by Zara Keane
“Night, Dad. See you soon.”
Jonas rang off and checked his watch. Seven o’clock. He yawned, stretched his aching back, and forced himself to his feet. He’d arranged to meet a friend from his journalism days for a drink down in the hotel bar. Back in the day, the cocktail bar at the Ashbourne Hotel had been one of his pickup joints of choice. The memories made him smile. Those days were long gone. This evening, all he wanted was a quick drink with an old pal followed by bed—alone.
***
“Wow. Nice place.”
It was an understatement. The opulence of the Ashbourne Hotel took Olivia’s breath away. Although she preferred modern, minimalist decor, she had to admit that that the Ashbourne was splendid. It was situated in a beautiful old building dating from the nineteenth century that had been carefully restored at the start of the millennium. It combined old-world elegance with modern convenience. The spacious lobby was resplendent with polished wood, plush carpet, gilt-edged mirrors, and a magnificent chandelier. A sweeping staircase led up to the three floors above.
“I’ve never been here before.” Jill looked down at the luxurious white carpet beneath her feet as they ascended the stairs. “At least, not inside. I’m almost afraid to walk on this thing in case I get it dirty.”
When they reached their room, Fiona set her bag on the floor while Jill fiddled with the key card. She, alone of the three, had refused the porter’s help with her luggage, but then Fiona tended to travel light. “I’ve been to the hotel cocktail bar several times but I’ve never stayed overnight. A bit out of my budget. If it weren’t for Jill’s aunt’s discount, I wouldn’t be staying here tonight.”
“Nor I,” Olivia said, “but seeing as we are here, let’s start the weekend in style. Why don’t we get changed and head down to the bar for cocktails?”
Jill opened the door and led the way inside their spacious double room. “Cocktails are definitely on my agenda, but you two can to go down first and nab us a table. I’ll join you later. I have a few e-mails to send after my interview and some follow-up documents.”
“Fair enough, but don’t work all night. We’re here to have fun.” Olivia retrieved her luggage from the porter’s trolley. She tossed the bags onto one of the two large double beds and then strode to the window. The room overlooked O’Connell Street, one of the main thoroughfares in Dublin’s city center. Bright lights and bustle beckoned.
She and Fiona took turns in the bathroom. When Fiona emerged from the shower, her curls wet and wild, Olivia had finished drying and styling her hair. “Have you decided what you want to wear this evening?”
The expression on Fiona’s face was comical. “Nooo…I squashed a few outfits into my bag and figured you’d help me pick.”
Olivia laughed. “Let me have a root through what you brought.”
Fiona unzipped her bag and threw it open for her friend’s inspection.
“Hmm.” Olivia held up a particularly unflattering garment. “I suppose we can jazz this up with one of my scarves.”
“I take it my wardrobe’s been rejected,” said Fiona with a wry grin.
“Put it this way—I’d like to add a touch of color to your outfit.”
“Black, black, and black not cutting it?”
“Not quite.” Olivia reached over to her suitcase and unlocked the clasp. “I think I have something that will do the trick.” Extracting a bright red silk scarf, she held it up against Fiona. “See? The shade suits your coloring. Even if you wear a black outfit, this scarf and slash of matching lipstick will turn boring to classy.”
“It is pretty,” said Fiona, fingering the material dubiously, “but I’m not an accessories person. Just as well. Wiggly Poo considers them to be snack food.”
Olivia laughed. “Are he and Gavin pining for you?”
“Put it this way: I’ve received several dog and master selfies in the few hours since I last saw them, but they can survive without me for a day.”
While Fiona was getting dressed, Olivia applied makeup. When she was satisfied with her artfully arranged red curls, she slipped into the clingy cocktail dress she’d bought months ago but had never had an occasion to wear. She turned to check her reflection in the full-length mirror. Stunning, even if she did say so herself. Shame it wasn’t suitable attire for the restaurant Jonas had invited her to for their date next week. She’d have enjoyed the sensation of him unzipping her…Now where had that naughty thought sprung from?
“What do you think?” Fiona had wrapped the scarf around her neck.
