by Nora Roberts
The snicker snuck up on her, and she quick had to bury her face in the tangled sheets for fear of waking Brenna up and then having to explain why she was hanging over the bed and laughing like a loon.
Oh, wouldn't her friends, relations, and associates be shocked if they could see the morning-after here? Holding her aching stomach, she rolled over and stared happily at the ceiling. The entertaining she'd done in Chicago had always involved scrupulously planned dinners or get-togethers, with the background music as carefully selected as the proper wine.
And if anyone had one too many, it was always dealt with discreetly. The hostess never passed out on the bed, no, indeed, but graciously saw each of her guests to the door, then responsibly tidied up the disarray.
She'd never had anyone curl up to sleep on her floor, and she'd never awakened the next morning with what was surely a hangover.
She liked it.
She liked it so much that she wanted to write about it in her journal right away. She climbed out of bed, wincing, then grinning when her head pounded. Her very first hangover. It was marvelous!
She tiptoed out, thrilled at the thought of noting it all down in her journal. Then she'd have a shower, and make coffee. Make a huge breakfast for her guests.
Guests, she remembered abruptly. Where in the world was Darcy?
Jude had her answer the minute she stepped into her little office. The lump under the covers on the little bed was bound to be Darcy, which meant the journal entry would have to wait a bit longer.
No matter, Jude thought, amused and delighted that her new friends had felt at home enough to settle in for the night. Despite her aching head, she all but danced into the shower.
It had been the best night of her life. She didn't care how pathetic that sounded, she thought as she ducked her head under the hot spray. It had been wonderful-the talk and the laughter, the foolishness. These two interesting women had come to her, enjoyed her, made her feel part of what they had together.
A friendship. Just as easy as that. And none of it had hinged on where she'd gone to school, what she did for a living, where she'd grown up. It was all about who she was, what she had to say, how she felt.
And not a little to do with her wardrobe, she added with a giggle. But her clothes were a reflection of who she was, weren't they? At least a reflection of how she saw herself. And why shouldn't she be flattered that a beautiful woman like Darcy Gallagher admired her clothes?
Still smiling, she stepped out to dry off, then took a couple of aspirin out of the medicine cabinet. She wrapped the towel around her, figuring she could find something to wear just by cruising her bedroom floor, then with her hair a dripping mass of curls she stepped out into the hall.
Her first shriek could have cracked glass-it certainly scored her throat and caused her abused head to reel. The second came out more like a yip as she clutched at the towel and gaped at Aidan.
"Sorry to startle you, darling, but I did knock-front and back-before letting myself in."
"I was-I was in the shower."
"So I see." And what a treat for the eyes she was, he decided, with her all pink and damp and her hair dripping in wet ropes about her shoulders. A dense, glossy brown it was against that pink and white skin.
It took all a man's will not to just step forward and take a bite somewhere.
"You-you can't just come in."
"Well, the back door was unlocked, as back doors usually are hereabouts." He continued to smile, to look directly into her eyes. Though it was tempting-more than tempting-to let his gaze go wandering. "And I saw Brenna's lorry parked in your street, so I figured she and Darcy were still here. They are still here, aren't they?"
"Yes, but-"
"I need to fetch Darcy. She has the lunch shift today and she tends to forget such matters."
"We're not dressed."
"I've seen that for myself, darling, and I've tried not to comment on it overly. But since you mention it, I'd like to say you're looking lovely this morning. Fresh as a rose and-" He stepped a little closer and sniffed at her. "Twice as fragrant."
"How's a body to sleep with all that yammering going on!" Jude jolted as Brenna's voice erupted from the bedroom. "Kiss her, for sweet Christ's sake, Aidan, and stop talking her ear off."
"Well, now, I was working my way along to it."
"No!" The squeal was so foolish, Jude immediately wished to be buried alive. The best she could do was dash to the bedroom and snatch up a sweater. Before she'd pushed her way through the piles for trousers, Aidan had come in behind her.
"Mother of God, what secret female ritual results in this?"
