Swept into the Rich Man's World(16)

His head slowed, moved down towards hers, and when his mouth was level  with her ear he whispered in a lilting, sexy voice, 'You want  spontaneity...?'

A deep shiver of desire ran through her. Every pulse-point in her body  felt as though it was thudding against her skin. Her body swayed closer  to him, desperate to feel his strength and warmth.

Her throat had closed over. She barely managed to whisper, 'Yes...'

His hand lay against her cheek and with gentle pressure he turned her  mouth towards his. Their mouths aligned and almost touched. She closed  her eyes, suddenly dizzy with wonder. She squeezed her hands into tight  balls. She couldn't touch him. Because if she did she was worried she  would never be able to let go.

And then his lips were on hers and her entire body turned to jelly. His  warm, firm lips teased hers with butterfly kisses and she gave a little  sigh. He deepened the kiss. Her arms of their own volition snaked up to  grasp the material of his sweater. Beneath her fingers his chest was  hard and uncompromisingly male.

Her head swam. She swayed against him. His hard body was like a magnet. She longed to touch every part of him. She wanted more.                       
       
           



       

When he eventually released his hold on her and pulled away she looked at him, dazed, her senses overloaded.

With a lazy, sexy grin he asked, 'How's that for spontaneity?'

Without thinking, she breathed out in a husky whisper, 'Pretty spectacular, really.'

Her already flushed skin flamed at his obvious amusement at her answer.

Flustered, she added, 'And enough spontaneity for one night, I reckon. I think it's time I went inside.'

She got up to leave, but he placed a hand on her arm. His eyes were soft pools of kind amusement.

'Thank you for tonight...' For a moment he looked down, a hand rising to  rub the base of his neck. When he looked up again he said with wry  amusement, 'Thank you for the life coaching... You can pop the bill in  the post.' And then, with his eyes sparkling, he added, 'And thank you  for the kiss.'

It had been the most incredible kiss of her life. But this thing between them was going nowhere.

She gave what she hoped appeared to be a casual shrug, said, 'Goodnight!' and hightailed it up the steps to the terrace.

She walked briskly-first to the orangery, to return her camera, and then  to her bedroom with a confusing mix of elation and worry.

It had been the most incredible, tender and emotional kiss she had ever  experienced. But neighbours didn't kiss like that...and certainly not  with such underlying passion and poignancy.

She lay awake for hours later, their kiss swirling in her brain.

They were only supposed to be neighbours-nothing more.

But they already knew more about each other than many close friends did.  She had revealed more about herself than she'd ever done before. And  slowly, bit by bit, he was confiding in her.

And, even though she knew they had no future, time and time again her  brain wandered off topic and she dreamt of him kissing her. And of that  kiss leading to a lot more...





CHAPTER SEVEN

DESPITE BEING ON a teleconference with his Northern Europe management  team Patrick found himself zoning out of the conversation about a  project delay and losing himself in memories of how good it had been to  kiss Aideen last night. The soft fullness of her lips, the press of her  breast against his biceps, the low purr of frustration when he had  forced himself to pull away...

It had been a stupid and reckless kiss...but a large part of him didn't  care. How could he regret something that had felt so good?

But how was he going to play it with her now? In truth, he wanted to  throw caution to the winds and kiss her again. And possibly even more.  But what of all the messy awkwardness that doing so would cause?

A movement at his office door had him looking away from his screen.

Dressed in navy jersey shorts and a white tee shirt, a pair of white  trainers on her feet, Aideen smiled at him cheekily and waved two tennis  rackets in the air.

Her long legs were toned, as was the rest of her tall, strong but curvy  body. She brimmed with fresh vitality and health. She stepped into the  room and he was unable to look away. An image of her brown eyes heavy  with pleasure, the heat of her mouth last night, popped into his brain.

The sound of someone coughing had him looking back at the screen. Seven  pairs of eyes were looking at him speculatively, no doubt wondering what  had caught his attention.

