City Lives (15 page)

‘Do you miss Dublin at all, Ciara?’ Devlin asked between mouthfuls of the most delicious potato and leek soup she had ever tasted.

‘Not at all. I’ve a great social life here. Being manageress of City Girl helps enormously, of course. Membership is very “in” over in this neck of the woods. I get
invited to all the best parties. It wasn’t like that in Dublin. Well, unless you were you, that is.’ She laughed.

‘If that’s what you like, good for you. I’m not really into posh parties myself. I much prefer to have an elbows on the table, gossip all night, sort of dinner with close
friends at home,’ Devlin confessed.

‘God no! I much prefer to be out and about. I hate being stuck at home.’ Ciara wrinkled her pert little nose in distaste at the idea.

‘To each his own,’ Devlin murmured, amused by the younger woman’s response. She’d been very like her once, until a few of life’s hard knocks had taken the stuffing
out of her and she’d picked herself up, got her priorities sorted, and grown up. Ciara was utterly confident, focused and ambitious but there was a hardness about her sometimes that was
surprising in one so young. Nevertheless she was excellent at her job and Devlin was very pleased with the way City Girl had taken off in Galway.

A meeting with the landscape gardener concluded her day. This, however, did not run as smoothly as the two earlier ones. Matthew Moran was a man who knew his own mind. He reminded Devlin of Luke
in some ways, although he was older. Mid-forties at least. Tall, fit, as lean as a panther, he had a craggy, tanned face that was intense and serious in repose. When he smiled, his eyes crinkled up
and he lost ten years. He had the bluest eyes Devlin had ever seen.

He gazed at her in horror when she informed him blithely that she wanted dozens of pink roses, cherry blossoms, flowering almond trees, lots of heathers and some pyracantha for winter colour.
His eyebrows shot up to his hairline at the mention of pyracantha. ‘And some nice voluptuous fuchsias. You know, the double flowering ones,’ she added for good measure, ignoring his
reaction.

‘My dear good woman,’ he said slowly in that delicious western accent that rolled off the tongue so silkily. ‘This is the West of Ireland and your site is extremely exposed to
the elements. If you take my advice you’ll let me plant escallonia, cotoneaster, lavender, hebes, ulex, Spanish gorse, rock roses, cordyline and New Zealand flax. I’ll get pictures of
them for you,’ he added helpfully.

‘That would be great,’ she enthused. Devlin knew some of the shrubs that he referred to and they were beautiful. But she knew what she wanted herself and she wasn’t going to be
dictated to, even if he was an expert. ‘But couldn’t I have those
and
heathers, fucshia and pink roses? And I’m sure pyracantha are extremely hardy—’

‘And thorny,’ he interjected. ‘They have no aesthetic value whatsoever.’

‘But they’re beautiful in the winter. The berries are so vibrant. I don’t agree with that at all,’ Devlin exclaimed. He was somewhat taken aback at her vehemence.

‘Vibrant berries, voluptuous fuchsia . . . ummm. Miss Delaney, we’d better get real here,’ Matthew Moran said slowly.

‘Call me, Devlin, Matthew,’ Devlin smiled sweetly. ‘Think of the challenge of it. I can visualize it just standing here looking out. I’m sure you could come up with some
design to incorporate your ideas with mine.’

‘We do aim to give our clients what they want, of course, Devlin,’ she could see he was trying his best to hide his irritation, ‘but realism has to play some part and you are
paying me for my advice. It’s rather a waste of money not to take it.’

Blue eyes met blue eyes and locked.

He’s kind of dishy
, Devlin thought. If she wasn’t a happily married woman she’d definitely be interested.

‘Tell you what, Matthew, live dangerously, you come up with a design that suits both of us. I’m sure you’ll rise to the occasion.’

‘Are you now?’ he drawled, as he shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and stared at her. ‘What’s so special about pink roses? Why pink? Why not red or orange or
yellow? Just as a matter of curiosity?’

‘Don’t you know? And you’re a gardener. Pink is the colour of love. The love of my life always gives me pink roses.’

Matthew looked frankly astonished at this piece of information. ‘Is that so. Well, I suppose that goes some way towards explaining your propensity for pink. I always thought red roses did
the trick in that department.’

‘Oh no, I wouldn’t thank you for a red rose. Maybe in romantic terms red is considered
the
colour but a friend of mine who knows all about these things says that,
spiritually, pink is the colour of love and my centre here is going to be serene and spiritual and a place of cherishing. And besides, pink is much more subtle and pleasing to the eye,’
Devlin explained.

