Page 50 of Temptation at His Door

She would drop out of Ronan’s and the boys’ lives, and soon she’d be nothing more than a pleasant memory. If she gave Abigail’s name to Ronan, he would hire her—there was no reason for him not to—and they’d soon forget about her.

Ronan, if he ever thought about her at all, would remember her as someone who eased him back into a healthy sex life, a bridge between his old life and his new.

What she wouldn’t do was give him a hint of the pain that was threatening to consume her, or confess her desperate wish to be his lover, to help him raise his amazing boys.

To share his bed, his life.

Those were impossible dreams, and Joa was, if nothing else, a realist.

Twelve

Across town, Ronan sat behind his desk, trying to concentrate on Eli’s conversation. But honestly, he was only hearing every fifth word and nothing Eli said made any sense.

“Are you even listening to me?” Eli demanded.

“Not really,” Ronan admitted.

Because thoughts of Joa, and the spectacular night they’d shared, kept invading his brain. Images kept appearing on the big screen of his mind: Joa’s wet hair streaming down her back as he kissed his way down her spine, the tiny dimple in her butt, the fact that his hands could almost span her waist. The noises she made when she was about to come, the tenderness in her eyes.

Ronan was glad he was sitting down, that his pants were hidden by his desk. Damn, he needed a cold shower. And a brain transplant.

Joa was his temporary nanny, a friend’s sister, barely more than an acquaintance. He shouldn’t be this consumed by her, thinking about her so much. He had work to do, kids to raise, an assistant to listen to. He couldn’t afford the time to indulge in fantasies and memories...

No matter how amazing a night it was. No matter that he wanted many more of those nights...

“Beah should be here any minute,” Eli said, standing up.

Ronan’s mouth curved up into a smile. He’d never really liked Carrick’s ex-wife but he adored Finn’s ex, Beah, and Ronan had been sad when they called their marriage over.

Ronan had no idea why they never worked out but suspected it had something to do with the fact that Finn was as chatty as a rock and didn’t wear his heart on his sleeve, or anywhere else.

Ronan looked past Eli and stood up as the tall, willowy redhead walked into the room. With copper-colored eyes and pale skin, she wasn’t traditionally beautiful but there was something incredibly attractive about her. With her warm personality and stunning smile, she pulled people in and men routinely fell at her feet. Most of her clients were a little in love with her, but Beah stayed professional and they kept sending business her way.

Ronan stood up, kissed Beah on each cheek and gestured for her to sit. “I was surprised to hear you were in town.”

Beah crossed her long, long legs that ended in two-inch stilettos. “I need to talk to F...someone about a wedding, not a conversation I really want to have.”

Ronan frowned. “Yours?”

Beah snorted. “God, no.”

Ronan updated Beah on the news, both business and family, and then they turned back to business.

“I thought that, while I was here, I’d get an update on the Mounton sale and brief you on which pieces are generating the most interest with my clients,” Beah suggested.

“Excellent,” Ronan replied. Talking to Beah about her clients and art would force him to concentrate on work, would push his mind off Joa and last night. He was dealing in valuable artworks and he had to concentrate because making a mistake could cost Murphy’s tens of millions or more.

He and Beah were nearly done when their meeting was interrupted by a knock on his office door. Annoyed by the disruption, he was surprised to see Finn stepping into his space.

Especially since Finn always seemed to know when Beah was in the building and did his best to avoid her.

Electricity crackled between them and Ronan eventually broke the sexually charged silence by loudly clearing his throat. Both Beah and Finn jumped and Finn jammed his hands into the back pockets of his jeans.

“Beah.”

“Finn,” Beah replied, equally formal. “I hope you are well.”

“Fine. You?”

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