Logan 02 Three Minutes to Happiness Page 7

  “But he was right. Our bills are a fraction of what they would be in a normal house,” Elizabeth said.

  “So, what do you think makes this house unique?”

  Elizabeth considered for a moment. “Well, I love that the house is so well integrated into the environment. We’ve used local materials, and even though we have triple glazing on the north windows to keep the wind out, the appearance of the house gives no indication it is a modern build. We wanted something that looked as though it had a history.”

  “It’s beautiful.” Val meant it. The house and its inhabitants were a perfect match. “Did you know Finn before he started working for you?” Every additional detail she noted hinted that he knew and understood these people and what they would like.

  “No. We met and discussed our requirements, and he drew up the plans.”

  The curved staircase had ivy leaves carved into its bannisters. Val traced them with a finger as she climbed the stairs.

  “Those are fun, aren’t they? Finn found a local craftsman who had done similar work and suggested the design. I remember he said he thought with the leaves would reflect our love of nature.” Elizabeth beamed. “He was right of course. We love them.”

  Chapter Eight

  Much as Finn would have liked to shadow Val for the morning, assessing her reactions to his design, and more importantly, discovering more about her mysterious husband, he kept away. There were four photographers vying for the contract. He knew what aspects showcased Logan & O’Donoghue’s skill, and it wouldn’t be fair to inadvertently give her an advantage.

  John kept him captive at the kitchen table for most of the morning anyway. He was interested in adding a windmill and had a ton of questions. By noon he was keen to escape, but it took another half hour before Val came to find him.

  “I’m done.” She was smiling. The satisfied smile of someone happy with their work.

  “Did you get everything you need?”

  “I did.” She handed over her tripod, and slung a bag full of extra lenses over her shoulder. “What time are we due at the next place?”

  “Two. We have plenty of time. Let’s grab some lunch.”

  They said their goodbyes, and headed out. Connor called while Finn was on the motorway, heading back into Dublin. He didn’t make small talk, just jumped straight in. “The project manager on the Dunne job called. There’s a problem.”

  Finn swore. “What is it?”

  “The windows have arrived from England, and they’re the wrong size. The supplier is on site, but being difficult. We need to get there before he leaves.”

  There goes lunch. “I’ll handle it.”

  Finn disconnected the call and turned to Val. “We’ll have to just grab a sandwich. I need to take you to the next place early and leave you there.”

  Val tucked her hair behind her ear in a nervous gesture that was becoming familiar. “That’s fine. I don’t want to take up your entire day. I can get a taxi home when I’m finished.”

  With any luck, he’d be able to sort the problem and pick her up afterwards. “I can swing back around for you—” His phone rang again. Damn. “Sorry.” He flicked the phone to answer, and a familiar voice filled the interior of the car.

  “Hi, baby. I’m back!”

  Shit. Alison. “I’m in the car with a client, Ali, can I call you back in ten minutes?”

  “Sure.” Alison hung up, and Finn glanced across at Val. Her hands were clasped in her lap, and her jaw was clenched.

  “Alison is an air-hostess.”

  “And part of the harem, I’m guessing?” She looked out of the windscreen as if the motorway was incredibly interesting. Anything but look at him, apparently.

  “Soon to be ex harem.” Her attitude irritated. Up until today, there had been no problem about him dating other women, and she couldn’t expect him to have cut all links with his women friends already. He hadn’t had an opportunity. But he would tonight. He had baggage. So did she. In the guise of a not previously mentioned husband.

  “I told you about Alison and Krista. I’ve known them a long time. I’m not going to dump them by phone or text message.” His hands clenched the steering wheel so tight his knuckles whitened. He noticed, and deliberately released his grip. “Is there anything I should know about your private life that you haven’t mentioned? Like a husband?”

  That got a reaction. Val’s head jerked his direction so fast whiplash was a distinct possibility. “Ex-husband,” she said clearly. “I was married. Now I’m divorced.”

