About the Author

MAUREEN CHILD is the author of more than 130 romance novels and novellas that routinely appear on bestseller lists and have won numerous awards, including the National Reader’s Choice Award. A seven-time nominee for the prestigous RITA® award from Romance Writers of America, one of her books was made into a CBS-TV movie called The Soul Collecter. Maureen recently moved from California to the mountains of Utah and is trying to get used to snow.

Up Close and Personal

Maureen Child

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-408-97211-3

UP CLOSE AND PERSONAL

© 2012 Maureen Child

Published in Great Britain 2020

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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Contents

Cover

About the Author

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Dedication

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Epilogue

About the Publisher

For Patti Hambleton

That first trip to Ireland was the best

Because it was shared with you.

For all the years, for all the laughs,

I love you my friend.

One

“Laura, I know you’re in there!”

Ronan Connolly pounded on the brightly painted blue front door a few more times, then paused to listen. Not a sound from inside the house, though he knew too well that Laura was in there. Hell, he could practically feel her, standing just on the other side of the damned door.

Bloody hardheaded woman. How had he ever thought that quality attractive? Now that attractive hardheadedness had come back to bite him in the ass.

Seconds ticked past and there was no sound from within, which only irritated him further. He glanced at the sunshine-yellow Volkswagen parked alongside the house—her car—then glared again at the still-closed front door.

“You won’t convince me you’re not at home. Your bloody car is parked in the street, Laura.”

Her voice came then, muffled but clear. “It’s a driveway in America, Ronan. You’re not in Ireland, remember?”

“More’s the pity.” He scrubbed one hand across his face and rolled his eyes in frustration. If they were in Ireland right now, he’d have half the village of Dunley on his side and he’d bloody well get her to open the damned door.

“I heard that,” she said. “And feel free to hop onto one of your private planes and go back to Connolly-land anytime you feel like it!”

If only he could, Ronan thought. But he’d come to California to open an American branch of his business and until Cosain was running as it should, he was going nowhere at all.

At the moment though, he was tired, on edge and in no mood to be dealing with more females. Especially one with a head as hard as Laura’s.

He had spent the past six weeks traveling across Europe acting as bodyguard to a sixteen-year-old pop star whose singing was only slightly less annoying than her attitude. Between the girl and her grasping mother, Ronan had been more than ready for the job to end so he could get back to his life. Now that he was back, he’d expected peace. Orderliness. Instead …

Grinding his teeth together, he took a long moment or two and counted to ten. Then did it a second time. “Whatever the hell you want to call it, Laura, your car is here and so’re you.”

“I might have been out,” she shouted. “Did you ever think of that? I do have friends, you know.”

The Connolly temper lifted a couple notches inside him and Ronan was forced to fight it back down.

“But you’re not out, are you?” he asked, entirely reasonably, and he gave himself points for it. “You’re here, driving me to distraction and making me shout at a bloody closed door like I’m the village idiot turned loose on his own for the first time.”

“You don’t have to shout, I can hear you,” she said, her voice carrying nicely through the door.

Laura Page lived on a tidy street in Huntington Beach, California, in one of a dozen town houses built to look like a Cape Cod village. When he’d first seen her place, he’d thought it charming. Now he glared at the building as if it were to blame for his current situation.

A cool ocean breeze shot down the narrow street and rattled the limbs of the nearly naked elm tree in Laura’s front yard. Roiling gray clouds overhead promised a storm soon, and he hoped to hell he wasn’t still standing on this bleeding porch when it hit.

“Your neighbors can hear me, too,” he pointed out with a brief nod at the man clipping his hedge with enough vigor to whittle it into a toothpick. “Why not open the door and we can talk this out. Together. In private.”

“I’ve got nothing to say to you.”

He laughed shortly. That would be a first indeed, he told himself. A more opinionated woman he had never met. In the beginning, he’d liked that about her. Too often, he was surrounded by smiling, vacuous women who agreed with everything he said and laughed at the lamest of jokes just to ingratiate themselves with him.

But not Laura.

No, from the first, she had been stubborn and argumentative and unimpressed with his wealth or celebrity. He had to admit, he had enjoyed verbally sparring with her. He admired a quick mind and a sharp tongue. He’d admired her even more once he’d gotten her into his bed.

He glanced down at the dozen red roses he held clutched in his right hand and called himself a damned fool for thinking this woman would be swayed by pretty flowers and a smooth speech. Hell, she hadn’t even seen the flowers yet. And at this rate, she never would.

Huffing out an impatient breath, he lowered his voice a bit. “You know why I’m here. Let’s get it done and have it over then.”

There was a moment’s pause, as if she were thinking about what he’d said. Then she spoke up again. “You can’t have him.”

“What?”

“You heard me,” she called back and Ronan narrowed his gaze fiercely on the door as if he could see through the panel to the woman beyond.

“Aye, I heard you. Though I don’t believe it. I’ve come for what’s mine, and I’m not leaving until I have it.”

“Yours? You’ve been gone two months, Ronan. What makes you think anything is still yours?”

Tossing the roses to the ground, Ronan set his hands on either side of the door and leaned in. “Laura, I’ve been on a bloody plane for ten hours, listening to a teenage girl list the reasons she is to be adored. I’ve had her mother bitching about everything from the type of bottled water on the jet to the fluffiness of her pillow. I’m a man on the edge, love. All I’ve thought of for these last weeks is getting back to my house on the cliffs and seeing my damned dog. I’m not leaving without him.”

