by Joss Wood
She could understand why he felt like that. Sadie pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, looking for a way to tell him that she knew more about his marriage than she should, that she knew how he’d treated Tamlyn. But she couldn’t say anything, partly because this situation was complicated enough already without him knowing that her virtual assistant was also his ex-sister-in-law.
It was time to end this conversation, right now.
“Carrick, I’m attracted to you. I would never have slept with you if I wasn’t. But I am wise enough to sense that you are—” she hesitated, pulling back the dangerous that hovered on her lips “—complicated. I don’t do complicated.”
She frowned at him, and, feeling a little vulnerable, decided to go on the offensive. “I thought we agreed not to discuss this again?”
“I know, we did say that but—” Carrick raked his fingers through his hair “—but I can’t stop thinking about how good we were together! And I suspect you feel the same way.”
She did. Dammit.
Sadie gripped the bridge of her nose.
She desperately wanted to stamp her foot or kick his shins but only because he was right. They were good together. But good sex didn’t equate to his being a good man...
End this. Now.
Sadie nailed him with an I’m done look, knowing she had to shut down this conversation before she succumbed to temptation and asked him to take her on this sturdy boardroom table.
He wouldn’t say no...
Be sensible, Slade.
“Having a one-night stand is not something I indulge in and I’m not into short-term flings. Or, as I said, long-term relationships.”
Leaving her in no-sex land. Well, how sad, too bad.
Sadie squared her shoulders and forced the words past her lips. “Either we forget what happened the other night or I walk out and you find another art appraiser. I’m not going to have this discussion again.”
She had to protect herself; it was the only sensible course of action.
Carrick’s green eyes narrowed. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”
No, but she’d never admit that. It took all she had to give him a quick, jerky nod. Carrick held her stare, his expression now inscrutable. “Fine. I won’t mention it again.”
Okay, then.
It—they—were over and she’d gotten what she’d asked for. So why then did she feel so disappointed? Why did she still want him to pull her to his hard body, lower his mouth to cover hers? Why did she still want him?
Because apparently, she was still, when it came to men, a complete idiot.
Sadie wrapped her arms around her body and watched him stride from the room, his big body radiating tension. She wanted to run after him and to stop herself, she gripped the desk and locked her knees.
They’d only shared one night of great sex and it was completely pointless to think they had the potential to be anything more to each other than a hot, sexy memory.
It’s done, Slade; it’s over.
After rolling her head to relieve some of the knots in her neck, Sadie pulled her bag onto her shoulder.
She had a job to do, and to do it effectively she’d have to evade and avoid the boss man. Good thing she’d had some practice at doing exactly that over the past week.
Three
Carrick slammed the weights back into the rack and grabbed his towel, roughly swiping it over his sweaty face. He glanced at the oversize clock on the wall. He still had fifteen minutes left and he needed to get his heart rate up, to feel it pounding out of his chest.
Anything to dislodge the dull ache he currently lived with. Had it only been yesterday since his “thanks, but no thanks” conversation with Sadie?
Stepping onto the treadmill, he pushed buttons, looking for a high-intensity program. As the belt moved, he started to run. He would not think about Sadie, nor did he want to think about how much her rejection of him, correction, her rejection of sex, hurt. But as much as he didn’t want to think about her, he couldn’t damn well stop.
And thinking about rejection made him think about his marriage and that just sucked. It was a topic he seldom visited, preferring to leave that monumental stuff up in the past.
His story wasn’t that unusual or uncommon: he’d married in a haze of sex, fell out of love and wanted out of the marriage. He’d tried to keep things amicable, respectful. But Tam didn’t take rejection well and when she found out she couldn’t change his mind, she’d opted to punish him instead.
Had Sadie heard the false rumors about his marriage? Probably. Might Sadie be avoiding him, and his bed, because of Tamlyn? The world they operated in was a small one and filled with misinformed, malicious gossips.
It was a distinct possibility.
The urge to tell Sadie his side of the story was strong, but he immediately squashed that idea. His pride, ever vigilant, refused to allow him to explain a damn thing.
And he couldn’t forget that he didn’t know Sadie well enough, or trust her enough, to expose himself. Despite years passing, he was still embarrassed that he’d been, probably still was, talked about. Having his private life and his marriage play out in the court of public opinion had been a nasty experience, and the memories still left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Grown-ups, those with any thought processes at all, knew there were two sides to a story, his and hers. Or, more accurately, his, hers and the truth. Tamlyn had some valid complaints. He had spent far too much time at the office and he had avoided going home.
But he’d never cheated on her or verbally abused Tamlyn. In fact, instead of talking to her, he’d mentally and physically withdrawn, and to someone who craved attention, that was the cruelest punishment of all. He wasn’t proud of himself. He probably could’ve handled the whole asking-for-a-divorce conversation better, but Tamlyn turned...yeah, vicious.
Tamlyn, he thought again, didn’t take rejection well. And judging by his pissy mood, neither, apparently, did he.
