The Pleasures of Spring (16 page)

Roz didn’t want to think about the bill she had racked up so far, but she was feeling guilty about demanding a new wardrobe from him. She hadn’t actually expected him to carry through, and certainly not in such style. A couple of pairs of jeans and a dress from M&S was usually her limit. She stroked the sleeve of the simple wool dress that clung to her curves, making them more dramatic while giving the impression that she was stylish and demure. Whatever this dress had cost, it was worth every penny.

A large-bosomed woman walking along the street paused to give Andy the once-over, then smiled and nodded towards a nearby pub. Roz scowled. Could the woman
not see that he was with her? Her red hair made her hard to ignore, but the cow seemed to think she was invisible.

‘Are we going inside or not?’ she snapped at Andy.

‘Anxious to get my ring on your finger?’ he asked. ‘So many have tried …’

‘I’d rather put a ring somewhere else.’ Damn it, she was not going to fall into the trap of being attracted to him. The cow had reminded her that she was dealing with Andy McTavish. He flirted with every woman he met. And every one of them flirted back. He was a walking, talking vision of male perfection. And he knew it.

That was an image which should keep her heart safe. She couldn’t afford to fall for him. Her only advantage was that she knew from the outset that he wasn’t interested in her. She was a job to him, nothing more. Andy knew the real Roz Spring. He wasn’t fooled by a leather cat-suit, dark eyeliner and a stern voice into thinking she was some sort of kinky goddess.

He wasn’t going to fall in love with her. She certainly wasn’t going to fall in love with him. Simple. Everyone happy.

‘Most women don’t think I need a cock ring, but if you insist …’ Andy’s words jerked her out of her depressing reverie, and she gasped.

She recovered and said in her most crushing voice, ‘I’m not sure they have one small enough, but we can ask.’

‘It’s not that sort of shop.’ Andy grinned wickedly. ‘But we can go to Gresham Street later and get one, if you like.’

She didn’t want to ask what was in Gresham Street, but she could guess.

Inside the shop was dim, with the jewellery on display in discreet cases. Idly, she worked out three scams for stealing something from it. Her dad would have come up with at least six. But she was finished with that business now.

She missed the conversation between Andy and the owner, and was surprised by the tray of rings being pulled out for her to peruse.

They were gorgeous. Old and valuable. There was a delicate band of diamonds. A ruby solitaire gleamed at her and she shuddered. After stealing the Fire of Autumn from her sister’s museum, she never wanted to see another ruby. Taking that stone had been a big mistake and she was still paying for it.

She turned her attention back to the display. There was a trio of black pearls that teased her. An eternity ring which looked older than Charleville Castle. She picked up an antique sapphire flanked by two diamonds and slipped it on. It fitted as if it were made for her.

She admired the way it caught the light, until she saw the small label with the price tag. Seventeen thousand pounds. Roz shuddered and put it back.

The pearls were nice, and she could imagine wearing them. The ring only cost three hundred pounds. That was okay. She turned to the owner to say she had decided on her ring, and found that Andy was putting away his credit card. He opened the velvet box containing the sapphire and took out the ring. ‘It had to be this one,’ he said.

She was all too conscious of the sales assistant
watching as he slipped it onto her finger and took her into his arms to kiss her.

His kiss was hot and possessive, and all too brief.

He raised his head. ‘Later, darling,’ he said.

Only Roz could hear the mockery in his voice.

Andy’s stomach growled on the drive north. Had they eaten today? He couldn’t remember. Roz was quiet, watching the scenery fly past. She was a real city girl. He wondered how she would cope with Lough Darra. ‘Before we arrive, we need to work on a cover story.’

‘Okay.’ She nodded. This was something Roz was familiar with, getting into the part, hiding behind a character.

‘Stick to the truth as much as possible. We met in Paris when I was working for the O’Sullivans.’

Roz frowned at the memory.

‘We met again in London a few months ago and we’ve been in touch every day since then. You missed me so much when I returned to Ireland that you hopped on a plane and followed me.’

‘Okay, I can do that. So, where do I live in London? Please say Chelsea? Please. Please. I’ve always wanted to be posh.’ Roz batted her eyelashes outrageously at him.

Andy suppressed the desire to laugh and then shook his head. He was certain that his mother had friends in Chelsea and it could lead to all sorts of complications. ‘No. You live in Greenwich.’

‘Fine. And what do I call you? Do I have a pet name for you?’

‘No pet names,’ Andy said, horrified at the thought of it. Knowing Roz she would come up with something
outlandish to torture him with. Pet name indeed. He would make her pay for that later, but first they had to run the gauntlet of his parents and the staff.

