“Everything seems to be under control for the moment. The staff here has been tremendously helpful. I’ll be meeting with all the vendors and touring the facilities properly tomorrow. We’ll see then what still needs to be done.”
“Well then.” Fin Dunne leaned forward, his gaze capturing hers. “If you’ve nothing else to fuss about tonight, why don’t we try out the restaurant?”
Try out the restaurant? Oh crap, he’s asking me to dinner. “Er,” Jillian hedged, trying to think of an excuse, and then stopped when the corners of his mouth tipped up in amusement. Why shouldn’t she have dinner with the attractive brother of her client? It wasn’t like anything was going to happen, no matter how hot he was. She was almost obliged to have dinner with him—he was her liaison with the groom while she was in Ireland.
She took a breath and smiled, pleased that it felt natural. “Sure, that sounds good. Let’s see what the chef can do.”
*
Jillian’s face hurt from laughing so much. “You’re pulling my leg!” she accused Fin, leaning back so the waiter could clear her dessert plate. The evening had been wonderful. The supremely talented chef had come out to speak briefly with her about the menu for the wedding, and they’d set a time to speak properly tomorrow, but after tasting his food, she had complete faith that the wedding dinner would be excellent. In addition to that, Fin Dunne was an entertaining and charming dinner companion. He’d gone out of his way to be amusing, and the stories he’d told about himself and Michael growing up with their younger sister were hilarious.
“My mouth to God’s ear, it’s all true. Mick may seem like a respectable type but deep down he’s the worst sort of reprobate.”
“What’s he doing with her—” Jillian slapped a hand over her mouth. Damn it, she’d only had two glasses of wine, but clearly they’d done too good a job relaxing her. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
“Don’t be sorry, we’re all asking ourselves the same thing. None of us can work it out, and he just says he’s in love with her. Damned if I can understand it.” The grin had faded from his face and his stunningly blue eyes were serious for the first time since they’d met. “I never thought I’d dislike my brother’s wife, but there you are.”
Jillian shifted awkwardly in her chair. Crap. She should have kept her big fat mouth shut.
“Come on then,” Fin said gently. “Let’s not talk about such things. Are you finished? How about a walk in the gardens?” Relief flooded her, and she smiled again.
“Sure.”
Fin gestured for the bill and, when it came, signed it to his room. Jillian had wondered momentarily if she should protest. After all, for her it was a tax write-off. Her hand had twitched toward the little tray, and Fin had drawn it out of her reach. Okay then.
As they left the restaurant, he offered her his arm, and her heart went pitty-pat. How gentlemanly. She took it and felt her insides go melty at his warmth. They wandered out to the lovely garden. God, this place is perfect. Maybe she should consider offering destination wedding packages.
She asked Fin what he thought.
“Why not? For me, I don’t see the fuss, but I imagine a lot of women would want to marry in an Irish castle. And you don’t need to pre-book anything, do you? So it’s not like you’d be out of pocket if nobody did.”
He had a point.
They wandered around the kitchen garden and past the maze, then paused at a high stone wall. “What’s this?” Jillian reached out and touched the cool, rough stone.
“The rose garden. The gate is this way.” Fin led her several meters down the wall, where a wrought-iron gate stood open, and then gestured for her to enter.
Even in the washed-out moonlight, the garden was stunning. Roses climbed the stone walls, formed arbors, crept over rocks. The heady fragrance wafted through the evening air. The path winding through the garden widened periodically, allowing room for stone benches and mosaic tables.
“Oh—this is amazing!” Jillian turned and grabbed Fin’s arm. “Does it look this good in daylight?”
“Better.” He took her hand and gently nudged her toward one of the benches. “What do you know about the castle’s history?”
Jillian sat. “Not much. I know the original castle is medieval, and that it was extended in the mid-nineteenth century, and then converted to a hotel about twenty years ago.”