The door was yanked open suddenly and there she stood. Five feet nine inches of curvy blonde with a pair of blue eyes as clear and lovely as a summer sky. Even in her worn jeans and button-down white shirt, she took his damned breath away, and he resented that fact down to his bones.

She kept one hand on the door and the other braced against the doorjamb as if she’d be enough to keep him out if he decided he wanted in.

Ronan glanced down and saw his dog leaning into her with slavish adoration. He scowled at the animal he called Beast, and the dog paid him no attention whatsoever. “A few weeks gone and you’ve dismissed me?” he asked the dog in a withering tone. “What kind of loyalty is that from man’s best friend?”

The dog whined and leaned even more heavily into Laura’s side until she staggered a little under his weight.

“A ‘best friend’ wouldn’t have abandoned him,” Laura said.

“He wasn’t put out into a jungle forced to hunt for his own food,” Ronan countered. “My cousin Sean—”

“Left him with me when he went back to Ireland. You can see now that Beast is fine. He’s happy here. With me.”

“That may be,” Ronan told her after sparing his traitorous hound another hard glare. “But he’s not yours, is he?”

“He’s in my house. That makes him mine.”

“He’s only in your house because Sean asked you to look out for him until I got back.”

And for that, Ronan owed his cousin a punch in the face. Called back to Ireland unexpectedly, Sean had asked Laura to watch Beast in order to save the animal a monthlong stay in a kennel. Which Ronan hadn’t found out about until it was too late to change anything. Yes, it had been the right choice for the dog. But for Ronan?

He hadn’t seen Laura since he ended their affair two months ago. Though he couldn’t exactly claim to have shut her out of his mind. Hell, he had taken the bodyguard job for the teenage singer himself, rather than handing it to one of his employees, only so that he could get a little distance from the woman standing so temptingly close to him at the moment. Distance hadn’t helped. He’d thought of her. Dreamed of her, and awakened nearly every morning with his body tight and ready for her.

Even now, the lush, slightly floral scent of her reached out to him as if to tease every sense memory he had of touching her, tasting her, being inside her …

“Ronan,” she said in a patient tone that interrupted his musings, “we both know Beast is better off with me. You’re not exactly a good dog parent—”

“I’m not his father, I’m his bloody owner,” Ronan countered.

She ignored him. “Soon enough you’ll be going back to Ireland and—”

“Taking Beast with me,” he finished for her.

In truth, he hadn’t really considered what he would do with Beast when his time in America was over. But right now, the decision seemed an easy one. Even fighting the quarantine laws to get the dog home to Ireland would seem like a vacation after dealing with Laura Page.

Jaw tight, he looked deeply into those calm blue eyes and wondered if she was as unaffected by him as she seemed. Had she forgotten him so quickly? Gotten over him so completely? A lowering thought for a man to consider.

Brushing aside what had once been between them, he said, “Beast is mine, and I always intended to take him home to Ireland with me when I go. Nothing’s changed.”

“Sure it has,” she said, taking a step toward him, dislodging the dog so that he nearly toppled over. “You have a dog back home, right?”

“Aye. Deirdre.”

“And it’s been how long since you’ve seen her?”

“That’s nothing to do with this.”

“It’s everything to do with it,” she countered, folding her arms beneath her breasts. “A dog needs more than a visit every couple of months. A dog needs love. Companionship. Someone he can count on. Someone who will be there.”

Frowning, Ronan looked hard at her. This was the reason he had stepped back from their relationship in the first place. The woman had hearth and home and forever practically stenciled on her forehead. She was a woman who wanted and deserved to be loved. He just wasn’t the man to give that to her. So he’d ended their affair before things got even more complicated than they had been already.

“Are you talking about Beast now, Laura, or yourself?”

She gaped at him. “Your ego knows no bounds, does it? Do you really think I’ve been sitting here moping? Missing you?”

Actually, yes. He did. And the more fired up she got, the more he knew she was no more over him than he was her.

“This isn’t about us, Ronan. It’s about Beast, and you can’t have him. You don’t deserve him.”

Before he could counter, she slammed the door in his face and Ronan heard the lock snap into place. Stunned, he stared at the closed door for a long minute. He could hardly believe it. No one shut a door in Ronan Connolly’s face, for pity’s sake.

He heard her inside, cooing to Beast, assuring him that he was safe from bullies and that was nearly enough to have Ronan pounding on her door again. But he thought better of it. Let her believe she’d won this battle. It would make her complacent and that much easier to get around later.

Still furious, he turned sharply, stomped on the fallen roses and left.

But he’d be back. Connollys didn’t know how to quit.

“It’s all right, sweetie,” Laura said to Beast as she scrubbed the top of his head and scratched behind his ears. “The mean man is gone.”

Laura was trembling by the time she heard Ronan’s sports car fire up and zoom off. Oh, not from the argument. She had known that confrontation was coming for weeks. But actually seeing him again had been much harder than she’d thought it would be.

Looking up into those dark blue eyes of his, she’d watched them flash with temper and had been just as stirred as when she’d seen them darken with passion or glitter with a cool, businesslike gleam.

Tall, broad-shouldered, with chestnut hair that showed just a hint of red in the sunlight, he wore business suits and jeans with the same casual air that made him both intimidating and irresistible. And apparently two months apart hadn’t dimmed her reaction to him at all.

From the moment he had first walked into her real estate office several months ago, Laura had known that she was in trouble. Oh, she and her sister had sold homes to unspeakably rich people before, but there had never been the slightest temptation to fit herself into their world. With Ronan, it had been different from the start.

