His Mistress, His Terms Read online

  While he tried to figure it out, he lifted the cup to his mouth without thinking, grimacing at the lid in disgust when he tasted the contents. What was that supposed to be?

  He set it on the floor by the door.

  ‘Alex, walk with us.’ She used her ‘famous sexy phone voice’ from across the cavernous foyer. ‘You can tell me what you’ve done at the same time so I have the whole picture.’

  Well, it was certainly nice to be included. But she needn’t think he was any more ready to be ‘managed’ than she was to be ‘moulded’. This was his gig; from start to finish. His reputation depended on it. Alex was getting the ‘& Son’ removed from the gold plaque outside the office in Merrion Square by the end of the year if it killed him. He had a goal.

  ‘We’d agreed to try and incorporate a lot of Irish influences—’

  ‘That’s a great idea! How clever of you to think of it, Mickey. You’re thinking natural—rough carved wood, slate, that kind of thing?’

  Mickey had taken three sessions before he’d agreed to Alex’s plan. Thanks anyway.

  He stepped in front of them and pushed his hands into his jeans pockets, fixing her with a direct gaze that said he meant business. ‘A lot of original cornices were saved—’ he pursed his lips as she studied the roof ‘—and the staircase is all original. What we want is a blend of old and new.’

  ‘I can tell you’re a visionary Mickey.’

  ‘I like to think I’ve a finger on the pulse of things, though Alex has had the odd good idea along the way. Even talked me outta some of the more outlandish ones—which is no easy thing.’

  The ‘odd’ good idea? All right, so it was the first compliment Mickey had actually paid him without a grunt and a shrug of his shoulders, but the outlandish ideas had taken a lot to get out of. If Merrow had any idea just what he’d dealt with to get the project to this stage—the monumental amount of patience involved…

  ‘So tell me about adult hotels, Merrow—I like the sound of them. They sound like they involve sex.’

  Merrow beamed. ‘Sex sells, Mickey.’

  ‘Goddamn right it does.’

  Alex was going to strangle her. ‘Except there are certain laws to consider.’

  Merrow fixed her sparkling green gaze on his face, the mischievous smile back on her full lips. ‘You have a very dirty mind, Alex.’

  Down, boy. If he had no control over anything else in this room, his body was gonna listen! His eyes narrowed in warning.

  But Merrow simply tutted at him and took her hand off Mickey’s arm to wander around the room, her face animated, her voice low and huskily sexy. ‘Seduction. That’s what I think this place should be all about. Subtle seduction—quiet, low-lit corners, textures—suedes and velvets and leather and silks offset by rough carved wood and slate underfoot and heavy tables and chairs—the masculine and the feminine.’

  Alex moved over a step so he was beside Mickey as the man removed his sunglasses. And they both watched as Merrow smiled a secretive smile, closed her eyes, bit down on her bottom lip, taking a deep breath that lifted her pert breasts before she continued, ‘And scents.’ She sighed blissfully. ‘There should be scents; fresh pine from little trees in pots, so that you get the scent as you walk past them. And then flowers—honeysuckle, roses, lavender—out of season so it hints at the luxury. So without realising it you’ll associate those scents with being here. So even when you leave, months afterwards, you’ll remember being here and suddenly realise you were seduced and just didn’t know it at the time…’

  Alex felt his body go hard. He swallowed, determined to remove the memory of lavender scent from his mind. He then glanced sideways at Mickey, scowling at the mesmerised expression on the older man’s face.

  Oh, the hell he was going to look at her like that while Alex stood beside him. If he even thought of laying a pinkie on her—

  He looked directly at Merrow as she opened her eyes, a scowl of warning aimed in her direction as she walked slowly towards him, her gaze fixed on his as she damped her lips again.

