The Gallaghers of Ardmore Trilogy

needn’t worry that I’ll have trouble entertaining myself.”
    He glanced over. She wore a trim jacket and slacks of slate blue, and had matched them with a soft, faintly shimmering blouse the color of roses drenched in cream. The choice was more than stylish. It was cleverly, completely female.
    “No, I don’t imagine you will.”
    Inexplicably miffed that she wouldn’t be wandering aimlessly, missing him, waiting for him, he fell into silence.
    More like a business arrangement than a . . . what the hell was it, anyway? An assignation? He didn’t care for the word. But he didn’t suppose “romance” fit the situation either. Neither of them was the starry-eyed type. They wanted what they wanted. Better to be up front and systematic about it.
    But it irritated him nonetheless.
    They arrived at Waterford’s airport on schedule. And it was there Darcy got her first taste of what a man who walked in wealth could command. Their luggage was whisked away, and they were guided through security with a great deal of “This way, Mr. Magee” and “I hope you enjoy your trip, Mr. Magee.”
    Remembering the hassles and glitches in her recent travel to Paris, Darcy reaffirmed her determination to travel first class or not to travel at all. But even her imagining of top drawer took a bump when Trevor led her out on the tarmac toward a sleek little plane.
    “Is this yours?”
    “The company’s,” he told her, taking her arm for the short trip up the steps. “I do a lot of traveling, so it’s more convenient to have my own transportation.”
    She stepped inside and had to struggle not to gasp. “I bet it is.”
    The seats were done in rich navy leather and were sized generously. Crystal vases were tucked into silver holders on the cream-colored walls between the windows. Each held a dewy bouquet of fresh yellow rosebuds. Her feet sank into the carpet.
    A uniformed flight attendant with a polite smile and flawless skin greeted her by name, then asked if she would care for a mimosa before takeoff.
    Champagne for breakfast, she thought. Just imagine that. “That would be lovely, thank you.”
    “Coffee for me, Monica. Want a tour?” he asked Darcy.
    “I would, yes.” Hoping she wasn’t gawking, Darcy set down her purse.
    “Galley’s through here.”
    She peeked in and saw that the efficient Monica already had coffee brewing and was popping the cork on a bottle of champagne. The small space seemed to use every inch resourcefully, and stainless-steel surfaces gleamed.
    “Cockpit.” Trevor gestured through the already open door. The man sitting at a panel of complicated-looking controls swiveled in his chair. “Ready when you are, Mr.Magee. Good morning, Miss Gallagher. You can look forward to a short but smooth flight into Heathrow.”
    “Thank you. Do you fly this plane all by yourself? With no copilot?”
    “It’s a one-man operation,” he told her. “But I don’t need a copilot when Mr. Magee’s on board.”
    “Is that so? Do you fly, then, Trevor?”
    “Occasionally. Give us ten minutes, Donald, then clear with the tower.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “We have a lot of interests in Europe,” Trevor began as he led Darcy back through the main cabin. “We use this equipment primarily for the short-range flights over here.”
    “And for the longer flights?”
    “We have larger equipment.” He opened a door. Inside was an office complete with what looked to be a trim antique desk, a computer console, a wall screen for viewing videos, and a bed. She caught a glimpse of the bath through a side door. Everything gleamed.
    “All the creature comforts and the business ones as well.”
    “You do better with the second if you have the first. Celtic’s relatively young at six years, but it’s growing, and it’s profitable.”
    “Ah, so the London business has to do with Celtic Records, then.”
    “For the most part, yes. If you need something and don’t see it, just ask.”
    She turned back to him. “I see everything I need.”
    He lifted a hand to toy with the ends of her hair. “Good. Let’s get started.”
    “Haven’t we already?” she murmured as they walked back to their seats.
    Darcy settled in, accepted the glinting flute holding her mimosa, and prepared to have the time of her life.

The pilot was a man of his word. The flight was short and smooth. As far as Darcy was concerned, she could have flown for hours and been thrilled. She’d made casual small talk until she’d realized Trevor