Everything in her still wanted him, even though her mind knew better. He’d been out of her life for two months and that was as it should be. After all, she had known going into that mind-dazzling affair that it couldn’t last. He was rich; she wasn’t. He was Ferrari and she was Volkswagen. He lived in Ireland. And she’d be staying in California.

She sighed a little, then looked down at the dog each of them wanted. Beast was big, at least a hundred pounds and his black hair was full and shaggy, clumps of it usually falling across his eyes. No one knew what mixture of breeds he might be, but privately, Laura had often thought a pony must have been involved somewhere in his lineage.

Now, Beast looked up at her as if sympathizing with the situation, and Laura smiled.

“Sure,” she whispered, still stroking Beast’s head, “I knew Ronan would be trouble from the first. But a gorgeous, successful man with an Irish accent that makes my bones melt? How was I supposed to fight that?”

The dog gave her one long swiping kiss and she laughed. In his own way, Beast was as charming as his master—just another reason she wouldn’t give him up. Then she stood and walked to the kitchen, hearing Beast’s claws clatter on the floorboards behind her.

“Well,” her sister, Georgia, spoke up from the kitchen table. “That was dignified.”

Laura poured herself a cup of coffee, then carried it across the room to take the chair opposite her sister. “I wasn’t going for dignified.”

“Luckily.”

She already knew Georgia’s opinion on the whole situation with Ronan—namely, Never mix business with pleasure—and she really didn’t want to go into it all again. Laura avoided her sister’s all-too-perceptive stare by sliding her own gaze around the comfortable kitchen.

The soft yellow walls combated the gray day outside. White appliances gleamed and the black granite countertops shone like obsidian. The chrome-and-glass table sat before a bay window that overlooked the backyard where the few trees stood nearly bare in the autumn weather.

Georgia tapped her finger against the glass tabletop until Laura finally looked at her.

“Georgia, I’m not going to talk about this.”

“Fine,” her sister said, setting her computer tablet down and flipping the lid over the screen. “I’ll talk. You listen. Did you really think Ronan wasn’t going to show up demanding his dog back?”

“Of course not.” Beneath the table, Beast dropped to the floor, laying his heavy body across the tops of her feet. His heavy, solid warmth was a balm. “I knew he would come.”

And a part of her had been anticipating seeing him again. Even though she knew it was useless. That they didn’t have a future together. That he had ended their amazingly hot affair before they could get too involved. None of that seemed to matter. He had been pretty much completely on her mind from the moment she had met him.

“And your solution to this problem is to hold his dog hostage?”

“Not his dog anymore. Sean brought him to me, remember?”

“Yes. To hold for Ronan until he got back.” Georgia picked up her coffee and leaned back in her chair.

Georgia’s blond hair was a more subtle shade than Laura’s and cut into a short swing that ended at her jawline. Her eyes were a darker blue, her body curvier and her heart a little more hardened. But she was loyal to the bone and Laura’s best friend as well as her sister.

“What’s this really about, Laura? Are you trying to get back at Ronan?” She cradled her cup between her hands. “Teach him a lesson? Hurt him like he did you when he broke up with you?”

“I wouldn’t do that,” she said, a little stung that Georgia would think she could. “Besides, he didn’t hurt me. I always knew that affair would end.”

“Sure, but it’s better to be the ender not the endee.”

In spite of everything Laura laughed a little. “Those are not even words.”

“They should be,” Georgia said with a quick grin. “Anyway, I’m just saying, this is not only about the Beast and you know it. The least you could do is admit it.”

Why should she? Laura frowned, opened her laptop and pushed the power button. The fan whirred and lights flashed as the computer hummed to life. And while she waited, she thought about what Georgia had said. Maybe it did sting to know that Ronan could end their affair so easily and then just walk away without a backward glance. Maybe it had hurt to know that he hadn’t felt what she had. Maybe she still experienced a twinge of pain at all she had lost in the last couple of months.

But she had her home. Her sister. And now, a dog. What more could she ask for, really? If a little voice inside whispered How about love? She ignored it. Laura had tried love, and it hadn’t worked out. Then she’d tried a hot and sexy, no-strings-attached affair with Ronan and that hadn’t worked, either.

“Maybe it’s time to consider a convent,” she mused.

“Yeah,” Georgia said on a short laugh. “Because you do so well with authority.”

Frowning at her sister, Laura was forced to concede that Georgia had a point. After all, if she did well taking orders, she would still be working for Manny Toledo’s real estate office instead of trying to build an empire of her own with Georgia.

Beast snored from under the table and Laura smiled even as a trickle of guilt rippled through her before she deliberately squashed it. Ronan just didn’t want to admit that she was right, that Beast would be better off with her.

“This is all his fault,” she murmured. “Yes, he owns Beast. But that’s not enough. A dog needs someone to love. To count on. Ronan can’t go flying off around the world and expect everything to be right there waiting for him when he gets back.”

“Uh-huh. And we both know you’re not really talking about the dog.”

She frowned at her sister. The more she thought about it, the more certain she became that she was doing the right thing. Beast needed more than Ronan could provide and besides, the dog had become a part of her life. She loved him, and she wasn’t going to give him up.

As she’d had to give up too much already.

For a moment or two, her heart ached and the sting of tears filled her eyes. But she blinked them back and lifted her chin. It was done, and maybe some dreams shouldn’t come into reality anyway. Besides, she had a home she loved, her sister to share it with and a business that she and Georgia were working hard to grow.

