by Nora Roberts
“I don’t drink on the job,” she said smartly. “I need two pints of Harp and a glass of Smithwick’s, two whiskeys, um, Paddy’s, two Cokes, and a Baileys.” She offered a smug smile. “And I could use one of those little aprons if you have one handy.”
He started the order, cleared his throat. “Ah, you don’t know the prices.”
“You have a list of them, don’t you? Put them in the apron. I can add, and quite well, too. If you have a tray, while you’re filling that order, I can clear off some of the empties before they end up broken on the floor.”
A quarter hour, he thought again, and dug out a menu, an apron, laid them both on a tray and passed it over. “It’s kind it is of you to pitch in, Jude Frances.”
She lifted her brows. “You don’t think I can do it.” With this, she flounced away.
“Does it hurt?” Shawn asked from behind him.
“What?”
“Shoehorning your foot in your mouth that way. I bet it cracks the jaw something fierce.” He only snickered when Aidan jabbed him sharply, elbow into ribs. “She has a way with her, too,” he added, watching as Jude cleared off one of the low tables and chatted with the family who sat there. “I’d be happy to take her off your hands if . . .”
He trailed off, a little daunted by the vicious look Aidan shot at him. “Just joking,” he muttered and slipped back to the other end of the bar.
Jude came back, began unloading the empties, loading the first order. “A pint and a glass of Guinness, two Or-angeens, and a cup of tea with whiskey.”
Before Aidan could speak, she’d hefted the tray, just un-steadily enough to make him hold his breath, and moved off to serve.
She was having the time of her life. She was in the middle of it all, part of it all. Music and movement and shouted conversation and laughter. People called her by name and asked how it was all going. No one seemed the least surprised that she was taking orders and emptying ashtrays.
She knew she didn’t have Darcy’s graceful efficiency and style, but she was handling it. And if she’d almost poured a pint of beer on Mr. Duffy, the operative word was “almost.” He’d caught it himself with a wink and grin and said he’d sooner have it in him than on him.
She managed the money, too, and didn’t think she made any important mistakes. In fact, one of her apron pockets was bulging with tips that had her glowing with pride.
When Shawn breezed by and swung her into a quick dance, she was too surprised to be embarrassed. “I don’t know how.”
“Sure you do. Will you come by and play my music again, Jude Frances?”
“I’d like that. But you have to let go. I’m running out of breath and stepping all over your feet.”
“If you were to give me a kiss, you’d have Aidan boiling with jealousy.”
“I would not. Really?” His grin was irresistible. “I’ll just kiss you because you’re so pretty.”
When he gaped in shock at that, she kissed his cheek. “Now, I’m supposed to be working. The boss will dock my pay if I keep dancing with you.”
“Those Gallagher lads are shameless,” Kathy Duffy told her as Jude cleared more glasses. “Bless them for it. A pair of good women would settle them down, but not so much they wouldn’t be interesting.”
“Aidan’s married to the pub,” Kevin Duffy said as he lit a cigarette. “And Shawn to his music. It’ll be years yet before either of them’s taking on a wife.”
“Nothing to stop a clever lass from trying, is there?” And Kathy winked at Jude.
Jude managed a smile as she moved to another table. She managed to keep it in place as she took the orders. But her mind was whirling.
Is that what people thought? she wondered. That she was trying to wrangle Aidan into marriage? Why it had never crossed her mind. Not seriously. Hardly at all.
Did he think that was what she was aiming for?
She stole a glance at him, watched him nimbly pulling pints as he talked to two of the Riley sisters. No, of course he didn’t. They were both just enjoying themselves. Enjoying each other. If the thought of marriage had crossed her mind, it was natural enough. But she hadn’t dwelled on it.
The fact was, she didn’t want to. She’d been down that road and had been smeared on the pavement.
Fun was better. The lack of commitment and expectations was liberating. They had mutual affection and respect, and if she was in love with him, well . . . that just made it all the more romantic.
She wasn’t going to do anything to spoil it. In fact, she was going to do everything she could to enhance it, to squeeze every drop of pleasure out of the time she had.
