Hot Property (Irish romantic comedy) (7 page)

Her father’s death. Stephen’s betrayal. Losing her job. The house and the problems it presented. A desperate sense of loneliness. It all mingled into one big, unbearable pain. Her sobs echoed into the stillness of the summer night, drowning the sound of the stream and even the waves crashing onto the beach.

A hand on her shoulder. She screamed.

“Stop screaming. It’s me.”

She turned around and peered at the face, barely visible in the gloom. “Dan?” she whispered. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to give you something. But never mind.” He joined her on the step and put his arm around her. “What’s the matter?”

Megan sighed and snivelled. She wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “I’m all snotty.”

“Here.” He handed her a handkerchief. “It’s clean. Blow your nose. Wipe your tears, and tell Uncle Dan why you’re sitting here crying your eyes out.”

Megan dried her face and blew her nose. “Thanks.” She sighed.

“That sigh came from somewhere very deep,” Dan remarked.

“Yes.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Okay.”

She leaned against him. “You smell of the sea.”

He put his nose in her hair. “You stink of smoke.”

“I know. I lit a fire to get rid of the smell of slurry, but I was stupid enough not to have checked the chimney first so—” She started to cry again. “I’m so useless. I can’t even light a fire. And this place smells of shit, and I can’t even get up enough energy to make my bed. And the plumbing is crap and needs to be replaced. And I must get the house rewired. God knows what else. It’s going to cost a fortune. The farmers hate me, and I have nowhere else to go.”

He wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug. “There,” he murmured, “go on, cry. Let it all out.”

“I’ll have to sell the house,” Megan wept into his shirt. “I love it so much, and I wanted to stay here, but now I can’t.”

He hugged her tighter. “That’s awful. But maybe for the best. An old house like this is a lot for a woman to cope with. For anyone, come to think of it.”

“It sure is.” Megan pulled back and wiped her face. “It’s okay. I feel better now. Thanks.”

“Sure?”

“Yes. Everything just felt so hopeless. Sorry about this. Must pull myself together.” But she didn’t want to lose the warmth and comfort of his arms. She snuggled closer
. I don’t know him. I have only met him twice. He’s smug and superior. But why do I suddenly feel so attracted to him? Why does it feel so good to be in his arms, even though he’s only trying to be nice?
She looked into his face, trying to see the look in his eyes. But it was too dark.

“Megan,” he whispered, his mouth on her cheek. “You’re so sweet and so sad.” His mouth found hers.

She pulled back, but gave up the struggle. Their lips met in a long kiss.
What am I doing? Who cares
, she answered back,
it’s fabulous
. His lips were warm, his breath sweet. He smelled faintly of the sea and some kind of spicy aftershave. But something at the back of her mind made her pull away. “Please… Dan… I can’t.”

“Why not?” He pulled her close again and kissed her mouth.

She relaxed for a moment and let herself go, then pushed him away again. “Dan, please. Stop.”

They pulled apart, panting.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled.

“No, I should apologise. Don’t know what happened. I don’t usually take advantage of women in this way. But you were sitting there, so sweet and soft and sad.”

“I’m a mess,” Megan mumbled and touched her hair.

“You’re beautiful. When you walked into the pub on Saturday night, everybody was looking at you.”

“Yeah,” Megan said with a snort. “Probably because I stuck out like a tart at a funeral.”

“Shut up.” He tried to kiss her again.

She pulled back. “Please. I can’t. Not now.”

Dan touched her face and ran his hand down her neck, then lightly touched her breasts. “Sweet girl,” he whispered.

She shivered and caught his hand. “It’s too soon.”

“I know.” He squeezed her hand. “But we can work on it.”

“Maybe.” She pulled away and cleared her throat. “So, why did you come here? What was it you wanted to give me?”

He got up. “Oh, uh… I had this box of stuff. Your Uncle Pat’s belongings. The nursing home gave it to me. Not much in it. His watch. Some photos and letters and little knick-knacks he had in his room there. But I thought you should have it.”

“Thanks.”

“I put it on the kitchen table.”

