Catch Me a Catch Page 12

  Her lips were swollen and tender, she probed them carefully with the tip of her tongue. Then she snuggled under the warm cloud of duvet. Stretched out her legs and pointed her toes under the covers.

  The muted sound of running water trickled in from the bathroom.

  Where do we go from here? Our lives are on opposite sides of the world. An unwelcome little voice nagged, but she pushed it away. She rolled onto her side, pulling her knees up to her chest to assume the fetal position. If she won the competition, she’d have a perfect start to her chosen career. The Dublin chocolate shop came complete with a fully stocked chocolatier’s kitchen, and the competition organizers would pay a contribution toward the cost of employing an assistant. The deal was only for a year, but after that her business should be well enough established that she could move out and find a premises of her own. It was the chance of a lifetime. She’d spent long hours working on the figures, and by sharing the flat, had saved enough to cover her startup costs. It was her one chance at success. A success she’d dreamed about for years.

  After sleeping with Jack, her mind had wandered into unfamiliar territory. She’d always wanted to travel, and errant visions of them living together in New York made her head ache. She rubbed her forehead, willing the pain away. This dalliance with Jack had started as a quick affair, but had quickly morphed into something else entirely.

  I don’t want to be on the opposite side of the world from Jack.

  She slipped the flat of her hand under her face on the pillow, her other hand resting on her wrist. And jumped when the telephone rang loudly on the bedside table.

  “Jack, phone!” He didn’t hear her above the sound of the water, so she scooted up in bed, reaching for the receiver. “Hello?”

  “Hi, is Jack there?” The American accented voice was hesitant, as though the caller thought maybe she’d got the wrong number. Obviously she wasn’t expecting a woman in Jack’s hotel suite.

  “I’ll just get him for you. Who’s calling?” It was a reasonable question, but she wasn’t fooling herself. She wasn’t being efficient. She wanted to know the identity of the stranger on the other end of the phone.

  “It’s Roxie,” the voice proclaimed confidently.

  An arrow of jealousy skewered her. Who the hell was Roxie? She swallowed it down, forcing her ‘efficient’ voice. “Okay, just a moment please.” She slipped out of bed, not bothering to cover her nakedness and pushed open the bathroom door. “Roxie’s on the phone.”

  He grabbed two white robes from behind the door, and handed her one. He toweled his body quickly and put the other one on. “It’s work,” he kissed her neck. Strode to the phone. “Roxie, what’s going on?”

  He sat on the bed, his eyes rising heavenward at the sound of Roxie’s voice leaking from the receiver. “No, Roxie, you don’t know her. She’s a friend, someone I met in Durna. Yes, during the matchmaking festival.” He glanced at Annie apologetically. She climbed back into bed next to him, too fascinated by his conversation to do the decent thing and give him privacy.

  “Look, Roxie, I’m sure you rang for a reason, not just to interrogate me about my private life.” He was all business suddenly, the harsh edge to his voice letting the caller know he wasn’t happy about her questioning. “No, I haven’t seen your email.” He listened for a moment, frowning. “I’ll power up the laptop. Set up a conference call and call back in five minutes.”

  He hung up and turned to Annie. “I’m sorry, there’s a problem at the office. I’m going to have to deal with it.” He walked to the closet and pulled on a pair of jeans and an old sweatshirt. “Do you want a cup of tea or something?”

  His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. His attention was completely focused elsewhere. The familiar Jack was gone; the man in front of her an efficient stranger.

  “I’ll make us some.” She followed him into the sitting room. Made her way to the corner unit where basic supplies were set up.

  “Thanks.” He opened his briefcase wide on the table and turned on his laptop. By all indications getting ready to settle in for a solid few hours work.

  “I’m taking mine back to bed.” She put the cup down next to him. Willing his eyes to look her direction, wanting him to kiss her softly before she left.

  “Thanks.” His eyes never left the screen.