“When you come back from your trip there, Jude, I’ll have another pint before closing.”
“Hmm?” Distracted, she looked down at the wide, patient face of Jack Brennan. “Oh, sorry.” She picked up his empty, then frowned at him.
“I’m not pissed,” he promised. “My heart’s all mended. Fact is, I don’t know why I got in such a state over a woman. But if you’re worried, you can ask Aidan if I can stand another pint.”
He was so sweet, she thought, and holding back on an urge to pat his head as she might that of a big, shaggy dog. “No urge to break his nose?”
“Well, now, I’ll admit I’ve always half wanted to just because it’s never been managed. And he broke mine some time back.”
“Aidan broke your nose?” It was appalling. It was fascinating.
“Not on actual purpose,” Jack qualified. “We were fifteen and playing football and one thing led to another. Aidan’s never been much of a one for bloodying his mates unless . . .”
“One thing leads to another?”
“Aye.” Jack beamed at her. “And I don’t think he’s had himself a good mix-up in months. Due for one most like, but he’s too busy courting you to find time for a scuffle.”
“He isn’t courting me.”
Jack pursed his lips on an expression caught between concern and puzzlement. “Aren’t you sweet on him, then?”
“I—” How did she answer that? “I like him very much. I’d better get you that pint. It’s nearly closing time.”
“You’ve been run off your feet,” Aidan said when he closed the door behind the last straggler. “Sit down now, Jude, and I’ll get you a glass of wine.”
“I wouldn’t mind it.” She had to admit it had been work. Delightful but exhausting. Her arms ached from carting heavy trays. It was no wonder, she decided, that Darcy’s arms were so beautifully toned.
And her feet, it didn’t bear thinking about how much her feet were throbbing.
She sank onto a stool, rolled her shoulders.
In the kitchen Shawn was cleaning up and singing about a wild colonial boy. The air was blue with smoke, and ripe still with the smells of beer and whiskey.
She found it all very homey.
“If you decide to give up psychology,” Aidan said as he set a glass in front of her. “I’m hiring.”
Nothing he said could have pleased her more. “I did all right, didn’t I?”
“You did brilliantly.” He took her hand, kissed it. “Thanks.”
“I liked it. I haven’t given that many parties. They make me so nervous. The planning keeps me in a constant state of anxiety. Then the hostessing, making sure everything’s running smoothly. This was like giving a party without all the nerves. And . . .” She jingled the coins in her apron pocket. “I got paid.”
“Now you can sit and tell me about your day in Dublin while I clean up here.”
“I’ll tell you about it while I help you clean up.”
He decided not to risk her good mood by arguing again, but intended to have her do nothing more complex than clearing empties and setting them on the bar. But she was quicker than he’d thought and had her sleeves rolled up while he was still dealing with behind-the-bar work and the till.
With a pail and a rag she’d gotten from Shawn, she began to mop down the tables.
He listened to her, the way h
er voice flowed up and down as she described what she’d seen and what she’d done that day. The words weren’t so important, Aidan thought. It was just so soothing to listen to her.
She seemed to bring such blessed quiet with her wherever she went.
He started on the floors, working around and with her. It was amazing, he mused, how smoothly she slid into his rhythm. Or was he sliding into hers? He couldn’t tell. But it seemed so natural, the way she clicked into his place, his world. His life, for that matter.
He’d never pictured her carting trays or making change. Of course it wasn’t what she was meant for, but she’d done it well. A lark for her, he supposed. She certainly wasn’t fashioned to be wiping up spilled beer every night. But she did so with such practical ease he had an urge to cuddle her.
When he followed it, wrapping his arms around her waist and drawing her back against him, she settled right in.
“This is nice,” she murmured.
“It is, yes. Though I’m keeping you up late doing dirty work.”
“I like it. Now that everything’s quiet, and everyone’s gone home to bed, I can think about what Kathy Duffy said to me, or the joke Douglas O’Brian told, and listen to Shawn singing in the kitchen. In Chicago I’d be sleeping by now, after finishing papers and reading a chapter of a good book that received bright literary reviews.”
