Page 81 of Tee’d Up For Trouble

But he’s your man, Dee. And you’re his woman.

I lifted my hips to feel him fill me. “Come in me, Jax.”

He lost it then. I saw control escape him, and he became feral. It was exciting to see a man as easy-going and laid back as Jax become animalistic, become almost unhinged with desire. This didn’t happen to normal people, did it? This kind of wanting wasn’t normal, was it?

“Jax,” I whimpered as he began to slam inside me, so I felt him deep.

“Yes, baby. I’m with you. Give it to me again. Come again for me.”

As if he controlled me, pulling the strings like a puppet master while I moved to his rhythm, powerless to resist—I felt my release, and he followed soon after.

I’d had sex before; this hadn’t been that—this had been a mating, a bonding. This was what trusting someone body and soul felt like.

“I love you,” I whispered, wrapping myself around him, feeling the kind of certainty I’d never felt before.

CHAPTER31

Jax

Icame alone to Cork because it was delivery day at The Banshee’s Rest, and Dee had vendors to yell at.

I’d managed to get an appointment with Fiona Hennessey, a sharp, no-nonsense land developer with the kind of keen eyes that made you feel like she could see straight into your intentions, according to Brad, who had done his homework. After a bit of convincing, she’d agreed to meet with me to discuss my “land management concerns.”

As soon as I stepped into The Bookshelf Coffee House on South Mall, which Fiona had chosen for our meeting, I knew I’d like her because this was just the kind of place I liked—understated charm, delicious smells of baked goods and coffee, and a sleek modern décor that offered a surprisingly warm atmosphere.

She was having coffee, black, while I was having a café latte and a mouth-wateringly deliciouspain au chocolat.

She took a sip of her coffee and set the porcelain cup back in its saucer. “Let me be frank, Mr. Caldwell,” she said, her Cork accent soft yet pointed. “You’ve gotten yourself tangled up with a bad one in Cillian O’Farrell.”

“I figured as much.” I broke a piece of the croissant. “But whatexactlymakes him bad? Other than the fact that he’s a smug prick with a penchant for screwing people over.”

She gave a dry laugh. “That’s putting it kindly. He’s the kind of man who promises the moon and the stars to these big developers and leads them straight to places like…Ballybeg, which your manager said was your focus—places that don’t want or need development.”

I chewed on my croissant thoughtfully. “So, he’s a con artist with a real estate license.”

“That, and more.” She shook her head as if disgusted. “What he does is sell the idea of a development dream to foreign investors who don’t know better. He’s good at spinning tales. But what he never mentions is how places like Ballybeg will fight tooth and nail to keep their land. And the kicker?” She arched an eyebrow. “He’s not even showing them the best properties. I’ve got files here on two areas that are far more suited for a golf resort—better access, less resistance, and the kind of infrastructure already in place that Ballybeg doesn’t have.”

I leaned forward, my interest piqued. “And why doesn’t Cillian offer those? I’m assuming he knows about them.”

“Sure, he does, but Cillian can’t make the same kind of money off them that he can by forcing Ballybeg into submission. More money will need to be spent to buy the land and get the permits, all of which means his commission goes up,” Fiona explained.

That didn’t surprise me one bit. I’d seen enough of his smarmy grin to know that Cillian O’Farrell was a jackass of the highest order.

Fiona slid a folder across the table. “Here’s the information on those properties. Brad told me you’ve got the ear of anyone in the game, and I suggest you might want to steer them in this direction. It’ll save everyone a headache.”

“And you’ll make a nice commission,” I reminded her.

She grinned. “Everyone has bills to pay, don’t they? Trust me, Ballybeg isn’t worth the fight.”

Maybe to her, it wasn’t, and I knew she didn’t mean it cruelly—it was just business. But to me, Ballybeg was everything. And no way in hell was I going to let Cillian steamroll it.

“Thanks, Fiona.” I flipped through the files, already knowing I’d need Brad’s team to go through them and pull the key points—the ones I could use to sell this to Big Gil as a better alternative to Ballybeg. “Can you send this over to Brad?”

“Sure. I’ll email it to him right away.” She tapped away at her phone and then set it down. “Done.”

I liked her style.

“Just be careful, Mr. Caldwell. Men like Cillian don’t take kindly to losing.”

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