HardWind (27 page)

few weeks.”

“She’s all right, isn’t she?” Dáire asked, worried sick about Star.

Sheriden smiled. “It was sheer coincidence she contacted one of our operations for

protection. Ventner informed me as soon as she left his office. Your daughter is safe and

so is Miss Kiernan.” He scratched the bridge of his nose. “Ventner did not let on that he

knew anything about Gentry. I would suggest you leave it at that.”

Dáire nodded. “Star doesn’t need to know she could have walked right into the fire

on that one,” he said. “If she knew Ventner was part of our organization—”

“Again, I am deeply sorry for the turmoil Gentry caused you and your loved ones. I

hope you won’t hold her conduct against us.”

“No, sir,” Dáire said. “But about my promotion—”

“That is non-negotiable,” Sheriden said, his eyes glittering. “I need you in that

position, and you are the most highly qualified. If you don’t wish to do fieldwork—

Gentry never had either the talent or the desire to—I will leave that up to your

discretion.” He looked about him. “The yacht, the choppers are all at your disposal. I

am sure you will not abuse your position with us.”

“Sir, what about Jackson?” Dáire asked.

“What about him?” Sheriden asked. “Would you like him as your executive

assistant? From all I’ve heard, he’s getting a bit long in the tooth to be out in the field

anyway.”

Dáire smiled at Jackson being labeled too old for fieldwork. “If I take the job—”

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HardWind

“That is non-negotiable,” Sheriden repeated sternly. “Once in the group, always in

the group, Cronin. You either remain in fieldwork or accept the promotion.”

“The idea of staying on the
HardWind
doesn’t appeal to me, sir,” Daire confessed.

“If you would prefer to be based in Florida, that would be fine with me,” Sheriden

said. He sat forward. “I believe Miss Kiernan would relish you having a desk job, don’t

you?”

It would solve some of their problems, Dáire realized.

“And Ventner will bring your precious little daughter back to Florida from the

facility in Missouri where he took her. There will never be a need for you or Miss

Kiernan to worry about Jillian’s safety or care ever again. That is my promise to you as

the grandfather of a special-needs child.”

Dáire felt his throat closing up. “Sir, I—”

“I’ll work with you any way I can, Cronin,” Sheriden said, standing up. “You’re a

good man, an effective operative, and I know you’ll make a good director of ops.” He

held out his hand. “At $750K a year, how can you even think to turn me down?”

Dáire knew he had no choice if he wanted Star in his life. He took Sheriden’s hand

and warned himself to never look back.

139

Charlotte Boyett-Compo

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.”

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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. “Star Adelle Kiernan, will you do me the honor of

becoming my wife?”

Thunder was booming, shaking the window glass, wind was whipping rain against

the panes as lightning stitched through the black velvet of the night.

“Are you asking me to marry you?” she asked, stalling for time.

“Well, I asked Jackson, but he said I wasn’t his type, so you get the consolation

prize, babe.”

“Black,” she said. “Jackson has a closet full of black suits.”

Dáire’s eyes narrowed. “And just how the hell do you know what is in Jackson’s

closet?”

She threaded the fingers of her right hand through his crisp, dark curls. “I’ll never

tell,” she told him. He started to say something, but she slid her fingers down to his lips,

silencing him. “Yes, Dáire Patrick Cronin. Yes, I’ll marry you.”

The little velvet box appeared out of nowhere and the ring slid onto her finger with

ease. Gazing down at it as a flare of lightning lit the heavens behind her, she was

stunned at its size, but she never got a chance to even gasp for she was in his arms and

his warm mouth was covering hers in a kiss that took her breath away.

As the escalating storm crept toward them, Dáire scooped his lady up in his arms

and carried her back to their bed where—upon the silken softness of his ice blue

sheets—he sealed their tender bargain.

141

About the Author

Charlee is the author of over thirty books. Married 39 years to her high school

sweetheart, Tom, she is the mother of two grown sons, Pete and Mike, and the proud

grandmother of Preston Alexander and Victoria Ashley. She is the willing house slave

to five demanding felines who are holding her hostage in her home and only allowing

her to leave in order to purchase food for them. A native of Sarasota, Florida, she grew

up in Colquitt and Albany, Georgia and now lives in the Midwest.

Charlee welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email

address on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.

Also by Charlotte Boyett-Compo

Ellora’s Cavemen: Legendary Tails I
anthology

Fated Mates
anthology

Passion’s Mistral

WesternWind: Reaper’s Revenge

WesternWind: WyndRiver Sinner

WindVerse: Ardor’s Leveche

WindVerse: Pleasure’s Foehn

WindVerse: Prisoners of the Wind

WindWorld: Desire’s Sirocco

WindWorld: Longing’s Levant

WindWorld: Lucien’s Khamsin

WindWorld: Rapture’s Etesian

And see Charlotte Boyett-Compo’s stories at Cerridwen Press

(www.cerridwenpress.com):

BlackWind: Sean and Bronwyn

BlackWind: Viraiden and Bronwyn

In the Wind’s Eye

Taken By the Wind

Discover for yourself why readers can’t get enough of the multiple award-winning

publisher Ellora’s Cave. Whether you prefer e-books or paperbacks, be sure to visit EC

on the web at www.ellorascave.com for an erotic reading experience that will leave you

breathless.

www.ellorascave.com