by Caro Carson
She stood before him now, glamorous but silent, as her father made introductions. His hand was still on Connor’s arm as he gestured to her. “This is my daughter, Dr. Delphinia Ray. She’s the youngest professor Masterson has ever placed on a tenured track.”
Delphinia was white-knuckling a small purse, but her voice was perfectly polite as she said, “Yes, we’ve met. It’s nice to see you again.”
Her father pulled the man next to her forward with a hand on his upper arm, too, bringing Connor face-to-face with the man who’d escorted Delphinia through the door.
“Vincent, I don’t believe you’ve met the current owner. Connor McClaine, this is Dr. Vincent Talbot, Masterson’s newest professor of law and my daughter’s devoted swain.”
Connor had to shake the man’s hand, damn it.
“I think boyfriend will suffice,” Vincent said, before pausing to look over Delphinia with exaggerated appreciation. “Proud boyfriend, obviously.”
The proud boyfriend shook hands in a predictably competitive way. Connor wanted to catch Delphinia’s eye to see if she noticed, but he didn’t look at her. They weren’t on the same wavelength like that, not any longer, so he simply returned the show of strength with ease and kept his expression neutral. And may the devil take you to hell tonight, Vincent—sideways.
Connor didn’t miss the way Vincent spotted someone beyond Dr. Ray’s shoulder, the way he took Delphinia’s elbow, the way he whispered urgently, “There he is. Introduce us.”
“If you gentlemen will excuse me, I need to...excuse myself.”
Vincent tugged her elbow back an inch. “Five minutes, sweetheart. Introduce me first, then you can go while we chat.”
Connor saw the way she forced a smile before turning to her boyfriend. “Excuse me, please.”
She walked past Connor, close enough that she would have brushed against him if he hadn’t shifted out of her way. The sound of her high heels faded away.
“I hope she’s feeling all right,” her mother said.
“I’m sure she is,” Vincent said. “She’s been fine all evening. I see that Joe Manzetti is here. Would you do me the favor of an introduction, Dr. Ray?”
Her boyfriend was an idiot. Delphinia hadn’t looked fine. She’d looked pale and acutely uncomfortable, but Connor knew what was ailing her. She was petrified that he was going to ruin her relationship with her swain.
Connor would never tell, he’d never even hint, that he’d kissed her—or she’d kissed him—in the hallway, so temptingly close to the staircase that led to his bed. Connor had learned to keep secrets in prison. Snitches got shanked. People who witnessed too much were silenced. Connor wouldn’t say a word.
But Delphinia didn’t know that, because she had no idea who the real Connor was.
Nobody in this town did, and he was going to keep it that way.
Chapter Eighteen
“What’s Dr. Dee doing in the VIP booth?”
Connor continued shaking a batch of cosmos, but the question caught him off guard. “I’ll take care of it.”
Connor poured the cocktails and served them to some appreciative ladies while he kept an eye on that corner table of Masterson heavyweights. The new sheriff had been the last to arrive, swaggering into the bar in his uniform, gun in his holster, handcuffs on his belt, about fifteen minutes ago.
Connor had left the group to go check on the rest of the house. He had a business to run. If the sheriff wanted to meet him, he’d find him; law enforcement always did.
The proud boyfriend was still over there, talking to everyone. What he wasn’t doing was checking on his girlfriend.
Connor walked down to the VIP booth, bracing himself to be hit again by the sight of Delphinia looking like a star for another man’s approval. This was the way things had to be, but Connor hadn’t expected her to move on quite so easily, not in his own damned pub. He hadn’t expected to have to watch her with another man.
Connor slid open the panel. There she was, a punch to his solar plexus, a vision in black, her dark hair studded with pearls.
She had the bench cushions in each hand, and she threw one down when she saw him in the window. “It’s about time.”
“What are you doing with my cushions?”
“I’m looking for the damned bell so I can get the damned bartender’s attention. That’s you. Where is the bell?” She threw the other cushion down.
“I got rid of that bit of authenticity.”
She nearly stamped her foot. “Why?”
“Would you want drunk people ringing bells at you?”
She sat down on one of the benches with a thud. “I need to talk to you. Not through the window.”
“It would take me five minutes just to get to the other end of the bar and walk back around to that door.” He was not going to enclose himself in a small, private space with a woman he wanted as much as he wanted Delphinia Ray.
“This is important. I came to warn you. This evening—”
“That’s not necessary. I’m not going to say a word.” He slid the panel shut.
She banged on the wood from the other side. Seats two and three were keenly interested now. He slid the panel open and turned his back to his guests.
She was standing again, so she put her hand on the edge of the window. “You’re not going to say a word about what?”
“The boyfriend. The kiss. You want to act like we’ve met just once before? Fine.”
She blinked at him, a sad reminder of when she’d intentionally batted her eyelashes playfully.
It made him impatient. “Drama isn’t necessary. I’m not going to screw up your life.”
“Vincent is going to screw up yours.”
He backed his face away from the window an inch. “What?”
