“Please have a seat. Rebecca, I mean, Ms. McNamara, will be with you shortly. Would you like some tea or coffee while you're waiting?”
“Tea would be lovely, please.” He smiled warmly at her and her heart skipped a beat. There were those dimples again.
“May I take your coat?” she asked.
“Yes, that would be great, thank you. It's rather cold out there but toasty warm in here.” He shrugged out of his coat, revealing his strong, muscular frame. She almost swooned. He smelled divine; a sexy mix of citrus cologne and his own intoxicating scent. It had been a long time since she'd been that close to such a desirable man and it was all she could do to restrain herself from reaching out and stroking him.
“I'll be right back,” she smiled, hurrying to the little kitchen area and closing the door gently behind her. She leaned against the door for a moment, trying to gather her wits. Her heart was doing somersaults and she had butterflies in her stomach! Deep breaths, she told herself. Get a grip on yourself woman. Where the hell was Penelope when she needed her? Out on yet another late lunch, no doubt. She scurried about the kitchen, pouring water in the kettle and washing cups in the sink.
“Damn!” she muttered under her breath. She'd completely forgotten if he'd wanted tea or coffee. Should she ask him again? No, he'd probably think she'd taken complete leave of her senses. It was better to guess and hope for the best.
She placed the cups on a tray with a plate of chocolate biscuits and tottered back out to the main office area. Walking in dangerously high stiletto heels while balancing a tray in her nervously shaking hands was quite a precarious endeavour, but she managed to make it to her desk without spilling or dropping anything.
“One coffee coming up,” she smiled her brightest smile and handed him a cup.
“Um, thank you, but I asked for tea,” he grinned mischievously at her.
“I'm so sorry,” she wished the ground would open up and swallow her. He must think she was a total dimwit. “I'll make some tea if you'd prefer, it's no problem whatsoever. I don't know where my head is at. I must be overworked.” She laughed loudly at her own joke, willing herself to stop rattling on. Whenever she was nervous or embarrassed she couldn't stop talking. Oh well, at least it was better than blushing bright red again.
“No, coffee is fine,” he said, taking a sip.
“I didn't even ask if you wanted milk or sugar.” She looked stricken at the thought. “I made it exactly like mine.”
“It's perfect just the way it is,” he smiled charmingly at her and she wanted to swoon right there and then.
“Good. Rebecca should be back from lunch any minute.” She turned and tottered back to her desk and grinned when she could feel his gaze burning through her. Still got it, she thought, taking her seat in front of her computer. She buried her head studiously in her work and willed Penelope or Rebecca to return soon.
The phone rang, making her jump. “I'm sorry. I'm running late,” Rebecca apologised. “The queue at the sandwich bar was horrendous, I was waiting almost half an hour to be served and now I'm stuck in traffic. I'll never make it back in time for the interview. Is he there already?”
“Yes,” Shona replied, glancing at her watch. It was already twenty past two.
“Would you mind dreadfully interviewing him?”
Shona paused for a moment. “Okay, don't worry. I'll take care of it, no problem.”
“Thanks Shona, you're a lifesaver,” and with that she hung up the phone.
“It looks like Ms. McNamara has been delayed so I'll be interviewing you today. Follow me,” she led the way to the large meeting room with Adrian following close behind her.
“Sorry about the temperature in here. It's a little nippy. I forgot to turn on the heat this morning,” Shona apologised for what felt like the umpteenth time. Why do I always lose my sense around handsome men?
“I'm hot enough already,” he replied, without even a hint of irony in his tone.
You can say that again, she thought, careful not to make eye contact with him. She arranged her folders and notepad on the table and gestured for him to take a seat, glad for the coolness in the room; it helped to reduce her temperature by a degree or two!
“Let's begin,” she said eventually in her most business-like voice, finally dragging her eyes away from the safety of the paperwork. He was watching her intently but his eyes were dancing in amusement. “You're actually the first person I've ever interviewed,” she laughed nervously. He really had the most penetrating gaze. It unnerved her a little.
“It's my first time too,” he grinned.
She willed herself not to blush. He was teasing her. “Really?” was the most intelligent response she could manage.
“Yes, what I mean is that you're the first person to interview me in Ireland. I've been based in London for years but I was sick of the rat race and decided it was about time I came home to Dublin.”
“Oh, I see,” she replied, self-consciously running her fingers through her hair. “I've got a list of questions here which Rebecca usually uses as a guide when she's interviewing.” She sat up straighter in her chair in an effort to seem more in control and professional. She was in charge here.
Adrian gazed expectantly at her.
“Tell me about your work experience to date,” she began.
“I've always been passionate about photography, ever since my father gave me my first camera for my tenth birthday.”
She smiled indulgently. I bet you were the cutest little boy, she thought distractedly. I wonder what our babies would look like.
“I'm good with people and I have a talent for capturing them. I know everything there is to know about photography and I have an instinct for the perfect shot.”
