Page 70 of Ireland

“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.”

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