carried it to the waiting limo.
Eileen frowned slightly. A long black car, its sleek
lines marred by the profusion of antennae sprouting from it, waited at the curb
for the two of them. It contrasted sharply with the crowded mini-sedan that had
carried her and five members of the Sullivan clan to the airport.
She’d appreciated the amenities of her first class seat
on the long flight to America. Rather than being equally appreciative of the
first class ground transportation, however, the luxurious automobile only
served to underscore the differences between her and Dermot.
Once again, she wondered how he could possibly be
interested in her. But she had resolved not to prejudge Dermot’s motives. She
would wait to hear whatever he had to say.
She slid onto the gray leather seat, and stared at the
consoles before her. The bench seat faced two televisions, connected to a DVD
player and VCR, a computer hookup, a 12-CD stereo, and a fully stocked bar. A
silvered window made it difficult to see out the front of the vehicle. No doubt
the driver would be unable to see them at all.
Dermot slid onto the seat beside her. The driver closed
his door, sealing them together in the back of the limousine. A moment later,
the car rocked slightly as the driver stowed her suitcase in the trunk. Then he
took his own seat, his image blurred and darkened through the privacy screen.
Dermot pressed a small button amid the cluster of
controls on his door. “Midtown,” he ordered.
Another touch of a button, and soft music began playing,
some classical piece that was all violins and woodwinds, drowning out the faint
sounds of the people and traffic surrounding them. As the limo pulled away from
the curb, Dermot turned to face her.
“Now, we can talk.”
“If talking was all you were wanting, you could have
taken another trip to Ireland. You know where I live. Instead, you bought my
publisher.”
Dermot shrugged. “I didn’t buy it. I invested in it. Pending their ability to implement improvements.”
A chill ghosted down her spine. Her
appearances on talk shows. Was Dermot buying her after all?
“And if you don’t invest?”
“Your publisher won’t go bankrupt, if that’s what you’re
concerned about. They were looking to expand. Without investment capital, they
won’t be able to grow as fast as they would otherwise, but the underlying
business is still sound.” He reached over and clasped her hands in his. “I
offered to get you talk show bookings because I know it’s something our
publicists could arrange, it would increase the value of Silver Moon’s assets,
and you’d make more money. You’d be a natural in front of the camera. That’s
true, even if you want nothing more to do with me.”
“But…?”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
His hands still held hers prisoner, and she was
strangely reluctant to break free of his grasp. Instead, she turned her head
and stared at the buildings and other cars moving past.
“Eileen, why didn’t you call me?” he asked again.
“What was there to say?” she countered. “We shared one
night together, but how many more could we share before our differences drove
us apart?”
“A relationship between us is doomed, so you don’t even
want to try?”
She shrugged, still not meeting his gaze. “ Belike .”
“I refuse to accept that.”
She couldn’t help the smile that pulled at her lips. “Arrogant American.”
That was one of the things she found desirable about
him. Not his arrogance, which infuriated her, but his calm assurance and
soul-deep dedication to a course of action.
She turned, to find him watching intently, waiting for
her answer. Tugging one of her hands free, she reached up and stroked the side
of his face. “You see extremely clearly for one not on the path.”
He closed his eyes, leaning into her touch.
“I want you. And yes, I arranged all of this to get you
here where I could tell you that. But you didn’t have to come.”
He stroked
Eileen frowned slightly. A long black car, its sleek
lines marred by the profusion of antennae sprouting from it, waited at the curb
for the two of them. It contrasted sharply with the crowded mini-sedan that had
carried her and five members of the Sullivan clan to the airport.
She’d appreciated the amenities of her first class seat
on the long flight to America. Rather than being equally appreciative of the
first class ground transportation, however, the luxurious automobile only
served to underscore the differences between her and Dermot.
Once again, she wondered how he could possibly be
interested in her. But she had resolved not to prejudge Dermot’s motives. She
would wait to hear whatever he had to say.
She slid onto the gray leather seat, and stared at the
consoles before her. The bench seat faced two televisions, connected to a DVD
player and VCR, a computer hookup, a 12-CD stereo, and a fully stocked bar. A
silvered window made it difficult to see out the front of the vehicle. No doubt
the driver would be unable to see them at all.
Dermot slid onto the seat beside her. The driver closed
his door, sealing them together in the back of the limousine. A moment later,
the car rocked slightly as the driver stowed her suitcase in the trunk. Then he
took his own seat, his image blurred and darkened through the privacy screen.
Dermot pressed a small button amid the cluster of
controls on his door. “Midtown,” he ordered.
Another touch of a button, and soft music began playing,
some classical piece that was all violins and woodwinds, drowning out the faint
sounds of the people and traffic surrounding them. As the limo pulled away from
the curb, Dermot turned to face her.
“Now, we can talk.”
“If talking was all you were wanting, you could have
taken another trip to Ireland. You know where I live. Instead, you bought my
publisher.”
Dermot shrugged. “I didn’t buy it. I invested in it. Pending their ability to implement improvements.”
A chill ghosted down her spine. Her
appearances on talk shows. Was Dermot buying her after all?
“And if you don’t invest?”
“Your publisher won’t go bankrupt, if that’s what you’re
concerned about. They were looking to expand. Without investment capital, they
won’t be able to grow as fast as they would otherwise, but the underlying
business is still sound.” He reached over and clasped her hands in his. “I
offered to get you talk show bookings because I know it’s something our
publicists could arrange, it would increase the value of Silver Moon’s assets,
and you’d make more money. You’d be a natural in front of the camera. That’s
true, even if you want nothing more to do with me.”
“But…?”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
His hands still held hers prisoner, and she was
strangely reluctant to break free of his grasp. Instead, she turned her head
and stared at the buildings and other cars moving past.
“Eileen, why didn’t you call me?” he asked again.
“What was there to say?” she countered. “We shared one
night together, but how many more could we share before our differences drove
us apart?”
“A relationship between us is doomed, so you don’t even
want to try?”
She shrugged, still not meeting his gaze. “ Belike .”
“I refuse to accept that.”
She couldn’t help the smile that pulled at her lips. “Arrogant American.”
That was one of the things she found desirable about
him. Not his arrogance, which infuriated her, but his calm assurance and
soul-deep dedication to a course of action.
She turned, to find him watching intently, waiting for
her answer. Tugging one of her hands free, she reached up and stroked the side
of his face. “You see extremely clearly for one not on the path.”
He closed his eyes, leaning into her touch.
“I want you. And yes, I arranged all of this to get you
here where I could tell you that. But you didn’t have to come.”
He stroked
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