by Amy Andrews
He’d gone over his thirty minutes and she didn’t care.
“Why here?” she finally asked after he paused for breath and she was able to think straight. “Sully’s patrons are essentially all locals. We do most of our sales after five and on weekends. Except for St. Patrick’s Day, of course. We don’t serve fancy cocktails or tapas so we don’t attract the in crowd. We’re too far away from the trendy areas and we shut at ten during the week and midnight on the weekend. Wouldn’t you be better off in a swankier, more central pub?”
He shook his head. “Baron lager isn’t that kind of beer. It’s a mom-and-pop, meat-and-potatoes kinda brand especially for places like this. Sully’s patrons are exactly the demographic I’m after so if it sells here then I’m confident I can sell it into other places just like this all over the U.S.”
Faith nodded. It all made good business sense. Or she hoped so anyway and it wasn’t just his suit and that tie she could constantly see in her peripheral vision combining forces to bamboozle her. He reached inside his jacket and pulled out what looked like a business card, sliding it across to her.
“I guess the ball’s in your court now.”
She picked it up and ran her fingers over the simple plain white card with elegantly embossed letters. Not the kind of card she’d have pictured a beer man to be carrying. She slid it into her jeans pocket before nefarious thoughts of committing his number to memory won out.
“So…” He smiled and it sucked Faith’s breath right away. “Did I convince you?”
Convince her? About what? The beer? Or about a dozen other things that had flitted through her head as he’d talked. When it got down to it, Faith was sure Raf could convince her of just about anything.
Which was exactly why she should be turning his ass away.
But the beer had been very good. It beat the crap out of the lagers they currently carried. “I will take it to my father,” she said.
She just didn’t hold out much hope that he’d agree. Sullivan’s had been founded on selling Guinness and American beer and the older her father grew the more determined he seemed to be to cling to the old ways.
And no amount of fantasizing about Raf was going to change that. “Just don’t get your hopes up, okay?”
He grinned that big old grin again and Faith swore she could feel her ovaries quiver. “Okay.”
He reached across the table and grabbed the notepad and pen and stuffed them into his backpack. He stacked the shot glasses inside each other, placing them and the paddle into the backpack, zipping it up firmly.
He left the tie on the table between them.
“Good, now that’s over,” he said, returning his full aquamarine attention to her, “come out to dinner with me tomorrow night.”
Chapter Three
‡
Faith was pleased she wasn’t drinking liquid anymore as his unexpected request hit her straight in the chest. And places much lower. She would have spluttered it everywhere. “What?”
She thought he’d grin at her squeak, maybe laugh a little and flash that chin scar but his gaze didn’t waver as he said, “I’d like to take you on a date.”
A date? Jesus, Mary and Joseph. “Why?”
He did grin then. “Because I think there’s some chemistry going on here and I think you can feel it too.”
He thought there was chemistry? Faith had always hated chemistry at school but if she’d known a sexy Australian was going to seduce her with it in the future she may have paid more attention.
“And you just…act on chemistry?”
“Of course.” He smiled that smile again. How could something so lazy do such busy things to her body?
“Of course,” she murmured. That’s what people do, Faith. People who aren’t you. But she still didn’t understand why her…“If you don’t mind me saying, I don’t really think I’m your type.”
“No,” he agreed readily. “You’re not.”
Faith blinked. She’d expected him to play coy, deny having a type. It was refreshing to meet a man who was self-aware. “So…why?”
“Variety is the spice of life, Faith. Come on…” He leaned forward a little. “I know you’re tempted.”
A waft of sand, sea and freedom washed over her like ocean spray. Tempted? Hell yeh.
But just as equally panicked.
She didn’t know what to do or how to act on a date with a virtual stranger from the other side of the planet who smelled better than a day at the beach. Guys from around here, guys she knew? Sure. They were jeans and t-shirt dates. Which was fine by her because she was a jeans and t-shirt kinda girl.
