Up Close and Personal. Maureen Child

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