The Chosen Heir (The Bolles Dynasty Book 3) (8 page)

He lightly kissed her twice, barely touching her, and held himself in check ready to stop when she said, “Kiss me.”

After a fraction of a second, he pulled her closer and invaded her mouth. She opened her mouth fully under his and he increased the pressure wanting to devour her. He took her mouth fully and could feel her tongue duel with his. His hands moved to the back of her head to hold her steady under his exploration and his fingers touched her silky hair.
 

She ran her hands over his pressed shirt and he wanted to feel her hands on his bare skin, but he resisted unbuttoning it for her. Instead he gathered her more fully against him and could feel her breasts push against his chest as he continued to explore her mouth. His own breathing sounded hurried and he pressed a kiss into her neck to allow them a moment to regain some sanity.

It was foolish; he wanted to claim her as his. She brought out a possessive streak in him that made him feel like a cave dweller. Why was he so enthralled with her?

***

Bridget was losing her grip on reality. William Bolles shouldn’t be able to make her feel this good. He was the enemy and yet she couldn’t get enough of him. She wanted to strip his shirt off and feel the muscles in his chest.
 

He deepened the kiss and she could feel an intense heat build within her. He moved his hands over her bottom and drew her closer to him. She wanted more from him. Her hand slipped down and traced the shape of his hard length. He drew in a shuddering breath and pulled her closer, then pushed her away.

A daze covered her brain and it took a second for her to realize that he wanted to end their seductive encounter.

“I lost my head. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have allowed this to happen.”

He regretted kissing her. If she were being honest with herself, she should regret it. They were about to spend a year working together. But it had felt incredible and had allowed her to lose herself completely. It never happened that way for her. Typically if a man kissed her at the end of a date, her mind would wander to mundane tasks. She never lost her head. But why him? Why William Bolles?

“It was a mistake.” She touched her tongue to her lips and turned away from him.

Glancing out at the deserted park, she thought that it had been a fantastic experience. One she had wanted to continue. But then the practical side of her intervened and she realized who she was dealing with. William Bolles had too much entitlement and power in his hands. He bankrupted small businesses and people and would move on without the smallest concern.

“Can you walk?”

She nodded and followed him over the expansive lawn. The cool grass grounded her, taking her mind off of their shared encounter. She couldn’t quite remember why he had kissed her or why she had asked him to kiss her properly. It was almost as if it was a dream and she would wake up any moment.

She stopped when they reached the sidewalk and reached down to put on her heels. It was odd to feel so self-conscious. Normally she wouldn’t let down her guard and didn’t act on impulse.

“It’s only another two blocks. I’m fine on my own.”

“We need to talk about what happened in the park.”

She had no intention of discussing it. “No. We should put it down to a moment of madness and forget it.”

“Nothing is that easy.”

She needed to distance herself from him. “This will be.”

They continued walking in silence until they reached her aunt’s building. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to come in.”

He smiled at her. “I’ll see you in Dublin in a week.”

William Bolles was a mystery. Why would he kiss her? It complicated everything. Relocating to Dublin would be tough enough without adding another layer of social pressure. Instead of being wildly attracted to him, she should be erecting tougher barriers. He was a Bolles and born into a type of privilege that she would never understand.

Chapter 5
 

Bridget had been in Dublin for five days. It was odd to be staying at William’s house with just the housekeeper, Mrs. Blake, but she relaxed and enjoyed the converted pub. She had found an affordable flat that was fully furnished and had stopped in a few times at Breen. It took her two days to convince the landlord to let her move in early. He had insisted on speaking with her employer so she had reluctantly called William and asked for his assistance. As soon as that happened, he became far more agreeable and even personally met her with the keys.

Now if she could just sort out something for her father. Bridget had visited him each day and he was overjoyed that she was in Ireland for the next year. She checked her bank balance again. It was unbelievable that she had enough money in her account to buy him a small cottage outside of the city.

Getting off the bus by his rented flat, she scanned the sidewalk for him and smiled when she spotted him feeding the birds. Only the tourists fed the birds, but Thomas North believed in living in the moment. He looked thinner these days but in general had fared well. Other men would have allowed bankruptcy to defeat them, but he kept a positive attitude.

“Hello, Tom.” It rattled her nerves occasionally that she addressed her father by his given name, but he never objected. She guessed it was part of her taking care of him and it relieved him of some of the responsibility of being a father.

“Bridget, you look so pretty today, dear.”

She kissed his cheek. “The estate broker is waiting at the pub.” She had spent the last couple of days arguing with him about purchasing a small cottage. She had finally prevailed. She needed the win. She had given up her life in London for the next year on the whim of Olivia and William. Now she needed to secure a permanent home for her father. It would keep her motivated and working hard for the next twelve months. It would mean she wouldn’t have to worry about her father or struggle as much. Maybe when she returned to London, she would be able to rent her own flat.

Thomas put his cap on. “I spoke with him this morning and asked for him to look for cottages over by the Donne Golf Resort. It would be a good investment with the course opening in the next year. The value will skyrocket.”