  She seemed too young to have been married and divorced. What was she, twenty-six, twenty-seven?

  “I married young. Michael and I were in our early twenties.” She crossed her arms. “We both thought marriage was what we wanted, but turns out we were wrong.”

  “What happened?”

  Val sighed. “I started working to support us, and Michael was in university. Can you imagine what that was like? Being the only married man in a sea of singles. While I was stressing about the bills, Michael was turning down invitations to all night parties. Well, most of them anyway.” There was sadness in her eyes. A downturn to her expressive mouth. “He went to one and ended up in bed with someone else.”

  Anger poured through Finn’s veins, hot and molten. “So he left you?”

  Val shook her head. “He was devastated. He came home the next morning, and confessed. He begged me to give him—give us, another chance. He promised to never…” Her voice caught on remembered pain. “When I told him I thought we should divorce, that we were too young to commit to a lifetime, well, eventually he agreed.”

  “The bastard.”

  Val’s eyes blazed. “You don’t get to call him that. I loved him. We loved each other. Back then, anyway. There were two of us in the marriage, and I wasn’t blameless in our break-up. I regret what happened, but I don’t regret the rest of the time we spent together. You know more than anyone that love doesn’t last forever, and that was a lesson I had to learn.” She cracked open the window, and breathed in the crisp air. “And I learned it.”

  *****

  Val forced back all thoughts of Finn during the afternoon, needing to focus on taking the perfect pictures of the second house in her assignment. She wished she wasn’t so tired. Hadn’t been wrung out, reliving the dissolution of her marriage. But everything was in the open now. There were no more secrets to tell. No holding back. Finn had introduced her to the owners of the second house, Phil and Eileen, then quickly made his apologies and left.

  She’d insisted on getting a taxi home. Her house wasn’t far, and she’d seen the relief in Finn’s eyes at her decision. He’d said he wanted to meet Alison that night, and had promised to phone her tomorrow. She hoped their meeting wouldn’t include a final night between the sheets for old times’ sake, but couldn’t—wouldn’t—think of that.

  At least she’d try not to.

  The house she was photographing this afternoon was completely different from Merlin’s Grove, and if she hadn’t known the same architect was responsible, she never would have guessed. The only things they had in common were the energy saving features, and the fact that the house truly reflected the personality of its owners, who loved their home with a passion.

  This element was so strong in each house, that she’d included the owners in some of her photographs, in their favorite areas. She’d photographed Elizabeth Fitzgerald on the window seat of a large stained glass window, with the fractured light painting rainbow shades on the twirling jasmine pinned up in the window’s interior. John had been so keen on the technological aspects of his home she’d followed him through a hatch on the roof to the valley between the slated pitches of the roof to see the solar panels, and taken his picture there. His hair haloed around his head in the stiff breeze, and his open, proud smile had filled her with delight.

  Houses were about people. Not sterile spaces devoid of life. She wanted her photographs to reflect that.

  Simon had advised her to focus on t
he lines, the design of the buildings, but she felt that this other aspect, the livability of the houses, was an important aspect too. Her home was so much as part of her, she couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.

  Val took her last few photographs in the dying light. Calm spread through her entire body with every inhale. She loved the photographs she’d taken. It would take a few days to finalize the selection to present to Finn and his partner, but she was confident she had all she needed.

  There was no point in fretting over the skill of the other photographers; all she could control was her own work, her own artistry. She had to clinch this contract. Her own skill would have to be enough.

  *****

  Taking flowers was a no-no. Taking Alison to dinner even more so. But now a relationship with Val had been given the green light, finishing things with Alison was Finn’s priority. Finn had called and said he’d go over to her place. Sorcha was staying with a friend, so there was no hurry to get home, but he had a ton of work to check over, and no inclination to prolong the meeting with Alison. Breaking up was always hard. Even when both parties knew the score.

  He was rearranging his life—making changes he’d never thought he would, so as to have a relationship with Val. Change made him uneasy, it felt like commitment.