Speaking of …

“Can we just talk about work?” Laura deliberately avoided looking at Georgia, by staring instead at the laptop screen going through its wake-up routine.

“Okay then, we’ll do a little more avoidance therapy.”

“Appreciate it.” Laura was grateful for the reprieve.

“So,” Georgia said. “Our beloved landlord is jacking the rent up in six months—”

“What?”

“But, he’s also offered to lower the price if we still want to buy the building.”

“Hike the rent and lower his selling price? How does that make sense?”

“It doesn’t,” Georgia agreed. “But as long as he’s in charge, he can pretty much do what he wants. And our lease is up in six months, so …”

It felt good to get her mind off of Ronan, if only for a few minutes. Together, she and Georgia owned A Brand New Page real estate office and rented a small building on Pacific Coast Highway in Newport Beach. The rent was astonishing, but that area of Orange County was renowned for high rents. To sell the kinds of homes Laura and Georgia specialized in, they had to be in the center of it all.

“Why’s he willing to lower the price on the building?”

“Got me,” Georgia admitted with a shrug. “But the market’s down and he knows it. Plus, his wife wants to move to Montana to be closer to their grandchildren.”

Their own parents had up and moved to the wilds of Oregon five years ago, Laura remembered and wistfully almost envied them the courage it took to pack up and go. To discover new places, see new things. But she was rooted in California and couldn’t see herself living anywhere else.

“So all we need is a giant down payment.”

“Yes,” Georgia agreed wryly. “That’s all.”

“Okay, won’t be easy, but if we really work the next few months, we should be able to swing it. I could take out a second on this place and—”

“No.” Georgia spoke up fast and firm. “That’s crazy, Laura. You’re not going to risk your home for this.”

“Our home,” she corrected.

“Thanks for that, but I still say no. We’ll find another way.”

Thankfully, even in a bad housing market, there were always a handful of people looking for upscale homes. Enough of those commissions and they’d be able to manage it.

“Okay then, we’ll find a way to make it work.”

“Now see,” Georgia said, catching her sister’s eye, “why is it you can be positive about our prospects for getting enough money together to buy the building but not about Ronan?”

“Can we not?” She stared down at her laptop, willing the darn thing to boot up already. Why did it take so long? She could be typing, entering information, focusing on work and more able to shut out Georgia’s questions.

“I’m supposed to be the cynical one,” her sister pointed out. “I am the one with the loser ex-husband. The one who had to move in with you when she got divorced because said loser took everything out of our bank accounts on his way out of town with Busty the Cheerleader.”

Laura laughed shortly at the description. It was dead-on. Georgia’s ex-husband had been a football coach at a small college in Ohio. Two years ago, when their season ended, the beloved coach and the head cheerleader—who also happened to be the Page sisters’ distant cousin—ran off to Hawaii, taking every cent out of a joint account and most of Georgia’s self-confidence.

It had taken her sister a while to work her way through the betrayal and the humiliation of being tossed aside. But finally, the Page family temper had come in handy and Georgia had finally gotten angry. Much easier to live with than feeling sad—as Laura knew all too well.

“So,” Georgia said, “I know why I don’t trust men in the slightest. But my question is, are you ragging on Ronan because of what Thomas did to you?”

Thomas Banks. Her ex-fiancé. Five years ago, she had lost a dream, but it was so long ago now, that she barely remembered why she had thought herself in love with the man anyway.

“No. This is different. Thomas was supposed to be forever—well, until he broke up with me in favor of Dana—”

“May she’ll go blind from the sun glinting off that tacky huge ring he bought her,” Georgia put in.

“Good image, thanks!” Laura took a deep breath. “Anyway, losing Thomas didn’t really hurt, Georgia. I don’t think I ever loved him and he deserved better.”

“So did you,” Georgia put in.

Smiling, Laura said, “And I shouldn’t let myself be hurt by Ronan, either. I knew going in that he was just temporary. He’s danger. I’m cozy. I’m stay at home, he’s adventure. Never the twain is going to meet or whatever.”

“And yet, you kept his dog.”

There was that small ping of guilt again. Especially when she recalled the dumbfounded expression on Ronan’s face when she refused to hand the dog over. “Well, it wasn’t Beast’s fault who his owner was.”

“Was?”

Beast whined in his sleep, and Laura reached a hand down to pat him. “Beast is mine now, and he’s going to stay mine.”

“Good luck with that.”

She’d need it. Yes, Ronan had left, but he’d be back. Laura knew that. Ronan Connelly didn’t accept defeat. Ever. Ronan was the kind of man who made things happen to suit himself. He had built his company into the premier private security business in the world. He traveled by private jet. Knew the famous and the infamous and swept through life with the confidence of a gladiator.

Which was both attractive and annoying. Impossible to have a good argument with a man who never thought he was wrong.

“This isn’t really about the dog anyway,” Georgia reminded her softly, “and we both know it.”

Laura’s gaze flicked to her sister’s, and she braced herself. She didn’t want to talk about this.

But Georgia was too stubborn to let it go.

“You can’t blame him for something he didn’t even know about.”

“I’m not blaming him,” Laura countered, though a part of her did, as ridiculous as that sounded. “I’m really not. Ronan’s in the past, that’s all. That affair of ours had an expiration date stamped on it. I knew that going in.”

“Doesn’t have to be over,” her sister suggested.

“I’m not the one who ended it, remember?”

When Georgia would have argued, Laura spoke up fast. “He’s not here forever, Georgia. He’s going back to Ireland and we both know it. Well, I live here. And besides all of that, we want different things. Move in different worlds. It’s just … doomed.”