“Mm, well, there’s quite a lot more, but this garden was built when the Victorian renovation was done. The owner at the time, Sir Charles Chichester, had it put in for his wife Maude. She was pregnant at the time and liked to sit amongst the roses in the afternoons.”
“You know a lot about the castle,” Jillian commented, shivering a little in the gentle evening breeze.
“I read the little booklet in my room. Come on then, you’re cold.” Fin slung an arm around her shoulders and she shivered again at the contact. The night air had cleared her head, which meant she couldn’t blame her reaction on the alcohol. Be professional. He’s your client’s brother. “What else can you tell me?” She asked to distract herself, and forced her attention to his description of the castle’s heritage.
When they entered the hotel through a side door, Fin steered her down a narrow corridor in the Victorian wing. “Where are we going?” she asked him.
“There’s a small lift back here. It’s closer than the foyer, and I think you’ll like it. It was installed in 1901, and it’s lovely.”
“Would it make for good photos?” Jillian considered how a hundred-something-year-old elevator would look against Marianna’s modern wedding gown. The contrast might be striking. She’d have to suggest it to the photographer.
“I’m not so good with that,” Fin confessed, “but have a look and tell me what you think.” He gestured ahead of them, and there it was, with the old-fashioned half-moon dial above displaying the floor numbers, and the elegant wrought-iron door.
He pressed the call button, and moments later the lift rattled down and the door opened. “It doesn’t see as much use as the main lifts do, but I’ve decided I prefer it. The staff has some interesting stories about it too.” He led her in. “What floor are you on?”
She told him, and he punched the button. “Are you there too?” she asked when he didn’t press any other buttons.
“No, but I’ll walk you to your door.”
She leaned against the lift wall as the door rattled closed, and reminded herself that this wasn’t a date, he was just being gentlemanly, and he was not going to kiss her at her door.
She lifted her gaze and met his, and the intensity of his blue eyes made her breath catch in her throat. Suddenly her chest was tight, and her gaze dropped to his mouth. He had a gorgeous mouth, his lips not thin but not so full that they looked feminine.
He took the two steps across the lift to stand close to her, in her personal space, so near she could feel the soft puff of his breath against her upturned face. And then he kissed her, and she melted into his arms, her whole body flushing under the sensation of his mouth on hers. The gentle touch lingered, his tongue probed and she parted her lips. He pulled her away from the wall and into his arms, holding her tight against him, his hand sliding down her back, over her hip, coming to rest on her ass, and she pressed closer still, his dick hard against her pelvis.
She moaned, and he slid his other hand up into her hair, tugging it free from its pins. “Wondered what your hair was like,” he muttered. “Love it.” In response, she undulated her hips against his cock, rubbing back and forth and enjoying how he hardened further, how his breathing quickened. She ran a hand over his chest, fumbling with the buttons on his shirt.
The elevator dinged and the door rattled open.
Jillian gasped and yanked herself out of Fin’s arms. “I—um…” She couldn’t think what to say, so settled for “Good night,” and darted out into the corridor. It only took a quick glance to orient herself; she was actually closer to her room than she would be from the other elevator.
&nbs
p; “Jillian.” Fin started forward, but the lift door started to close, and she heard him curse as she opened her room door. Slamming it, she leaned back against it, her hand to her mouth. What the hell had she been thinking? Marianna Carter was not the kind of woman who would tolerate the help hooking up with her future brother-in-law. If she found out that Jillian and Fin had been making out, she’d probably have a shit fit and start blackballing Jillian every chance she got.
Jillian changed for bed and firmed her resolve. She’d just have to avoid Fin as much as possible. It shouldn’t be too hard—she had a lot to do before the wedding, and as the groom’s brother he was also likely to be busy. And then after the wedding she would head home and never see Fin Dunne again.
Chapter Three
Fin Dunne was driving her insane.
He’d shown up at her door the morning after their dinner, smiling broadly, had taken one look at her cool, professional expression, and had sighed. “Right then.”