“He’s playing a game, trying to rack up political favors. He’s going to kill the bridge project. The sheriff and Joe Manzetti want it dead, so he wants them to be grateful. More than that. Indebted to him.”
“To your boyfriend?”
“He’s been working on my father since the day of the crash, telling him you had nefarious intentions to funnel the student body of Masterson into your trap.”
“Funnel. That was his exact word?” Connor didn’t mean to laugh, but what an arrogant piece of garbage that Vincent Talbot was.
“It’s not a joke. He’s going to make you the villain, so the town will oppose you.”
She was truly distressed. She thought Connor was in danger, and she had snuck away from her friends and family rather than silently going along with their plans.
The implications sobered him. “And you came to warn me. Despite...everything?”
She made a helpless kind of gesture. “Did you think I cared about you less after kissing you?”
Yes. Connor’s last words to her had been an emphatic no.
They looked at one another through the small window, and he felt it again, that spark between them, that anticipation of more. It was anticipation for something that would not happen, because he cared for her, too.
“I appreciate the warning, but it’s not going to happen the way your boyfriend thinks he can make it happen. You don’t need to worry about me, Rembrandt. Don’t defy anyone for my sake.” With one last look, he stepped back and started to slide the door shut.
“Wait. Please, wait. I have something else I need to ask you.”
He wanted to retreat behind his bartender persona. The pub was buzzing all around him, and he’d had his back to the rest of his guests long enough to be rude. But this was Delphinia, dressed so beautifully for another man, yet looking at Connor so earnestly.
He waited, hand on the panel.
“I’m going to break up with him. Tonight.”
She looked like she’d just announced that she was going to the guillotine. Her life was supposed to be full
of light, not full of conflict.
Connor wanted that for her, even if he wasn’t the man who could offer any woman a light and happy life. “Don’t break up with him if it makes you unhappy. It won’t change anything between you and me.”
She studied the floor.
This little window was a terrible way to speak to someone. It was as frustrating as trying to communicate with an inmate in another cell by speaking through the slots for the meal trays. He’d never want Delphinia to know how isolating that felt, yet he was talking to her that way right now, a former prisoner treating her like a fellow prisoner. “It will always be a mistake for you to imagine that I’m good enough for you. I’m not sure anyone is, but I know I’m not.”
She dragged her gaze up to his. “I wanted to ask you if you would walk me home after I break up with Vincent. I—I promise not to proposition you or tell you I love you or anything like that.”
He’d never had a woman promise not to tell him she loved him. He probably would have liked hearing that from prior lovers. Hearing it from Delphinia hurt, no matter how much he’d practically demanded she say it.
Hurt tasted bitter. “You’re going to walk a mile in those heels?”
“I don’t want to get in his car again.”
Something about the way she said it sent that prickling sensation along the back of his neck.
Danger. Pay attention.
“Your parents can drive you home.”
“They might be...on his side. They’d want me to ride with him. I considered waiting to tell Vincent after he drove me home, but if my parents were on the other side of the house, they’d never hear me if I...well. I think this is the safest place for me to tell him goodbye.”
The safest?
“Has he hurt you?”
She took too long to answer.
Connor fought a hot anger. He needed to stay calm, to get more information in order to help her, but he wanted to break through this stingy opening, to tear out the whole wall, so he could pull her hard against his chest and keep her safe from the rest of the world.
She touched her throat, trailed her fingers over the back of her neck, then finally shook her head. “Not really, but he’s playing a game with that, too, I think.”
Rage had to be controlled, doled out in appropriate measures at the Musketeer, so this would remain a civilized world, a respectable place of business. No need to throw a fist. No need for the police to get involved.
“I’ll let Kristopher drive you home any time you want. He’ll still be on the clock, so don’t worry that you’ll be taking him away from his job.”
Delphinia’s shoulders sagged slightly at his tepid offer, but it was a good solution. It would get her where she wanted to be, whenever she wanted to be there. There was no need for Connor to walk with her alone on a moonlit night.
“It could look bad if I were seen in a student’s car late at night. It’s not always what you’re doing, it’s what it looks like you’re doing. Thank you, anyway.” She picked up her little purse and left through the stained-glass door.
Connor felt like he’d kicked a puppy. It wasn’t what he’d done, but it was what it looked like he’d done, because as she’d turned away, her eyes had filled with tears.
She didn’t know what kind of man he was, but he did. He never had been the kind who stood by and watched when an aggressor tormented a vulnerable person, not even when he’d been in prison. He had the purple tattoo to prove it.
He couldn’t handle this situation the way he had back then. Instead of being awarded a tattoo, he’d get a set of handcuffs slapped on him, and he’d land right back in jail. No windows, no light, no liquor license, no Irish pub.
The devil would take it all.
* * *
It was closing time.
Delphinia perched on the bench in the snug, facing Vincent. Waitresses cleared empty mugs off the tables, carrying five or six in each hand by their handles as they walked past the snug, like a processional of bridesmaids with bouquets of beer mugs, but the carved rosette was not going to witness a love story tonight.
