Up Close and Personal

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.