He’d then stuck to her the whole morning, through breakfast and through her tour of the facilities, despite her heavy hints that he must have something to do elsewhere. He was now sitting down to lunch with her, Aine, General Manager Mary Coughlan, Concierge Seamus O’Kane, and the housekeeping manager, introduced to her only as Mrs. Thatcher. The lunch was ostensibly for business, to ensure everything was in place for the wedding, but within the first five minutes Jillian had already checked everything off her list. The staff at Castle Tullamore was ridiculously efficient. She’d never worked with a venue where she hadn’t had to chase up some small—occasionally large—details, and confirm that everything was in place. At Tullamore, the details had already been taken care of, and the senior staff had even made some suggestions that had worked for previous functions.
She still had her meetings this afternoon with the head chef and the pastry chef, the florist, the photographer, and the videographer, but so far it looked like she hadn’t needed to arrive so early. Which would have helped her to avoid Fin.
He sat next to her, looking absolutely delicious in jeans and a blue button-down shirt open over a white T-shirt. In her usual understated business attire, she felt overdressed and repressed.
Jillian pushed some of her delicious potatoes around on her plate and sighed. Fin leaned toward her. “You okay?”
She pasted on her most professional smile. “Of course.” She turned toward Seamus, an attractive and charming man in his thirties. “How long have you been here at Tullamore?” She forced herself to listen attentively, which shouldn’t have been difficult. Seamus was interesting and his lilt was pleasant to listen to, but Fin was still leaning toward her, and he smelled amazing, and crap, he was sliding his arm along the back of her chair!
She discreetly hitched her chair slightly away from him, but he shifted with her, so she just ended up in the same situation, only now closer to Seamus, who watched with an amused twinkle in his eye. “I started here at Tullamore back when I was a lad—thought I’d get some experience working in a hotel and use it to travel the world. Now I reckon I’ll be here as long as they’ll let me stay. There’s something about this place that draws the soul and keeps it. There’s magic here.” His smile was sweet and mischievous, and Jillian smiled back. The Irish were so endearing. Even the extremely frustrating man whose heat at her side was distracting her so badly.
*
She finally managed to escape Fin by claiming the need to contact her staff in New York before her meeting with the florist. This was after a long and involved discussion with the head chef, Ryan Fitzpatrick Gallagher, and the pastry chef, Edna Sullivan—who definitely had the cake under control, it was going to be divine.
She paced her suite, cell phone in hand and a vague intention of actually calling Kate. As soon as she pulled herself back on an even keel. What was wrong with her? Sure, Fin was hot—really hot—but there were lots of hot men in the world. Hell, there were lots of hot men here at Tullamore. Men who wouldn’t get her in trouble with her client. Marianna would go insane if she found out that Jillian was kissing her future brother-in-law, much less the other things Jillian had thought about doing to him. Maybe she just needed a hook-up. She could find another yummy Irishman to distract her and to buffer her against Fin. Just two more days until the bridal party and guests started arriving, and then another day for the wedding, a day to tie everything up, and she could go home. As best man, Fin would be caught up in the pre-wedding hype, so all she needed to do was block him out for two days.
The hotel had both a pub and a club, in addition to the restaurant bar. The Dungeon was a BDSM club, so she might pass on that, but The Cave was supposed to have great music. Tonight, she’d visit the pub and see if she could find a distraction.
*
The crowd in The Cave was totally into the music, which was awesome, and Jillian found that she actually liked Guinness—well, after the first one she didn’t mind the taste quite as much. And there were many, many attractive men present. Several of them had flirted with her, but one had been too tall, and one was a bit pasty. She totally wasn’t into the whole looking-like-a-vampire thing. The third guy had just been smarmy. He’d been so sure she was going to take him up on his offer that he’d sat at her table before she could refuse his company.
Jillian sighed and stood. As great as The Cave was, she clearly wasn’t going to find a decent distraction here tonight. She slipped out and strolled through the halls toward the old elevator. She much preferred it to the modern ones off reception. It had real character, and the photographer had agreed that it would be perfect for pictures.