He’d decided, sometime during his separation from Tamlyn, not to try and combat the swirl of rumors surrounding their relationship. What other people thought wasn’t important enough to rent space in his head. He didn’t care what strangers thought about him; the people he loved and cared about knew the truth. So damned if he would explain. And he refused to break that policy with Sadie.
While it annoyed and frustrated him that Sadie might believe he was the bad guy Tamlyn made him out to be, Sadie was a temporary distraction in his life and not important enough to him to explain that very ugly period of his life.
Or, that was what he was trying to believe.
There was no point in raking up the past. There was no chance of them taking whatever they had up a level; she wasn’t interested in a relationship and neither was he. And if that was true—and he was sure it was—then why had he suggested dinner? Why had he told her he wanted to dance through her mind?
Dance.
Through her mind.
What the hell, Murphy?
But he couldn’t deny that she was an interesting woman; he liked the way her mind worked. Underneath the colorful clothes and perfect face was a razor-sharp mind. He liked interesting people and if an interesting discussion led to fantastic sex, who was he to complain?
His liking her mind, her spirit, did not mean that he’d ever think about commitment, love, putting a ring on her finger. That was just stupid...
And he was just as stupid, spending so much time thinking about Dr. Sadie Slade. What he needed to do was find another woman to drive her out of his mind...
Carrick hit the button to speed up and pumped his arms and lengthened his stride, his breathing now ragged. He lifted his hand to wipe the sweat out of his eyes and out of the corner of his eye saw a big hand punching the stop button on the console. The belt slowed and Carrick scowled at Ronan.
“Probl
em?” Carrick asked between breaths.
“Well, yeah, since I’ve called your name three times and you didn’t hear me,” Ronan replied. He tipped his head to the side. “Everything okay?”
Carrick flashed a smile at his younger-by-a-year brother. He wanted to bitch, but he felt uncomfortable talking about women when his brother was still missing his gorgeous wife. The Murphy boys didn’t have great luck at relationships, Carrick and Finn were both divorced and Ro was a young widower.
Great luck? Hell, they didn’t have any luck at all.
“I’m good.”
“Really?” Ronan looked skeptical. “Because you were mumbling to yourself and you powered through your workout like a demon, a sure sign something is worrying you.”
Ronan knew him too well. “Nah, I’m good.”
“Liar,” Ronan countered as Carrick stepped off the treadmill. “This wouldn’t have something to do with Sadie Slade, would it?”
Carrick hid his surprised expression behind his towel. He made a show of wiping his face and only dropped the towel when he was certain his expression was inscrutable. “Why would you think that?”
Ronan lifted his dark eyebrows. “Oh, the fact that you turned pea-green and were scared out of your mind when she choked at the pre-exhibition cocktail party.”
They’d been some of the worst minutes of his life, but he wasn’t going to admit that to his brother. Carrick handed Ronan a that’s-all-you-got? look. “She’s consulting for us and she choked on food served at a Murphy event.”
Ronan ignored his explanation. “And every time you two are together, the room crackles with electricity.”
“Crap,” Carrick replied before turning his back to Ronan to head for the water dispenser. He filled a cup, downed the water and filled the cup again. Not wanting to discuss Sadie—he’d given that frustrating woman far too much of his time as it was—he changed the subject. “Have you found a nanny yet?”
“Keely suggested that Joa help me out. She’s an au pair and she’s got time on her hands.” Ronan looked uncomfortable and Carrick’s big-brother radar beeped. “You met her the other day, didn’t you?”
“Yeah.” Carrick nodded.
“What did you think about her?” Ronan asked.
Why were they talking about Joa? Carrick had no idea, but as long as they weren’t discussing Sadie, he’d go with it. “She seemed pleasant. Gorgeous as hell, obviously, but smart. She asked some pertinent questions about art and the Homer in particular. Are you going to hire her?”
Ronan shifted and shrugged. “Dunno.”
Carrick knew Ronan desperately needed a nanny. Joa was available, had experience and Keely recommended her. Why wasn’t Ronan jumping all over this?
Could it be because Ronan was finally starting to notice women again? It worried Carrick that Ronan had shown no interest in women, or sex, since Thandi’s death. Sex was a biological function, something men in their thirties needed. He’d raised the subject with Ronan and had been told to back off, that sex was a momentary release and it certainly did not have the power to penetrate grief.
He’d backed off.
But Ronan’s questions about Joa gave Carrick hope. To the world, his brother was the funny, fast-talking Murphy, able to charm birds from the trees, but Carrick had held him as he cried, watched over him and his kids as he drank himself into oblivion those first few weeks after Thandi passed away.
Ronan had regained his charm, but it was all surface; underneath he was still broken and battered.
“Are you hesitant about hiring her because she’s stunning?” Carrick asked, looking for some sort of agreement in Ronan’s eyes, and there it was, a flicker of acknowledgment and was that...possessiveness? Better and better...
“Or because she is smart and sexy?” Carrick knew he was pushing Ronan’s patience, but thought it was worth it. “Don’t you think?”
Ronan shrugged. “I guess. Not that I can look at her like that.”