She closed her hands over his, relaxed. “This is much better.”
“And when you go back . . .” He laid his cheek on the top of her head. “Will you find a neighborhood pub and spend an evening or two there instead?”
The thought of it brought a dark, thick wall shuttering down on her future. “I have lots of time before that’s an issue. I’m enjoying learning to go day by day.”
“And night by night.” He turned her, glided her into a waltz that followed the tune Shawn was singing.
“Night by night. I’m a terrible dancer.”
“But you’re not.” Hesitant was what she was, and not yet sure of herself. “I watched you dance with Shawn, then kiss him in front of God and country.”
“He said it would make you boil with jealousy.”
“So it might have if I didn’t know I could beat him senseless if need be.”
She laughed, loving the way the room revolved as he circled her. “I kissed him because he’s pretty and he asked me. You’re pretty, too. I might kiss you if you asked me.”
“Since you’re so free with your kisses, let me have one.”
To tease—and wasn’t it wonderful she’d discovered she could tease a man—she placed a chaste kiss on his cheek. Then placed another, just as soft, on his other cheek. When he smiled, when he circled her, she slid her hand from his shoulder into his hair, and keeping her eyes on his, rose to her toes to press her lips warmly to his.
This time it was his body that jerked. She ruled the kiss, taking him unawares, moving it from warm to hot, from soft to deep, sighing so that his mouth, his blood, his brain were filled with the taste of her.
Staggered, he fisted his hand at the back of her blouse and let her strip his mind clean.
“Looks as if it’s past time for me to leave.”
Aidan lifted his head. “Lock up as you go, Shawn,” he said without taking his eyes off Jude’s face.
“I will. Good night to you, Jude.”
“Good night, Shawn.”
Whistling now, he clicked locks and discreetly closed the door behind him while Aidan and Jude stood in the middle of the freshly mopped floor.
“I have a terrible need for you.” He drew the hand he still held to his mouth, kissed it.
“I’m so glad.”
“It makes it hard, now and again, to be gentle.”
“Then don’t be.” Excitement spurted through her in one hot gush. Thrilled with her own boldness, she stepped back and began unbuttoning her blouse. “You can be whatever you want. Have whatever you want.”
She’d never undressed in front of a man, not in a way designed to arouse. But the nerves that jumped in her belly were tangled with excitement, then swallowed by pure female delight as she saw his eyes go dark.
The black lace bra was cut low, an erotic contrast against the milky skin it was designed to showcase.
“Jesus.” He let out an unsteady breath. “You’re trying to kill me.”
“Just seduce you.” She toed off her shoes. “It’s a first for me.” More from inexperience than design, she slowly unhooked her trousers. “So . . . I hope you’ll excuse any missteps.”
His mouth went dry with anticipation of what was next. “I see nothing missing at all. Seems to me you’re a natural at it.”
Her fingers were a little stiff, but she pried them away and let the trousers fall. More black lace, an excuse for a triangle that veed down over the belly and rose high on the hips.
She hadn’t had the nerve to try the matching garter and sheer black hose Darcy had talked her into, but seeing the expression on Aidan’s face, she thought she would next time.
“I did a lot of shopping today.”
He wasn’t sure he could speak. She stood in the pub lights, her hair tidied back, her sea goddess eyes dreamy, wearing nothing but black lace that screamed sex.
Which part of her was a man supposed to listen to?
“I’m afraid to touch you.”
Jude braced herself, then stepped out of the trousers and toward him. “Then I’ll touch you.” Heart hammering, she slid her arms around his neck and lifted her mouth to his.
It was so arousing to press up against him when she was all but naked and he still fully dressed. It was so powerful to feel his body quiver against hers as if he were fighting some fierce and violent urge.
It was so freeing to realize she wanted him to set that fierceness, that violence, loose.
“Take me, Aidan.” She nipped his bottom lip and all but slithered against him. “Take whatever you want.”
He heard his own control snap like a cannon boom inside his head. He knew he was rough and could do nothing about it as his hands bruised and his mouth feasted. Her gasp of shock was only more fuel as he dragged her to the floor.