“And you’re not going to tell him what’s behind all of this? Don’t you think he’s got a right to know?”

“Maybe he does.” Laura shifted her gaze to the trees outside and watched the last few yellowing leaves flutter in the wind before snapping free of the branches and flying off in a twisting dance. Rain pelted from the sky in a burst and tapped at the windowpanes like impatient fingertips against a table.

Funny, their mother had always hated fall and winter. She’d actually called autumn the Death of Hope season because it would be so long until summer again. Funny that she’d chosen to move to such a rainy place. Laura hadn’t thought of that in years. Now, it seemed unerringly apt.

Because in this Death of Hope season, she was finally accepting that what she had had with Ronan was over. Finished. Hope was ridiculous when there was absolutely no reason for it.

Turning her gaze back to her sister’s, Laura said, “What point is there in telling him that I miscarried his baby?”

“You said it yourself,” her sister pointed out gently. “It was his baby. Maybe that’s point enough.”

But it wouldn’t change anything, Laura thought. And what if she told him and he didn’t care? She didn’t think she wanted to find out what Ronan’s reaction would have been to almost being a father.

Two

He didn’t go home.

Instead, Ronan went to work.

Even with jetlag clawing at him, he knew he was in no mood to rest. At their new office in Newport Beach, his company, Cosain—Irish Gaelic for ‘defend’—was just taking root. Situated on Pacific Coast Highway, the two-story building was small, but elegant, with a view of the sea. More important, Cosain was now in the center of one of the wealthiest communities per capita in the United States.

Here, the powerful and the paranoid lived, exactly the kind of clientele Cosain depended on. Here, Ronan was building the American branch of his company.

Of course, there were other security companies out there. Some very good ones. Like King Security. Also headquartered in California, though they’d opened up a European branch in Cadria several months ago.

Ronan smiled to himself. If the Kings moved into his territory, it was only right that he move into theirs. Besides, Cosain didn’t go after the same jobs as the Kings. They specialized in security for buildings, events. Cosain specialized in personal security. Bodyguards. And if it pissed off the King family to have Ronan’s company here, then that he considered a bonus. Not that the King cousins weren’t good guys. They were. But competition was healthy, wasn’t it? Business rivalries always inspired everyone to be their best. And Ronan being in what the Kings would no doubt consider their territory just made his success that much sweeter.

Ronan wasn’t a man easily satisfied, even with success. There was always more to be found. And in this community of celebrity and money, Ronan was going to make Cosain the most talked about game in town.

Winning. It was about winning. Ronan had learned that early from his father. A ruthless man, the elder Connolly had made a fortune by buying up badly run businesses and turning them around. He used to say the first thing to do was separate the wheat from the chaff—firing the dead weight and promoting the ones as ambitious as himself. He hadn’t made many friends along the way, but he had taught his son that winning—coming out on top—was everything.

Ronan walked through the ground floor, his heels sounding out against the gleaming hardwood. His sharp-eyed glance took everything in. Pale green walls were dotted with paintings by local artists and by framed photos of grateful clients. Though most of those he worked for preferred to fly under the radar and not have their personal business known, there were always the celebrities who came alive at the sight of a camera.

There were a few comfortable couches, a low-slung table with an array of magazines fanned out on top of it. A pedestal table held a crystal vase filled with bright blossoms that scented the air like springtime.

A tidy receptionist sat at a desk and she nodded warily at him as he strode past. “Morning, Mr. Connolly.”

He nodded and went past her, disregarding her nervousness. Ronan’s mind was already busy with racing thoughts—not all of them about his business.

He took the short flight of stairs to the landing and then to the second floor above. The bustle of this floor, associates at their computers, muted phone conversations and the purr of a printer, soothed him. Centered him. This was why he’d come to California. This was what was important in his life. Not a woman. Not a dog.

Business.

What the Connollys did best.

He’d had it hammered into him from a young age that a man took hold of his life and shook it until it fell into place. Well, he’d done just that, though he knew that if his father were still alive, the old tyrant would refuse to be impressed.

Didn’t matter. What he did, he did for himself, not to please a long dead parent who had never approved of him anyway. He made a sharp left and headed for his own office.

“Mr. Connolly!”

He recognized Brian Doherty’s voice, but didn’t slow down. Brian had come with him from Ireland to help get the new branch up and running. He’d been with Ronan long enough to know his boss slowed down for no one.

“What is it?” he asked, even as he reached for the sheaf of papers Brian held out to him.

“The Bensons. They’ll be here in a few minutes for the meeting you scheduled from the plane.”

“Right.” Shaking his head in disgust, Ronan realized he’d actually forgotten about the meeting with all the drama at Laura’s house. The woman was not only affecting his life but his business. Just went to show how tired he actually was.

Turning his mind to the task at hand, he pushed thoughts of Laura aside to be dealt with later and mentally reviewed the Benson file. Benson Electronics. Jeremy and Maria, wealthy, devoted parents of two teenagers who had already burned through a series of bodyguards from lesser companies. Now they wanted to hire two of Cosain’s guards on a long-term contract. Just the kind of client Ronan preferred.

“Send them in as soon as they arrive,” he said, stepping into his office. He closed the door, and stalked across the room. Taking a quick look around, Ronan assured himself that nothing had changed in his absence. Six weeks was a long time. If he hadn’t had Brian onsite and access to Skype, satellite phones and fax machines, he never would have been able to take a job himself at this stage. But Cosain was a well-oiled machine, and though they were new to this country, Ronan had brought along much of his already trained staff to ensure a smooth transition.