She flicked through his extensive portfolio as he spoke. Every photograph was breathtaking. There was something striking about the way he captured the emotion on camera or the way a ray of sun transformed an otherwise plain photo. “Passion is my bottom line. I believe if you are passionate about what you do then it shines through in your work and that's half the battle. I work hard. I know every detail about the industry and I've spent thousands of pounds on the most expensive equipment, but the results are rewarding. A bride’s smile, the expression on a first-time father's face, those are the moments that make me love my work.”
“Why don't you set up on your own? Why the interest in coming to work for M&R Photography?” she asked curiously.
“Actually, I owned a successful photography business in London but, as I'm sure you realise, I need to build up a reputation for myself in Dublin and establish a client list. I've done a little research and I've heard that M&R is one of the most established and successful photographers in Dublin. I heard about your contract with the Renaissance Hotel Group. That was quite a coup. Mr. Middleton-Sinclair is known to be very selective.”
She was amazed that he had taken the time to find out so much about their business. None of the other candidates had shown any such interest. There was something slightly unnerving about him. She couldn't quite put her finger on it but he made her feel a little uneasy. He was only a few years older than her, maybe in his mid-thirties at most, and already he had achieved so much, but there was something intimidating about him. It seemed there could be a lot more to him than met the eye.
“How will you feel about working for someone else and not being the boss?” she asked, trying to throw him off guard.
“I'm sure it will be fine. I'm used to working with people as part of a team and I'm not a control freak, though some people may argue that point.” He grinned mischievously at her.
“Team work is important at M&R Photography. Well, I think that’s about it, do you have any questions for me?”
“When would I start, if I'm successful?” he asked, with a pause.
“You’d start immediately, if that suits you. We’ve been working with freelancers for the last while so the position in available. I need to have a chat with my colleagues, so I’ll
be in touch shortly.”
“Great, I look forward to hearing from you. Thank you for your time.”
“My pleasure,” she held out her hand. His handshake was firm yet warm. She had to restrain a sigh at his touch.
“Let me get your coat,” she said, leading the way back to the main office. He gathered his briefcase and belongings together, wrapping his fine cashmere scarf around his neck.
“I’ll see you soon,” he turned to smile at her before closing the door behind him.
“Wow,” Shona let out a long sigh and tried to relax. She hadn’t realised she’d been holding her breath for most of the interview.
Chapter 6
“That went well,” Adrian barged into Maggie's office, loosened his tie and flung himself into a battered leather chair. “Although I don't know how long I can maintain my London accent.”
“It's nice to see you too,” Maggie smiled at him. “Why are you pretending to be English?”
“I'm not sure actually. I think I got into character too much. I didn't mean it to happen but as soon as I started speaking an English accent came out. I was more surprised than anyone else.”
Maggie laughed. She could always rely on her baby brother to make her laugh. “You're crazy, you know that. So did they believe your act? Did you get the job?”
“Shona Morgan interviewed me. Apparently Rebecca was delayed, stuck in traffic or something. I had Shona eating out of my hand within minutes. She practically drooled all over me the entire way through the interview.”
“Please, spare me the details,” Maggie groaned. “Did you get the job?”
“Oh, yeah, it's in the bag. Obviously she didn't tell me then and there, she said something about having to discuss it with her colleagues and that she'll be in touch within the next few days. But if I was a gambling man I'd bet a month's rent I've got the job and a date if I'm interested.”
“Adrian you are incorrigible! No fraternising with the clients; that's our number one rule.”
“Have you never heard of pillow talk, sister dear? It's amazing the secrets that are revealed after a night of passion.”
“Oh, please,” Maggie rolled her eyes. “This isn't a James Bond film. What's she like, this Shona Morgan?” She leaned back in her chair and settled in for a natter. Her brother certainly was an entertaining storyteller and never failed to amuse her with his wry observations.
“She's a cute little thing, gullible and naive, but sweet. I'm already looking forward to getting to know her better. I've got a feeling this could be one of our most interesting jobs.” They chatted about the case for a while before Adrian suddenly jumped to his feet.
“Is that the time?” he asked in his faux-English accent. “I must dash, dahling.”
“That was sudden. Where are you off to in such a rush?”
“Oh, you know, things to do, people to see, places to go,” he glanced pointedly at his watch. “Catch you later, sis.”
“Ok, 'bye,” and with that the whirlwind that was her brother was gone.
Maggie couldn't help smiling. She loved her baby brother dearly. They were a real team. She was more like a mother to him than a big sister. Their parents had died tragically in a car crash when she was twelve and Adrian was only two and they'd been in and out of foster homes for most of their childhood. Luckily, they'd always been fostered together so she could keep a close eye on her baby brother and the bond between them was rock solid.
As soon as she turned eighteen she became his legal guardian and she'd worked hard to give him the childhood she'd never had. She worked as a waitress when he was at school during the day, and studied online with the Open University to be a journalist after he went to bed at night. The mothers of some of his friends were happy to look after him if she had to work overtime or take exams. She liked to think that he had never wanted for anything. He knew she loved him dearly, and that was the most important thing in life to her. He'd gone off the rails a little at college but that was to be expected. He was passionate about art and photography and some of his photographs had sold for thousands. He'd made a lot of money in London but he was tired of the rat race and had decided to come home to Dublin. She was delighted to have her brother back home, and even more excited that they would be working together.
