Chapter 1
J ulie Doyle couldn’t catch her breath. Just yesterday she’d resigned herself to toiling over an espresso machine making cappuccino art for the next several years while her MFA diploma mocked her every night she walked into her studio apartment. Maybe just maybe, she’d write a good story and she’d make enough money to start paying her debts. Now ?
Now, she stared across the table at him . Her Rochester. Never in her wildest dreams would this guy ever be Mr. Darcy. Mr. Darcy would never have blatantly looked her in the eye and told her she was going to end up in his bed. Oh no. Mr. Darcy would have said something far more restrained.
She liked Rochester. Oh yes, she did.
Damian Fitzgerald, Earl of Clare, waited. Silently, now that he’d thrown that incendiary piece of news between them.
But she couldn’t respond. How in the heck was it possible that he wanted her like that? I mean, he was the stuff of dreams. . . And well, she was the stuff of reality.
“Julie?” he prompted, breaking her reverie. “If you have a problem with that, then you shouldn’t take the contract.”
By with that , of course, he meant her finding her way into his bedroom for more than just a social visit. This absolutely gorgeous man wanted her. Her . It was panic inducing and wonderful at the same time.
For once in her life, she was determined to play it cool. She was not going to be a total idiot. So, she sat up a little straighter. “We’ll see. I’m coming to Ireland and taking the job. I’d be crazy not to. But as to the rest. . . Well. It’s not in a contract, so. . .”
“Are you negotiating with me?” he asked with a soft laugh.
“What?” she blushed. “No. But I don’t want it set in stone that we’re going to have sex.”
His brows rose. “We’d never do anything so plebeian as have sex .”
“We wouldn’t?” she asked, her eyes widening despite herself. Argh , she was acting like a total innocent.
“No.”
She was extremely tempted to ask what would they do then, but she was afraid he’d suggest a demonstration and well, really, he was already overwhelming her.
“Do I frighten you?” he asked suddenly.
She folded her napkin then crumpled it. How did she answer his question? “Not exactly.”
“What then?” His voice softened. “Help me understand.”
“I. . . I. . .”
“I promise I won’t bite.” He leaned forward, a glint of wicked humor in his gaze. “Not yet anyway.”
“No one has ever made me feel like you do,” she burst out. She drew in an audible breath to get a hold of herself. “And that’s frightening.”
He narrowed his eyes. “What kind of feeling?”
“Never mind.”
“Are you going to be cruel and leave me so curious?”
She studied him for a second. She could tell him. She could tell him she’d never had an orgasm. She could tell him that when men tried to make her come, she usually just ended up waiting for them to get it over with. About a year ago she’d arrived at the conclusion she was frigid. But she wasn’t about to admit that out loud. Especially not now that he’d brought to life some very non-icy feelings. So instead of hesitating, she grinned. “Yes.”
“Wicked woman,” he replied. He tilted his head to the side, listening to noises coming from the hallway. “Ah. I do believe your friends are here.”
She glanced to the door, wondering if they’d suddenly pour into the room. It was totally bizarre, but she felt the weirdest sort of wish that they hadn’t gotten here yet. Being alone with Damian Fitzgerald was the most alive she’d felt in years.
He stood and crossed behind her, pulling back her chair.
Once again, that delicious scent surrounded her and this time the slight heat of him caressed her as his chest brushed her back ever so slightly. For a second, she closed her eyes, loving this so much it almost hurt. She couldn’t think too much about the future or where this was going. She knew the future was
J ulie Doyle couldn’t catch her breath. Just yesterday she’d resigned herself to toiling over an espresso machine making cappuccino art for the next several years while her MFA diploma mocked her every night she walked into her studio apartment. Maybe just maybe, she’d write a good story and she’d make enough money to start paying her debts. Now ?
Now, she stared across the table at him . Her Rochester. Never in her wildest dreams would this guy ever be Mr. Darcy. Mr. Darcy would never have blatantly looked her in the eye and told her she was going to end up in his bed. Oh no. Mr. Darcy would have said something far more restrained.
She liked Rochester. Oh yes, she did.
Damian Fitzgerald, Earl of Clare, waited. Silently, now that he’d thrown that incendiary piece of news between them.
But she couldn’t respond. How in the heck was it possible that he wanted her like that? I mean, he was the stuff of dreams. . . And well, she was the stuff of reality.
“Julie?” he prompted, breaking her reverie. “If you have a problem with that, then you shouldn’t take the contract.”
By with that , of course, he meant her finding her way into his bedroom for more than just a social visit. This absolutely gorgeous man wanted her. Her . It was panic inducing and wonderful at the same time.
For once in her life, she was determined to play it cool. She was not going to be a total idiot. So, she sat up a little straighter. “We’ll see. I’m coming to Ireland and taking the job. I’d be crazy not to. But as to the rest. . . Well. It’s not in a contract, so. . .”
“Are you negotiating with me?” he asked with a soft laugh.
“What?” she blushed. “No. But I don’t want it set in stone that we’re going to have sex.”
His brows rose. “We’d never do anything so plebeian as have sex .”
“We wouldn’t?” she asked, her eyes widening despite herself. Argh , she was acting like a total innocent.
“No.”
She was extremely tempted to ask what would they do then, but she was afraid he’d suggest a demonstration and well, really, he was already overwhelming her.
“Do I frighten you?” he asked suddenly.
She folded her napkin then crumpled it. How did she answer his question? “Not exactly.”
“What then?” His voice softened. “Help me understand.”
“I. . . I. . .”
“I promise I won’t bite.” He leaned forward, a glint of wicked humor in his gaze. “Not yet anyway.”
“No one has ever made me feel like you do,” she burst out. She drew in an audible breath to get a hold of herself. “And that’s frightening.”
He narrowed his eyes. “What kind of feeling?”
“Never mind.”
“Are you going to be cruel and leave me so curious?”
She studied him for a second. She could tell him. She could tell him she’d never had an orgasm. She could tell him that when men tried to make her come, she usually just ended up waiting for them to get it over with. About a year ago she’d arrived at the conclusion she was frigid. But she wasn’t about to admit that out loud. Especially not now that he’d brought to life some very non-icy feelings. So instead of hesitating, she grinned. “Yes.”
“Wicked woman,” he replied. He tilted his head to the side, listening to noises coming from the hallway. “Ah. I do believe your friends are here.”
She glanced to the door, wondering if they’d suddenly pour into the room. It was totally bizarre, but she felt the weirdest sort of wish that they hadn’t gotten here yet. Being alone with Damian Fitzgerald was the most alive she’d felt in years.
He stood and crossed behind her, pulling back her chair.
Once again, that delicious scent surrounded her and this time the slight heat of him caressed her as his chest brushed her back ever so slightly. For a second, she closed her eyes, loving this so much it almost hurt. She couldn’t think too much about the future or where this was going. She knew the future was
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