A pizza, some beer, maybe go see a game or catch a movie. Maybe end up in bed together. Maybe not.
But this suited guy? This lager guy?
She didn’t know how to be around him. His cologne taunted her, invading her space as relentlessly as the tide and Faith pressed herself back into the booth cushions to stop herself from leaning closer.
“I can’t come out to dinner with you tomorrow night. I’m working.”
“The next night.”
“I work every night.”
He drummed his fingers on the table. “All work and no play makes Faith a dull girl.”
Faith felt absurdly like crying at the thought. “But I am a dull girl,” she murmured, watching the tap of his fingers.
Watching as they slowed then stopped then reached for the nearby tie. She glanced at him as he caressed the fabric with his thumbs. He quirked an eyebrow at her. “I don’t think you are.”
Faith almost whimpered as she thought about how silky his tie might feel being dragged over her naked body. He was right – she wasn’t dull.
She was just living a dull life.
“So…” His gaze locked with hers as he fisted his hand and wrapped the tie around and around his knuckles. “Whaddya say?”
What did she say?
Yes please, right now. In fact skip the date and take me somewhere and do wicked things to me with that tie. To your hotel. The basement. Hell, the alley outside. Just show me how not to be so damned dull.
Yeah…so not going to say that.
Besides, she’d have to arrange for someone to be with Pop while she did dirty hotel/basement/alley. And with Finn hooking up with Dawn and Ty with Zel and her two other brothers – Ronan and Casey, the twins – playing gigs most nights in their up-and-coming Celtic band, that didn’t leave her with many options.
Just the bucket of cold water she needed.
“You’re still going to want to go out on a date even if my father turns you down?”
“Yes.” He unwound the tie. “I’m pretty sure I’m going to want to date you…kiss you no matter what. My libido is utterly shameless like that. Completely impervious to rejection.”
Cold water morphed to white hot flame. She looked at his mouth. How could she not? “You want to…kiss me?”
His gaze dropped to her mouth. “I do. I really, really do.”
She sucked in a breath as her head just about exploded with images. His body…pulled in close and tight. His hands …creeping up her back. His mouth…on hers.
Crap, crap, crap.
“Here she is! Getting a head start.”
Faith startled at the sudden interruption, turning to find Zel, Dawn and Mercy approaching the booth all shrugging out of their coats.
“Oh…hi,” she said, her brain trying to gather together all its exploded pieces and quickly reassemble them to make some kind of a cogent introduction as they all looked at Raf with blatant curiosity.
Mercy came to her rescue. “Hey Raf,” she said, sliding into the booth beside him, kissing him on the cheek.
“Mercy,” he said with a grin.
“This is Zelda and Dawn,” Mercy said as Faith moved over so they could both pile in next to her.
He held out his hand to Zel. “Nice to meet you, Zelda.”
“Zel, please,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand sounding every bit the upper class
Brit. It had been months but Faith still couldn’t get used to seeing Zel without the signature long blonde tresses that had defined her modelling career.
Raf nodded and turned to Dawn, offering his hand again. “Nice to meet you too.”
“You’re an Aussie?” she said.
Raf nodded. “Sydney.”
“Alice Springs,” Dawn said. They chatted briefly about their shared heritage before Dawn said, “So what are you doing so far from home?”
“Raf’s hoping he can convince JP to put his Baron lager on tap at Sully’s for a trial period,” Mercy said, jumping in.
“Really?” Zel murmured, looking Raf up and down meticulously.
Zel had a good eye for a nicely put-together man and she was taking her time checking him out. Just as well Faith knew how besotted Zel was with Ty because she was being thorough.
“Are you going to do it?” Zel asked when she finally turned her attention to Faith.
Was she going to do it? Faith willed her cheeks not to warm but unfortunately she could not will her recalcitrant eyes to stay off Raf – they were drawn to him. His gaze met hers, one eyebrow rising in a question that she instinctively knew had nothing to do with his beer.