Almost there. He turned off the narrow country road and swung through the iron gates. He would have to think about improving security. Open gates were an invitation. If he got his hands on the teenagers who had tried to rob the place, he would teach them a lesson they wouldn’t forget.

‘This is it?’ Roz perked up and looked around her as they drove up the tree-lined drive.

His inner imp made him park the Jeep at the front of the house instead of the rear as usual. The gardens ran down to the lake, the waters glittering in the spring sunlight. To someone who hadn’t looked at it almost every day of his childhood, the view was pretty spectacular.

Wide eyed, she turned to stare at him. ‘Please tell me you’re joking. You can’t actually live here?’

‘It’s just a house.’

‘And Charleville Castle is a charming country cottage. Damn it, Andy, I’m nervous as hell. What if your parents hate me? What if they –’

‘Come here.’ He pulled her into his arms. The slight tremble in her shoulders brought out his protective streak but he knew better than to mention it. ‘They’ll adore you. Just remember that I’m completely and utterly in love with you.’

‘Oh.’ For once, Roz was speechless. A delightful flush stained her cheeks. She was confused and embarrassed, but she rallied quickly. ‘I really want to see you pretending to be in love with me.’

‘Do you now?’ Andy cupped her face and brushed his
lips against hers. He hadn’t intended it to be more than a teasing kiss to reassure her. But hunger flared, bright and hot as a flame.

With a soft murmur, she opened her lips to his and then they were both lost. Hot, open mouthed, the kiss was endless. Nothing existed but her and the soft curves of her body against his. He cursed the dress she was wearing. He wanted to touch her bare skin. Andy stroked her hip, sliding his palm down to the hem of her dress and working his fingers beneath. Stockings and suspenders. Sweet Jesus, she was trying to kill him.

A tap on the window jerked him back to reality.

‘Andrew. Is that you?’

Roz jerked herself out of his arms. What the hell was she doing? Letting Andy McTavish under her skin was the worst idea she’d ever had, and she’d had some humdingers.

She looked around to see who had interrupted them.

A small, stylish woman with short, grey hair stood there beaming at them. She was dressed in a pair of well-cut trousers, a white shirt, wellies and a sheepskin jacket. There was something familiar about her eyes.

‘Mother,’ Andy said, with what sounded suspiciously like a groan. Yes, that was it. Her brown eyes were the feminine version of his.

Oh great. She had been caught necking in the car by Andy’s mother. A wave of heat crawled up her face.

‘You idiot,’ Roz snarled. ‘This is all your fault.’

He grinned shamelessly at her. ‘Come and meet my mother. She’ll love you.’

Roz knew better. Mothers of men like Andy did not like women like her. She would take one look at Roz and peg her for what she was. Out of her class. Out of her depth.

This was the sort of fancy rich woman who was begging to be fleeced. More money than sense. She made herself watch as Andy swept his mother up in a rough hug, kissing both her cheeks and telling her she needed to button her jacket.

‘Silly boy, put me down,’ she told Andy, patting his cheek, even though she had to stand on tip-toe to reach. ‘But I’m cross that you didn’t tell me you were coming or that you were bringing a visitor. Please introduce me to your friend.’

Her eyes were perfectly welcoming as she smiled at Roz, but she fancied she heard a hint of censure in those precisely modulated words.

Now it was Andy’s turn to blush. He grinned his familiar grin, the one that looked like a pirate about to take a lady prisoner and kiss her senseless, but there was a definite darkening on his high cheekbones. He put his arm around Roz, holding her possessively to his side. It looked like a lover’s embrace, but Roz could feel the grip preventing her from running away.

‘Mum, may I introduce Roz O’Sullivan? Roz, this is my mother, Mrs Dougal Campbell McTavish.’

The older woman frowned at him. ‘Why so formal?’ She turned to Roz. ‘Call me Poppy, dear. Everyone does.’

She advanced on Roz. The woman was tiny, she barely reached Roz’s chin, but she pulled her into a decorous embrace. ‘So glad to meet you.’

She smelled of lavender and turpentine and her hands were cold.

In spite of the cool, slender fingers, her hug was warm, and Roz felt unexpectedly bereft. She had never had motherly hugs, and she hadn’t realized how much she had wanted them.

Get over it, she told herself. This is part of a scam.

Poppy stood back and surveyed Roz carefully. ‘Roz O’Sullivan? I don’t believe I’ve heard of you before this week, dear.’

That was a fishing hook if she had ever heard one. Roz stood up straighter, pulling back her shoulders. She wasn’t going to grovel in any way. ‘That’s Roisin Philomena O’Sullivan-Spring. Andy never gives my full name.’

