Read Online A Passion Redeemed by Julie Lessman - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Julie Lessman
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time, and then some. Where is the royal prince?"
"Waiting in my office. He and a lady friend."
Mitch glared at Michael, the muscles in his neck straining tight. "His next victim, I presume?"
Michael pressed his lips tight, draining them of color. "Forget the past, Mitch," he whispered. "Gallagher's not worth the emotion. Twenty minutes of your time. Get it over with and move on."
Mitch stared, his eyes burning in his head. He snatched his handkerchief to sop up the spilled coffee. "Fine. Do what you have to do. Send Little Lord Fauntleroy in."
"No need, Dennehy. He's here."
Mitch froze, the stained handkerchief dangling in his hand. He looked up into the stone face of Gallagher, standing at the door with a lady on his arm. The breath died in his lungs.
Charity.
"Hello, Mitch." Her voice was soft and breathy, impacting his heart with the force of a Big Bertha cannon. The full lips parted ever so slightly with just a hint of a smile. He gaped at her, a vision in lavender crepe, its silky fit far too seductive for the light of day. Strands of pale gold hair peeked beneath a close-fitting cloche hat, making her blue eyes appear all the larger, all the more innocent. The muscles in his cheek tightened. He knew better.
Rigan draped his arm around Charity's shoulder. "So, I understand you'll be showing us around today."
Mitch looked up through slitted eyes, his hand clenched on his desk. "I'm busy, Gallagher. We have a paper to run."
Rigan's smile was cold. "Yes, I know. My paper." His fingers caressed Charity's arm. "But Miss O'Connor's been quite anxious to see the inner workings of the Times, and who better to show her than an old family friend?"
Michael cleared his throat, a hoarse chuckle cutting the silence. "An old family friend?"
Mitch's eyes never strayed from Rigan's face. "Faith's sister."
His editor began to wheeze uncontrollably, his ruddy face turning scarlet.
Mitch handed him the last of the coffee. Michael lunged for the cup and bolted it down, sputtering out a few final coughs. "Er ... my apologies, Miss O'Connor."
Charity smiled. "Call me Charity, please, Mr. Reardon. My sister spoke highly of you."
The color in Michael's cheeks heightened and he nodded, the sweat on his brow glittering in the light. "We loved her around here. You can be sure of that."
Her blue eyes widened the slightest bit, barely noticeable, except, perhaps, by Mitch, long familiar with every nuance of her face. She nodded, and her eyes shifted to meet his searing gaze. "Yes, I'm quite sure of that."
"Well, shall we begin the tour? I know your time is valuable, and Charity and I have luncheon plans." Rigan slipped a hand neatly around Charity's waist.
Michael glanced at Mitch and then hurried to the door, stopping to offer Charity his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I trust Faith is doing well?"
A pretty blush skimmed into her cheeks. "Yes, Mr. Reardon. Quite well, thank you."
Michael cleared his throat. "I'm glad to hear that. Rigan, stop by before you leave and I'll have those reports for your father. Enjoy the tour, Miss O'Connor." He hurried out.
Rigan faced Mitch, his tone akin to an arctic chill. "Step outside for a moment. I'd like some privacy with Charity before we begin."
Heat like a horde of fire ants crawled up the back of Mitch's neck. He stood, his jaw clamped as tightly as frozen steel. He headed for the door, fists clenched at his sides.
"And close the door."
Mitch slammed it hard on its hinges, causing Bridie and Kathleen to jump at their desks. Mitch whirled around, almost knocking his associate editor off his feet.
"Sorry, Boss," Jamie mumbled, jumping back to get out of Mitch's way. Jamie cocked a curious look in Bridie's direction.
Bridie leaned over her typewriter and smiled, nodding toward Mitch. "It seems Mr. Dennehy is playing tour guide today, Jamie. To Mr. Rigan Gallagher III, no less."
