Ronan?”

“Neither, thanks. Don’t you have a news program to watch?”

“Please, like I’m really watching it.” Georgia shook her head. “Since you won’t split up our happy little threesome, I was trying to give you some privacy. Maybe I should just go upstairs.”

“Don’t.” Laura frowned at her sister. “If you do, I swear I’ll never make you another chocolate cake as long as you live.”

Grimacing, Georgia admitted, “You fight dirty, but okay. My point is, he wants you. You want him. Why the hell not?”

“You know why not.”

“Honey, I feel for you.” Georgia’s voice softened and dropped into a deeper whisper. “I know what losing the baby did to you. How it hurt you when Ronan left. But in case you haven’t noticed … he’s back.”

“For how long?”

“Who knows? Isn’t that the point?” Georgia tucked her short blond hair behind her ears and reminded her sister, “Even when you think it’s forever—that doesn’t mean it will be.”

A twinge of guilt had Laura wincing a little. She knew how her sister had loved that moron who had vowed ‘until death do us part’ and then left her for a brainless cheerleader.

“I can’t do temporary, Georgia. I just can’t.”

“We all do temporary, sweetie. It’s just that most of us don’t know it until it’s too late.”

Ronan walked back into the room and looked from Laura to Georgia and back again. “Did I miss something?”

“No,” Georgia said before Laura could. “Just some sister stuff.”

“Everything okay?” Laura asked.

“Yes, and no,” he said. “There’s some trouble at home I’ve to see to. I’ll be flying home to Ireland in the morning.”

She didn’t even look surprised, Ronan thought, and that irritated him. Well, he’d no interest in leaving just yet, either, but he couldn’t ignore the phone call, could he? Clearly, Laura had just been waiting for him to leave again. And now he was accommodating her. Another irritation.

Followed by inspiration.

“Come with me.”

“What?” Laura laughed and shook her head. “Go with you? To Ireland?”

“Aye, to Ireland.” It was perfect, he told himself. He’d been trying to get her back into his bed for weeks now and having her in Ireland—with nowhere to run—could only help him in his quest. She was completely off guard now, and he intended to keep her that way.

“You’re serious.”

“Absolutely. Do you have a passport?”

“Well, sure, but—”

“Then there’s no problem.”

“There’s a huge problem. I can’t just go running off to another country. I’ve got a business and … a dog …”

Beast thumped his tail.

“Are you trying to say that Georgia’s incapable of running your business for a week or two?”

“Two?”

“I’ve business to see to at home and while I’m there, I should check in at the offices in Galway as well,” Ronan told her truthfully. “It’s been six months and though phone calls serve well, it’s no substitute for the boss actually being there.”

“Oh, sure,” Laura said, standing up and moving away from him. “Check in at work.”

“I’ll show you my country as you’ve shown me yours.” He kept his voice low, tempting, and smiled inwardly as he watched her waver.

“This is ridiculous,” she said, though her voice was a little less decisive than it had been a moment or two ago. “I can’t—”

She looked at Georgia and the two women exchanged some sort of silent communication that he couldn’t interpret. But Ronan had the feeling he was about to lose, which he wouldn’t allow to happen.

He wanted her all to himself, he thought. And having the home ground advantage wouldn’t hurt his case, either. He’d get her out of her safety zone and into his and see what happened between them then.

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 doubletime. 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.

Crouching beside her, Ronan looked up at Laura and said, “Meet Deirdre, named for one of Ireland’s mythic heroes.”

Before Laura could speak, the dog was up and scuttling for her, prepared to pounce in exuberant greeting.

“No!” Ronan shouted and Deirdre dropped to her butt and wiggled in place.

Charmed and delighted at the wildly excitable dog that had thankfully broken the tension between she and Ronan, Laura bent down, and swiped the dog’s hair back from its eyes. Deirdre swiped her tongue across Laura’s face as welcome.

“An Irishman with an English sheepdog?” Laura asked, still laughing as she wiped her face and looked up at the man who’d come to stand beside her.

“I’m not so small a man I can’t admit that the Brits do some things right. And they did with Deirdre’s breed.”

He took her hand and she felt that now-familiar zing of something wicked sweep through her body. As if he knew exactly what she was feeling, he squeezed her hand, winked at her and said, “Come along then, see my home.”

Said the spider to the fly.

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