h, my goodness, oh, my goodness," Poppy squealed with delight, dancing toward Elizabeth's car. "I'd like to thank DamienHirst for inspiring me, Egon Schiele"—she wiped an imaginary tear from her eye—"Bansky and Robert Rauschenberg for providing me with such incredible art that helped my creative mind develop, opening delicately like a bud and for—"

"Stop it," Elizabeth hissed through gritted teeth. "They're still watching us."

"Oh, they are not, don't be so paranoid." Poppy's tune changed from elation to frustration. She turned around to face the cabin on the site.

"Don't turn around, Poppy!" Elizabeth spoke as if giving out to a child.

"Oh, why not, they're not watchi— Oh, they are, BYEEE! THA-ANKSSS." She waved her hands wildly.

"Do you want to lose your job?" Elizabeth threatened, refusing to turn around. Her words had the same effect as they would on Luke when she threatened to take away his PlayStation. Poppy stopped skipping immediately and they both walked in silence back to the car, Elizabeth feeling two pairs of eyes burning into her back.

"I can't believe we got the job," Poppy said breathily once inside, hand on her heart.

"Nor can I," Elizabeth grumbled, securing her seat belt around her body and starting up the engine.

"What's wrong with you, grumpy? You'd swear we didn't get this job or something," Poppy said.

Elizabeth thought about that. In fact, she didn't get the job. Poppy did. It was a victory that didn't feel like a victory at all. And why had Ivan been there? He had told Elizabeth he worked with children, what had the hotel got to do with children? He hadn't even stuck around long enough for her to find out, instead leaving the room as soon as the drinks were brought, and without a goodbye to anyone apart from Elizabeth. She pondered this. Perhaps he was involved in business with Vincent and she'd walked in during an important meeting, which would make sense as to why Vincent had seemed so rudely preoccupied. Well, whatever it was, she needed to be informed and she was angry that Ivan hadn't mentioned it last night. She had plans to make and despised disruptions.

"That Benjamin West is gorgeous, isn't he?" Poppy said, nudging Elizabeth's arm as she was driving.

"Poppy," Elizabeth said in frustration and gripped the wheel to avoid the car veering off. "I didn't notice," she finally answered Poppy, who was gazing at her.

"Sure you didn't." She shook her head and looked out the window.

"I could barely see his face under all the dirt," Elizabeth said, pulling into the space outside her office.

"Oh, you're unbelievable, there wasn't any dirt on his face. He works on a building site. What do you expect him to wear, a three-piece suit?"

Distracted from the disappointing meeting, Elizabeth phased out of Poppy's excited chatter and sent her back to work while she headed over to Joe's for a coffee.

"Good afternoon, Elizabeth," Joe shouted. The three other customers jumped in their seats at his sudden outburst. "Coffee, please, Joe." "For a change?"

She smiled tightly. She chose a table by the window looking onto the main street, but with her back to the window. She wasn't a gazer, she needed to think.

"Excuse me, Ms. Egan." A male American accent startled her.

"Mr. West," she said, looking up in surprise.

"Please call me Benjamin." He smiled and indicated the chair beside her. "Mind if I join you?"

Elizabeth moved her papers out of his way. "Would you like a drink?" "Coffee would be great."

Elizabeth took her mug and held it out toward Joe. "Joe, two tall slim mango Frappuccinos, please."

Benjamin's eyes lit up. "You're kidding, I didn't think they had that kind of thing he—" He was cut short by Joe dumping two mugs of milky coffee on the table. It spilled over the sides of the mugs. "Oh," he finished, looking disappointed.

She turned her attention to the as-usual disheveled-looking Benjamin. She had seen him around the village over the past year and studied his face to see if Poppy's description of him was correct. His thick black hair was in wavy curls around his head; he had jet-black stubble starting from the top of his cheekbones and extending down the collar of his shirt. He wore scruffy jeans streaked with muck, an identically soiled denim jacket, turf-clad sandy Caterpillar boots that had left a trail from the front door to the table, under which a small mountain of dry mud was gathering. A line of black dirt collected underneath his fingernails and as he rested his hands on the table in front of Elizabeth, she felt herself having to look away. Again, she couldn't see past the dirt.

"Congratulations on today," Benjamin said, seeming genuinely happy for her. "It was a very successful meeting for you, you really pulled it off. You guys say slainte, right?" He held up his coffee mug.

"Excuse me?" Elizabeth asked coldly.

"Slainte? Isn't that right?" He looked worried.

"No," she said with frustration, "I mean yes, but I'm not talking about that." She shook her head. "I didn't 'pull it off,' as you say, Mr. West. Getting this contract was no stroke of luck for me."

Benjamin's sun-kissed skin pinked slightly. "I didn't mean to imply it was a stroke of luck and please call me Benjamin. Mr. West seems so formal." He moved uncomfortably in his chair. "Your assistant Poppy..." He looked away, trying to find the words. "She's very talented, has lots of 'out there' ideas and Vincent pretty much has the same philosophy, but sometimes he gets carried away and it's up to us to talk him down from the window ledge. Look, it's my job as project manager to make sure we get this thing built on time and under budget, so I plan to do what I usually do and just convince Vincent that we haven't the money to put Poppy's ideas from paper to practice."

Elizabeth's heart quickened. "Mr. West, are you trying to talk me out of this job?" she asked coldly.