She looked up at him. “I’ll go and do up my bed now. I feel like sleeping forever.”

Dan hovered on the path. “Are you sure you can manage?”

She got to her feet. “Yes. I’m fine.”

“Sure?”

“Absolutely.”

He put his hand on her shoulder. “Can I call you?”

“Yes.” She couldn’t think of what else to say.

“See you soon.” With that, he padded around the side of the house and disappeared.

Megan listened to his car drive off, with a feeling her life had just taken a very strange turn.

Chapter 7

“This needs updating. And the kitchen too.”

Megan opened her eyes. Bright sunlight blinded her for a moment. Confused, she looked around the room. Then she remembered. She was in her house, on a mattress in the front bedroom. That voice? Must have been the tail end of a dream. She stretched and yawned, feeling rested for the first time in weeks.

The voice spoke again: a male
voice.“Great
views even from the bathroom. And the land stretches nearly all the way to the beach. We could get at least twenty mobile homes into the fields there.”

“Yes, but the house is in a bad state,” a woman’s voice said. “Maybe it would be better to just knock it down? You could put up a nice little bungalow here.”

Megan tore out of her improvised bed. She threw on a shirt, opened the door and stared at the couple on the landing, who stared back at her as if she were a ghost. “Who are you?” Megan demanded. “What are you doing here?”

“Who are
you
?” the man demanded. “Are you squatting here?”

The woman crept behind her companion. “We’re looking at the house. It’s for sale.”

“What?” Megan wrapped the shirt tighter around her. “For sale? Says who?”

“This website.” The man waved a piece of paper at Megan. “‘Kerry farmhouse near beach and mountains. In need of some repairs’,” he said with a sneer. “That’s the understatement of the year.” He spoke with a cut-glass British accent.

Megan blinked. “What website?” She snatched the paper from the man. “What’s this? Daft.ie… Oh. It’s on the web. I had no idea.” She shrugged and smiled. “I’m sorry. I’m the new owner. My uncle left me the property in his will. I had no idea it was still up on the Internet.”

The man looked sternly at her. “Can you prove it?”

“Prove what?” Megan asked.

“That you’re the owner. Do you have deeds or any other proof of ownership?”

Megan took a step back. “Yes…I mean, no. It’s with some of the things I left in the B and B I stayed in last night.”

“In that case, we can still look around.” The man took the piece of paper from Megan.

Megan felt a rising irritation. “Who gave you keys to get in, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“Uh,” the woman piped up, “we don’t have keys. We found this on the Internet and thought we’d come to have a look. The back door was open, so—”

“You thought it was okay to break in?”

“We didn’t break in,” the man said. “The door was open.”

“It’s broken,” Megan snapped. “But in any case, wouldn’t it have been more correct to call the estate agent and make an appointment for a viewing?” She marched into her room and found her phone. “I’m calling my solicitor. He can confirm what I just said.”

The woman tugged at the man’s sleeve. “Alistair. Please. Let’s go. We can check this out with the estate agent.”

The man didn’t move. He kept looking at Megan, as if he was torn between believing her or brazing it out. “All right. We’ll leave.” He dug into the inside pocket of his wax jacket. “Here’s my card. If you really are the owner and you’d be interested in selling, give me a call.”

“I’d prefer you to contact the agent, and make an offer.” Megan took the card. “Then I can consider it and maybe negotiate a price.”

“Very well. We’d like to look into buying the whole property with the land,” The man said in a more polite tone. “It has planning permission for a caravan park. But we were thinking more like a boutique site. Very few mobile homes and a little fish restaurant.”

“Sounds like a total nightmare,” Megan said. “But we’ll see. I’d like you to leave now, if you don’t mind.”

The woman started down the stairs. “Come on, Alistair. Can’t you see we’re disturbing her?”

Alistair followed her. “I’d be prepared to make a good offer,” he said over his shoulder. “How about giving me a call when you’ve thought it over?”

“Talk to the agent, and I’ll consider your offer,” Megan said.