  ‘The Pavenham should be classic mixed with traditional mixed with modern day. It should stand out of the crowd. And its interior should feel so sensual that its visitors will want to reach out and touch things without knowing they’re doing it. They should brush their fingertips over the suede—should sink lower into the velvet of the sofas—should feel a certain eroticism from the softest leathers against their skin…’

  She tilted her head to one side and swayed her shoulders a little. ‘When they eat in the restaurant the plainest food should taste better than anything ever has before, the wines should be richer, crisper; glasses should be heavy in their hands. There should be candles everywhere and splashes of deep, earthy colours to draw the eye and warm the soul.’

  She stopped in front of them both, quirked her brows, damped her lips again with the tempting tip of her tongue and sighed. ‘The Pavenham should be seduction in the city.’

  After a moment’s silence she tore her gaze from Alex’s and smiled at Mickey D. ‘Don’t you think?’

  Mickey remained silent for another long moment before nudging Alex hard. ‘Hire her. Now. Give her whatever she needs.’

  Merrow grinned. ‘Excellent!’ Then she clapped her hands together just the one time and lifted her chin to look at Alex. ‘I’ll run some sketches off and put together a collage and you can call me tomorrow some time if you have anything you want to talk about.’

  She patted Mickey’s upper arm. ‘Lovely to meet you, Mickey. I’m sure I’ll see you again soon. Now, where did I leave my coffee?’

  Alex ground the answer out from between his clenched teeth. ‘By the door.’

  ‘Great. Bye, then!’

  Alex watched her sashay all the way to the door; he watched her skirt lift when she bent over to lift her coffee, affording him a tempting view of a little more long, shapely leg. And he watched as she shouldered her way out the door with a smile on her face.

  What had just happened? It felt vaguely as if he’d been run over by a bus.

  ‘Well, she’s a firecracker.’ Mickey slapped him so hard on the back that Alex rocked forward onto the balls of his feet, scowling harder.

  ‘You have your hands full with that one.’

  ‘Indeed.’ He discovered he had a gift for understatement.

  ‘Yup, I’m gonna look like a pussycat after working with her.’ He set his sunglasses back on his nose. ‘But if she can pull off even half of what she just described, then we’re about to make one helluva splash here.’

  ‘It’ll work. I’ll see to that.’

  ‘Never doubted it for a second, Alex.’ Mickey grinned broadly. ‘You Fitzgeralds are s’posed to be the best. And I only ever pay for the best.’

  No pressure there, then. But as he walked to the door with his suddenly placated client, Alex knew one thing for certain. He’d be calling Merrow all right, because there was plenty to ‘talk about’. And this time he was going to talk, and she would damn well listen!

  No matter what he had to do to get her attention…

  CHAPTER THREE

  ‘WHY are you seeing him outside of working hours? Remind me again.’

  Merrow pinned the phone between her ear and her shoulder and attempted to get her leather artist portfolio into a more comfortable carrying position. ‘Because he wanted to meet up and it’s the only time I’ve got to see him. There’s nothing going on. I told you that already.’

  ‘Not convincingly enough, hon…’

  Obviously. Because her three best friends had been what felt like constantly on the phone or texting. Merrow had even wondered briefly if they had some kind of tag-team going…

  They were interested was all; they cared about her the same way she cared about them. That was what friends did. It was just that, after Dylan, whom an American friend had dubbed ‘the schmuck’, they were a little more interested in any guy Merrow might date. They were ‘looking out for her’. But it was getting tiring.

&nbs
p; Merrow took a deep breath, glancing around as she turned in a circle, trying to work out which side of Merrion Square Alex’s office was on. Her eyes caught sight of the statue of Oscar Wilde leaning on a rock beyond the green railings and she silently asked him with a quirked eyebrow if he could kindly point her in the right direction…

  Oscar remained silent.

  ‘It’s work.’

  ‘It’s half past seven. Work stopped at half five.’

  Not necessarily. Merrow pouted her lower lip out as she wandered along the railing. ‘This won’t be the first work meeting I’ve had out of hours. People have busy lives. And speaking of which, if you don’t get off the phone soon I’ll be late meeting you at Temple Bar.’

  ‘Half nine, yeah?’

  ‘Yes. Half nine.’