"No." Benjamin sighed. "It's Benjamin," he stressed. "And no, I'm not trying to talk you out of this job." He said it in a way that made her feel foolish. "Look, I'm trying to help you out here. I can see that you're not happy with the whole 'Love Hotel' idea and truthfully I don't think the locals will be too delighted by it either." He gestured around at the people in the room. Elizabeth tried to picture Joe going for Sunday lunch in a "velvet womb." No, it definitely wouldn't work, not in this town.

"I care about the projects I work on," he continued. "And I think this hotel has a huge amount of potential. I don't want it to end up looking like a Las Vegas shrine to Moulin Rouge."

Elizabeth had slid down ever so slightly in her seat.

"Now," he said assertively, "I came here to meet you because I like your ideas. They're sophisticated yet comfortable, modern without being too modern, and the look will appeal to a broad range of people. Vincent and Poppy's idea will alienate three-quarters of the country immediately. However, maybe you could punch them with a bit more color? I do agree with Vincent that your whole concept needs to look less like the Shire and more like a hotel. We don't want people feeling like they have to travel barefoot to Macgillycuddy's Reeks to drop a ring down the center."

Elizabeth's mouth dropped open; she felt offended.

"Do you think," he continued, ignoring her reaction, "that you could work with Poppy? You know, water down her ideas... a lot?"

Elizabeth had been prepared once again for a stealth attack, but he was here to help her. She cleared her throat, which didn't need clearing, and pulled at the end of her suit jacket, feeling awkward. Once she had composed herself, she spoke. "Well, I'm glad we're on the same page here." She signaled to Joe for another coffee and thought about fusing her natural colors with Poppy's. Benjamin shook his head wildly to Joe's offer of another coffee, still with a full untouched mug in front of him.

"You drink a lot of coffee," Benjamin commented as Joe placed her third mug on the table before her.

"It helps me think," she said, taking a sip.

There was a silence for a moment.

"OK, I've an idea." Elizabeth snapped out of her trance.

"Wow, that worked fast." Benjamin smiled.

"What?" Elizabeth frowned.

"I said it—"

"OK," Elizabeth interrupted, not hearing him in her rush of ideas. "Let's say Mr. Taylor is right and the legend lives on and people see this place as a place of love, bla dee bla." She made a face, clearly not impressed by that belief. "So there's a market there we need to cater to, which is where Poppy's ideas will work, but we'll keep it just to a minimum. Maybe a honeymoon suite and a snug thrown in here and there, the rest can be my designs," she said happily. "With a bit more color," she added with less enthusiasm.

Benjamin smiled when she'd finished. "I'll run it by Vincent. Look, when I said earlier about you pulling it off in the meeting, I didn't mean you hadn't the talent to back it up. I meant doing that whole crazy thing." He circled his dirty fingers beside his temples.

Elizabeth's good mood vanished. "Excuse me?"

"You know." Benjamin smiled broadly. "The whole I-see-dead-people thing." He laughed.

Elizabeth stared at him blankly.

"You know, the guy at the table. The one you were talking to? Is this ringing any bells with you?"

"Ivan?" Elizabeth asked uncertainly.

"That's the name!" Benjamin snapped his fingers and bounced back in his chair laughing. "That's it, Ivan the very, very silent partner." He laughed.

Elizabeth's eyebrows almost lifted off her forehead. "Partner?"

Benjamin laughed even harder. "Yeah that's it, but don't tell him I couldn't remember his name, will you? I'd be so embarrassed if he ever found out."

"Don't worry," Elizabeth said drily, shocked by this information. "I'll be seeing him later and I won't mention a word." "Neither will he." Benjamin chuckled.

"Well, we'll see about that," Elizabeth huffed. "Although I was with him last night and he didn't say a word about being a partner."

Benjamin looked shocked. "I don't think that kind of thing is allowed in Taylor constructions. Office dating is strictly frowned upon. I mean you never know, Ivan could be the reason you got the job in the first place." He wiped his eyes wearily and his laughter calmed. "When you think about it, isn't it amazing what we do to get jobs these days?"

Her mouth dropped.

"But it shows how much you love your job to be able to do a thing like that." He looked at her in admiration. "I don't think I could." His shoulders shook again.

Elizabeth's mouth gaped even wider. Was he accusing her of sleeping with Ivan to get the job? She was rendered speechless.

"Anyway," Benjamin said, standing up, "it's been great meeting you, I'm glad we got the Moulin Rouge thing fixed up. I'll run it by Vincent and give you a call as soon as I know more. Do you have my number?" he asked, patting down his pockets. He reached into his front breast pocket and pulled out a leaking Biro that had left a blob of ink at the bottom of his pocket. He grabbed a napkin from the dispenser and messily scrawled his name and number across the tissue.

"That's my cell number and the office number." He handed it to her and pushed forward his leaking pen and a ripped napkin damp from his spilled coffee. "Can I have yours? Saves me having to go through the files."

Elizabeth was still angry and offended but reached into her bag, retrieved her leather-bound card holder, and held out one of her gold-trimmed business cards. She would refrain from hitting him just this once; she needed this job. For Luke's and her business's sake, she would hold her tongue.

Benjamin flushed slightly. "Oh, right." He retracted his torn napkin and leaking Biro and took her card. "That's a better idea, I guess." He held out his hand to her.

She took one look at his hand, stained with blue ink, and dirty fingernails and she instantly sat on her hands.

After he had left, Elizabeth looked around in confusion, wondering if anyone else had witnessed what she had. Joe met her eyes, winked, and tapped his nose as though they were sharing some sort of secret. After work, she planned to collect Luke from Sam's house. Although she knew Ivan and Sam's mother were no longer together, she was hoping, the entire day, that she would see him there.

To give him a piece of her mind, naturally.