Sticks and Stone

The limousine pulled up before a utilitarian, cement-walled building. As soon as it stopped, the driver hopped out and hurried around the car.

Eileen pulled her skirts away from Dermot so that not even her clothing touched him.

“No one who sees us now could mistake us for lovers. Does this make you happy?”

His glance darted to his driver, leaning forward to open the door. “We will continue this discussion later.”

“Only if you find a new tune to sing.”

Pushing past him, she climbed out of the car and hurried into the publisher’s building.

Chapter Eight

Dermot traded an exasperated look with his driver as he exited the limousine.

“Would you like me to run any errands for you during your meeting, sir?”

Dermot knew what Chris was asking—did he need a bribe to regain his lover’s good graces. Chris had purchased roses, diamonds, and coveted event tickets plenty of times in the past for him.

Dermot wasn’t certain what had just gone wrong, but he knew enough to know that a gift wouldn’t make it right.

“No. No errands today. Pick us up in three hours. And make reservations for dinner—someplace with a lot of people. Leave a message on my cell with the details.”

“Yes, sir.”

Dermot forced down his frustration and put on his game face. Time to meet with the publisher and publicist. At least now he’d get to see how Eileen handled herself, and if she could remain professional even when she was upset.

She was not in the deserted lobby. Hoping she knew which floor the meeting was on, he took the elevator up to the seventh floor. Everyone was already assembled in the conference room. Everyone except Eileen, that is.

He glanced around the four people already in the room to make sure he hadn’t overlooked her, although he couldn’t imagine ever doing such a thing. She wasn’t there.

“Where’s Eileen?” he asked.

“She’s in my office,” Brian Royce, the CEO of Silver Moon, said. “Adjusting her travel arrangements.”

“Will she be long?” What the hell did ‘adjusting her travel arrangements’ mean? Her flight back to Ireland was booked for next Tuesday, and he’d already canceled her reservation at the Niko since she was staying with him. Neither needed adjusting.

A chill rolled down his spine. Unless she wasn’t planning on staying with him after all. Whatever had just upset her hadn’t upset her that badly, had it? Surely she was going to give him a chance to correct the situation.

“No, not very,” Royce answered. “In fact, here she comes now.”

Eileen breezed into the room, the wind of her movement rippling the fringe on her shawl with eye-catching waves. All he could think about was chasing everyone else from the room, ripping it off of her, and turning the cherry conference table into an impromptu bed. Far from getting his fill of her, after their night of passion, he was well and truly addicted to the pleasures of her body.

A slight smile slipped his iron control. Technically, that wasn’t correct. The mind-blowing ecstasy she’d given him using that wych elm branch had been a pleasure of his body. But whether they’d been making love skin-to-skin or pleasuring each other in one of the other creative variations they’d found, it had been great, and he wanted more. He didn’t think he could ever tire of making love to her.

Numbly, he took his seat at the table, across from Royce. Where had that thought come from?

Royce began his presentation, introducing the people at the table, but Dermot had no attention to spare for the man. He hadn’t given the matter any particular thought, but had simply assumed that any affair with Eileen would run the normal course of his affairs, a brief flare of passion followed by growing disinterest until the embers were completely cold and he moved on.

Could he possibly be thinking of something more with Eileen? Something like marriage?

But that was ridiculous. They were completely unsuited for marriage. She’d said it herself—they came from two entirely different worlds.

Royce had finished his introductory comments, and Sara Combs stood up to give her presentation of the proposed publicity campaigns.

“Our goal is twofold. First, we want to identify in the consumer’s mind the name Eileen Lyons with the female-empowering neo-pagan revival.”

“But I’m not—”