He rolled with her, wild to have his hands on her, everywhere. Mad for more, he closed lips and teeth over the lace at her breast.
She arched up, bowed with pleasure, tingling from the nip of pain. It was power that flooded into her, the punch of the knowledge that she had pushed him beyond the civilized.
Just by being. Just by offering.
As crazed as he to touch, she tugged and tore at his shirt until she had her hands on flesh.
Then her lips, then her teeth.
Hot and frantic, with greedy hands they drove each other, pleased and pleasured. This wasn’t the patient man and the shy woman, but two who had stripped down to the primitive. She gloried in it, absorbing each sharp sensation and fighting to give it back.
The first orgasm burst through her like a sun.
More was all he could think. More and still more. He wanted to eat her alive, to devour so that the suddenly wild taste of her would always be inside him. Each time her body shuddered, each time she cried out, he thought again. And again and again.
The need to mate was a fever in his blood. He plunged into her, his pace all the more frenzied when she came and called out his name. Then she was rising and falling with him, driving even as she was driven. His vision hazed so that her face, her eyes, her tumbled hair were behind a soft mist.
Then even that vanished as the animal inside him leaped out and swallowed them both.
She lay sprawled over him, exhausted, aching, smiling. He lay beneath, stunned and speechless.
Their opposing reactions had the same root.
He’d taken her on the pub floor. He hadn’t been able to help himself; he’d had no control whatsoever. No finesse, no patience. It hadn’t been making love but mating, just as recklessly primitive as that.
His own behavior shocked him.
Jude’s thoughts ran along the s
ame lines. But his behavior, and her own, thrilled her.
When he heard her long, windy sigh, he winced and decided he had to do whatever he could to make her comfortable.
“I’ll take you upstairs.”
“Mmmm.” She certainly hoped so, so they could do it all over again.
“Maybe you’d like a hot bath and a cup before I see you home.”
“Hmmm.” She sighed again, then pursed her lips. “You want to take a bath?” The idea was intriguing.
“I thought it might make you feel a bit better.”
“I don’t think it’s possible to feel any better, not on this plane of existence.”
He shifted, and since she was limp as a noodle, found it fairly easy to turn her around so she was cradled in his arms. When she only smiled and dropped her head on his shoulder, he shook his head.
“What’s come over you, Jude Frances Murray? Wearing underwear designed to drive me crazy, then letting me have my way with you on the floor?”
“I have more.”
“More what?”
“More underwear,” she replied. “I bought bags of it.”
It was his turn to drop his head weakly on her shoulder. “Sweet Jesus. I’ll be waked in a week.”
“I started with the black because Darcy said it was foolproof.”
He only choked at that.
Pleased with his reaction, she snuggled closer. “You were putty in my hands. I liked it.”
“She’s gone shameless on me.”
“I have, so I’ll tell you I want you to carry me upstairs. I love when you do that because it makes me feel all female and fluttery. Then take me to your bed.”
“If I must, I must.” He glanced around, noting the scatter of clothes. He would come back for them, he told himself. Later.
And when he did, quite some time later, he fingered the bits of lace as he carried them back upstairs. She was full of surprises, was Jude Frances, he thought. Just as much surprising to herself, if he was any judge.
The shy rose was blooming.
Now she was sleeping, cozy as you please, in his bed. She looked right there, he decided as he sat down on the edge to watch her sleep. Just as she’d looked right serving drinks in his pub, or working in her garden, or walking the hills with the O’Tooles’ dog beside her.
She had, indeed, clicked neatly into his life. And why, he wondered, shouldn’t she stay a part of it? Why should she go back to Chicago when she was happy here, and he was happy with her?
It was time he had a wife, wasn’t it? And started a family. He’d found no one who made the prospect of that a sunny one until Jude.
He’d been waiting for something, hadn’t he? And here she had walked right into his pub one rainy night. Destiny took no more than that.
She might think otherwise, but he’d talk her around it.
It didn’t mean she had to give up her work, though he’d have to puzzle on exactly how she could do what most satisfied her. She was a practical woman, after all, and would want her options spelled out.
