Page 5 of Temptation at His Door

Eli, his executive assistant for the last two years, rapped on his door, and stepped into the room when Ronan told him to enter. Ronan closed one eye at Eli’s flame orange suit and black tie. Eli was not only a kick-ass assistant, he was also very fashion forward.

Very, very fashion forward.

Ronan closed his eyes and made a show of patting his desk. “Help, where are my sunglasses?”

Eli rolled his eyes, made to look bigger with a hint of eyeliner. “I’ll have you know that fire orange is in fashion.”

“Where? In prison?” Ronan shot back.

Eli skimmed the folder across his desk and Ronan stopped it tumbling off the edge by slapping his hand on top. Ronan checked Eli’s expression and was relieved to see amusement dancing in those faded blue eyes. He frequently gave Eli crap about his clothes but he never wanted to hurt his feelings. Thankfully, Eli seemed to take his comments with a grain of salt.

Ronan leaned back in his chair and placed his feet on the corner of his desk. He linked his hands across his stomach and rested the back of his head on the seat. “I need to find another nanny. Can you call the agencies for me?”

Eli didn’t react. “Sure. What happened this time?”

Ronan explained and Eli shook his head. “I’ll get on it.” He nodded at the folder under Ronan’s hand. “That’s an updated list from Finn, detailing the contents of Isabel Mounton’s collection. It’s quite impressive.”

Ronan had already read the updated inventory but didn’t tell him that. Eli dropped into the chair on the opposite side of his desk and they ran through Ronan’s massive to-do list. With Ronan overseeing Murphy International’s worldwide publicity campaigns and their many client liaison divisions, there was never a shortage of work.

“Headache?” Eli asked, seeing Ronan rub his temples with his fingertips.

Always. “Yeah. Got any painkillers?”

Eli shook his head. “You used the last of my stash yesterday. I was going to pick up more later.”

Dammit. He thought there might be some pain tablets in the executive bathroom off the company gym. But only he, Carrick and Finn had access.

Ronan pushed his chair back and stood up. The sooner he killed his headache, the sooner he could make a dent in his to-do list. He told Eli to contact the nanny placement agencies while he was gone and left his office.

He passed the conference room, deep in thought. How could he balance his work obligations with his kids? Sure, he could work from home in the interim but that wasn’t a long-term solution. He needed, dammit, help.

He needed another Lizbeth...

Ronan heard someone calling his name, silently cursed and turned around. He jammed his hands into his olive green chinos, pulling a smile up onto his face. When he realized it was Keely who’d called him, his smile turned genuine.

Keely was one of his favorite people. Frankly, he didn’t know what he would’ve done these past years without her. She was part best friend, part sister, all good.

Keely reached him and Ronan dropped a kiss on her cheek. “Hey, you. Thanks again for helping me out today.” Her meeting with Carrick and the art detective must’ve just ended. “How goes the authentication process?”

Keely pouted. “Slowly. And it looks like only one of the three paintings might be a Homer, the other two aren’t good enough.”

“That’s not a surprise since Finn raised the same concerns when he first saw the paintings at Mounton House.”

Keely nodded and, without turning around, reached back, grabbed the sleeve of a leather jacket and tugged her companion forward. “I’ve been dying for you two to meet. It’s ridiculous that you haven’t been introduced long before this. Ro, this is Joa.”

He’d heard about her, sure, but they’d never crossed paths. When they were younger, it was because Joa was less socially active than Keely and did her own thing. After school, she went out of state for college and as soon as she graduated, she started to travel.

Keely had described Joa—pronounced Ju-ah, he had to remember that—as having some Bengali ancestry, and he’d imagined a woman with straight dark hair and equally dark eyes. Keely mentioned that she was pretty but he’d never expected her beauty to whip his breath away. Keely also failed to inform him that her eyes were the color of moonlight, a pure clear silver, a color beyond description. Ronan had no doubt those eyes would change depending on her mood: would they turn to pewter, to ash gray, to smoke?

Ronan broke their stare and resisted the urge to run his hand across his face. She didn’t need to see how much she’d rocked his world, how off-kilter he felt.

But the truth was... God, she was exceptional.

The rational part of his brain made a quick list—high cheekbones, a mouth made for French kissing and black hair, long and straight and thick, tucked behind pretty little ears—but most of his brainpower was engaged in keeping himself from yanking her into his arms.

Desire, hot and foreign, flickered to life. Heat curled down his spine. Ronan swore that if he licked his finger and placed it against his skin, he would sizzle. He’d never, not even with Thandi, had such a visceral reaction to a woman before.

It made him feel a little sick and a lot sad.

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