Matthew Moran stared at her for a long moment. ‘I see,’ he said quietly after a while. ‘In that case as well as making the most of the panorama, perhaps you’d like me to
develop some secluded little nooks and crannies where clients can go and sit and be alone to read or just to sit and think?’

Devlin’s eyes lit up. ‘Oh Matthew that’s a lovely idea! I love it,’ she said warmly.

‘Do you?’ He smiled then, pleased at her reaction, and she was struck by the kindness in his eyes when they weren’t guarded and remote. ‘Well then, we’d better see
what we can do. I’ll get the plans from Brendan Quinn and then I’ll be in touch. Good day to you, and to you, Miss Hanlon.’ He nodded courteously in Ciara’s direction. Then
he strode out the door and the office felt strangely empty when he was gone.

‘Were you winding him up, Devlin?’ Ciara giggled.

‘Well, I was in the beginning,’ Devlin admitted.

‘All that stuff about pink being the colour of love. That was a put-on, wasn’t it? Did you see his face? I think he thinks you’re for the birds. You know these culchies . . .
haven’t a clue.’ Ciara prattled on.

‘Actually, pink
is
the colour of love, Ciara, and in the end I think he understood where I was coming from,’ Devlin said coolly. ‘And he might be a culchie, but he was
a sexy culchie in a very masculine sort of way, don’t you think?’

‘God no, you’re joking! I like suave men in suits.’ Ciara made a face at the notion that she could be attracted to a countryman who wore jeans and a jumper and spoke with an
accent.

‘
You would
,’ Devlin thought.

‘You know a lot about flowers,’ Ciara remarked. ‘I’d just about know a daisy from a dandelion.’

‘I don’t really. My parents are keen gardeners, I spent a lot of time in the garden with them when I was a child. Matthew is right though, some of my suggestions aren’t
practical for the site and climate here. Not that I’d admit it, yet,’ Devlin explained as she gathered her papers together. ‘Right, Ciara. I’m off to catch my flight. A
great day’s work all round. We’ll be in touch. Thanks for everything.’ She held out her hand and gave Ciara a firm handshake.

The younger woman returned it limply. It was a real wet-fish handshake. So at odds with Ciara’s forceful personality, Devlin always felt.

Her car was waiting in the drive and she sank back into the leather seat with relief, as a sudden unexpected weariness enveloped her. She had a desperate urge to lie down and fall fast asleep.
Had she had this tiredness when she’d been pregnant with Lynn? It was such a long time ago she couldn’t really remember.

It was a real effort to make conversation with the driver, who was full of chat. She’d be glad when she was home. The thoughts of the return flight and the drive home from the airport made
her heart sink. Devlin longed for bed.

Later, as she sat waiting to board, relieved beyond measure that there was no sign of the Obnoxious One, she took her mobile phone out of her bag and dialled Luke’s private line. Her
number would come up, he’d know it was her.

‘Hi Devlin. How did it go?’ His voice had a smile in it and she smiled back.

‘I miss you, Luke,’ she said longingly, suddenly desperately lonely for him, as she walked over to a window out of earshot of the other passengers.

‘I miss you too, but it won’t be long until I’m with you,’ he said comfortingly.

‘Oh Luke, I don’t know if it’s my hormones, I’m blaming everything on them, but I’m as horny as hell and I wish I was in bed with you right now doing wild erotic
things.’

‘Don’t say things like that,’ he groaned. ‘Now you’re making
me
horny. I might go out and jump on Dianne.’

Devlin giggled. Dianne Westwood was Luke’s highly efficient, glamorous PA. Unmarried, in her late thirties, she’d always had a major crush on him, despite his efforts to let her know
in a kind way that she was barking completely up the wrong tree. Dianne thought that she concealed her feelings extremely well but her crush was very obvious. She detested Devlin and was always
businesslike but exceedingly cool towards her.

‘Well if you go out and jump on Dianne, I’m going to go back into Galway to jump on the landscape gardener I met today. He was
really
sexy,’ Devlin teased.

‘Who’s he?’ Luke asked.

‘His name is Matthew Moran. He was a bit of all right.’

‘You hussy. And a pregnant hussy at that. But a very sexy pregnant hussy,’ he added huskily. ‘I wish you were here. Let’s stop talking about sex or I’ll get nothing
done for the rest of the evening and I’ve a meeting in ten minutes. I want to be able to concentrate. Tell me about what happened today instead.’