She pushed the call button and crossed her arms. She could already hear the lift rattling down when someone came up behind her. The tingling down her spine told her that her efforts to avoid Fin had been wasted.
“Hey there.” She suppressed the shiver that his delicious lilt evoked and pasted on a smile, turning her head to look at him as the lift door opened.
“Hi. How was your afternoon?” She stepped in and pushed the button for her floor and looked at him enquiringly. “Which floor?”
“Two.” His startlingly blue eyes were focused determinedly on her, and she felt heat rising in her face as the door rattled closed. Her throat was dry. Those eyes were incredible. He was so hot. His lips looked so soft…
She took two steps and lifted onto her toes. In seconds she had her mouth on those soft lips, her body pressed against his. She rubbed up and down, loving his hard body with hers as she slipped her tongue into his mouth. He made a startled sound but was quick to respond, his arms clasping her close, turning them to press her against the wall. He tore his lips from hers and planted hot, open-mouthed kisses along her jawline until finally he took her earlobe between his teeth and nipped gently. Jillian’s stomach cramped. She’d never known her ear was an erogenous zone, but lightning shot through her. Fin undulated against her, his hard cock pressing against her pussy, then drawing away before returning to torment her with fleeting pressure. Jillian let go of his shoulders and grabbed his hips, grinding against him, desperate for him.
Fin tore his mouth from her flesh and staggered back, taking her with him. Jillian barely had time to put her hands back on his hot, sexy skin, before he was working at her top.
Good idea. She grabbed the hem of his shirt and yanked it up, getting in his way and tangling their hands in the fabric.
“Jillie, wait.”
She maintained her grip. “Take it off.”
He grinned and released her shirt to take hold of his own. “Let go.” He barely gave her time to do so before he tugged it off over his head.
Hmm. His chest was amazing, firm and muscled. Her gaze zeroed in on his nipples, and she leaned forward and clamped her teeth on one.
“Ung.” The shudder that coursed through Fin encouraged her to lave her tongue across the nub. He shuddered again, then stroked a finger down the side of her face.
The lift stopped and the door rattled open. Reality slapped Jillian in the face,
and she dragged herself out of Fin’s arms and staggered back.
“Jillie, don’t you dare walk away from this again…” Fin sounded breathless, his accent deepening, and Jillian’s knees weakened, but she held out her hand, palm outward.
“Please, Fin. I can’t…this wedding is too important…please just go.” Fin stood there a second longer, breathing heavily, then he growled and stomped out of the lift, holding his shirt. Jillian sagged against the wall as the door closed.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Chapter Four
Jillian rose early after a restless night. She felt like crap. She was exhausted, and even though she had less to do than ever before in the lead up to a wedding, thanks to the incredible staff at Tullamore, she was stressed. Damn Fintan Dunne, anyway. How dare he be so irresistible? How dare he make her want to leap on him even though she knew, in her head, that she shouldn’t, that it was the worst thing she could possibly do to her career?
Her cell rang, and she jumped.
Who the hell would be calling at this time? It was five in the morning here in Ireland, and in New York it was midnight. Her blood chilled. Please don’t let something be wrong. She took a deep breath and answered.
“Jillian Baxter.”
“Jillian, is everything ready for my wedding? Is this castle really the right choice? Maybe we should have the wedding in New York after all.”
Marianna.
Jillian felt a strong and sudden hate for the woman, but she choked it down.
“Hello, Marianna. Yes, everything is ready, and the castle is wonderful. I’ve never seen such a perfect place for a wedding in my life—it’s going to be spectacular. Your friends will be talking about this for years. Your wedding is going to be the event of the decade.” She very carefully ignored the reference to moving the wedding again. No way, no how was that happening.
“Are you sure? My wedding has to be perfect, Jillian.” Her tone was pure ice, the warning heavy.
Irish Allure Page 2