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“I hope he gets it.”
“I’ll tell him you said so, sir.”
Feeling completely ignored, Eileen walked up a short flight of brown marble steps to a bank of elevators. The nearest one was already waiting with the door open.
She stepped inside, joined a moment later by Dermot. He slid his key into the slot at the top of the elevator panel and turned it. The letter “P” lit up with a pleasant chime.
He removed his key, finishing just as the elevator doors closed, and turned to take her in his arms.
Eileen sidestepped him. “What was that about?”
“Clarence’s grandson is a talented musician. He’s trying to get into one of the orchestras. They’ve already called him back once.”
“That’s nice. But I meant, why are you all over me as soon as we’re alone, but when we’re where anyone can see us, you act like you hardly know me?”
Dermot’s eyes widened, as if she’d asked why water was wet. “Because anyone could see us.”
“And…?” she prompted, feeling foolish but needing to know his reason. Did he want to keep her his guilty secret?
He sighed, and leaned back against the elevator wall. “Images sell stories. The news rags won’t invent a scandal if they have no pictures to support it.”
The elevator chimed again. When the doors slid open, she darted through them, into a brown and gray marble foyer. Two glass-topped tables, each filled with a massive floral arrangement in a marble urn, flanked the single door.
Dermot unlocked the door and ushered her inside. She pushed past him into his black leather and wire-work living room.
The open wire shelves held an entertainment system, including a home theater, easily a hundred CD’s, and hardcover business books, interspersed with small sculptures and decorative glass bowls and vases that provided the room’s only color. The couch and accent chairs were all upholstered in black leather. Sheer panels of black and white gauze draped over the sliding glass door leading to a roof garden.
He closed and locked the door, then turned to face her. “My driver will leave your luggage in the foyer.”
“Am I your secret scandal, Dermot? Is that why you weren’t officially at the airport to meet me?”
“No!” He pushed his hand through his hair and took a deep breath. Waving one hand at the couch, he told her, “Sit. This will take a while.”
She glanced at the soft leather cushions, and was immediately reminded of the back seat of his limo. “I prefer to stand, thank you.”
Dermot prowled around the perimeter of the room, as if seeking the perfect position from which to deliver his argument. Finally, he leaned his hip against one of the shelving units and faced her.
“When you didn’t call, I wasn’t sure how you felt about seeing me again. After all, I was the one who gave you my card. You never volunteered your number. Maybe that night didn’t mean anything to you. You might have done the same for any man you rescued from a dryad.”
Eileen opened her mouth to protest, but he raised his hand and cut her off.
“Since I wasn’t sure of your feelings, I thought it prudent to act as if you would not be interested in furthering our relationship. I told no one that we’d met. You have a room booked in your name at the Niko. Officially I was not at the airport so that, if you wished to deny our previous encounter, there would be no awkward questions for you to answer.”
Eileen swallowed to clear her tight throat. Do no harm. He’d arranged everything so that he would do no harm. His motives couldn’t be any plainer than that.
“It’s sorry I am to have doubted you,” she said. Darting across the room, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him.
Dermot curled his arms around her waist, pulling her hips tight against his, and deepened the kiss. Opening her mouth, she allowed the sweet invasion of his tongue. He tasted like mint.
Twining her tongue with his, she sucked lightly. He groaned. He rubbed his growing erection against her abdomen, and when that wasn’t enough, grabbed her by the ass and lifted her to straddle his swollen cock. She locked her legs around his waist and rocked against him.
His cock pressed against the seam of her jeans, teasing her with the light touch. Still joined together, he turned them away from the shelving unit, until he had Eileen’s back pressed against the wall.
He ground his hips against hers, digging his cock harder and harder into the cleft between her legs. She whimpered, needing to feel him inside of her instead of this torturous tease through his slacks and her jeans.
Breaking their kiss, she labored for breath, then asked, “Why are we still dressed?”
Before he could answer, the door bell rang; two deep, sonorous tones.