"Jesus, Aidan, put a cork in it, will you? Me head's falling off me shoulders."
He crouched down beside the tangle of red hair. "You know wine gives you a bad head, lass, if you overindulge."
"There wasn't any beer," Brenna muttered.
"Then what's a body to do, after all? I brought along the Gallagher Fix."
"Did you?" She rolled, turning her white face and bleary eyes up to him and grasping at his hand. "Truly? God bless you, Aidan. The man's a saint, Jude. A saint, I tell you. There should be a monument to him in the square of Ardmore."
"When you get yourself on your feet, crawl down to the kitchen. I brought a jug along just in case." He gave Brenna a light kiss on the forehead. "Now where's my sister?"
"She's in my office, the second bedroom," Jude told him with what she hoped was cool dignity as she clutched the clothes to her breast.
"Is there much breakable in there?"
"I beg your pardon?"
Aidan straightened. "Just pay no mind to the screams and crashes. I'll do my best to keep the property damage to a minimum."
"What does he mean by that?" Jude hissed the question at Brenna the moment he was out of the room, even as she rushed to drag on the slacks.
"Oh." Brenna yawned hugely. "Just that Darcy doesn't wake cheerful."
At the first scream, Brenna clutched her head and moaned. Shocked, Jude yanked the sweater over her head and rushed toward the sound of the thumps and curses.
"Get your hands off me, you blackhearted baboon. I'll kick your ass from here to Tuesday."
"It's your ass that'll be kicked if you don't get it out of bed and to work, my girl."
If the words and the vicious tone in which they were delivered had shocked her, it was nothing to the visual impact. Jude burst into the room in time to see Aidan, his face grim and set, drag Darcy, dressed in nothing but her bra and panties, from the bed to the floor.
"Why, you brute! Stop that this minute!" Driven to protect her new friend, Jude leaped forward. The order and the movement managed to distract Aidan just long enough for Darcy to ball her fist, bare her teeth, and deliver a short-armed punch straight to his crotch.
Jude wasn't sure the sound he made was human. Torn between yet another layer of shock and a wave of pure female amusement that she wasn't the least bit proud of, she watched Aidan crumple to his knees and Darcy fall on him like a she-wolf.
"Ouch. Jesus! Bloody hell!" He did what he could to defend himself as his sister thumped, yanked, and bit exactly as he'd taught her, and still wheezing from that first blow, he finally managed to pin her.
"One of these days, Darcy Alice Mary Gallagher, I'm going to forget you're a female and plant one on you."
"Go ahead, you great bully." She thrust out her chin, blew her hair out of her eyes. "Plant one now."
"I'd likely break my hand on that face of yours. However pretty it is, it's stretched over a skull made of rock."
Then they were grinning at each other, and he was rubbing his hand over her face with what surely was as much affection as exasperation. Jude just kept staring as they got to their feet.
"Put some clothes on, you shameless hussy, and get in to work."
Darcy pushed at her tumbled hair and didn't seem in the least bothered by the recent tumble. "Jude, can I borrow the blue cashmere jumper?"
"Urn, yes, of course
."
"Oh, you're a sweetheart, you are." She danced by, giving Jude a peck on the cheek. "Don't worry, I'll tidy up what I can before I go."
"Oh, well, that's all right. I'll make coffee."
"That would be lovely. Tea even better if you have it."
"Coffee?" Aidan said when Darcy had sauntered out the door. "I think you owe me a cup at least."
"Owe you?"
He stepped toward Jude. "That's the second time you've distracted me in battle and caused me to take a blow I'd have dodged otherwise. Oh, and very well you might bite your cheek to hold back the grin, but I see your eyes laughing clear enough."
"I'm sure you're mistaken." Jude looked deliberately aside. "But I'll make the coffee."
"And how's your head faring this morning?" he asked as he followed her out and down the stairs.
"It's fine."
He lifted a brow. "No ill effects due to squeezing a bit too much of the grape?''
"Maybe a little headache." She was too proud of it to be embarrassed. "I took some aspirin."
