Page 14 of Bracing The Storm

Something flickers in his eyes again. I’m thinking relief. Then again, my brain might be making me see things because there’s no way someone like Duncan Ellis would ever be interested in the relationship status of someone like me. Not only is he way too good-looking, he probably also has the financial backgroundto command the attention of most women crossing his path. He might even be in a committed relationship, for all I know. Or playing for the other team. Or married to his job and not playing at all.

“It’s certainly not my place to tell you what to do, but instead of selling straight away, why don’t you enjoy the little getaway? Get to know our culture and all that. The usual motions of the inheritance proceedings can take a while so you might as well enjoy the trip.”

“A while? How long are we talking about?”

He hesitates. “Could be days. Weeks. Even months. The wheels of the legal system are still stuck in the Middle Ages and often move at the speed of a snail. I’m afraid selling isn’t an option right now, not before we’ve gone over every detail. We’ll have to schedule a few meetings for that. As your inheritance paperwork hasn’t been signed off by a judge just yet, I can’t release any funds to you. But I’ll make sure to get you a small advance to tie you over before the end of the week.”

I stare at him for a long moment as the meaning of his words sinks in. “Ms. Walsh has also left me money?”

“Not a lot,” Duncan says. “Just about enough to cover the costs of the estate for a year.” He sounds apologetic.

“Actually, that’s very generous of her.” More generous than anyone’s ever been to me in my whole life, but I keep that part to myself.

“I’d be more than happy to show you around so you get to see what you’d be missing out if you really decided to sell.” The smile from before is back in place. I can’t tell whether he’s just joking or whether he truly believes familiarizing myself with his culture could really persuade me to stay.

“I might actually take you up on your offer,” I blurt out before I can stop myself. I know no one here, and there’s only so muchsolitude I can take. Besides, Duncan basically comes with the estate.

The way I see it, no harm done, right?

“I have your number,” Duncan says. I can tell he’s thinking about leaving a moment before he gets up. “I have urgent business to take care of. Enjoy your stay. Maybe have a look at the financial reports, when you get the chance, and if you have any questions I’m only a call away.”

“Thank you.” I follow him to the door.

“There’s something else before I forget.” He turns to look at me, hesitating.

“Yes?” I prompt.

“Sorry I didn’t bring you a welcome gift.”

“I wasn’t expecting any.” I smile at him.

“Work’s been stressful lately, but that’s no excuse.” He grimaces. “Anyway, about the house. You might?—”

“Ellis, what owes me the pleasure? Or displeasure,” a male voice calls out behind me, cutting Duncan off mid-sentence.

I know it’shimbefore he’s reached us and appeared in my line of vision. My stomach flips a little as I peer up at the guy from this morning. He’s at least a head taller than me, even a few inches taller than Duncan, but there’s an air of arrogance about him that makes him seem like he’s towering over everyone. He doesn’t bother to greet me, doesn’t even care to acknowledge me.

In fact, I might not even exist.

The two men are staring at each other, both wearing a major scowl. There’s no love lost between them.

“Why don’t I try to dissolve into thin air?” I mutter to no one in particular because, let’s face it, they seem so engrossed in their silent battle I don’t think they can hear me.

“Paddy,” Duncan says with so much frost in his voice, I wouldn’t be surprised to find the nearby ocean frozen over.

“It’s Patrick to you,” the guy from last night retorts and automatically puts a name to his face.

Patrick.

The name suits him. It rolls off the tongue easily. I can imagine myself screaming it in the throes of passion, as I clutch at the sheets while he’s whispering all the dirty things he’d like to do to me, and we’re scratching them off his list one by one.

“Lori.”

Oh, yes!

I would love him to call my name, growl it in that Irish rumble of his. I could probably climax from that deep voice of his alone. A hot sensation gathers between my legs and makes me all wet and tingly. There’s that slight tug that reminds me I haven’t been with anyone in ages, and I might have just found the right specimen to put an end to my dry spell.

Or so my hormone-driven brain tells me.

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