Page 7 of Bargain with the Irish Devil

I take it and long to throw it at him. That damn eyebrow, he knows what I’m thinking. I hate him. I type out the message, but before I can hit send, he snatches my phone away. He’s reading the email. It’s as short and sweet as what he told me to send. He hits send, then tucks my phone into his pocket.

“Come along, Miranda. Aoife has prepared dinner for us.”

“No, thank you,” I murmur before returning my attention to the ledger. Praying like mad my stomach doesn’t growl as the smell of something delicious hits me.

A soft chuckle. “I wasn’t asking you. When did you eat last?”

“It’s none of your business when I ate. I’m here to do the audit, and that’s all. Besides, it’s not like my fat ass is going to wither away or anything?—”

Two fingers are pressed to my lips, shocking me, and holy shit. The touch is a bomb detonating in every cell in my body. It’s an explosion that destroys everything I thought I knew about myself. I’m too stunned to do more than stare up at him wide-eyed as he closes his own eyes.

Taking a deep breath, he exhales slowly. He opens his eyes, and blue fire engulfs my entire body. “I do not ever want to hear you refer to yourself in such an ugly way again. Your body is sexy as fuck. It’s my business because you are in my home, and while you are, I take care of you. Now, either you come quietly like a good girl, or I make you. I’ll enjoy making youimmensely.”

CHAPTER 3

Miranda

Jerking away from his touch, not able to process what’s happening to my entire body, I open my mouth to argue. Only for my stupid stomach to betray me by growling so loudly there’s no way he didn’t hear it.

All he does is lift that evil eyebrow.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Fine.” Pushing up from the desk with annoyance, at least, I hope it looks like an annoyance. When really, I’m still a little stunned at the command not to call myself fat.

Taking the opportunity to put space between us, I move quickly out of the room. Except, damn it, he’s too close before I can blink. A hand comes down to the base of my spine.

I jump away from him. I don’t give a fuck if he knows why. “Don’t touch me.” I fight not to shout the words as I eye the front door with longing.

“Interesting. Your mouth says one thing, and your body says another. Come along like a good girl. Or I’ll get the restraints and hand feed you.” He chuckles darkly.

Why the fuck do the wordsgood girlsend me after him with my stomach twisting, not with fear but with desire? He enters a room without a door to the hall. It’s a large dining room with a table able to fit twelve. Two places are set across from each other. The head of the table area holds an array of serving dishes.

Two plates are already filled with what I can see is a simple dinner of a porterhouse steak, mashed potatoes, and French green beans.

“I wasn’t sure if you had any allergies.” Declan is holding a chair out for me.

“It looks good.” I’m too close to him. I can smell his cologne. It’s an expensive scent of the forest after it’s rained, leather, some sort of musk, and beneath it all, something pure Declan. And I want to lick his skin to taste him on my tongue.

Knock it off, damn it.In an attempt to shut him out, I focus on my food. Cutting into the steak, I find it a perfect pink. The mashed potatoes have cheese and green onions in them. “This is delicious.”

“Aoife is a fine cook. I stole her from the kitchen of one of my pubs. She fleeced me paying for her recipes.” He takes the bottle of red wine on the table and fills my glass, then his.

“I don’t drink.” I shake my head. Actually, I do. Just not with him. There is no doubt in my mind that he would get me drunk enough to say yes to all the promises in those blue eyes and his touch.

“Will sparkling water do?” I swear he knows I’m lying.

I nod. “Yes, please.”

“I’ll be right back.”

It isn’t easy keeping my eyes off him as he walks away. He isn’t gone long when he returns with a long glass of ice water and a bottle with the remaining water. Huh, Ballygowan. I’ve never seen this in the grocery store. Importing sparkling water from Ireland, talk about pride. He places both beside my plate.

The weight of his eyes on me is far too heavy. Yet the silence stretches until I wonder if my nerves will snap. I give in and flick my eyes to him. Glacier blue is on me. “What?”

Declan exhales what might be a laugh. “What was your marriage like?”

Of everything I thought he would say, that isn’t it. “Why do you care?”

“I’m curious. I’ve never encountered a woman of your age so lacking in awareness of herself.”

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