he couldn’t quite decipher.
His cook was in the kitchen patting hamburgers into shape. He dropped the ground beef and made a beeline for Patrick.
“Where were ya? I was worried sick. Your dad always handled the business stuff at the old place. I didn’t know what to do. I even hired a woman to—”
Patrick put up his hands. “It’s all right. I had some personal stuff to take care of. I’ll be gone again next month and the month after. Ongoing. We’ll have to put some sort of system in place for my absences. Who’s the woman behind the bar?”
“She works for Miss Slade. She must have thought we’d need the help today.”
Knowing Dana, she probably thought he’d be over his head. Smart lady.
“She’s handy. Strong, too. Already thrown one guy out on his arse.”
Patrick offered his uncle a slap on the back and continued to his office. “I’ll be out in an hour. Need to catch up.”
“Right-o.”
He grabbed a beer from the kitchen fridge before proceeding down the hall. He paused with his hand on the knob. There was breathing inside. No…breathing in chorus . More than one person. Who the hell was in his office?
Quietly, he turned the knob and pushed the door in, hoping to take whomever it was inside off-guard, but they hardly jumped.
There were four women inside. Two he recognized. The other two were unfamiliar. He approached the one leaning onto the edge of his desk holding a glass of green wine. Before greeting her, however, he nodded at the woman perched on his credenza.
“Hello, Sarah.”
She nodded back. “Mr. O’Dwyer.”
He shoved his hands into pockets and shifted his gaze to the woman on his desk. “Hello, shrew.”
Dana let a little smirk quirk her lips up. “Hey, dirty cat.”
“Let’s keep that on the down-low, shall we?” He winked. “Lovely to see you. What’s with the audience?”
“Oh, I thought we’d take you up on your offer for drinks.”
He raised a brow and hoped it conveyed the degree of suspicion he was feeling. “ Today ? On the busiest day of the year? I thought you wanted privacy.”
“Mm-hmm. Don’t worry, though. Mr. Drake has got us all set.” She pointed to the six bottles of green wine uncorked on his desk and the six-pack of stout Sarah was indulging in.
“Wouldn’t you like to have a bit more space? I can open the private dining room.”
She shrugged. “Good to know you have one, but booze isn’t the only reason we’re here.”
“No?” He wanted to wrap his arms around her, kiss her thoroughly, and drape her over his desk, but he could do none of those things with the six extra eyes on him, watching his every move. Here they were, having a conversation as if they hadn’t been intimate two days ago—as if she hadn’t seen him at his absolute worst. As if his cat form hadn’t taken a knife in the leg for her.
His thigh tingled where the silver blade had grazed even thinking about it.
“No. Sorry, we’re going to have to pull Tamara off the bar. We need to be in D.C. tonight.”
“D.C.?”
She nodded. “Got referred for a government contract. We’re having to shut down the agency for a few days.”
“Oh.”
She stared down at her hands and he knew, even without catching her scent or feeling the beat of her heart, that she was nervous. The little hellcat, nervous.
Shit.
He reached across the desktop and picked up his phone. He stabbed an internal extension. “It’s Pat. Can you pack the ladies some dinners to go? Something that won’t sweat in Styrofoam. Thanks.” He hung up and looked at Dana. “Give him ten minutes.”
She nodded.
“Hey…why don’t we go keep Mr. Drake company in the kitchen?” Sarah suggested. I think Dana needs to settle the bill.”
She scooped up the bottles and winked at him as she backed out. The other two ladies followed her, eyeing him warily and wearing scowls on their lovely faces.
“They’ll kill me if I hurt you, won’t they?”
“In your sleep, probably. Cleaner that
His cook was in the kitchen patting hamburgers into shape. He dropped the ground beef and made a beeline for Patrick.
“Where were ya? I was worried sick. Your dad always handled the business stuff at the old place. I didn’t know what to do. I even hired a woman to—”
Patrick put up his hands. “It’s all right. I had some personal stuff to take care of. I’ll be gone again next month and the month after. Ongoing. We’ll have to put some sort of system in place for my absences. Who’s the woman behind the bar?”
“She works for Miss Slade. She must have thought we’d need the help today.”
Knowing Dana, she probably thought he’d be over his head. Smart lady.
“She’s handy. Strong, too. Already thrown one guy out on his arse.”
Patrick offered his uncle a slap on the back and continued to his office. “I’ll be out in an hour. Need to catch up.”
“Right-o.”
He grabbed a beer from the kitchen fridge before proceeding down the hall. He paused with his hand on the knob. There was breathing inside. No…breathing in chorus . More than one person. Who the hell was in his office?
Quietly, he turned the knob and pushed the door in, hoping to take whomever it was inside off-guard, but they hardly jumped.
There were four women inside. Two he recognized. The other two were unfamiliar. He approached the one leaning onto the edge of his desk holding a glass of green wine. Before greeting her, however, he nodded at the woman perched on his credenza.
“Hello, Sarah.”
She nodded back. “Mr. O’Dwyer.”
He shoved his hands into pockets and shifted his gaze to the woman on his desk. “Hello, shrew.”
Dana let a little smirk quirk her lips up. “Hey, dirty cat.”
“Let’s keep that on the down-low, shall we?” He winked. “Lovely to see you. What’s with the audience?”
“Oh, I thought we’d take you up on your offer for drinks.”
He raised a brow and hoped it conveyed the degree of suspicion he was feeling. “ Today ? On the busiest day of the year? I thought you wanted privacy.”
“Mm-hmm. Don’t worry, though. Mr. Drake has got us all set.” She pointed to the six bottles of green wine uncorked on his desk and the six-pack of stout Sarah was indulging in.
“Wouldn’t you like to have a bit more space? I can open the private dining room.”
She shrugged. “Good to know you have one, but booze isn’t the only reason we’re here.”
“No?” He wanted to wrap his arms around her, kiss her thoroughly, and drape her over his desk, but he could do none of those things with the six extra eyes on him, watching his every move. Here they were, having a conversation as if they hadn’t been intimate two days ago—as if she hadn’t seen him at his absolute worst. As if his cat form hadn’t taken a knife in the leg for her.
His thigh tingled where the silver blade had grazed even thinking about it.
“No. Sorry, we’re going to have to pull Tamara off the bar. We need to be in D.C. tonight.”
“D.C.?”
She nodded. “Got referred for a government contract. We’re having to shut down the agency for a few days.”
“Oh.”
She stared down at her hands and he knew, even without catching her scent or feeling the beat of her heart, that she was nervous. The little hellcat, nervous.
Shit.
He reached across the desktop and picked up his phone. He stabbed an internal extension. “It’s Pat. Can you pack the ladies some dinners to go? Something that won’t sweat in Styrofoam. Thanks.” He hung up and looked at Dana. “Give him ten minutes.”
She nodded.
“Hey…why don’t we go keep Mr. Drake company in the kitchen?” Sarah suggested. I think Dana needs to settle the bill.”
She scooped up the bottles and winked at him as she backed out. The other two ladies followed her, eyeing him warily and wearing scowls on their lovely faces.
“They’ll kill me if I hurt you, won’t they?”
“In your sleep, probably. Cleaner that
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