  ‘Well, if you’re late, we’ll understand why.’

  ‘I won’t be late.’

  ‘If he’s half as hot as I remember him being at the Oyster Festival we’ll understand. But we’ll need all the gory details…’

  Merrow caught sight of a gold plaque on the other side of the street that looked promising. ‘I won’t be late. It’s work!’

  Hence why she was at his office after hours and not meeting him where he lived. There was one night of fantasy and then there was real life. And Merrow knew the difference between the two. Most of the time.

  ‘Have fun.’

  She walked across the street, readjusted her portfolio again and sighed in relief as she read the gold plate. ‘Ha, ha. I’ll see you in a while. Bye.’

  With her phone tucked back into her bag, the strap of the bag lugged back onto her shoulder and her portfolio once again adjusted, she rang the bell on one side of the Georgian doorway. Then she smoothed her hands over her braids, checked the two loose strands of hair still framed her face, readjusted all of her baggage when it slipped again—and just about managed to have enough time to fold her arms and look calm before the door opened and Alex filled the space; filled being the operative word.

  Oh, that was so not fair.

  If he could just once not look so damn hot! Seriously. Was there a single article of clothing he didn’t look good in? Or better out of, that her memory recalled. It really wasn’t playing fair.

  He leaned against the door jamb, the dark material of his shirt stretching across his broad chest as he pushed the red door a little wider. ‘Hi.’

  He could even make ‘hi’ sound sexy.

  Her gaze moved up over his wide chest, up the broad column of his neck, past the dimple in his chin, the sensuous curve of the mouth she knew could do such wondrous things until she followed the straight line of his nose to look into his eyes.

  Where the gold flecks glowed.

  So she swallowed and pinned a bright smile on her face. ‘I have the sketches and the collages for you.’

  She held the portfolio out in front of her, which caused her bag to slip off her shoulder, so she had to take a second to adjust it. And when he didn’t take the portfolio from her, it meant she had to juggle again, which irritated her no end.

  ‘Come on up.’ He pushed his shoulder off the door jamb and swung one long arm out to his side in invitation. ‘My apartment is on the top floor. We can look them over there.’

  His apartment? Aw, no. Hang on. This was work!

  ‘Your office will do fine.’

  He didn’t so much as flinch, his gaze cool and steady despite the glowing gold, as he glanced over her nineteen-sixties plaid mini-dress, once again lingering longer than required on her legs. He was a bit of a legs man, wasn’t he?

  And Merrow had a sudden vivid memory of her legs spread wide, with the coarser hair of Alex’s legs rubbing against her smooth skin. Boy-oh-boy—was it warmer than usual for this time of year or was it just her?

  ‘Everything is locked up for the night. And I’ve just made something to eat. Come on up. We’ll look at your sketches there.’

  Protesting would have made her look immature, or, worse still, worried, so she lifted her chin for good measure and walked past him, waiting in the hallway until he closed the door and strode past her. So she had a great view of his tight rear on the way up the stairs…

  He really did fill out a pair of jeans, didn’t he?

  ‘You live here as well? That’s dedication.’

  His deep voice echoed off the walls of the seemingly never-ending stairway with its intricate wrought-iron railing. ‘One of my father’s projects. He didn’t like to be far away from his work.’

  Ah, the famous Arthur Fitzgerald—a safer topic to think about. Now there was a legacy to live up to. Merrow couldn’t help but think that, given the choice, she’d have chosen a different career herself. It would’ve been easier than living under that kind of a shadow her whole life.

  She wondered if Alex ever felt that way. Somehow she doubted he was the kind of guy who would ever make that big a confession out loud.

  ‘Bet there’s a nice view from up there though.’ She sighed in appreciation of her current view again.

  ‘Well, you’ll soon see for yourself, won’t you?’

  What was bugging him? Because Merrow could spot a cool tone from fifty paces, even from someone she barely knew. Hadn’t she just got his sweet, perfectly formed ass out of the fire yesterday? Where was the charm he had promised?

  ‘Does your father still come to Dublin now that he’s retired?’