Andy’s exclamation derailed his mother’s gentle cross-examination. ‘Philomena? You never told me you were called Philomena. I’m sorry, that’s it. It’s all off. I can’t date someone called Philomena.’

But Poppy’s brow had scrunched thoughtfully. ‘Philomena O’Sullivan sounds familiar.’

‘I was named after my grandmother,’ Roz admitted. Her dad had told her the story of how she had been named after her mother’s mother, and Sinead had been named for Jane Spring. He had cursed that decision every time he mentioned her O’Sullivan grandmother while she was growing up. She had been the demon from hell, according to his stories. She had cut her daughter off without a second thought when she had refused to break up with Roz’s father.

Peter Spring wasn’t the best father in the world. Okay, he was a long way from being the best. But he had tried, and in his own way, he had loved her. Philomena O’Sullivan hadn’t loved anyone, certainly not her daughter.

Thoughts of her dysfunctional family helped to steady Roz. She wasn’t a part of this world. She was hiding out here until Hall was off her back, and it didn’t matter if they liked her or approved of her.

‘Oh, that’s right. Andy told me you’re one of those O’Sullivans. Welcome to Lough Darra,’ Poppy said. She tucked Roz’s hand into her arm as she turned towards the house. Andy took his mother’s other arm and shortened his long strides to accommodate her as they tramped along the driveway. ‘So tell me, how did you meet my son?’

Roz stumbled slightly, but recovered her step. ‘I’m sure you’d rather hear it from Andy.’ Let him take the heat for a change.

Lying to his mother clearly didn’t bother Andy at all. ‘We met in Paris last year and I’ve been chasing her ever since. She moved back to London a few months ago, and I haven’t let her out of my sight,’ he said smoothly.

‘So you’re good friends?’ Poppy asked.

‘A bit more than that.’ Andy stopped, picked up Roz’s hand and kissed it. His mouth was warm against her frozen skin. ‘I never want to let her go. Mum, meet my fiancée.’

‘Your what?’ Poppy squealed and threw her arms around Roz. ‘My dear. You should have told me at once. I know I’m going to love you.’

This time her hug wasn’t elegant, but it was enthusiastic. ‘I’m going to have a daughter-in-law. I can’t wait.’

He wasn’t supposed to feel guilty. This was a job, wasn’t it? It was for Roz’s protection. His mother had seen girls come and go before now, it shouldn’t have been a big deal.
But the expression of joy on her face was worse than a kick in the nuts. He must have been crazy. How could he have thought that this was a good idea?

And Roz was like a rabbit caught in the headlights. She shot him a look filled with venom. It was time to rescue her. He caught up with them. ‘It’s kind of new to us too, so maybe we should keep it quiet for a while?’

‘Nonsense! Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this? Oh wait ’til I tell Hilary Adams.’

Fuck. His mother’s best friend was the biggest gossip in the county. The news would be all over the neighbourhood by dinner time. Andy forced a smile onto his face. ‘Great.’

He grabbed the shopping bags from the car and followed them into the house. They had barely made it to the hall before two noisy bundles of energy came racing at them. Mini and Maxi, his mother’s cocker spaniels.

‘Down.’ He injected as much sternness into his voice as he could muster but the dogs ignored him, leaping and jumping at Roz who stood frozen to the spot. She stretched out a tentative hand to pat one of them.

‘Ladies, please behave.’ His mother clapped her hands and the dogs sat obediently, waiting for her next command. ‘I’m so sorry. Andy, take Roz into the library and I’ll organize some refreshments.’

He dropped the bags near the stairs and ushered Roz to the book-filled room. It was his mother’s favourite spot, mostly because it was the warmest place in the house.

Roz whistled. ‘Holy freaking hell, this room is bigger than my flat in London. You actually live here?’

Andy ached to take her in his arms again. That kiss had been far too short. He led her to the couch in front of the fire. The leather was worn and cracked in places, a testament to generations of McTavishes who had curled up with a book over the years. He sat down and pulled her onto his lap. ‘I’ll give you the tour later, but first can I tell you how much I love this dress?’

His fingers found the hem and slid underneath. If there was ever an invention designed to torture a man it was stockings and suspender belts and she was wearing both.

‘Stop that.’ Roz slapped his hand away. ‘Your mother will be back in a minute. And if you think that I’m going to –’

The door opened and Andy heard the clink of glasses. Damn his mother’s timing. Maggie followed behind, balancing a tray containing an ice bucket and champagne. He hurried to help her and set the tray down on the table. The champagne was opened with a satisfying pop and his mother poured four glasses. ‘Maggie, did you ever think you’d see the day?’