  Alison met him at her front door, wearing a short dress and bare legs. Her long blonde hair flowed around her shoulders, and her smile was welcoming. Hair down, legs accentuated by sky-high heels. The last time she’d dressed like that, those legs were wrapped around his waist within moments of his arrival.

  Now, all he wanted was to talk. “Hi.” He kissed her on the cheek and kept his hands at his sides.

  She planted her hands on her hips and frowned. “Hi yourself.” His body language was sending her signals she obviously didn’t want to receive. “What’s up?”

  “Can we talk?”

  “Sure.” She walked into the sitting room, and sat on the sofa. The sofa that had been the scene of more than one passionate make-out session between them over the past few months.

  Finn sat in an armchair. “I couldn’t talk earlier. I had a client in the car.”

  “You said.” Alison crossed her spectacular legs, letting the skirt ride up ever further. “Doesn’t matter, you’re here now. I’ve missed you.”

  She’s never said anything like that before.

  “It’s been what, a couple of weeks?”

  “Three.” Her eyelids lowered to half-mast, and her glossed lips parted a fraction. “Three long, dry weeks.” She traced the neckline of her dress. “Can we get this talking over with quickly? Like I said, I’ve missed you.”

  The gleam in her eyes was familiar.

  “You mean a lot to me.” His words sounded clichéd, predictable, but what else to say? “But I’ve met someone.”

  “I know about your other women, remember?” Her mouth curved. “And I certainly don’t need details.” She stood and walked over, positioning her body so close he could make out every tiny flower in the pattern of her dress.

  “You don’t understand.” This was like bloody torture. “With her…I can’t see you again, Alison. It’s over.”

  The last thing he expected was the slap across the face. Alison’s whole body was shaking, and her eyes glittered with tears.

  “Ali—you know you and me, that it was never going to be more.” She knew. They’d talked about it more than once. Finn got to his feet and reached for her shoulders, but she jerked away. “I care about you, Ali, don’t be like this.”

  “I know you said—” Alison crossed her arms and stared at him with pain in the depths of her eyes. “You were never interested in more, Finn. With anyone. Your modus operandi has always been dinner, followed by spectacular sex. I accepted you on that basis, but I always hoped things would change. I never thought you’d be serious. I’d hoped if you ever were…” She swiped a hand over her eyes. “I never expected you’d feel that way about another woman.”

  Shit, shit, shit. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Too late.” Alison walked to the door and held it open. “I think you better leave.”

  She waited. There wasn’t anything to say, anything to do. Except… “I’m sorry.” She knew the score, he’d never lied to her. So why did he feel such a damn heel?

  “I’m sorry too.” As Alison refused to look at him there was nothing left to do but leave.

  Finn’s mind reeled as he drove through the darkness on his way back home. Jesus, he thought he knew women. Had prided himself on writing the rulebook, and sticking to it to the letter. He’d been so wrong. Even though Alison had never given him any indication.

  He stopped that thought, and considered the evidence. The little gift she’d brought him from her last trip to Hong Kong. The invitation to a get-together with her friends one night that he’d refused because he was busy with work. The truth had been evident, but he’d refused to see it. She’d wanted more. She hadn’t said it out loud, but she’d hoped.

  Dinner and sex. She’d nailed it. He’d always been generous with his credit card and his body, but never with his emotions. Those, he’d locked away, out of reach. And now, he was making plans to dine with another woman and take her to bed.

  He’d hurt someone. Someone he cared about. The realization sickened him.

  Finn parked outside his house, and walked to the front door, lost in thought. He turned the key in the lock, and pushed open the front door. The hallway was dark, but light bled from under the door into the sitting-room. Strange, I thought I turned it off on my way out.

  His muscles tensed. There had been a lot of burglaries in the area recently. Finn glanced around, looking for a weapon. The only thing to hand was a large golf umbrella in the stand by the front door. Hardly effective, but it would have to do.

