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And once again, Dylan was torn. Because he had to make an unpleasant call—and possibly deal with a whole host of other calls after it—and the part of him that had been ruined for this woman pretty much at first sight loved the idea of her waiting for him. Sitting on the couch in his office like another page out of some sweet, domestic book he would’ve laughed at, had he ever read such a thing. That she wanted to spend time with him even when it wasn’t all about her made his heart seem to thud a little harder.
But on the other hand, it was one more thing he would have to forget when she was gone.
And he was weak, because he took her with him back to the office. And debated making the call he needed to after all, because she was so happy to wave him off and turn her attention to what she told him was a massive library on her mobile. He thought of other women he’d spent time with, and how little they would have understood him cutting a night short. And Dylan really didn’t need more reasons to think that Jenny was perfect.
He already bloody knew.
When he checked in on her later, between disasters, she’d fallen asleep. She was curled up on his couch, her pretty shoes kicked aside. He pulled her coat over her like a blanket. Then he kissed her on her temple.
And he wished he was less her friend and more the ruthless bastard he was in every other area of his life. He could take that ring off her finger and smash it. He could spirit her off somewhere and maroon her there, until the next thing she begged for washisring. He could marry her, get a few kids on her and indulge this fantasy of his in every possible way.
A bastard like that wouldn’t care how she’d feel some years down the road, when the enormity of how hugely she’d disappointed her father would kick in. He’d weather it, not giving a shit, because he’d have her. Having her would be the only thing that mattered—not how she felt about it.
And not how the world would view it. They would tut and smirk and no doubt get far nastier, if it suited them. No one would ever accept that their beloved Lady Jenny should fall so far, and end up linked forever to a bit of Irish trash.
He couldn’t help but wish he cared more about the end result and less about how he’d get them there. It would make everything so much easier.
But Dylan had learned a long time ago that there was no profit in wishing. The only thing that mattered in this world was what a man did.
So he kissed her, then he left her and went back to tend this empire he’d built. Because his business was the only thing that was real. And it was the only thing he would have left when she came to her senses.
He didn’t finish until the early morning.
He went into his office again, and woke her this time. As much because he thought he should take her home as for the simple pleasure of watching her blink at him, then smile the way she always did. As if waking up to see him before her was a gift.
God help him, but he was going to miss that.
“Well?” Her voice was foggy as she pushed herself up to sitting position. “Have you staved off disaster?”
“After a fashion.”
“I believe in you,” she said, still smiling.
Dylan couldn’t keep himself from leaning forward and capturing her mouth. And as usual, he didn’t know how to kiss her...appropriately.
Because a simple taste of her was never enough.
It got raw, fast. He found his hands in her hair, and he was angling his mouth over hers for better depth. And he didn’t know what would have happened if she hadn’t pulled back, her eyes dilated and her breath all but gone.
“Are we alone here?” she asked.
Dylan muttered a few choice swearwords. Because they weren’t. “No. Half my staff could walk in at any moment.”
Jenny smiled again, and maybe he was only imagining that it was more muted than before. Something like sad. She reached over and ran her thumb over his mouth, for a change.
“I’m up for anything,” she told him. “It surprises me how true that is, in fact. But I think I’d rather not expose myself to your entire company.”
Dylan had a better idea. He stood, pulling her up with him. He grabbed her coat, tossed it to her and then took her hand in his.
“Where are we going?” she asked, laughing, after he hustled her into the lift, and then, when it took them all the way down to ground level, hurried her out the door into the cold early morning street. “Am I going to take a car home?”
And he loved that she called his house home. Just like he loved that her being there made it feel more like a home than it ever had before. Because that was Jenny, really. Always his homecoming, no matter where she was or why. And no matter how soon she might leave him again.
He intended to celebrate that in the most carnal way possible today, and as quickly as possible.
“You’re not taking a car home,” he said. Shortly.
“You thought a kiss like that was a good precursor for a brisk walk?” But she was laughing as he hurried her down the street, away from his office building.
