Beneath an Irish Sky (Choc Lit) Read Online Free PDF Page B

over. All through the autumn and winter she’d forced herself to look at it, and each day the pain eased just a fraction. Now she still felt sad at the sight of Colm but no longer had the urge to drown her sorrows in red wine. Emer had heard through the grapevine he was engaged to the woman he’d two-timed her with. Good luck to her. Once a cheater, always a cheater …
    The food was ready and Emer served it up, brushing aside the guilt about not preparing a salad to go with it. Healthy eating took time and energy, and she was out of both this evening. Besides, she had a mission.
    Moving through to the living room, Emer set the plate of bubbling food on the desk and settled down in front of her laptop. Once the search engine flicked up, she typed in
Jack Stewart, Baronsmere
.
    She was spoiled for choice. The internet was teeming with information about the man Emer had met for the first time yesterday. Business magazine profiles jostled with short announcements in financial newspapers. Local Cheshire websites focused on Jack’s charity work on literacy programmes and a scheme he’d set up to provide a taster of business work experience for older teens still at school.
    There was a standard photo used in many of the articles and Emer enlarged it. Taken a few years ago, she reckoned, because there wasn’t any grey in his hair at all. No hint of a smile but the eyes flashed an alertness, a power, that spoke of a man who knew how to get what he wanted.
    And now he’d been blindsided by Annie and Luke. The Jack she’d seen in her office earlier was quite different from the man the internet articles portrayed as an astute and in-control businessman. Today, he’d been angry, confused and vulnerable. Was that why she’d refused his offer of a drink? Not because of any work conflict, certainly, because he wasn’t her patient and she could have met him in the pub with a clear conscience. But Jack’s life right now was complicated, and she wasn’t sure if she could handle that.
    Her mobile rang and she glanced at the caller information. Maeve.
    ‘Don’t tell me you got all the kids in bed,’ Emer said, by way of a greeting. Her three nephews were proving to be night owls. ‘That must be a record.’
    ‘For sure,’ laughed Maeve at the other end of the phone. ‘Don’t jinx it now. I’m sitting here, feet up, glass of wine in hand. Nothing good on the telly, of course. What are you up to?’
    Emer clicked and saved Jack’s photo to the computer. ‘Oh, nothing much. Just a bit of research.’
    ‘All work and no play …’
    … makes Jack a dull boy.
Emer mentally finished the proverb and smiled. Perhaps it was a sign. Of what, though? Emer decided to give the analytical side of her brain the night off. And the warning bells could sod off, too.
    After she’d finished talking to Maeve, Emer went into the kitchen, took the photo of Colm from the fridge, and relegated it to the bin.
    ‘Goodbye to all that,’ she murmured.
    Jack woke with a start. Where the hell was he? The window was in the wrong place. And what was that wardrobe doing near the door? Then he remembered. This was the Beaumont Hotel in Dublin. He had a new son and a corpse to take care of. He glanced at the bedside clock. Past nine. Darkness had fallen outside. He’d slept for two hours, needing a break from the memories of Annie that kept flooding his mind.
    He went into the bathroom and splashed water on his face. That woke him up a bit. Drying his hands, he assessed himself critically in the mirror. Forty-six but still looking good. Some grey flecks in his fair hair, but his mother said they made him look distinguished. Not balding at all, thank God. Some wrinkles on the forehead and round the eyes, but he could still pass for forty in the right light. He patted his stomach. No paunch. He exercised every day in the gym at work.
    What age was Emer? Mid-thirties? No wedding ring. Admittedly, women didn’t always wear them now. She was a looker. And