Page 14 of Over Verdant Irish Hills

She’d been to Orly Airport before with Linc, and after showing her residence card to the airport security as Linc flashed his passport, she joined him on the walk down the stairs to a waiting black town car. The driver was all business and addressed Linc as Monsieur Buchanan. However, Linc bypassed the man to open the back door for Bets himself. She slid in and scooted over as he followed her inside the car.

He took her hand this time as they traveled through the crowded downtown streets of Paris. Tourists had their phones and maps out, taking photos of the gold-lined landmarks and bridges. The sky was a bright robin’s egg blue and the sun a bright ball of yellow. Her heart filled with happiness. She loved it here. It was even more special coming back with him. Loving this city was yet another thing they had in common.

“You did good, cowboy,” she said, turning from the window to glance at him.

He gave a wink. “Glad you think so, sugar. Hope you like our room.”

By the time they reached theirsuiteat the Ritz, she was on pins and needles. The door was opened, and she shook her head ruefully.Room, indeed. The place was bigger than most Irish cottages, decorated in lush fabrics and furnishings like it was part of some old French court. There were clusters of luscious red roses in crystal vases all over the space, something that got her choked up. Surely he’d arranged that for her. After Linc tipped the bellman and shut the door, she pointed at the grand piano to give herself a moment. Otherwise, she was going to be mush.

“Just what do we need a piano for?”

He was already crossing to an ice bucket with a bottle of champagne chilling. “Haven’t you heard that saying about two people making sweet, sweet music together?”

She snorted. “It’s not meant to be literal.”

“Says who?” Linc popped the cork. “How about a glass of bubbly, and then we can go for a walk? You might want to change your clothes. It’s about fifteen degrees warmer than our neck of the woods in merry ol’ Ireland. I’d never imagined such a cold July.”

“And yet you held a wedding outside,” she said, looking around the room in awe. “Linc, I’ve never stayed in a place like this.”

“A place with good room service made sense to me.” He poured two glasses of bubbly and then picked them up, crossing until he reached her beside the floor-to-ceiling windows.

“You’ve thought of everything,” she said, taking the glass. “Thanks for the roses.”

“You love them.” Their fingers brushed, and then he was touching his crystal to hers. “To having everything you could ever want and then some.”

She gulped her champagne and came up gasping.

He rubbed her back in slow, sexy circles. “Don’t start choking, Bets. I’d hate to have to call the doctor on our first day here. Sugar, there’s no rush.”

She poked at him as she cleared her throat. He made a playful sound but didn’t evade her fingers.

“Go change,” he said, taking her glass. “You’ll feel more like yourself after a walk.”

Maybe a walk was a good idea. She could expend some excess energy before they got down to business.

She strode to her carry-on and started to roll it through their giant parlor. Linc was right. It barely weighed anything.

“We have two bedrooms, sugar.” He pointed to the two gold-rimmed cream-colored doors on the far wall. “I prefer we sleep together, but I didn’t want to presume.”

She stopped short. “Presume?”

He shrugged. “Some women like their own space.”

Glaring at him for the idiocy of the statement, she started toward the door on the right. “I’m not most women.”

“Amen.”

She looked over her shoulder. He was setting his bubbly down and coming after her.

Right. Keep moving, Bets.The door led to the biggest bedroom she’d ever seen, let alone imagined. Like the rest of the suite, the ceilings were so tall a giant could have walked through it without bending over. The walls were cream and plastered with flowers and vines outlined in gold. A creepy portrait hung to one side of the bed, the woman staring out of it probably a duchess or something. A large crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling over the center of the bedroom. The bed was massive, covered in a lush navy cream and gold-flowered duvet with a legion of pillows resting against a headboard she could see would have no issue with her gripping it for purchase.

Her cheeks flamed at the thought.

“Does the room suit?” he asked in a sultry voice from behind her.

“I was wondering where the spotlight was actually,” she quipped. “For the floor show.”

He gave a dark chuckle. “Probably with the whips and chains in the red room over there.”

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