  The phone rang again as she walked away. She entered the sumptuous bedroom and closed the door. Weakness stole over her body and she slumped against it. She could just make out the deep murmur of his voice. How could he turn off so quickly? Her entire body was still rioting at his remembered caresses. She put her tea down on the bedside table, climbed into bed, and pulled the covers up to her nose.

  What on earth had she gotten herself into?

  Chapter Eleven

  It wasn’t every day a major client had a tantrum. In fact, Jack couldn’t remember the last time it happened. Unfortunately, Mecredi Cars took an immediate and violent dislike to Mark’s campaign and wouldn’t be mollified.

  They wanted Jack. He was the head of the company and the client’s happiness was his responsibility. Talk about bad timing.

  When Annie gave him the tea, he’d had to bite down on his lip to stop reaching for her. The slightest touch of her body would have been enough to divert him from his goal and he hadn’t been able to risk it. Not with Roxie phoning back any minute. Now, Annie lay alone next door, and he longed to lie there with her. He wanted to whisper how much he still wanted her, cover her skin with his hands, and his lips. Watch her dimple dent her cheek as her body responded to his caresses. Instead, he had no option but to review all the storyboards and talk through a potential solution with his team. Jason Mecredi was waiting for his call.

  The television had gone on in the bedroom hours before. He’d dragged himself away long enough to stick his head around the door for a moment between calls, and found Annie asleep. She lay diagonally across the bed, the sheet flung back to reveal acres of creamy leg.

  He’d tucked the sheet around her, and stroked the glorious hair fanned out behind her sleeping face. He wanted to climb into bed with her and kiss her awake, press his naked body against hers. A wave of yearning tightened his body into painful awareness.

  Business had always come first. It had been his driving force for years. Now, for the life of him, he wished he could leave it to someone else. That couldn’t happen. The Mecredi Cars contract was too important. It wasn’t just his livelihood on the line, it was his whole company’s future that was at stake. People depended on him; he couldn’t disappoint them. Tomorrow he had a busy day with Bateau Rouge; he wouldn’t have time to deal with Mecredi Cars as well. He cursed under his breath, and crept out, closing the door softly behind him.

  Alone in the sitting room again, the enormity of the task ahead was daunting. Mecredi Cars were being completely irrational and dictatorial, insisting that he present a new strategy to them in person. He pushed a hand through his hair, and called room service, ordering a pot of strong coffee. Forcing thoughts of Annie away, he started to work. It seemed impossible, but he had to block her out of his thoughts for a few hours. His company depended on it.

  ****

  Annie woke with warm fingers stretched over the soft skin of her stomach. Firm thighs curved around hers. She could feel the deep regular expansion of Jack’s chest against her back. She snuggled closer, unable to hold back a little satisfied moan. His arm tightened in response. He was definitely awake and obviously enjoying the sensation of holding her too. Morning whiskers nuzzled her neck and she wriggled in delight.

  “What time is it?” Jack’s voice was deliciously deep and sleepy. They hadn’t pulled the curtains last night. Sunlight flowed into the room. Annie reached for her watch.

  “Nine-thirty.”

  “Damn.” With one smooth movement, his hand disappeared. He pulled himself up in the bed. She turned around, scooting up to rest her back against the headboard next to him.

  “All I want to do is stay here, and make love to
you again.” He brushed his lips against hers briefly. “But today will be a hell of a day. We need to get some breakfast and get on with it.” He grinned at her ruefully. “Not much of a night, was it? I’m sorry, honey.”

  “I thought last night was pretty spectacular, actually.” She reached out to stroke his chin, his stubble rough against her fingertips. “Up until the phone call.” She’d lain awake waiting for him until sleep finally triumphed. He must have crept into bed in the early hours.

  “There’s a problem with a client.” He ran his hand through his hair.

  He looks even better this morning. Her fingers trailed over his naked chest. Why does bed-head look so delicious on a man?

  “I’m going to have to go back to the States sooner than expected.”

  Their time together was ending before it had really begun. She flattened her palm against his chest, feeling his heart beat steady and strong.