“Tom, that golf resort has gone through many owners. As we know firsthand, it’s a money pit. Won’t it depress you to see it each day?”

“On the contrary, I plan to play golf there one day.”

She bit her lip. There was no point digging up the past.

The estate broker was a laid back and easy young fellow who spent considerable time taking them around. Tom chose a small cottage that needed a little work and she signed an offer. She hoped he could move in within the month and then begin to see a different future for himself.

***

William flew his aircraft into a private airstrip outside of Dublin. He had spent the last week trying to banish Bridget from his mind with an intense and grueling bike race but with little result. He had only been successful replacing his desire with anger. How could she so easily capture his interest? He had plenty of women throwing themselves at him. Why did she rattle him so easily?

Maybe he should send her back to Olivia. But he had no desire to speak with his sister about the issue. What would he possibly say?
She gets under my skin and I don’t want her around?
He refused to admit a weakness. He would deal with his attraction to her in some way or another. And if Olivia had any suspicion that he found Ms. North desirable, she would plot and plan until the wedding was scheduled.

Frustration coursed through his veins. He called his assistant and had him set up an early morning meeting for his executive team and instructed him to invite Bridget.

Walking into his house, he called out to Mrs. Blake.

She came out of the kitchen wiping her hands on her apron. “Ah, you’ve returned in one piece this time.”

“Is Bridget here?”

“No. She stayed three nights and then moved to a flat near the Loft Market.”

Why did that irritate him? She should focus on her career. He didn’t need her underfoot.

His housekeeper smiled at him. “Can I get you a light meal?”

“No,” he said in irritation.

Watching her retreat back to the kitchen, he ran a hand through his hair. He could swear that he could smell Bridget’s perfume; he had to be hallucinating.

Walking into the kitchen, he said, “I apologize if I seem out of sorts, Mrs. Blake.”

She continued chopping an onion. “It’s fine. I’m putting the finishing sauce together for a seafood chowder and thought maybe you would ask Ms. North to join you for dinner. She had asked several times when you would return.”

“Bridget North is a new employee that I brought in to help the Breen Hat Company. Olivia had recommended her.” Why was he explaining himself?

“Are you going to ask her to dinner?”

“I doubt it.” He headed to his office on the other side of the converted pub. He needed to immerse himself in work.

***

An hour later, he threw down his pen. He needed a run. Changing into running gear, he left the house and ran his favorite route through the city. It was late afternoon and the sun was oppressive, but he welcomed the intensity.

Getting back to his house drenched with sweat, he decided to invite her for dinner. Avoiding her was a bad move; it had only fueled his erotic thoughts. If anything, he needed to see her before the meeting tomorrow morning. He asked Mrs. Blake to call her and went upstairs for a shower.

***

Bridget disconnected the call and looked around her new flat. Instead of unpacking tonight, she was expected to entertain William Bolles. She hoped he didn’t want an update on Breen. She had spent the last week sorting out a place to live and helping her father. She had planned to start at Breen after meeting with William’s team tomorrow.

After a quick shower, she chose an ivory-and-black tweed sleeveless dress. The contrasting geometric patterned straight skirt added a business look to her outfit. She wanted to move their association into a strictly professional realm and not allow her attraction to him to override her professional goals. If she could help get Breen back to being profitable, it would help her move on.

She walked up the front pathway and turned the old-fashioned door chime. It made sense that William lived in a converted pub in some ways, but it also made her curious. Most of the super wealthy lived outside of the city limits in mansions. Why would he choose a converted pub?

Mrs. Blake answered the door and invited her in.

“You look lovely, my dear. William should be down shortly. Would you like to wait on the terrace or in the living room?”

“The terrace would be lovely. Thank you, Mrs. Blake.”

The old stone patio ran the length of the building and a low stone wall separated it from an expansive lawn and garden area. There was a high privacy fence at the back that protected the outside space from the city.

Bridget sat at the table and spent a few minutes enjoying the late afternoon sun.

William walked outside and stopped abruptly when he saw her. Was he thinking about their last encounter and recalling his regrets?

She stood and he stepped forward and kissed her lightly on the cheek. Her stomach muscles clenched.

Keeping her voice neutral, she said, “I hope you enjoyed the race.”

He stepped back from her. He wore a light blue pressed shirt and dark jeans. His sculpted body showed off how much time he spent cycling. “Alistair is a tremendous competitor so it was intense in a good way.”
 

She sat back down.

“Would you like ale or wine this evening?”

She surprised herself by saying, “Ale.” In London, she drank only wine or champagne, but being back in Dublin was getting to her.

He returned with two glass bottles of McSorley's Irish Pale Ale and opened them on a built-in bottle opener by the door before handing her the cold bottle.

“There are some advantages to owning an old pub.”

She nodded. “What made you purchase this place?”

“I got it for a little more than a song. It needed a ton of work and I was looking for a project a few years ago.” She admired the well-kept stone terrace. It was relaxing to sit outside in a private yard.

He was difficult to figure out. He was driven and obviously hugely successful but he also seemed to spend much of his time alone. “Are you happy to be in the city center? I would have thought you would want rural.”