The door slammed. Megan padded to the window and watched them get into a Land Rover and drive off. She looked at the card. Alistair Cooper-Maxwell. An address in Weybridge, London. She stuffed it into the breast pocket of her shirt, leaned her elbows on the windowsill and looked at the beach, the blue ocean and the endless sky. She turned her face to the sun and closed her eyes, cleared her mind of what had just happened, and smiled as she thought of the kiss on the back step the night before.

~ ~ ~

“Why is my house advertised for sale on the Internet?” Megan tried to keep her voice cool.

 
“Is it? I had no idea.” Dan’s voice brought her instantly back to the night before. “How are you today?”

Megan cleared her suddenly dry throat. “I’m fine. Please answer the question. Oh, and another one. Is there planning permission for a caravan park?”

Dan paused. “Oh, yes. I remember now. That was an old thing. Pat applied for that about two years ago. But I think it’s expired by now. Planning permissions last two years, and then you have to apply for a new one. I’ll look up the date.”

“I see.” Megan put her hand to her chest, trying to slow down her heartbeat. “It’s just that there was a couple here this morning, walking around the house, with details from Daft.ie. An English couple. I think he’s some kind of developer. They just walked in. I was still in bed.”

“ Oh shit. I hope they didn’t scare you.”

“I got a bit of a fright, to tell you the truth. Of course, it was easy to just walk in. The lock is broken, and the hinges are so rusty on the door that it can’t be closed properly. I’ve called a locksmith to come and fit a new lock later today. Don’t want to be surprised like that again so early in the morning.”

“Sorry about that. I’ll get on to my dad. Tell him you want to sell.”

“Okay.” Megan paused. “Thanks.”

 
“I’d like to see you again,” Dan said after a brief silence. “Can I call around tonight?”

Her knees shaking, Megan sat down on one of Beata’s kitchen chairs. “No,” she heard herself say. “I… Could we meet at the pub?” She suddenly didn’t want to be alone with him.

“Cold feet?” he asked with a hint of laughter.

“Mm. Something like that.”

He laughed. “Okay. We’ll go back to the beginning. A first date.”

“That would be nice.”

“Mulligans at seven? We can have dinner there.”

“Great. I’m sure the door will be fixed by then. But I’ll call you if there’s a delay.”

“Okay. See you then.”

 
Megan hung up. She knew she should get the tea tray ready for guests arriving soon, but she couldn’t move.

Beata, carrying two shopping bags, pushed the back door open. “Who was that?”

Megan smiled. “Hmm, yes ...” As if awakened from a deep sleep, she looked at Beata. “What?”

Beata put the shopping bags on the table. “I asked who were you talking to.”

Megan came back to reality. “Dan Nolan.”

“Oh. Did he explain why your house was still out there on the Internet? And if the planning permission thing was true?”

“Yes.”

Beata leaned forward and stared at Megan’s face. “Hello? Anybody home? What’s wrong with you?”

Megan played with the fringe of the table cloth. “Nothing. Everything. He asked me out.”

Beata sat down. “What? Dan Nolan asked you out? Why is this a problem?”

Megan looked at Beata. “I’m scared.”

“Aha! Scared. Means you’re hot for him, yes? And that you feel if you get involved, he’ll hurt you in the end because of what that creepy husband did to you. And you don’t want to go all the way because sex with the hubby was so fantastic, you don’t think anyone can match that.” She drew breath. “Or… you’re afraid Danny boy
will
be an even better lay so, then you’ll be twice as hurt.”

Megan laughed. “You must be psychic.” She sighed. “Yes, I’m scared. Not because of what he’ll do but because I might mess it up again. The break-up of my marriage was partly my fault. I think I was too critical and demanding. And maybe I should have given him more support when he started that new job.”

“Don’t beat yourself up over it,” Beata soothed. “Even if you were too demanding or whatever, couldn’t it have been solved if you had talked about it?”

Megan sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe. Stephen never wanted to discuss his feelings or mine. He didn’t like conflicts. But maybe he really didn’t want things to be resolved? Maybe he was happy to have an excuse to leave me?”

“No use crying over that now,” Beata remarked. “This time you might be lucky. Or Dan might be the kind of guy who shares his feelings. But there’s only one way to find out. And that’s to go out with him and try to get to know him better.”