A spasm twitched in Mitch's cheek as he stormed past her desk. "Yeah, I'll give him a tour, all
"Waiting in my office. He and a lady friend."
Mitch glared at Michael, the muscles in his neck straining tight. "His next victim, I presume?"
Michael pressed his lips tight, draining them of color. "Forget the past, Mitch," he whispered. "Gallagher's not worth the emotion. Twenty minutes of your time. Get it over with and move on."
Mitch stared, his eyes burning in his head. He snatched his handkerchief to sop up the spilled coffee. "Fine. Do what you have to do. Send Little Lord Fauntleroy in."
"No need, Dennehy. He's here."
Mitch froze, the stained handkerchief dangling in his hand. He looked up into the stone face of Gallagher, standing at the door with a lady on his arm. The breath died in his lungs.
Charity.
"Hello, Mitch." Her voice was soft and breathy, impacting his heart with the force of a Big Bertha cannon. The full lips parted ever so slightly with just a hint of a smile. He gaped at her, a vision in lavender crepe, its silky fit far too seductive for the light of day. Strands of pale gold hair peeked beneath a close-fitting cloche hat, making her blue eyes appear all the larger, all the more innocent. The muscles in his cheek tightened. He knew better.
Rigan draped his arm around Charity's shoulder. "So, I understand you'll be showing us around today."
Mitch looked up through slitted eyes, his hand clenched on his desk. "I'm busy, Gallagher. We have a paper to run."
Rigan's smile was cold. "Yes, I know. My paper." His fingers caressed Charity's arm. "But Miss O'Connor's been quite anxious to see the inner workings of the Times, and who better to show her than an old family friend?"
Michael cleared his throat, a hoarse chuckle cutting the silence. "An old family friend?"
Mitch's eyes never strayed from Rigan's face. "Faith's sister."
His editor began to wheeze uncontrollably, his ruddy face turning scarlet.
Mitch handed him the last of the coffee. Michael lunged for the cup and bolted it down, sputtering out a few final coughs. "Er ... my apologies, Miss O'Connor."
Charity smiled. "Call me Charity, please, Mr. Reardon. My sister spoke highly of you."
The color in Michael's cheeks heightened and he nodded, the sweat on his brow glittering in the light. "We loved her around here. You can be sure of that."
Her blue eyes widened the slightest bit, barely noticeable, except, perhaps, by Mitch, long familiar with every nuance of her face. She nodded, and her eyes shifted to meet his searing gaze. "Yes, I'm quite sure of that."
"Well, shall we begin the tour? I know your time is valuable, and Charity and I have luncheon plans." Rigan slipped a hand neatly around Charity's waist.
Michael glanced at Mitch and then hurried to the door, stopping to offer Charity his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I trust Faith is doing well?"
A pretty blush skimmed into her cheeks. "Yes, Mr. Reardon. Quite well, thank you."
Michael cleared his throat. "I'm glad to hear that. Rigan, stop by before you leave and I'll have those reports for your father. Enjoy the tour, Miss O'Connor." He hurried out.
Rigan faced Mitch, his tone akin to an arctic chill. "Step outside for a moment. I'd like some privacy with Charity before we begin."
Heat like a horde of fire ants crawled up the back of Mitch's neck. He stood, his jaw clamped as tightly as frozen steel. He headed for the door, fists clenched at his sides.
"And close the door."
Mitch slammed it hard on its hinges, causing Bridie and Kathleen to jump at their desks. Mitch whirled around, almost knocking his associate editor off his feet.
"Sorry, Boss," Jamie mumbled, jumping back to get out of Mitch's way. Jamie cocked a curious look in Bridie's direction.
Bridie leaned over her typewriter and smiled, nodding toward Mitch. "It seems Mr. Dennehy is playing tour guide today, Jamie. To Mr. Rigan Gallagher III, no less."
A spasm twitched in Mitch's cheek as he stormed past her desk. "Yeah, I'll give him a tour, all
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