Carrick sighed. In Ronan’s head, having a relationship with anyone would be cheating on Thandi, and while his brother was a rabble-rouser and a party animal—or he had been—he did not cheat.
None of them did.
“Ro, you’re allowed to be attracted to someone other than Thandi,” Carrick quietly told him.
Ronan’s stark gaze met his. “Whether I am or not is beside the point. We don’t fool around with our employees, Carrick. It’s a recipe for disaster and you, of all people, know that.”
Ouch. Carrick sighed. “Sadie and I just had one night, Ronan. And it’s over.”
Surprise jumped into Ronan’s eyes. “Ah, well, okay. And more than I needed to know about you and Sadie. Actually, I was referring to Satan’s bride, Tamlyn. You met her when you worked together on restoring that Kahlo.”
Carrick winced. Crap. He was so busted. Looking for a way out, he picked up on Ronan’s previous sentence. “At the risk of sounding reasonable, may I point out that hiring Joa as your nanny might be the answer to all your problems?”
“Or the source of a dozen more,” Ronan muttered, walking away.
Carrick watched Ronan as he headed to the rowing machine and winced. Yep, just another stunning woman causing chaos in a Murphy male’s life. On the plus side, Carrick was grateful he wasn’t alone.
Misery, after all, liked company.
* * *
That evening, Joa was still irritated with Keely but that didn’t stop her from taking the glass of red wine Keely waved under her nose. She was still mad at her foster sister for being so damn high-handed, for volunteering Joa to be the very sexy Ronan Murphy’s nanny...
Keely had always been as bossy as hell, but they were adults now and she had no right to interfere in Joa’s life.
So if that was the case, why hadn’t she flat-out refused?
Keely dropped into the corner of the sofa in the library of Mounton House and put her feet on the coffee table, her sock-covered toes pointing in the direction of the wood fire crackling in the elaborate fireplace. “God, it’s cold out there.”
Joa, knowing that Keely hated the silent treatment, didn’t reply.
“So what are your impressions of Sadie Slade?”
So they were going to dance around the subject. Okay, then. “She seems professional and smart. I have no doubt she will find the answers we need.”
“If that painting is a Homer, it will raise an enormous amount for the foundation.” Keely rested her head on the back of the sofa, a small smile on her face. “I’ve known Carrick and his brothers for a long time, but I’ve never seen Carrick so distracted before.”
Joa wasn’t going to ask; she was still mad at Keely...
“What do you mean?”
Such willpower, Joa.
Keely’s mouth twitched at Joa’s curiosity. “Carrick couldn’t keep his eyes off Sadie. She’s worked her way under his skin.”
“I think she’s equally attracted. The sparks were flying.” Joa pointed her glass at Keely and frowned. “And don’t think that just because I’m engaging in this conversation, I’m not still mad at you. I am.”
Keely didn’t look remotely concerned. “You’ll get over it. You always do. And, in time, you’ll thank me.”
When pigs flew.
Joa dropped her feet to the floor and leaned forward. The one thing she’d been certain of when she left New Zealand was that she didn’t want to be an au pair again; she didn’t want to be a part of someone else’s family. Yes, she wanted a family of her own, but she needed to find it herself, make it herself. Or be alone. She was never again going to worm herself into someone else’s life.
So acting as a nanny to Ronan’s admittedly adorable sons wasn’t something she wanted to do.
Keely looked at her with suddenly serious eyes. “Ronan needs help, Joa.”
That wasn’t her problem. “Are you s
eriously telling me he can’t find one suitable nanny in a city this big?”
“He’s tried, but he has the worst luck. They are either too old or too strict, or too young and too flirty. A bunch of them used his kids to insert themselves into his life, a couple going far enough to offer more than child-minding services.”
Well, that was what happened when you were impossibly good-looking, rich and charming. Joa sighed, unable to tell Keely that she’d spent the past years pining after her two single bosses, over men she couldn’t have, hiding her attraction from them because she hadn’t wanted to make things awkward and embarrass herself. But if her attraction to them was a gentle, bubbling brook, then what she felt for Ronan was a raging, turbulent, fast-flowing river.
And she couldn’t swim...
Then Joa made the mistake of meeting Keely’s eyes and she saw the worry reflected in those brown depths. Knowing she wouldn’t like what Keely was about to say, Joa held her breath.
“He’s a very good friend, Ju, and he needs help. He’s sad and stressed and he’s barely keeping his head above water.”
“Why me?” Joa wailed.
“Because you have the experience and the time. And you’re the most levelheaded, down-to-earth person I know,” Keely replied. “You’re not impressed by his name, his looks—”
Oh, she was, but she’d rather die than admit that!
“—and you absolutely do not need his money. Help him out for a couple of months and maybe you can find a nanny for him...someone suitable. Besides, you know you will go off your head if you don’t do something.”
True. She hated being idle and, since Keely sometimes watched Ronan’s boys, Joa had heard about Sam and Aron; apparently they were old enough to be interesting, young enough not to give Keely too much grief. And, yeah, maybe Ronan was at the end of his rope.
She wanted to help—she would help anyone if she could—but she just wished Ronan weren’t quite so attractive.