  He clutched it tightly, wooden handle up, breathed in deep, and turned the doorknob. The scene that met his eyes was enough to make him wish he could wash out his eyeballs. Sorcha perched atop a man on the couch.

  Finn’s gaze flicked to the ceiling, and stayed there.

  “Sorcha!” Luckily the sofa back had hidden most of her body from view, but he avoided looking back as she quickly covered herself.

  He might have expected she’d try to sneak Steven in, they’d been hot and heavy since the speed dating evening, but he thought Steven would at least have the decency to—

  “You said you would be out.” Sorcha came from around the sofa, hastily tucking her shirt into her jeans.

  “So did you.” He glanced at the sofa, where Steven was doubtless dressing. “I don’t appreciate being lied to. Did you plan this?”

  “I just…” Sorcha looked behind her as a dark haired stranger levered up to vertical. “Jim, this is my cousin, Finn.”

  Jim? Who the hell is Jim?

  The stranger was in his late twenties. His arms were covered in tattoos, and he had a worldly expression, which made Finn dislike him intensely. “Oh, hi man.”

  He shoved what looked suspiciously like a baggie of white powder into his jeans pocket. The bathroom mirror lay on the coffee table with a razor blade. Finn grasped Sorcha’s arm.

  “Hey!” As anticipated, she tried to avoid his gaze, but he held her chin and checked her eyes. Her pupils were dilated.

  With a curse, Finn stalked over to Jim. “What did you give her?”

  Jim’s adams apple bobbed. Finn grabbed him by the lapels of his shirt. “What the hell did you give her?”

  “It’s coke. It’s only cocaine.” Jim brought his arms up and pushed Finn away. “She wanted it. She’s fine with it.” The urge to hit the guy was strong, but Finn clenched his hands at his sides. He wanted this lowlife out of his house, and in order to do that he’d have to be able to walk. If he gave in to his violent impulses, the guy wouldn’t be walking anywhere.

  Through gritted teeth, “You will never give her drugs again. You won’t ever see her again, if you know what’s good for you.”

  Jim took a couple of step
s back, and grabbed his leather jacket from the chair. Sorcha, talking mile a minute, was trying to get between them. Finn ignored her.

  There was fear in the other man’s eyes. Good.

  “Get out.” Finn opened the front door wide. “And don’t come back.”

  “Jim, I…” Sorcha’s panicked gaze flickered between Finn and Jim.

  “You’re not worth it, babe.” A last shot of bravado before leaving almost cost Jim his front teeth. Finn slammed the front door so hard the sound reverberated through the entire house.

  He stared at the varnished wood for long moments breathing in and out heavily before turning to his cousin. “You’re in trouble.”

  Sorcha licked her top lip nervously.

  He needed to find out what was going on in her head, so banked his fury to ease into the conversation carefully. “Where the hell did you find that guy?”

  “He goes to college with me.”

  Finn raised an eyebrow. “He’s a little old for that, isn’t he?”

  “He’s a mature student.” Sorcha was shaking, no doubt as a response to the scene that had just happened, and possibly the cocaine.

  “Come on.” He walked into the kitchen. She followed. At the kitchen table he handed over a cup of hot tea. “How long have you been taking cocaine?” Finn fixed her with a stare. “Don’t lie to me.”

  “That was my first time.” She sucked in her bottom lip. “I wanted to see what it was like. I wanted to have some fun.”

  Anger welled up in Finn. “So was it fun, screwing a stranger on my sofa? Did you at least have the sense to use a condom?”

  Sorcha’s eyes blazed. “Of course I did. I’m on the pill but I know all about STD’s, I wouldn’t risk…”

  “And Steven. That’s all over, is it?” He liked Steven, and it was apparent that Steven was crazy about Sorcha too.

  Sorcha’s eyes filled with tears. “No. I like Steven. I more than like Steven, but he didn’t want to have sex, and I… Jim was just a good time guy, that’s all.”