“Probably,” Megan agreed. “I’m not sure what I want to do.”

“Do you know what I think you should do?” Beata sprang up from the table. “First, a shot of vodka. Then a cup of coffee. Then we’ll get to work and serve tea to Mr and Mrs Lindholm from Sweden, who’ll be arriving in about half an hour.” She took a bottle and two shot glasses from a cupboard. “Then you’re going to tart yourself up and look absolutely ring-a-ding-drop-dead gorgeous and knock Danny boy’s eyes out. Sounds good so far?”

Megan giggled. “Yes, apart from the last bit. Don’t think that will be possible.”

Beata pushed a glass at Megan. “Here. Down the hatch. Gives you the courage of ten lions.” She knocked back her own drink. “
Ahhh
. Great. Polish vodka. The best.”

Megan picked up the glass. She looked at Beata and knocked back the drink. It hit her mouth like acid, then slid down her throat like a burning flame and settled in her stomach with a warm glow that instantly relaxed her. She smiled. “Wow. Yes. Thanks.”

Beata waggled her finger at Megan. “You’re going on that date. You’re going to look fantastic. And you’re going to have fun. That’s an order.”

“Yes, boss.”

“And park all your feelings and fears at the door. If you just remember that all men are bastards who will break your heart in the end, you’ll be all right.” Beata started to make coffee.

“How do you manage that?”

Beata whipped around. “After that time with Paudie, I decided to act like a man. Take the sex, enjoy it but treat them like shit. Never ever let them know how you feel about them. That keeps them guessing and scared.”

Still feeling the afterglow, Megan put her glass on the table. “Scared? Because they don’t know if you love them or not? If you’ll dump them in the end?”

“You got it.”

~ ~ ~

Beata’s words rang through Megan’s mind as she got ready to meet Dan. The bathroom in the old house was less than inviting, but the water from the stream she had hauled up in a bucket was soft on her skin and felt good despite the cold. She could have had a shower in Beata’s bathroom but felt she needed to be alone before she faced Dan. She didn’t want Beata to comment on her choice of white trousers and light blue shirt. Not sexy, but fresh and cool.

She inspected herself in the cracked mirror and was pleasantly surprised. She didn’t look bad at all. Her red hair, washed in rainwater, shone with honey highlights. She had a light tan already and didn’t need much make-up, apart from a touch of mascara.

Excitement made her cheeks pink. Fear gave her eyes a wide, vulnerable look she couldn’t disguise. Treat them like shit, she said to herself as she grabbed her bag. This will be my new mantra.

~ ~ ~

She forgot the mantra when she spotted Dan at the bar. He looked as clean and fresh as she felt, in navy polo shirt and jeans, with his white sweater across his shoulders.

He rose as she approached, took her hand and kissed it. “Hello, gorgeous.”

She pulled her hand away. “Hi.”

He put his hands up. “Okay, first date. Won’t put a finger on you all evening. Promise.”

Disarmed, she smiled. “Good. I’ll hold you to that.”

“Door all fixed?”

“Yes. And the guy helped me fix the hinges, and he rehung the door as well. Wasn’t cheap but worth it.” She dug around in her handbag. “I have an extra set of keys here. Maybe you should have them in case something happens.”

He pocketed the keys. “Okay. Good idea.” He pulled out a chair. “But let’s sit down and order a drink.”

As they sat down, he said, “I have some news. An English businessman has made an offer on your house. A bit more than the original bid. Two hundred and seventy K, he said. But he wants to do a survey before he buys.”

“Really? Must be the guy who barged in when I was asleep.” Megan paused. “I’ll think about it. Sounds like a good offer, though.”

“It is. But let’s not talk business on our first date.”

Megan returned his wide smile. “Yes. First date. Feels a little silly to be on a date at my age, but what else is it?”

“Well, whatever it is, we’ll take it nice and slow. I can tell that’s what you want.”

“Your powers of observation are right this time.”

He laughed. “Yes, I think they’re back. And I actually like taking it slowly. Go with the flow, you know?”