As Olivia had suspected, the color suited her. “Gorgeous.”
“I feel odd wearing this, but I must admit it’s pretty.” Fiona fingered the scarf and stared at their reflections in the mirror. “Your dress is stunning. The blue is fabulous with your pale skin and red hair.”
“Thanks,” Olivia said. “I might as well wear it this evening, seeing as I was reckless enough to buy it in a sale a few months ago. It’s not like I have the opportunity to wear a dress like this on a night out in Ballybeg.”
“Hmm…,” Fiona said with grin, “I’ll have to give Jonas a hint.”
“Fee,” she said in warning tone. “My separation’s not through yet.”
“So?” Fiona raised an eyebrow. “Aidan was a crap husband, and you’ve been separated in all but name for over a year. Time to live again.”
“My friendship with Jonas is…progressing.”
Fiona howled with laughter. “We need to give him a prod to make it progress a little faster.”
“I’d like to, Fee, but my history with Jonas isn’t exactly a happy one.”
Her friend’s smile was sly. “All the more reason to make your present with him very satisfactory.”
“Okay, enough with the matchmaking. Come here and let me finish doing your makeup.” She sat Fiona at the dressing table. After a light application of foundation, she blended a subtle shade of eye shadow and a lashing of mascara, finishing with a lick of red lipstick the precise shade of the scarf. “Not bad,” she said, regarding their reflections in the mirror. “Not bad at all. We’re going to have to send a photo to Gavin. Now let’s hit the bar.”
Jill was seated at the room’s small desk, typing furiously on her laptop. “Have fun. Save a place for me. I’ll join you in fifteen, okay?”
Olivia wagged a finger at her friend. “If you don’t, we’ll storm the room and drag you down.”
Jill gave her a mock salute. “Message received and understood. Will you order a mai tai for me?”
“Will do.” Olivia grabbed her handbag, and she and Fiona exited the room.
When they reached the hotel bar, it was already filling up with Friday night revelers. They squeezed through the crowd and nabbed the last unoccupied table.
Olivia perused the cocktail menu. “I think a frozen strawberry daiquiri would be just the thing to get our weekend celebrations off to a suitably decadent start.”
“I think I’ll have the same.”
The waiter was unloading their drinks when Jill arrived. “Hey, girls.” She twirled a beaded dreadlock around her index finger and glanced over her shoulder in a distracted manner. “Richard’s here. You don’t mind if I go over to say hi? I’ll only be a moment.”
Olivia choked on her drink. “Ratfink?” she spluttered. “Why the hell would you want to say hello to that creep? That dead relationship should never be resuscitated.”
“Come on,” Jill said pleadingly. “He’s not that bad, surely?”
“Sorry, but the man is a snake.”
“Well, he’s seen me now.” Jill’s almond eyes widened in a pleading fashion. “I can’t ignore him, especially with him working for the company I’ve just interviewed with.”
“Oh, go on,” Olivia said with a sigh. “If you want to hook up with that slimeball, you’re old enough to know what you’re doing.”
“I’m not going to hook up with him,” Jill protested. “Merely make peace. I don’t want to be on bad terms with him if I get the
job and he ends up being my team leader.”
Olivia raised an eyebrow. “Just be sure that ‘peace’ is all you’re making with him.”
“Direct as always, Liv.” Jill squeezed her shoulder. “Enjoy yourselves. I’ll be back in a bit.” She melted into the crowd, dreadlocks bobbing.
Olivia shuddered and took a generous gulp of strawberry daiquiri. “What on earth does she see in that creep?”
“You were your tactful self.” Fiona grinned over her cocktail glass.
“Put it this way—I might be shite at picking partners for myself, but I have an instinct when it comes to my friends. I knew you and Gavin were perfect for one another, and I’m equally positive that Ratfink will bring Jill nothing but grief.”
Fiona laughed. “Gavin and I were a train wreck that somehow worked out. I doubt you could have predicted that outcome.”
“What?” she teased. “Drunk Elvis impersonator marries two mad Irish tourists in Las Vegas, and it turns out to be legally binding?”
“Not to mention the crashed wedding part.” Fiona made a faux grimace.