"I've better than that for you." He rubbed a hand casually over the back of her neck, miraculously hitting just the spot that made her want to purr, then moved to the counter as they entered the kitchen. The jar he picked up was filled with some dark and dangerous-looking red liquid.
"Gallagher's Fix. It'll set you up right and tight."
"It looks awful."
"Not a half-bad taste all in all, though some say it needs a bit of acquiring." He took a glass from the cupboard. "When a man serves drinks for a living, he's honor-bound to have a cure for the morning after."
"It's only a little headache." She studied the glass he poured dubiously.
"Then drink only a little, and I'll fix you some breakfast."
"You will?"
"A bit of this, a bit of that, and a little lie-me-down." He nudged the glass on her. She was a bit pale and her eyes were shadowed. He wanted to cuddle her until she felt herself again. "You'll wake up forgetting you had a hedonistic orgy last night."
"It wasn't an orgy. There weren't any men."
He grinned, fast and bright. "Next time invite me. Here now, sip a little and start the coffee, and some tea as well. I'll see to the rest."
It seemed like a nice connection to the evening to have a handsome man cooking breakfast in her kitchen. That was one more thing that had never happened to her before.
It was amazing, she thought, just how quickly, and how completely, a life could change. Jude sipped carefully, found the brew more tolerable than expected. Drinking the rest, she put on the kettle.
"Jude, you've no sausage. You've no bacon."
The quiet shock in his voice amused her. "No, I don't really eat it."
"Don't eat it? How do you cook breakfast?"
Because the shock wasn't so quiet now, she couldn't resist fluttering at him. Imagine, she thought, flirting before breakfast. "Usually by putting a piece of whole wheat bread in the toaster and pressing down the little lever."
"A single piece of toast?"
"And a half a grapefruit or a cup of whatever fresh fruit I have on hand. But now and then, I confess, I go wild and have an entire bagel with low-fat cream cheese."
"And this is what a sensible person calls breakfast?"
"Yes, a healthy one."
"Yanks," Aidan shook his head, as he took out eggs. "Why is it you think you'll live forever and why do you want to, I'd like to know, when you deny yourselves so many of the basic pleasures in life?"
"Somehow I manage to get through day after day without gnawing on greasy pig meat."
"A little testy in the morning, are we? Well, you wouldn't be if you'd eat a proper breakfast. But we'll do what we can for you."
She turned, prepared to snarl at him, but with the hand that wasn't holding the eggs, he cupped the back of her neck and nudged her up against him, then nipped her bottom lip. Before she'd recovered from that, he was following up the quick bite with a long, soft kiss that drained what few thoughts were left in her head.
"Do you have to do that before breakfast?" Brenna complained.
"Aye." Aidan ran that wonderful hand down Jude's spine, then up again. "And after, if I have my way about it."
"Bad enough you come in, stomping about and waking a body up." Scowling, and wearing the robe she'd wrapped herself in the night before, Brenna headed straight for the jar and poured some Gallagher's Fix into a glass. Gulping it down, she eyed Aidan narrowly. "Are you making breakfast then?"
"I'm about to. You're looking a bit peaked this morning, Mary Brenna. Do you want a kiss as well?"
She sniffed, then grinned at him. "I wouldn't mind it."
He obliged her by putting the eggs aside and stepping up to lift her off the floor by her elbows. When she whooped, he planted a loud, smacking kiss on her lips. "There you have it, and some roses back in your cheeks as well."
"That's from two punches of a fix by Gallagher," she said and made him laugh.
"We aim to please. Is my sister still on her feet?"
"She's in the shower, and still cursing you. As I would be if you weren't so free with your kisses."
"If God didn't want a woman's lips to be kissed, he wouldn't have made them so easy to reach. Are mere potatoes in the larder, Jude?"
"I think-yes."
Free with his kisses? She'd been warmly entertained watching the easy and affectionate byplay, but now she stood worrying about just what "free with his kisses" meant while Aidan scrubbed off some potatoes and put them in a pot to boil. Did that mean he just went around scooping up women with both hands? He certainly had the charm for it.