  “What about your boat?” What about us? But there was no us, was there? Not really.

  “I’m only going back for a few days. I have to sort out a few things. I thought maybe you might come with me.”

  There were so many things to do. The matchmaking festival was only half way through, and there was the question of the Chocolate Oscars. If she won, there would be a presentation. It would be impossible to get away.

  “The festival is on until the end of next week. There’s a party at the end of it.”

  “We’d be back in time.” He tilted her mouth up towards him, staring at her lips with a determined fascination. Her heartbeat thumped faster.

  “I want you to come to the States with me. I need you to. Say you will.” He kissed her so thoroughly she almost forgot the question.

  “I don’t know. There’s the competition…”

  “Oh yeah, the competition.” He pulled back. “I forgot about the competition.”

  “Well, I can’t,” she said firmly. “I will find out today if I’ve won it, and if I have, there’s the presentation…” Her voice trailed off. His eyes clouded. Even though his arm was stroking her absently, his mind was somewhere else. He must be thinking of New York.

  “We’ll talk about it later. Let’s have a shower. I want to get down and get some breakfast.”

  “Have we time to go out for it? I want to take you somewhere.” She climbed out of bed, and dressed in the fluffy white robe.

  “That depends.” The devilish light was back in his eyes. He tugged her closer with the belt of her robe. “I need to make sure I’ve washed every inch of you, thoroughly.”

  He bit her neck gently then led her unresistingly in the direction of the shower, his wicked smile letting her know she would come out of the shower very, very clean.

  Stephen’s Green was abuzz with crowds of people, all of them going the opposite direction. Like minnows swimming through a determined school of fish, they meandered down Grafton Street. Annie clutched Jack’s hand tightly.

  “It’s just down here.” The street was closed to cars. Flower sellers had set up stands on the sidewalk. They avoided the colorful stands of flowers set out before the bustling crowds by the flower sellers who had a regular pitch on the street. Vibrant lilies in pink and white jostled with stately delphiniums. Every shade of rose and carnation nestled in bright green asparagus fern, lightened by sprays of gypsophila, like a portable rainbow.

  “Here.” She stopped outside a building covered with an ornate display of tiles. “If you’re having breakfast in Dublin, you have to have it in Bewleys.” The smell of freshly roasted coffee was so enticing Annie could almost taste it when they walked up the stairs towards the James Joyce Room. She smiled with satisfaction. Her favorite leather sofa near the open window was vacant. Perfect.

  The sounds of people drifted up from the street below, a myriad of different languages in the buzz of sound. A familiar melody layered with strumming guitar part of the city’s symphony. An enthusiastic street performer was trying his best, but failing miserably to reproduce one of Leonard Cohen’s classics.

  “I love to come here when I’m working on a new flavor. The sounds and sights inspire me. As I drink coffee I imagine what flavors I’d love to be swirling around in my mouth.” It was Annie’s secret. Her way of tapping into her creative side. Part of her she normally kept hidden, just for herself.

  “All the different cultures meld to create the new Dublin, and yet the old Dublin is still here. I can imagine generations of people sitting here. Living in the Georgian buildings, walking in St. Stephen’s Green.” She grinned and took a long swallow of her coffee. “I’m getting lyrical, I need some food.”

  “Obviously.” He passed her the basket of pastries. “You could be inspired somewhere else, you know. It doesn’t have to be Dublin.”

  Her phone rang in the bottom of her bag. She rooted frantically through the detritus to find it, glancing at the display quickly before opening it.

  “Anne Devine.” This was it. She gripped the phone so tight her fingers hurt. A balloon of sunlight burst inside her chest. She put her coffee down with a shaky hand.

  “That’s fantastic, I can’t believe it!” The caller was still speaking, more details.

  “When’s the presentation? Okay, ‘till Friday night then. Thank you.” She closed the phone.

  “I’m won it Jack, I won the competition!” Elation danced through her.