“Speaking of jilted brides, how is your dear cousin Muireann?”
“Very pregnant. She’s due to pop any day now.”
“Wow.” Olivia shuddered. “Rather her than me in this heat. Actually, rather her than me in any weather. Are her parents still not speaking to her?”
“Uncle Bernard is adamant she’s never darkening his door again, but given that he’s still holed up in their holiday home in Marbella until the furor of the shopping center debacle blows over, his blustering is hardly relevant. As for Aunt Deirdre, her resilience crumbled the moment she saw the first ultrasound pics. She’s staying with Muireann in Clare until the baby is born.”
Olivia shook her head. “How quickly things change. This time last year, you were planning your Australian trip, and Muireann was planning her wedding to Gavin.”
“Crazy sauce. But I think it worked out for the best. Was Aidan badly affected by the collapse of the shopping center development scheme?”
“He took a financial hit, no question. How bad, I can’t say. He never confided in me. I will say that he’s been on edge for months, but that might be stress over the upcoming elections.” She gestured to her friend’s empty glass. “Do you want another drink? It’s my round.”
“Definitely.” Fiona flashed a wicked smile. “While you’re getting the drinks, I’m going to mosey over to Jill and her on-off dude. I know curiosity is alleged to have killed the cat, but I’m more of a dog person, ya know? I admit to unabashed curiosity over a guy you call Ratfink.”
“Go for it. If you can manage to distract her from his dubious charms, I’ll be forever grateful. Believe it or not, Jill’s taste in men is even worse than my choice in husbands.”
Fiona laughed and disappeared into the throng. Clutching an empty cocktail glass in each hand, Olivia wove her way through the masses and made a beeline for the bar.
And stopped dead.
Leaning on the counter stood Jonas O’Mahony, looking as suave and lethal as James Bond.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“JONAS?”
The familiar voice jolted his attention away from his pint. His friend Joe had just left the bar, and Jonas was contemplating sleep. Like a mirage, Olivia glided toward him, her elegant dress swishing with every step she took on her sexy high heels. “What the…” He blinked. “What are you doing in Dublin?”
“Of all the gin joints in all the world. You mentioned having meetings in Belfast and Dublin but I didn’t expect to run into you here.” She tilted her head to the side and examined his suit and tie. “I wouldn’t have thought it, but you wear a suit well.”
His gaze was riveted on her pink lips. “The suit is a leftover from my meetings this afternoon. Remember the TV script I mentioned? It’s a goer. RTE have commissioned a six-episode series.”
Her eyes widened. “Hey, that’s fantastic news. Congratulations.” She placed a hand on his arm as she spoke.
“Thank you. I’m relieved. Luca’s fees for next quarter are looming.” He leaned closer, drawn by her sweet scent and the sight of that luscious, kissable mouth. “What brings you to the Big Smoke?”
Her hip brushed his thigh, sending a shot of pure lust to his groin. “Jill had a job interview today,” she murmured into his ear. “Fiona and I came up to join her for the night.”
“Sounds like fun.” He was finding it hard to breathe, let alone talk. If she kept this up, he’d kiss her right here in the middle of the bar, and to hell with what anyone thought.
“Yeah. Jill’s aunt got us a good deal on the room”—Was it his over-imaginative libido, or did she add special emphasis to the word room?—“so we’re celebrating the weekend in style.” The slight slur to her voice indicated that the bright red cocktail in her hand wasn’t her first.
“You’re certainly stylish.” He raked her clingy blue dress.
She tugged at his tie and pressed her body against his. Yeah, she was tipsy. “You were wearing a tie at Gavin and Muireann’s nonwedding too. I noticed. You wear them well.”
“I wear them with reluctance.” He untangled her fingers from the knot of his tie but didn’t let them go. “Purely for the TV execs’ benefit.”
She tugged at the tie, her glossy lips curving into a seductive smile. “I’m more than happy to help you remove it.”
“Olivia, are you sure—”
“Shh,” she whispered, and laid a finger over his lips. “My legal separation should be through next week. It’s time to move forward with the rest of my life, don’t you think?”