Frowning, Ronan sat down at his desk, then reached for the phone and stabbed in a number. In a moment or two, the connection was made and on the second ring a familiar voice spoke up, the music of Ireland coloring his words.

“Ronan. That you?”

“Who else would it be calling from my phone?” he countered.

“Thought it would be one of your minions as I knew you were out protecting that awful child singer.”

“I’m back,” he said, though he had to admit the child in question really was terrible. How she became a sensation was beyond Ronan. “And I’ve been to Laura’s to collect my dog.”

“Ah, Beast,” Sean said. “And how is he then?”

“I wouldn’t know. Barely caught a glimpse of him.” And that fact was still irritating. No one got the best of Ronan Connolly. Yet, for the moment, Laura seemed to have managed the impossible.

“Well why the hell didn’t you?”

“She wouldn’t let me in her bloody house,” Ronan ground out.

“Ah. Still angry then, is she?”

“Angry she is, about what I’ve no idea.”

Sean actually chuckled. “She seemed no fan of you when I spoke with her last.”

“It makes no sense,” he muttered, more to himself than his cousin. The woman had been cool as cream when he’d ended their relationship two months ago. She’d not argued with him over it. Though he thought back now and remembered the flash in her eyes as she stood in her doorway blocking his entrance like a virgin guarding her virtue.

“Women are confusing creatures at the best of times,” Sean said. “Maybe she’s simply wanting you back again, though why she would is beyond my imaginings.”

Ronan scraped one hand across his face. Was that what this was all about? Did she want him back in her bed and thought holding his dog a prisoner a way to accomplish it? “If that’s all it is, why doesn’t she just bloody say so?”

“If I understood women,” Sean told him, “I’d write a book and make a fortune selling it to the rest of the men in the world.”

Good point, Ronan thought.

“So, how will you get Beast back if she won’t let you in the house?”

“I’m working on that. But why the devil you took my dog to my ex is still beyond me. What were you thinking, Sean?”

“I had to move fast. The Knock airport was meeting on whether or not to allow my jets a slot in their schedule. Had to be here to win the battle.”

That he could understand, Ronan thought grimly. Business came first in the Connolly family. And his cousin was no different than he. Sean had been working for months, trying to wedge his airline, Irish Air, into the flight schedule at Knock, an international airport in the west of Ireland. “And did you win?”

“Of course,” Sean said. “Irish Air will now be flying to the Continent three flights a day. To start,” he added. “We’ll build from there.”

“Congratulations then. I might not push my fist into your face after all.”

“It’s appreciated,” Sean said with a laugh. “Though I remember the last time we brawled, it was your nose that was broken, not mine.”

“True.” Ronan lifted one hand and rubbed a fingertip over the bump in his nose. “I still owe you for that.”

“No hurry to pay me back on that one.” The roar of a jet taking off sounded in the background and Sean waited until it died away before continuing. “How much longer will you be in California then?”

“Not sure,” Ronan admitted, swinging his desk chair around to stare out at the sweep of sea and sky. Dark gray clouds roiled overhead while the ocean, the color of pewter, frothed with whitecaps. The view reminded him of home—dark skies, wind howling, the churning ocean—and he suddenly missed Ireland with a sharp pang. “I’ve yet to find a place suitable for the permanent offices. Until I do that, I’ll be staying.”

“So there’s time then to win your dog back from Laura.”

Scowling at the phone, Ronan snapped, “There’s no reason to ‘win’ him back. He’s mine, isn’t he?”

“Well then, go claim your mutt and let me get back to the meeting you’ve pulled me out of.”

Ronan hung up soon after and was still frowning when there was a sharp knock on his door. Pushing thoughts of Laura, Sean and anything else that wasn’t centered on business from his mind, Ronan stood and called, “Come in.”

Brian opened the door, then stepped back to allow a couple to enter the room. “Mr. and Mrs. Benson, Ronan Connolly.”

“Thank you, Brian,” Ronan said, and waved a hand at the chairs in front of his desk. Speaking to the husband and wife, he said, “Please, sit down.”

“Thank you for seeing us,” Maria said, folding her hands over the top of the designer bag she held in her lap.

Ronan nodded and shifted his gaze to her husband. “Happy to. What can Cosain do to help?”

As Jeremy Benson started talking, Ronan lasered his focus on the task at hand. Just as later he would use that same focus on the problem of Laura.

Beast was snoring.

It was a comforting sound, since Laura was pleased at least one of them was getting some sleep.

Outside, the storm was still raging, sending fits of wind-driven rain pelting at her windows. It was a cozy sound, one she normally would have enjoyed. Tonight, it was simply background noise to the thoughts churning in her brain.

She kept hearing Ronan’s voice in her mind, the music of his accent and the way it deepened and thickened when he was angry. She saw his mouth, tight and grim, his eyes flashing and couldn’t help remembering the sizzle in the air between them.

Trying to sleep was pointless, since she couldn’t seem to settle, so instead, she sat propped up in bed, a romance novel open in her hands, lamplight spilling across a page she had already read ten times. It was infuriating to admit that Ronan could so shatter her thoughts she couldn’t even concentrate on reading.

When she heard the front door open and softly close, she assumed it was Georgia coming back early from her date. Not a good sign, Laura thought and wished her sister could find happiness again. She thought about getting up and checking on her sister, but then they would be drawn into conversation about Georgia’s failed date and Laura’s failed romance. No, thank you.

