The Gallaghers of Ardmore Trilogy

and dirt was a gloss that came from privilege, education, and wealth.
    She’d met other men from privilege. The fact was, she’d honed the skill of recognizing, and separating from the pack, those trust fund babies on tour or holiday.
    But, a trust fund babe Trevor was not, and she thought never had been. With all his wealth he worked, and the power of both the rewards and the labor sat well on him. That earned her respect, and Darcy gave her respect sparingly.
    She’d never known anyone quite like him. And while that intrigued her, it also made her wary.
    Added to it all, layered through the observations and the interest, was the not so simple fact that she wanted him. She’d never wanted a man with quite so much focus and intensity. She wanted his hands on her, his mouth on hers. His body on hers.
    In the few hours she’d slept the night before, she’d dreamed of him. Strange, confused dreams. In them he’d come to her on a white winged horse, and together they’d flown over a sea as blue as sapphire, over the damp green fields of home, through pearly light toward a silver palace where trees had dripped with golden apples and silver pears, and the music that rose into the air was enough to break the heart.
    In the dream, for that short, misty time, she was in love. In a way she’d never thought she could be, had never been certain she wanted to be. So completely, blindly, joyfully in love that nothing seemed to matter but those moments with him.
    He’d said only one thing to her as they’d flown through sunlight, moonlight, faerie light.
    Everything. And more.
    All she could say, all she could feel as she turned her body to his, laid her cheek upon his was, You. You’re everything, and more.
    She’d meant it, with everything she had inside her, all she would ever have, would ever be. And waking, she’d wished she could feel that again, so much power of emotion. But she’d lost it in dreams and could only smile at her own fancies.
    Neither she nor Trevor wanted fancies.
    At six on the dot, she carried her bag downstairs, and her heart thumped with anticipation. What would she see and do and taste over the next forty-eight hours?
    Everything . The thought elated her. And more.
    She took one last scan of the pub, tidy and scrubbed. Sinead, Betsy, and Alice Mae should surely be able to handle what she often did alone. She’d drummed the routine into their heads and had left a written list as a backup. Satisfied, she let herself out and promised not to give the pub a single thought until she stepped foot in it again.
    It was the dot of six.
    It pleased her to see Trevor pull up to the curb as she walked out. They were of a mind, then, she thought. Things would go smoother because of it.
    It surprised her to see he was wearing a suit. Italian, she imagined when he got out of the car to take her luggage. Blisteringly pricey, she was sure, but not a bit flashy. The stone gray matched his eyes well, and the shirt and tie were all of a hue, so the look was smartly European.
    Power, she thought again. Yes, he wore it very well.
    “Well, now, look at you.” Deliberately she fingered his sleeve as he loaded her luggage into the boot. “Aren’t you pretty this morning?”
    “I have a meeting.” He closed the boot, then went around to open her door. “The timing’s a little tight.” He got a whiff of her as she slid past him and wished the meeting and all its participants straight to hell.
    She waited until he was in the driver’s seat. “I’d think a man in your position could call his own time.”
    “You do that and you bring one more thing into a meeting that usually bogs things up. Ego.”
    “But I’ve noticed you’ve got one.”
    He swung away from the curb. “The trick’s recognizing it. I’ve arranged for a car and driver to meet us at Heathrow. He’ll take you to the house so you can settle in. He’ll be at your disposal through the day if you want to sightsee or shop.”
    “Will he?” Imagine that. “Well, that’s considerate of you.”
    “I’ll have more free time tomorrow, but today’s packed.” He glanced at her. “I should be done by six this evening. We have dinner reservations at eight. Does that suit you?”
    “Perfectly.”
    “Good. My assistant faxed over several points of interest. I have the file in my briefcase. You can take a look during the flight to help you plan what you’d like to do today.”
    “That’s a lovely thought, and I’ll do just that. But you