Memories of those heady days of their brief teenage love affair performed a Technicolor dance in his mind. They’d been besotted with one another—mind, body, and soul. Until that awful night. He ran his fingers over her bare shoulder, toying with the spaghetti straps of her dress. If Olivia was ready to move on from Aidan, it was time for him to let go of the past. “Do you want to dance? There’s a dance floor downstairs.”
“Fiona and Jill—”
“—have seen us together and are giving you the thumbs-up.”
Olivia whipped round and laughed when she spied her friends on the other side of the bar. “I’m no better at dancing than I was ten years ago.”
He flashed her a wicked smile. “I have fond memories of you trampling my feet. I’ll take my chances.”
“Cheeky sod.” She gave him a playful swat. “As I recall, you were no better than I was.”
His grin widened. “But we were very compatible when it came to other things.”
The memories came back in all their pixelated glory. They stared at one another for a beat until she blushed and averted her gaze. Jonas grabbed her hand and carved a path through the throng.
Downstairs the dance floor was packed with revelers at various stages of inebriation. The very worst chart music blasted from the speakers, much to their amusement.
“I can’t picture you dancing to this song.”
Jonas grinned. “I can’t picture me dancing at all. Which is why I’m damn glad there are no mirrors down here.”
He grabbed her waist and, in one fluid movement, twirled her onto the dance floor. A fellow dancer careened into them, crushed her against his chest. Her breasts pressed against his torso, and she ran a playful finger over his biceps. This close, he could taste her perfume on his tongue.
When his lips met hers, the world went still. She met him tongue for tongue in a passionate dance, pulling him closer, devouring him. Jonas craved more. He skidded his mouth along her cheek, stopping to tease her earlobe. “Do you want to go upstairs?” he whispered, nibbling the lobe and making her gasp.
“Yes,” she replied breathlessly.
He grabbed her hand and maneuvered her back through the crowd. In the lobby, he pressed a button to summon the lift, never taking his attention off Olivia. When the lift arrived, they stumbled in. Jonas pressed her against the plush red velvet hangings and plundered her mouth. Sh
e slipped a hand underneath his shirt, making him growl.
When the lift shuddered to a halt, they broke their embrace and stepped into the bright lights of the corridor. They stopped in front of a door. “This is my room.” Jonas fumbled with the key card and the door sprang open. He pulled her inside the room milliseconds before his mouth claimed hers once more. “Strip,” he murmured against her throat, unzipping the back of her cocktail dress in one fluid movement. “I want to see you naked.”
Biting her lip, she stood back and let the blue silk slip off her shoulders, cascade down her body, and pool at her feet.
Next she turned her attention to her bra. She unfastened it slowly, easing it down her breasts, revealing one bare nipple at a time before flinging the garment to the floor. He whistled his appreciation, making her laugh. “You like what you see?”
“You’re beautiful.” The pulse in his neck throbbed as he perused her half-naked body. She was even sexier than she’d been twelve years ago. Long red hair hung loose over her shoulders, brushing against her breasts that were high and fuller than he remembered. The rich hue of her hair complemented her ivory skin. While slim, she was no longer a skinny eighteen. Her rib cage tapered to a small waist before flaring out to form perfectly proportioned hips. “Now your knickers.”
She licked her lips and his cock strained against his trousers. Giving him a knowing smile, she hooked her thumbs into the edges of her lacy thong. She tugged the garment over her hips, thighs, and legs before kicking it off with more enthusiasm than grace. Hands on hips, she stood before him, naked save for her strappy high-heeled shoes.
He let his gaze meander to her belly and between her thighs. And sucked in a breath as his cock became even harder. She’d shaved her public hair—or waxed, or done whatever it was that women did to achieve a silky smooth expanse of skin. “Jaysus. I am a lucky man.”
“Now it’s your turn.” Her husky voice held a hint of a challenge.
He required no further invitation. Getting himself out of the unfamiliar tie took some fumbling, but once achieved, he had his shirt off so fast he lost a button or two in the process. The belt and trousers were discarded with speed, followed by his socks and underwear. He stood before her naked, hard, ready.