  ****

  The café was full of people, but Jack was only aware of Annie. His hand cupped the side of her face and she leaned in to him eagerly, her mouth opening under his instantly. He deepened the kiss and pulled her closer. A potent spell wove itself around him all over again, the urge to be alone with her growing to an almost unbearable pitch.

  Reluctantly, he pulled back. Her lips were pink from his attentions; a soft flush suffused her features. Her chest underneath her soft sweater rose and fell.

  “Congratulations. We should celebrate later.”

  She blushed, and pushed her hair away from her face with shaking fingers.

  “I wish we had time to celebrate now.” Her gaze flickered from his mouth to his eyes, in perfect accord. She found the idea of celebrating arousing too. He stroked her arm, then clasped her fingers in his, holding on tightly.

  “I’d better get back to the flat. I can’t call home from here. I’ll be on for hours. Mum and Da will want to know every detail.” She shoved her phone back into her bag. “I guess you have to get ready for your meeting too.”

  “I should have it all tied up in a couple of hours,” he said. “Then we can celebrate in style.”

  “Okay. Sounds good.” They paid and left the café. He reached for her hand again, rubbing his fingers against hers, marveling at the electricity sparking between them.

  “I’ll give you a lift home on the way to my meeting.” It would be a chance for a few more minutes together. Although God knows how he could resist touching her again when they were back in the hotel room. He strode towards the hotel’s entrance, but she held back.

  “No, I’ve a couple of things to do before I go back to Durna.” She pulled him down to her. “If I go upstairs with you now I might get distracted.”

  “You definitely would get distracted,” he muttered against her mouth, amazed at his body’s instant reaction to her nearness. “Then neither of us would get anything done.”

  “Later.”

  “Okay.” He lowered his head to kiss her passionately, not caring about the crowds of people swarming past. He was too busy reveling in the softness of her mouth, and the feeling of her hand on him.

  I don’t want you to go.

  He released her reluctantly. Fought the urge to pull her back into his arms. She took a step away and pressed four fingers to her lips, blowing him a kiss before walking away. She turned and glanced back a moment before she turned down Grafton Street. A powerful bolt of something unfamiliar struck him when their eyes connected. She smiled, and he stopped breathing.

  Venus Devine, Goddess of love. She’d stolen underneath th
e love-proof vest covering his heart. Losing her, if only for a few hours, would be torture. He raised a hand in farewell, and helplessly watched her vanish into the crowd.

  ****

  Winning the worldwide Bateau Rouge contract would be a coup for whatever company landed it, and Jack and his team had spent months preparing their pitch. Every day Jack had kept a diary carefully evaluating the yacht’s strengths and weaknesses. He’d also made a video diary, and had spent the days in Durna editing it to include in his presentation.

  Now, in the Bateau Rouge boardroom he glanced around the table of directors who would decide if his small company would be the one to win the lucrative contract. The rapt faces of the board were glued to his onscreen presentation as he talked them through the first storm he’d faced. When he’d finished there was an audible buzz of excited comment from the group.

  “I needed to do the voyage to get a proper feel for the yacht,” he said. “I don’t believe in selling something purely on the way it looks. A yacht is more than appearance. The relationship between yacht and sailor is an intimate one. I needed to capture the Bateau Rouge’s essence. To feel how she handles, the way she reacts to me. The way we would work together.”

  There were many parallels in the way he and Annie worked. Each tried to tie down the indefinable essence that transcended the superficial.

  “Only then, did I feel I knew the yacht properly. I understood why the discerning sailor would choose to invest in your product, rather than someone else’s. With that knowledge, I knew how to promote it. A friend of mine once told me the Bateau Rouge is what dreams are made of.”

  He nodded towards an assistant who was in charge of dimming the lights in the boardroom. “Gentlemen, let me show you what we were thinking of in the way of a campaign.” He delivered the presentation with practiced ease. The faces around the table altered from guarded to excited. A feeling of rightness swelled his chest. It was all going to plan. The presentation was working its magic. He’d done this often enough to know the contract was theirs, so where was the expected feeling of elation?