Turning slightly, she reached out one hand to the pillow beside her and remembered Ronan lying there, giving her that slow, sly smile that never failed to turn her insides into swirls of lava. She stroked her fingertips over the cold sheets and pretended that she felt instead a warm, muscled Irishman.

“It was good,” she whispered to the empty room. “For a while anyway, it was very good.”

Her bedroom door opened, and she turned to face her sister.

Ronan’s gaze locked with hers. Then he saw her hand, stretched out across the mattress. “Miss me?”

She jolted up in bed, her book sailing to the floor to land with a thump.

His hair was damp. Raindrops on his black knit sweater glittered like diamonds in the lamplight and his eyes were fixed on her. Her heart rate jumped into high gear even as a burn of something familiar began inside her.

“What the— How did you— Why are you—”

“I’ve still got the key you gave me,” Ronan said, holding it up for her to see before tucking it into the pocket of his faded jeans.

“Well, give it back.”

“I’ll not be doing that,” he said, moving into the room and closing the door behind him.

Laura hitched backward on the bed, plastering herself against the headboard and drawing her pale lemon duvet practically up to her chin. A little late to be protecting herself around Ronan. But knowing her own body’s reactions to him, better safe than sorry.

That deep burning sensation spread like a wildfire, lighting up her bloodstream and sending her hormones into overdrive. What kind of penance was she paying that even furious with him, even knowing she had to let him go from her life, she still wanted him so badly her whole body ached with it?

“What’re you doing here, Ronan?” she demanded, curling her fingers into the silky duvet material as if she were holding on to a lifeline.

“Came to talk, Laura,” he said, strolling closer to the bed. Closer to her.

“There’s nothing to talk about, and by the way, why do you still have my key?” And how had she forgotten to get it back? Well, to be fair, when he gave her the speech on how it wasn’t working out and that they wouldn’t be seeing each other again, she’d felt too bruised to remember to ask for it back.

Which she was kicking herself for now.

He patted the pocket where he’d deposited the key. “You gave it to me.”

“We were together at the time,” she pointed out and winced as her own voice went a little high. Beneath their conversation, Beast’s snoring continued on.

“Could be again,” he said, then glanced down at Beast so he didn’t see Laura’s eyes go wide.

“Easy to see why you want to keep the Beast,” he noted wryly. “A vicious guard dog such as this one would make you feel safe.”

Beast snored even louder.

“He’s company.”

“Aye,” Ronan mused, “quite the conversationalist.” He bent down, rubbed one hand across Beast’s exposed stomach and said, “Wake up, you lazy hound.”

The dog’s eyes reluctantly opened. He saw Ronan and rolled over, pushing himself up high enough to welcome his former owner with a kiss.

Ronan laughed and the sound seemed to rumble through the room before settling in the pit of Laura’s stomach and jittering there. She tried to remind herself that they were exes. Tried to remember how she’d felt the night he left her. Tried to remember the pain she’d suffered later when she lost—

Steeling herself, she said, “Ronan, you don’t belong here. You should leave.”

“But I am here, and I’m not ready to go just yet.”

In the lamplight, his blue eyes shone and she read amusement in their depths, which only served to make her angrier. A good thing.

“Yes, you’re here. Without invitation.”

“And would you have invited me in?”

“No.”

“There you are then.” He shrugged and took a seat at the end of the bed. Beast moved to lay his big head on Ronan’s thigh and both man and dog watched her.

He was far too close.

“So, your guard dog doesn’t seem to mind me being here.”

Feeling oddly compelled to defend the dog, she said, “He knows I’m not in danger from you.”

Ronan tilted his head to one side as his gaze speared into hers. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that, were I you.”

Her stomach did a slow swirl and spin. She shoved one hand through her hair, then grabbed up the duvet again and held it even closer. “Ronan, you should go.”

“No. Not until you tell me what it is that’s really at the heart of all of this.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She scooted even farther from him, smacking her back against the headboard.

“Aye, you do, but for some reason, you’re not telling me.” Nodding, he glanced down at the dog, then back to her. “It’s not about Beast at all, is it? There’s something that’s driving you.”

“If there is, it’s none of your business,” she countered.

Outside, the wind moaned under the eaves and the rain hammered at the window glass. He was watching her as if waiting for her to speak up and give him exactly what he wanted. Which was just so like him. Well, Laura wasn’t going to satisfy his curiosity.

“You broke up with me, remember? How did you put it? Oh, yes.” As if she could forget. “I believe your exact words were, It’s been a grand time for the both of us and now it’s done.”

He frowned thoughtfully. “And you weren’t ready for it, were you, Laura love?”

She gritted her teeth at the easy endearment, knowing it meant nothing.

Smiling now, he gave Beast one last pat on the head, then stood up and paced off a few steps before turning and walking back to her. He stopped in the circle of the lamplight and looked down at her thoughtfully. “You see, I’ve done some thinking, and I’ve figured out what the problem is.”

“Congratulations,” she snapped, scooting to the other side of the mattress. She couldn’t stay in her bed and talk to him. It was disconcerting. Tempting. And oh, how she hated to admit that, even to herself. Once her feet were firmly on the floor she added, “Now, go away.”

Still smiling, he walked around the bed and came close to her. Here, there were more shadows. The golden glow of the lamp didn’t reach this far. She refused to back up and let him corner her against the wall. So she stood her ground.

“Don’t you want to know what it is I’ve discovered?”

“Will it make you leave if I say yes?”

He grinned. “It might.”

“Fine.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “What is it then?”

