HardWind by Charlotte Boyett-Compo

Author:Charlotte Boyett-Compo [Boyett-Compo, Charlotte]
Format: epub
Published: 2010-12-24T00:00:57.794000+00:00

Epilogue

It was raining again and the Gulf Coast was canopied with dark, rolling clouds

veined with lightning. A brisk wind was coming off the water—palms trees were

making rattling sounds as their fronds rippled. Hurricane season was fast approaching.

The ice blue satin sheets rustled as Star turned over and flung out a hand to touch

her lover. Her palm encountered coolness. Dáire was not lying beside her. Flinging

aside the covers, she got up and padded into the living room of his home, knowing

she’d find him at the windows, watching the coming storm.

“Couldn’t sleep?” she asked as she slipped her arms around his bare waist and

pressed her cheek to his back.

“I was thinking about Jackson,” he said, covering her arms with his.

“You have made an enemy for life,” she said with a sigh.

“I thought it was funny,” he said.

“Jackson didn’t.”

“Yes, he did, he just wouldn’t admit it.”

Star thought about the black suit, sensible pumps, and—adding insult to injury—

black fishnet hose Dáire had given to Jackson on their first day at work in the

sumptuous offices designed for them by The Cumberland Group.

“What the fuck is this?” Jackson had demanded, lifting a little black lace bra and

wispy thong from the same box that held the suit.

“Your uniform,” Dáire replied with a straight face. “It’s what all good executive

assistants wear I’m told.”

Jackson had actually growled as he dropped the underwear back into the box. “You

are a dead man, Cronin!”

Star had stood beside Vaughn Morrison, the new head of security, and tried not to

laugh at the surprised look on Dáire’s face.

“I told you he’d prefer gray, boss,” Morrison piped up.

Jackson had limped out of the office, cursing them all beneath his breath.

“If you believe he thought it was funny, why are you out here obsessing about him

at three o’clock in the morning?” Star inquired.

“Do you really think he likes gray better than black?” Dáire asked.

“Dairy Crow!” Star exclaimed.

“The reason I’m asking is because I prefer black and I want his suit to match mine.”

140

HardWind

“You’re going to wear a sweet little number with black lace fishnets?” she taunted,

rubbing her chin down the middle of his back.

“Although I believe I’d look very elegant in such a fetchingly described frock, I

think a nice black suit accompanied by a rather understated seven-fold silk tie in pale

green to match that pretty spaghetti thing you have hanging in the closet would be

appropriate. But if Jackson prefers gray, I’ll have to rethink the tie.”

Star loosened her hold and came around to stand in front of him. “What are you

talking about?”

He took her hands in his. “Isn’t it true the best man’s suit should match the

groom’s?” he countered.

Star’s eyes widened. “What?”

He was standing there in just the soft, silk pajama bottoms he seemed to love

wearing. “Now, of course, if you don’t want to wear that pale green number and have

something mauve in mind, either gray or black would go with that, wouldn’t it?”

Star could feel her heart pounding in her chest. “Dáire…”

Just as gracefully as he always moved, Dáire went to his knees before her and

brought her left hand to his lips.

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