  There was a small, low burst of laughter in response to that. ‘Oh, I think you’ll find he uses the term “retired” very loosely. But he rarely comes to Dublin.’

  ‘He must trust your judgement to leave you in charge.’

  ‘That I had to work for.’

  Was that why the Pavenham was so important? Was he proving a point? But before she could ask he was pushing open another door and she found herself walking into a light, airy living space that seemed to stretch endlessly to either side of her. There hadn’t been the smallest hint that a place like Alex’s apartment even existed behind the Georgian front of the building. But judging by the space, it was more than the one building…

  ‘How many houses do you have here?’

  ‘Three.’ He walked ahead of her into the open kitchen before glancing at her from the corner of his eye, one large hand lifting a bottle of wine off the counter. ‘Do you want a glass of wine?’

  Well, she wasn’t driving…

  ‘Please.’ She walked to the other side of the counter and set her portfolio down on the dark granite surface, slipping her bag off her shoulder to lay it alongside while her eyes scanned the room. ‘This place is amazing.’

  ‘I remodelled about a year ago. When the property next door came on the market I bought it and knocked through. The lower floors of the new building hold a design school now.’

  Not living under the old man’s shadow so much, then. Alex was already carving out his own niche. And there was something sexy about that too. He was his own man.

  ‘Your dad must be very proud of what you’ve done.’

  Alex shrugged his broad shoulders as he uncorked the wine, his gaze focussed on the task so she couldn’t read his expression. Not that she had proved too good at that so far. He really did play the strong, silent type very well.

  ‘He hasn’t seen it.’

  In a year? Her eyebrows rose as he poured into a deep-bowled glass, the red wine swirling like liquid silk. He glanced up at her, his hazel gaze flickering briefly back and forth from each of her eyes before he smiled a hint of a smile and passed the glass to her.

  ‘Like I said, he rarely comes to Dublin.’

  Her fingertips brushed against his on the glass, and the shock wave reached all the way to her toes, so electrically charged that she almost gasped. And as the charge tingled to her already heated core, her gaze flew upwards and locked with his, his eyes narrowing a barely perceptible amount. Did that mean he’d felt it too? He was just so much more guarded than she remembered him being in Galway!

  But two could play at that game. So sh
e smiled and drew the glass back towards her body. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’

  While he poured another glass, Merrow walked around the living area, drawn to a wall covered with photographs in varying different frames. There were a lot of rather well-composed shots of landscapes and city scapes and buildings. But scattered amongst them were pictures of Alex. Alex skiing, Alex with his arms held out to his sides about to fall off a bridge with a bungee rope around his ankles, Alex sailing. My, how the other half lived!

  And he had varying grins or had been caught ‘mid-laughter’ in nearly every one, which made her glance across at him as he came out of the kitchen, to compare them to his cool expression in the here and now.

  Judging by the vast difference, he didn’t like her much, did he? And she was inexplicably a little hurt by that thought. Most people considered her quite nice to be around…and surely liking each other a little would make it easier to work together?

  And it didn’t cross the business and pleasure boundary. Because, with a great deal of thought, she knew that to hop in the sack with Galway Alex was a hellishly different decision from hopping in the sack with Alexander Fitzgerald. Galway Alex couldn’t affect her career for decades to come. The wrong words in the right ears from Alexander Fitzgerald could have her eating pasta and rice for a long, long time…

  ‘Did you get badges for doing all these activities, like in the boy scouts?’

  His mouth quirked again as he got closer, his eyes sparkling. ‘No. But then I’m no boy scout.’

  Walked into that one, didn’t she?

  He stood beside her, glanced at her from the corner of his eye, and then focussed on the photos. ‘As you well know.’

  She watched as he lifted his glass and took a sip of wine. She watched his throat convulse as he swallowed, watched his chest rise and fall as he took a breath. And for the life of her she couldn’t find a reason to look away, especially when he licked the taste of the wine off his lips.

  Oh, my, the things he had done to her with that tongue…