“This isn’t about keeping my dog from me,” he said, reaching out to lay both hands on her bare shoulders.

God, why had she worn a tank top to sleep in? She should have worn flannel. Head to toe.

Heat from his palms slid into her system and washed through her like a fever. She had to fight her own reaction to him. Her own instinct to lean into that broad chest. To go up and kiss that mouth that had done so many amazing things to her such a short while ago.

“I know what you really want, Laura,” he said and bent down until they were eye to eye. “And I came here tonight to tell you, you don’t have to try this hard to get back into my bed. You’ve only to ask.”

Time stopped.

Later, Laura would think she must have been struck dumb to be able to remain speechless for so much as a second after that incredible statement. But she wasn’t quiet for long.

“You dolt.”

“What?”

She brushed his hands off her arms, and then planted both palms on his chest and shoved hard enough to rock him back a couple of steps.

“Neanderthal.”

“There’s no reason for all of this, Laura,” he said, that accent of his dancing along her nerve endings, promising romance.

She fought past it.

“Are you crazy? You really think I took Beast to get you back?”

“What other reason would there be?” he asked, irritation now sparking in eyes that were still glinting with desire.

“Oh, I don’t know. Because I felt sorry for the dog? Because I didn’t want to see him abandoned? Because I think you’re a big jerk who doesn’t deserve Beast?”

“Now just hang on—”

“No.”

“So you’re saying you feel nothing for me,” he said, taking a stand, unmovable no matter how hard she pushed.

“I am,” she said, glaring at him since that was all that was left to do.

“You’re a liar.”

“You—”

He swooped in then. Simply grabbed her up, yanked her in close and claimed her mouth in a kiss that stole what breath she had and fogged her mind. Sensations coursed through her in a wild stream. The feel of his mouth on hers. The taste of him. His strong arms holding her pinned to his chest. All of these things and more tied her up into so many knots, Laura was helpless to unravel any of them.

And she didn’t care to.

Instead, she surrendered to the lush moment. Gave herself up to the rush of being in Ronan’s arms again. Even though she knew it was a mistake she would regret deeply in the morning, for this one instant, she simply let herself feel.

And just as she was really beginning to enjoy herself, it was over.

He let her go and took a step back. Even with her mind reeling, she saw amusement in his eyes again and wanted to kick herself.

“I think we’ve both got our answers now,” he said.

“Get out,” she whispered.

Behind them, Beast whimpered.

“All right.”

Surprised, she watched him warily. “Just like that?”

He shrugged. “I’ll not stay when you tell me to go. But I won’t stay away, Laura. What’s between you and me isn’t done, is it?”

“Yes,” she said, realizing how stupid that sounded coming from a woman who had just willingly given herself up to a kiss hot enough to burn down the house. “It is.”

He reached out, cupped her cheek in one palm and stroked her skin with his thumb. “We’ll see about that, won’t we?”

“Why, Ronan? You left two months ago without looking back. Why do you care now?”

He let his hand drop. “There’s something you’re not telling me, Laura. You want me, that’s easy enough to see …”

She grimaced and huffed out a breath.

“But it’s more than that, and I think you know it. There’s something … else. And I’ll know what it is before we’re done.”

She was in trouble, and she knew it. Her own body betrayed her when she was around Ronan. And she knew, if he put his mind to it, he would discover the truth about the surprise pregnancy that had ended in a miscarriage. Maybe Georgia was right. Maybe she should just tell him.

But the baby was her secret. Her loss.

She’d known from the first that there was no future in a relationship with Ronan. The day he’d walked into their real estate office and told her in brief, concise terms exactly what he wanted. What he needed from her. And maybe it had been the Irish accent that had done most of the seducing. But it hadn’t mattered in the end. She’d allowed herself to be swept up into an affair that had burned so brightly, it had gone to ash before its time.

“Now, see there,” he whispered. “It’s that flash of something … off … in your eyes that intrigues me. You’ve a secret, Laura.”

“No, I don’t,” she lied.

He laughed and shook his head. “All women have their secrets, darlin’,” he said, “and all men find a way to reveal them.”

“Sure of yourself, aren’t you?” Of course he was. It was one of the things she’d liked most about him. At first.

“Be foolish of me not to be, wouldn’t it?”

He would see it like that. Laura had never known a man as self-confident, as completely convinced of the rightness of everything he did, as Ronan Connolly. She envied that as much as it irritated her. Which was, she was forced to admit, quite a lot.

He turned to go.

“What about Beast?” she asked.

He shot a look at the dog that had moved to stand in front of Laura, like a big, furry shield. A smile curved Ronan’s mouth briefly. “He can stay with you. For now.”

Laura’s fingers curled into the dog’s long, shaggy hair. “Ronan?”

He stopped and looked back at her. The lamplight didn’t climb as high as his face, so his features, his eyes, were in shadow when she asked, “Why is it so important to you? Why do you care what my secrets are?”

A long moment of silence stretched out until all she heard was Beast’s gentle breathing and the tap of rain at the window. Just as she decided he wasn’t going to answer her at all, he spoke.

“Because I want what’s mine, Laura Page.”

“But I’m not yours.”

“You were,” he reminded her, “and if those secrets still belong to me, I’ll have them before we’re done.”

He left her then, quietly closing the door behind him.

Laura dropped onto the edge of the bed, finally giving in to the weakness in her knees. She lifted one hand to her mouth and swore she could still feel the buzz of his kiss sliding through her.

Then she sighed.

He hadn’t returned her key.

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