Delphinia began formally. “I need to speak with you, now that the evening is wrapping up.”
“It’s wrapped up, all right. Everyone congratulated each other on green-lighting that asinine bridge.”
She didn’t want Vincent getting more agitated before she could deliver her little speech. “‘Everyone’ included you. You came around to the idea, once you saw the plans. You were smiling and shaking hands with the rest.”
Vincent looked disgusted with her. “I had no choice. How could you possibly miss that?”
Why was she still trying to placate him?
“I didn’t miss anything. I sat by your side the entire time. I stayed neutral.”
She’d had a front-row seat as Vincent had self-destructed. When Connor had unrolled a blueprint-sized drawing on the table, Vincent had taken one glance, then laughed. Can you believe this guy? He wants to funnel our student body right into his bar.
Her father, as practical as his daughter could be, had pointed out that the bridge had access ramps on each of the four corners of the intersection. Pedestrians could use it not only to cross the street, but to go diagonally from one corner to another. Did Vincent not see that?
I see delusions of grandeur. How about expecting people to obey the law, instead? One would hope that MU students are smart enough to use a crosswalk, but if they keep walking into traffic... Well, they might not be the kind of students we want at MU, anyway.
The sheriff had laughed, but Dr. Marsden had not been amused.
Connor had kept things positive. I hired an architecture student to draw this concept. There’s a lot of talent at MU.
Dr. Marsden had been gratified, even more so when Joe Manzetti had joined in the praise. A student? You have to put me in touch with her. She’s exceptional.
Vincent still hadn’t realized how badly he was losing his own game, until he managed to insult all the players at once. No one has bothered to conduct a study to prove it’s necessary before wasting millions on it.
The city council members had been offended by the accusation that they wasted taxpayer money.
Manzetti had said that he’d cover some of the expense himself, just to have his company’s name attached to such a beautifully designed project.
Dr. Marsden had said, The university can afford to invest in a bridge that will be a gateway to the campus. What we can’t afford is a study that will tell us what we already know. We’ve had three students hit in three years.
Connor had casually lined up the shot. And one faculty member grazed.
Manzetti had driven it home. Your own girlfriend, Talbot. How much proof do you require?
Vincent was still fuming. “I was made a fool of tonight, and it’s your fault.”
Delphinia swallowed the jagged piece that wanted to escape in stinging sarcasm. I’m sorry for not agreeing that I got hit because I was so stupid that I don’t belong at MU.
“If you hadn’t gone tutoring that night, I would have met Manzetti before—”
“I don’t want to talk about the bridge.”
“—and I would have been able to feel out his attitude—”
“Vincent. I don’t think we should continue seeing one another.”
He went still, but it was the silence of a rattlesnake who was done warning everyone to watch out. Now he was calculating whether it was time to bite or time to slither away.
Please, slither away.
He leaned into her so abruptly, she jumped. “You really know how to bust a man’s balls when he’s down, don’t you? Nothing is ending, my pretty Miss Ray. You owe me—”
“I’m not your pretty Miss anything. I’m a professor. It is not my job to bring you to every university function and introduce you to everyone I know, and tonig
ht was the very last time I will sit beside you silently.”
“Is that what this is about? You didn’t get to talk at dinner?”
“I haven’t talked for seven months. I wish you well.” She grabbed her purse and stood.
“Sit—” Vincent grabbed her wrist “—down.”
She yanked her hand free. Her purse hit the floor.
Another man’s voice filled the space, a single word of command. “Vincent.”
Vincent jerked toward the man in surprise. Delphinia turned, too. There, framed in the open side of the snug, stood the man with the chiseled body, the Greek Ideal with the nicked eyebrow.
“I hate to interrupt,” he said, in a voice that said he didn’t give a damn if he was interrupting, “but I told Delphinia’s mother I’d let her know she was looking for her.”
He pushed aside one of the chairs and bent over to pick up Delphinia’s purse. As he stood, he slowly, deliberately, took Vincent’s measure, until he finished standing, looking down on him. Connor’s expression was not neutral. He was an annoyed god, Poseidon irritated at a lowly human for being so aggravating that the god had to bestir himself to pick up his trident.
Connor turned to Delphinia, dismissing Vincent’s entire existence. “You should go. You’ll find her in the ladies’ room.”
She took her purse from him. “Thank you. Really. Thank you.”
Vincent stood. “I’m going with you.”
“To the ladies’ room? Nah.” Connor turned, a matter of a few inches, but it was enough to put his shoulder between them.
“Good night,” Delphinia said, more to Connor than Vincent.
Vincent moved to follow her, but Connor casually set the back of his hand against Vincent’s chest. “Let her go.”
Delphinia brushed against Connor as she left, craving even the most humble touch of the man she loved.
Chapter Nineteen
“Don’t tell me what to do.”
Connor didn’t bother replying to Vincent. He stood outside the snug, arms crossed over his chest, waiting for the ass to leave. He positioned himself so the path to the ladies’ room would require Vincent to walk through him. The path to the main door was a short, clear shot. Any reasonable animal would take the easier path.