‘OK, just this once I’ll take pity on you but I’m going to talk dirty to you on the phone tonight—’

‘Devlin stop it!’ Luke laughed. ‘Tell me about today.’

‘I had a great day. I met Brendan Quinn and John Joe Connolly. Brendan had some excellent ideas. He’s really in tune with the whole thing, which makes it so much easier. And you know
John Joe. As quiet as ever. But he’s sound.’

‘He’s a great bloke. I worked with him on the building sites here, he’d never let you down. I’m glad he’s doing the job.’

‘Me too,’ Devlin agreed just as her flight was called over the Tannoy. ‘Luke, I have to go, my flight’s been called. Ring me tonight.’

‘OK. Take care of yourself.’

‘You too. I love you.’

‘I love you too. Bye.’

She was so lucky, she thought, as she walked towards the queue at the boarding gate. She had everything. Luke was her soul mate as well as her lover and when they were apart she missed him like
hell, she thought as she handed her boarding card to the air stewardess.

The flight home was smoother than the previous day’s flight and the seat beside her was empty, which made it more relaxing. The tiredness swamped her again and she fell asleep soon after
take-off in spite of her best efforts.

She woke to hear the captain announce that they were making their descent into Dublin airport and blinked rapidly, trying to focus. She hoped she hadn’t been snoring.

The drive home was horrendous. The rush-hour gridlock was well under way. She got stuck in a traffic jam on the airport dual carriageway, and as the bumper-to-bumper traffic crawled along at a
snail’s pace she had to struggle to keep her wits about her, she felt so lethargic. She cursed herself for not leaving the car at home and taking a taxi. But then the queues at the taxi rank
at the airport had been huge too, so it was six of one half a dozen of the other, she reckoned, as she inched past Whitehall church.

Peckish, but too tired to cook for herself, she stopped at the chippers and got a snack box.

‘If Dianne could see me now,’ she thought in amusement ten minutes later as she ate from the box with her fingers, not even bothering to put the chicken and chips on a plate. She
dumped the empty box in the bin, had a quick shower, and was in bed by seven thirty.

Still, it had been a most productive day. One of the best she had ever put in, she thought with satisfaction. City Girl phase two was ready to roll.

Devlin picked up the phone and dialled Luke’s number.

‘Hello, love, I know it’s early, but I just can’t keep my eyes open. So do you mind if I don’t talk dirty tonight, I just have to go asleep.’

‘Spoilsport! What happened, horny?’ he laughed.

‘Pregnancy,’ she murmured. ‘It’s amazing, Luke. One minute you’re flying around the place. The next you’re so zonked you’d sleep at the drop of a hat. I
can’t remember being like this when I was pregnant before.’

‘Maybe you’re doing too much,’ he said, concerned.

‘No, no,’ she hastened to reassure him. ‘I’m fine, honestly. This happens in the first months. It passes, so I’m told. I’ll call you the minute I wake up in
the morning and tell you
exactly
what I’d like you to do to me and
exactly
what I’d like to do to you. How about that?’

‘Sounds good to me, Devlin.’ Luke was smiling, she could tell.

‘I love you, good night.’

‘Good night, I love you too,’ Luke echoed tenderly down the line.

Devlin fell asleep smiling, but it wasn’t Luke she dreamed of, it was Matthew Moran who was looking into her eyes and telling her that he loved her.

Maggie applied her make-up carefully for her meeting with Marcy Elliot. She had taken great care when dressing and looked very chic in a slate-grey tailored trouser suit worn
with a pale pink silk camisole. Her editor was a stylish, elegant woman. Maggie always made an extra effort when she was going to see her. She gelled her fringe and fingered her hair, trying to
achieve a feathery effect. It had grown too long. It was practically a bird’s nest. Time to get it cut. She noted with dismay the smattering of grey hairs among the rich gold and chestnut
curls that tumbled to her shoulders. The time was coming when she’d have to consider her hairdresser’s suggestion about tinting.

Maggie grinned. Her hairdresser, Nikki, was such a bossy-boots but she was the best in the world. Maybe it was time for a change of image, as Nikki was constantly suggesting. It might make her
feel better psychologically. There was nothing like a new hairstyle to pick you up when you felt sludgy and unattractive and down in the dumps. Nikki wanted to cut her hair shorter but Maggie, for
some strange reason, always felt naked if the back of her neck was bare. She’d get it cut before she went to Powerscourt Springs, she decided. And, of course, she wanted to look her best when
Alma arrived. Alma went to the hairdresser and beauty salon at least three times a week. She always looked terrific.