The skill for it.
The looks for it.
What did it matter? They didn't have what anyone would call a relationship. She didn't want a relationship. Not really.
She just wanted to know if she was one of a pack, or if-for once-she was something more special. Just once something special to someone.
"Where have you gone off dreaming?" Aidan asked her.
Jude jerked back, ordered herself not to flush. "Nowhere." She busied herself with the coffee and tried not to feel odd when Brenna rummaged through the cupboards for plates and flatware.
She'd never had people make themselves so easily at home in her house. It surprised her to realize she liked it. It made her feel a part of something friendly and simple.
It didn't matter if Brenna was efficient enough to intimidate a well-programmed robot. It didn't matter if Darcy was so beautiful every other woman looked dull by comparison.
It didn't even matter if Aidan kissed a hundred women before breakfast every day of the week.
Somehow within a few short weeks, they were her friends. And they didn't appear to expect her to be anything but what she was.
It was a small but precious miracle.
"Why don't I smell bacon cooking?" Darcy demanded as she strolled in.
"Jude didn't have any," Aidan told her.
Jude beamed as Darcy helped herself to coffee. "I'll get some. For next time."
The feeling stayed with her all day, the warmth and quiet joy of it. Over breakfast she made plans to drive to Dublin and shop with Darcy, to have Sunday dinner at the O'Tooles', and she scheduled another storytelling session with Aidan.
She wasn't asked to come down to the pub that evening. It was understood that she would. And that was so much better. When you were part of something, she reflected, you didn't need to be asked.
The kitchen smelled of fried potatoes and coffee. The wind chime outside the door sang in the breeze. As she rose to get more coffee, she spotted Betty outside running wildly after a bounding rabbit over hills sprinkled with wildflowers.
Jude imprinted it all on her mind, promising herself she'd take the moment out again when she was feeling low or lonely.
Later, when she was alone and settling down to work, it seemed to her the house still held all that warmth and energy. So she wrote in her journal:
It's odd that
I never realized this is so much what I want. A home. A place where people I enjoy and who enjoy me will come when they like. Will feel comfortable and easy. Maybe it wasn't solitude I was looking for after all when I so rashly flew to Ireland. It was what I've had over these last hours. Companionship, laughter, foolishness, and well, romance.
I suppose I didn't realize it because I never let myself really wish for it. Now without even the wish, here it is.
That's a kind of magic, isn't it? Every bit as much as faeries and spells and winged horses. I'm accepted here, not for what I do, or where I come from, or where I went to school. I'm accepted for who I am. For who, more importantly, I'm finally letting myself become.
When I have dinner at the O'Tooles' I won't be shy or feel awkward. I'll have fun. When I go shopping with Darcy I'm determined to buy something extravagant and useless. Because it'll be fun.
And when next Aidan comes through my garden gate, I may take him as a lover. Because I want him. Because he makes me feel something I've never felt before. Outrageously and completely female.
And because, damn it, it'll be fun.
With a satisfied nod she switched documents and settled back to review some of her work. Scanning the screen, sifting through written notes, she slid into the routine of research and analysis. She was deep into the study of a story on a crofter's changeling when her phone rang.
With her mind circling the crofter's dilemma, she picked up the receiver. "Yes? Hello."
"Jude. I hope I'm not interrupting your work."
Jude blinked at the screen and tuned in to her mother's voice. "No, nothing important. Hello, Mother. How are you?"
"I'm very well." Linda Murray's voice was cultured and smooth, and just a little cool. "Your father and I are about to take advantage of the end of the semester. We're going to New York for a few days to attend an exhibit at the Whitney and see a play."
"That's nice." It made her smile, thinking how much her parents enjoyed each other's company. A perfect meeting of minds. "You'll enjoy that."
"Very much. You're welcome to fly in and join us if you like, if you've had enough of country living."
A perfect meeting of minds, Jude thought again. And she'd never quite been able to mesh with that lovely unity. "I appreciate the offer, but I'm fine. I really love it here."