“Yeah, Faith,” he inquired with silk in voice and a smile on his mouth. “Are you?” His gaze drifted over her, sinking tentacles of warmth into her breasts, her stomach and thighs.
Lordy…she wanted to so damn bad.
“I’ll…” she said, clearing her voice of its sudden roughness, “let you know tomorrow.”
He nodded politely although there was nothing polite about the look in his eyes. “In that case I’ll leave you ladies to your fun.”
“Oh no,” Mercy said as she put her hand on his arm. “You should stay.”
Faith’s head snapped in her direction as Dawn and Zel murmured their agreement. She glared at Mercy. Was she nuts?
Were they all?
She couldn’t breathe around him let alone relax and have some fun. “I’m sure Raf’s very busy,” Faith said, fixing her glare on Raf now.
He grinned at her but took the hint. “Thanks. But I am very busy,” he said as he hustled Mercy out of the booth.
Faith breathed a sigh of relief as he took his god-of-the-sea fragrance with him. She snatched the tie up and thrust it at him. “Don’t forget this.”
He shook his head in a slow deliberate way like he knew exactly what she’d been thinking earlier when he’d taken it off. “Keep it,” he murmured.
Three pairs of eyes followed him as he walked away. Faith’s was firmly fixed on the tie and the way his keep it had sounded so damn illicit.
“Hubba, hubba,” Zel said and Faith looked up to find Raf winding his scarf around his neck, his jacket lifting in the process to reveal one hell of a fine ass. No one looked away until he’d shrugged into his overcoat and stepped out into the dark that had already swallowed the afternoon whole.
Then all three of them turned their attention to her.
“Well I know what we’re talking about tonight,” Mercy said.
Zel nodded. “Hooking Faith up with hot Aussie beer dude.”
“What? Don’t be ridiculous,” Faith squawked.
“Mmm, mmm,” Zel agreed, ignoring Faith’s protestations. “Did you see that arse?”
She rolled that British r for all it was worth. “Hello?” Faith folded her arms as she glared at her future sister-in-law. “Remember Ty? The man you love. My brother.”
“I’m taken,” Zel said, dismissively, “not dead.”
“And what about that little scar under his chin?” Dawn added. “You can trust a man with a chin scar I always say.”
Faith shot her an exasperated look. “Since when do you say that?”
“Hold that thought,” Mercy interrupted. “My turn for first round. No one start without me.”
Faith watched her sashay away in her long camel skirt, thankful for the reprieve. Unfortunately the bar was still quiet and it didn’t take Megan long to fix three half pints of Guinness and a virgin mojito. Mercy was back in what felt like the blink of an eye, slipping into the booth she’d vacated earlier and in which Zel now sat to even up the numbers.
They raised their glasses for their traditional toast. “To Faith,” Dawn said.
“And Raf,” Mercy added.
“And lots of hot sweaty sex,” Zel piped up.
Everyone laughed except for Faith who rolled her eyes but accepted the toast good-naturedly and gave herself up to her fate knowing there was no way her friends were going to be derailed from the subject tonight.
“So,” Mercy said as she placed her glass on the table. “What the hell’s going on between you two?”
Faith sipped at her beer. “You know he was just pitching his beer.”
Mercy picked up the tie. “Really?”
Zel looked just as doubtful as she sucked on her virgin mojito. Sully’s didn’t do fancy cocktails but they made an exception for Zel, a recovering alcoholic. Faith had always felt uneasy about holding the girls’ night in the pub but Zel had assured her that being around booze was all just part of her recovery.
Faith grabbed the tie and stuffed it in her jeans pocket where his business card sat. “Nothing is going to happen with Rafael Quartermaine,” she said.
Dawn frowned. “Why not?”
“Because he’s…gorgeous and…our lives are too different and…he lives on the other side of the planet.”