Maggie loved her job. She'd had an eventful career, to put it mildly. When her peers were graduating university and taking a year out to travel around Europe, she was intent on finding her first newspaper job. She dreamed of working for Fergus Kelly who, back when she was starting out, was a celebrated journalist who had recently started his own newspaper, The Stand. He was six feet four with a shock of brown hair and a voice like a dinner gong. He reminded her of Liam Neeson and for years she had been in awe of him. At the time she was looking for her first newspaper job he was putting together an eccentric group of writers who would turn The Stand into Ireland's most beloved newspaper.
Maggie had decided that she wanted a job at The Stand and she knew she'd have to do something striking to set her apart from the many other applicants. Instead of scheduling a meeting, she walked to the offices of The Stand, slipped past Fergus' secretary and marched into his office! Fergus glanced up from his reading, expecting to see one of his reporters standing in front of him, not a fiery red-head on a mission. “Who the hell are you?” he bellowed at her.
“My name is Margaret Rowan, and I want a job,” she replied, confidently meeting his gaze.
“Interviews are scheduled with my secretary. You can make an appointment with her on your way out.”
“Mr. Kelly,” she replied. “You're interfering with my destiny.”
He laughed his loud belly-laugh then and sat up straighter in his chair, taking notice of the determined young woman who had barged into his office.
“You've got my attention, Ms. Rowan,” he said, intrigued. “Tell me, what does your destiny entail?”
“I want to be a newspaper reporter and I want to work for you. I don't care where I start as long as you give me a chance.”
Most of the people he'd interviewed had usually expected to be columnists immediately and he was impressed that Maggie had no such fancy notions. “Okay. I'll give you a chance. You have a job.”
She rushed to her desk on her first day of work, eager to get stuck in, happy to introduce herself to everyone. One quality she had always had in abundance was confidence and it served her well in her new role. She started off covering mundane incidents but her way with words struck the editors and they began assigning her to cover breaking news. Some of her work even made the front page. She was a confident stylist for one so young and soon became known for her unconventional story angles. Once she was sent to report on a robbery and she began her account in the voice of an old storyteller: “Listen, my children, and you shall hear the tale of the boy who thought Dublin was ripe for a latter day Jesse James.”
Fergus thought the world of Maggie's writing. He often invited her to his home where the parties began at midnight and languidly spilled into the next week. He knew people in the theatre, the underworld, in government and high finance; they came to his house and forgot themselves. It was a whole new world to Maggie and gave her a valuable insight into another life. She and Fergus shared a mutual admiration and respect. He admired her feistiness and zest for life which is why he took her under his wing. She learned a lot from him and over the years they became close friends.
Journalism honed her skills at typing, researching, interviewing and writing. Her career had diversified into investigative journalism and it was there that she'd discovered her natural talents for investigation. She enjoyed the unpredictability of it. Sometimes it was exciting and fast-paced, at other times slow and studious, but always rewarding. It suited her personality down to the ground. She was brilliant and aggressive when necessary, capable of working long hours and skilled at digging up facts. Fergus called her his “secret weapon”; no other publication had such a smart, diligent woman working for them who had a nose for fi
nding crisp, scintillating facts. She loved uncovering information and getting to the truth behind a story. She'd always dreamed of starting her own business, so with a combination of savings and a generous investment from Fergus, Covert Eye Investigations was born. Fergus was happy to remain a relatively silent partner. It was her baby in almost every sense of the word; she lived, breathed and slept her job.
Sitting in her office, Maggie delved through the many newspaper articles which had been devoted to Mark's case. The pulsating trial had gripped the nation with extraordinary revelations of his plot to kill; allegations of greed, the web search to find an assassin, the manufacture of the lethal poison ricin and its subsequent discovery in the assassin's prison cell. Mark's book was another source which she was using in her investigation and it provided invaluable information about him and the women, including their background and lifestyle. Her mind boggled at how a man like Mark had become entangled in such an unimaginable tale and she was determined to get to the bottom of it. She had many contacts throughout Ireland and knew that they would be able to provide her with their own unique insight into the story. She wasn't particularly enamoured by Mark but she had to admit that many aspects of the case didn't quite add up. The evidence stacked against him was overwhelming. It seemed that the police had made up their minds about his guilt almost from the start and were resolute to have him convicted. She'd discussed Mark's story in detail with Fergus and they both agreed that the case against him seemed a little too convenient.
Chapter 7
Fergus Kelly seemed to be a very interesting man and with his dark hair, sharp gaze and broad shoulders, he made a striking presence. Rather hard, but his face showed great strength and he could be quite lovable were one to get behind his mask. Most of the female reporters were a little bit in love with him. They mothered him, bantered with him and flirted shamelessly with him but he paid no attention to any of them. The women who admired him discovered when they tried to edge closer, that they couldn't get through to him. They couldn't quite grasp his intentions or find access to his emotions.
Unfaithful (The Complete Trilogy) Page 39