Page 24 of Temptation at His Door

Maybe she’d thought that marrying Finn would close the holes in her heart, would give her the security she craved, but she’d failed to recognize the fact that she’d married the most emotionally independent and unavailable man she’d ever met. Finn wasn’t a talker and he struggled with her bouts of emotion and her need for reassurance. He’d started to pull away and she’d responded by trying to pull him closer.

He’d told her that her constant demands about where he was and what he was doing, and her incessant pleas to give up his adventure sports smothered him. Having lost both her parents, one to illness and one to abandonment, Beah had lived in agony, thinking Finn would be next to leave.

After an excruciating year, Finn had asked for a divorce, telling her he loved her but he couldn’t live with her insecurities.

Admittedly, the divorce had been the catalyst for Beah to change her life. It was a point of pride that eight years later, Beah was now as, or more, independent than Finn and she barely recognized the girl she’d been when she married him.

Taking the opportunity Carrick offered her to be a client liaison in London, she’d crossed the Atlantic and was now Head of Client Advisory, reporting directly to Ronan. As an advisor for both buyers and sellers, she helped the company’s most important clients with the formation of, and the disposal of, important collections.

As for her and Finn, well, they communicated when they needed to, via very brief and pointed emails. Working for the same company, they’d run into each other over the years but they both made a concerted effort to avoid each other as much as possible.

But Paris Cummings was an important collector, one she’d been pursuing for years, and she had to attend this dinner, had to join the two Murphy brothers in their attempt to woo the stubborn collector to their side of the fence.

And that meant sitting at the same table as her ex-husband, pretending that all was well.

Allwaswell... It had to be.

At the entrance to Davies and Brook, Beah smiled at the maître d’ and gladly surrendered her coat. Resisting the urge to check that no fire-red curls had escaped her smooth chignon, she looked over the exquisitely decorated dining room, her eyes immediately going to the best table in the room.

As if he could feel her eyes on his dark blond head, Finn jerked his head up and their gazes clashed and connected. Beah’s feet were glued to the floor; she was unable to pull her eyes off his masculine, oh-so-handsome face. A short, tidy beard covered his cheeks and jaw, his hair was overlong and could do with a trim, and his shoulders were wide in that designer suit tailored for his tall frame.

Finn pushed to his feet, unfurling his long and muscled body. He wore a black shirt without a tie and his eyes—a light, light green—remained on her with laser-like intensity.

He used to look at her like that while they were making love, as he was about to slide into her. Like she was a puzzle he didn’t understand but needed to complete...

“Ms. Jenkinson? Ma’am?”

Beah heard her name being called from a place far away and she wrenched her eyes off Finn onto the concerned face of the maître d’.

“The Mr. Murphys are expecting you and, I’m sure, delighted to have you join them.” He gestured her to precede him.

Beah forced herself to cross the room, her face impassive. Yeah, she could pretty much guarantee that Finn Murphy wasnotdelighted to see her.

Just as she wasn’t thrilled to see him...

It was both strange and nice to come home to a gorgeous, sexy, sweet-smelling woman after an exhausting business trip, Ronan thought as he inspected the bottle of red wine Joa left on the kitchen counter. Although he had a rack of wine in the corner holding better and more expensive bottles, and an extensive collection in the state-of-the-art cellar in his basement, she’d brought her own, a decent red, and he appreciated the gesture.

He helped himself to a glass and watched as Joa assembled a plate of nachos for him. Judging by the smells wafting his way, he knew that she’d used proper Mexican ingredients, from chipotle seasoning in the ground beef to refried beans. He was hungry and had he been asked what he wanted to eat, ground beef nachos wouldn’t have crossed his mind, but seeing the ingredients hitting the plate, his mouth started to water.

It had been well over three years since a woman had prepared a meal for him in his own house and it felt both weird and wrong, but he was too exhausted to care. He just wanted some food, a little conversation and the soothing properties of a good merlot.

He didn’t need to overanalyze every damn thing. And he couldn’t help noticing how unbelievably sexy Joa was—despite her messy hair, her skin devoid of any makeup and clothes that completely hid her amazing curves. He dismissed his thoughts as a normal straight man’s reaction to having an Indian goddess look-alike in his kitchen.

“You wear glasses.”

Joa’s head shot up and she touched the frame of her delicate gold-rimmed glasses with three fingers. “I usually wear contacts but my eyes get scratchy, so I take them out and shove these on.”

It was nice to know that she wasn’t completely perfect. Ronan gestured to the plate. “Aren’t you eating?”

“Mine is in the media room. I was about to eat when Keely and Dare arrived.”

Ronan nodded and slid off his barstool. Within a minute he’d collected her plate and glass of wine and placed both on the island. Joa smiled her thanks as she scattered sliced jalapenos over his nachos.

Ronan resumed his seat at the counter and placed his arms on the granite. “So what’s your change of circumstances?”

Frustration and worry crossed Joa’s face and flashed in her eyes. She turned to take the cheese out of the fridge and Ronan saw the tension in her stiff back, in the way she held her head. When she finally turned around, she flashed him a quick, back-off smile. She held up two blocks of cheese. “Monterey Jack or cheddar?”

Was that a trick question? “Both?”

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