He looked at his team, and then back at her.

He shouldn't. He really needed to finish this call.

'Elsa, take over for me.' He looked towards Aideen and raised an  eyebrow, challenging her. 'And, Elsa? Please decide and implement  whatever strategy you deem appropriate to get the project back on track.  Update me only if there are any issues.'

Aideen was right. It was time he had some fun in his life.

He cut the connection on seven even more stunned looking execs and leant  back in his chair. 'I was in the middle of a conference call.'

'You've been in this office since six this morning. You know what they say-all work and no play...'

He stood and walked towards her, doing his best not to allow the  threatening smile to break on his lips. 'Are you saying I'm dull?'

He took unexpected pleasure from the blush that blossomed on her cheeks.

She swallowed hard before she spoke. 'No. Never, ever dull.' There was a  hint of breathlessness in her voice and she blushed even harder.                       
       
           



       

'So what's with the rackets?'

'Well, as there's a tennis court worthy of Wimbledon sitting unused outside, I thought we should use it.'

He placed his hands in his pockets and looked at her with playful  sternness. 'Is this a not too subtle way of making me "get a life"?'

'You have me rumbled.' She grinned back cheekily. 'So, are you up to the challenge or are you too scared?'

When she put it like that there was no way he was saying no. 'Give me ten minutes.'

As she turned to leave she said, 'I must warn you, though. I was under-thirteen champion at my tennis club.'

He caught up with her out in the corridor. 'So you think you might be able to beat me?'

'I'll certainly try.'

'How do I put this nicely...? You don't have a hope.'

To that she playfully threw back her head in a gesture that said she  wasn't going to listen to him and walked away. About to turn the corner,  she turned around. 'Nice delegation, by the way.'

'And I did it without even flinching.'

She gave him a wicked grin and turned away.

She was right. He did need to delegate more. He had a talented and  ambitious team surrounding him. And he was starting to suspect that he  was holding them back by insisting on such centralised decision-making.  He needed to empower his subsidiaries more.

He had once. When he had started out he had given them plenty of  autonomy. But in the past few years, as the business had exploded in  size, he had reigned them in. The truth was as his home life with Orla  had become more fraught he had used work as a way of feeling in control,  driven by the thinking that if he couldn't support her emotionally he  would at least do so financially. By pulling the businesses back under  his control he'd felt as though he was achieving something and he'd been  able to bury the feelings that went with failure.

But centralised control wasn't sustainable. It had to change. But relinquishing that control wasn't going to be easy.

* * *

Two hours later he threw his racket up in the air in elation. Aideen  stood at the opposite end of the court wearing a deep scowl.

'That was not out.'

'It was out by a mile. I told you I would win.'

'You didn't give me as much as an inch.'

'Like you did me any favours!'

She shook her head and stomped down towards the net. 'I didn't realise you were so competitive.'

'Aideen, in comparison to you I reckon I'm almost comatose.'

With a laugh she conceded, 'I hate losing.'

'So I gathered. Come on. I think we could both do with a drink.'

They walked to the kitchen and he prepared them each a large glass of  sparkling water mixed with fresh orange juice. They took them out on to  the terrace to drink, a light breeze cooling them down.

Across the table from him she stretched her arm in and out a number of times.

'Cramp?'

'I think I might have pulled a muscle on a return volley.'

'You did throw yourself about the court.'

At that she gave a sheepish shrug. 'I admit I can get carried away  sometimes. I spent my childhood trying to keep up with my two older  brothers. I couldn't help but develop a competitive streak.'

'Your competitiveness...hating to lose...was that one of the reasons why losing the business was so hard for you?'

'I guess. Despite my less than tidy ways, I've always pushed myself  hard. I suppose my pride did take a dent. It was the first time in my  life I failed at anything.'

Her words immediately resonated with him. His business success  highlighted just how badly he had messed up with Orla. It made the  success seem somewhat hollow when you didn't have someone to share it  with.