Modern Romance August 2019 Books 1-4. Heidi Rice

a small mound of rice on her plate so it created a narrow valley, before looking up at him, a frown creasing her brow. ‘You can’t just throw more money at the problem and hope that it’ll go away.’

      ‘So we have a problem, do we, Tara?’

      ‘I shouldn’t have said that. It’s nothing to do with you, not really. It’s me.’ She hesitated. ‘I need a change, that’s all.’

      ‘And a change is exactly what I’m offering you.’

      Her amber eyes became shuttered with suspicion. ‘What do you mean?’

      He took another sip of water. ‘What if I told you that I’m going to be leaving Dublin for a while, because I have to go to the States?’

      ‘You mean on business?’

      ‘Partly,’ he answered obliquely. ‘I’m thinking of investing in some property there. I need to spread my money around—at least, that’s what my financial advisors are telling me.’

      ‘This wouldn’t have anything to do with that letter, would it?’ she questioned curiously.

      He grew still. ‘What letter?’

      ‘The one...’ The words came out in a rush, as if she’d been waiting for a chance to say them. ‘The one which arrived from America last week.’

      Lucas wondered if she’d noticed his reaction at the time. If she’d seen the shock which had blindsided him. It suddenly occurred to him how much of his life she must have witnessed over the years—a silent observer of all the things which had happened to him. And wasn’t that another reason for keeping her onside? Bringing another stranger into his home would involve getting to know a new person and having to learn to trust them and that was something to be avoided, because he didn’t give his trust easily. His mouth hardened and his jaw firmed. And it wasn’t going to happen. No way. Not when there was a much simpler solution.

      ‘I’m planning a minimum six-month stay and I’m thinking of renting an apartment because the idea of spending that long living in a hotel isn’t what you’d call appealing.’ He slanted her his rare, slow smile. ‘And that’s where you come in, Tara.’

      ‘Where?’ she questioned blankly.

      ‘I want you to come to New York with me.’ He paused. ‘Be my housekeeper there and I’ll increase your salary—’

      ‘You pay me very generously at the moment.’

      He shook his head with a trace of impatience. Who in their right mind ever pointed out that kind of thing to their employer? ‘The cost of living is higher there,’ he said. ‘And this will give you the opportunity to try living in a brand-new city. This could be a win-win situation for both of us, Tara.’

      He thought she might show excitement and more than a little gratitude, not a look of sudden suspicion, which hooded her eyes. Inexplicably, he found his gaze drawn to the delicate bowed outline of her lips, which he’d never really noticed before. Well, of course he hadn’t. He’d never been this close to her before, had he? Close enough to detect her faint scent, which was like no other perfume he’d ever encountered. Nor realised that her clear skin was porcelain-pale apart from those few freckles which dusted the upturn of her nose. He shook his head, perplexed by the observation and by the inexplicable rise of heat in his blood.

      ‘New York,’ she said slowly.

      ‘You said you wanted a change. Well, what greater change from Dublin town than living in the buzzing metropolis of Manhattan? Didn’t you go on a trip there last Christmas?’

      She nodded.

      ‘And didn’t you have a good time?’

      Once again, Tara nodded. She’d saved up and gone with her friend Stella, who was a nanny in nearby Dun Laoghaire, and they’d done the whole New York holiday thing together. A fun-packed snow and shopping trip, marred only by the fact that Tara had fallen over on the ice rink outside the Rockefeller building and grazed both her knees. ‘We had a very good time.’

      ‘So what’s stopping you from saying yes?’ he probed.

      Tara nibbled on the inside of her lip, reminding herself that her plan had been to get away from Lucas—not to sign up for more of the same. She needed to remove herself from the influence of a powerful man who was selfishly pursuing his own interests. He certainly wasn’t thinking about what was best for her at the moment, was he? Only what was best for him.

      And yet.

      She ran her fingertip over the frosted surface of her water glass. If she looked at it objectively couldn’t this be the best of all possible outcomes? A trip to a glamorous city she was already familiar with, without all the uncertainty of having to fix herself up with a job? Wouldn’t a spell in America provide the inspiration she needed to turn her life around and decide what she wanted to do next?

      But still she held back from saying yes because something seemed to have changed between her and Lucas tonight. Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on because she had no experience of this sort of thing. Was she imagining the tension which was stoking up between the two of them, like when you threw a handful of kindling on the fire? She certainly wasn’t imagining the heart-racing feeling she was getting whenever she stared into his gorgeous green eyes—not to mention the fact that her body was behaving in a way which wasn’t normal. At least, not normal for her. Her nipples were aching and there was a delicious syrupy feeling deep in the very core of her. She could feel a weird kind of restlessness she’d never experienced before, which was making her want to squirm uncomfortably on the wooden seat, and she was having to concentrate very hard not to keep wondering what it would be like to be kissed by him.

      Was it because they were in the falsely intimate setting of a candlelit restaurant, making her wish she’d chosen somewhere brighter? Or because she’d stupidly decided to wear a dress and wash her hair—as if this were a real date or something? And now she was left feeling almost vulnerable—as if she’d lost the protective barrier which surrounded her when she was working at his house and cleaning up after him.

      He was still studying her with an impatient question in his eyes, as if he wasn’t used to being kept waiting. Come to think of it—he wasn’t.

      ‘Well?’ he demanded.

      ‘Can I have some time to think about it?’ she said.

      He looked surprised and Tara guessed that most women wouldn’t have thought twice about accompanying their billionaire boss to a glamorous foreign city with the offer of a pay-rise.

      ‘How long do you want?’ he demanded.

      Tara chewed on her lip. Should she ask her friend Stella’s advice? She certainly didn’t have anyone else to ask. She’d been so young when her mother died that she hardly remembered her and her grandmother had passed away just before she’d come to work for Lucas. ‘A few days?’ she suggested and gave a little shrug. ‘Maybe you’ll change your mind in the meantime?’

      ‘If you continue to prevaricate like this, then maybe I will,’ he retorted, not bothering to hide his displeasure. ‘Let’s just get the bill and go, shall we?’

      ‘Okay.’ She rose to her feet. ‘But I need to use the washroom first.’

      Still unable to believe she wasn’t grabbing at his job offer with eager hands, Lucas watched as she walked through the restaurant, his gaze mesmerised by the curve of her calves, which led down to the slenderest ankles he’d ever seen. Suddenly he could understand why men living in the Victorian age had found them highly arousing.

      He told himself to look away but somehow he couldn’t. Somehow Tara Fitzpatrick’s back view seemed to be the most beautiful thing he’d looked at in a long time, with those red curls spilling wildly over her shoulders. Her dress was slightly creased from where she’d been sitting but it was brushing against a bottom firmed by hard work and regular cycling—a realisation which was rewarded by an unwanted hardening