“Jay-sus,” Zel said, doing her very best impression of Pop going the full Irish, “We’re not talking about marrying the guy. We’re talking about wild, getting-your-hair-in-a-tangle monkey sex.”
A funny little pang that felt a lot like regret twinged somewhere in the region of her heart. Marrying? Of course not. She was the perennial bridesmaid, right?
“I don’t have time for any of that stuff,” she muttered.
Zel arched an eyebrow. “Don’t have time for sex?”
If Faith hadn’t felt so exasperated she’d have laughed at the look of askance on Zelda’s face. “I’m here all the hours God gave me.”
“You deserve a life too, Faith,” Mercy said gently.
The pub was Faith’s life. And she was fine with that. Or had been, anyway. She’d taken it on because she’d been the most logical one to do so after her father’s first heart attack. With her brothers all in varying stages of college or starting in their careers and hers not begun yet it had made sense.
And she’d wanted to. She’d voluntarily stepped into the shoes her mother had vacated because she loved her father and the pub and she couldn’t bear the thought of him being lonely as well as sad.
He’d been so sad after her mom’s death.
“What ever happened to your fine arts degree at Columbia?” Zel asked.
“You know what happened,” Faith muttered. “Pop had his first heart attack. I was needed here.”
“Yes, but Faith…” Mercy reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “It’s been years.”
“I’ll get to it one day,” she said defensively.
Although of course, she’d been saying that for years too. They all had. But eventually they’d stopped saying it and everyone – including her – had forgotten she’d ever had any ambitions of her own.
“Do you still sketch and paint?” Dawn inquired.
It was on the tip of Faith’s tongue to tell them she’d spent two hours drawing Raf’s arms last night just to get them off her case but she didn’t think that would work in her favor. “Sometimes.”
She took her sketch pad to Central Park occasionally.
“I remember when you used to doodle on anything and everything,” Mercy mused. “You didn’t even know you were doing it half the time.”
Faith nodded. She hadn’t done that in a very long time. “Do you still have your membership to the Met?” Zel asked.
“Yes.” Her precious membership to the Metropolitan Museum of Art was something they’d have to tear from her cold, dead hands.
Zel arched an eyebrow. “And how often do you use it?”
Faith stalled. Rarely. Too long since she’d visited her favorite Monets. “It’s…been a while,” she admitted.
“And how long has it been since you’ve been with a guy?” Dawn asked.
“Longer,” she admitted miserably.
“Well that won’t do,” Mercy tutted.
“It’s only sex. I won’t die from lack of it.”
“But you do like sex, right?” Dawn asked. “You do want to have it again, don’t you?”
Before yesterday Faith might not have been clear on the answer but Raf had reignited something inside her. She wanted to have sex with him so freaking bad. “Yes.”
“So why not him?” Dawn persisted. “He’s hot and let me tell you, he’s definitely interested.”
Faith shivered just thinking about it. “I think I’ve forgotten how,” she lamented, taking a gulp of her beer. “I think things have grown over down there. I may possibly be a virgin again.”
“I’m pretty sure Finn still thinks you are a virgin,” Dawn mused.
“Ty too,” Zel confirmed.
“What?” Faith squeaked. “I lost my virginity at nineteen.” To Pete O’Malley – a guy she’d known since grade school. It had been a nice enough experience. But he’d wanted to get married and have children and Faith was…occupied.
There’d been four or five Petes since, all neighborhood guys. One of them had even lasted six months. But ultimately not one of them had thrilled her enough in and out of bed to break the status quo.
“I don’t think they seriously do,” Zel clarified. “They just prefer to think of you in that asexual way bonehead brothers tend to.”
“Hey,” Mercy protested with a smile on her face. “I love your bonehead brother.”
“And I thank you every day for that,” Zel said with a grin.
Everyone knew how thrilled Zel was that Seb had fallen for Mercy. Seb learning how to love again had helped breach the emotional chasm between brother and sister too.
