'Yes, we have,' the senior detective said as he stood up. He greeted Scoop. 'I'm not staying. Time to pack up the lace from Keira's windows. My sister says she'll take them. I'm in the attic for the long haul. Keira called. She and Simon are renting a loft in Owen's new building on the waterfront. I guess Simon's getting assigned to Boston. Great, huh, Scoop? Another FBI agent to breathe down our necks.'
He thumped up the stairs.
Scoop grinned. 'That's Bob in a good mood.' He took his friend's place at the bar. 'How are you, Sophie? How's the job hunt?'
'All my years of school and I'd make a better living pouring Guinness. It'd be a great job--'
'But it's not what you're trained to do.'
'It's tough out there even for the best.'
'My sources tell me you are the best and you have great prospects. In fact, you yourself said you have a decent chance at a tenure-track position here in Boston.'
'I'm crying in my beer?'
'Just a little. It's understandable given the past couple days. Being back here after so much time in Ireland would be enough of a transition by itself.'
'You're very understanding, Cyrus Wisdom.'
His eyebrows went up. 'That's a first from anyone.'
'You're not afraid you're losing your edge, are you?'
'Nope.'
'Good, because I've seen you in action three times now, and I wouldn't want to run into you if I had ill intentions in mind.'
He laughed softly. ''Ill intentions.' You crack me up, Dr. Malone. I'm just glad we got to Acosta before he drowned. He's not grateful. He still says he was just about to haul himself out of the water when we barged in.'
'If that helps him get through this, then fine. I don't need credit. Except for whatever he ran afoul of you for, he's a good detective?'
'Not my judgment to make.'
Which was all the answer she needed. 'I wonder when Rafferty knew that he wasn't going to be a captain or the police commissioner or make detective.'
'He would always say he didn't want to. He just wanted to get his full pension.'
'And work as a security guard for the Carlisles? Do you believe that?'
'I think he wanted to retire in the sun.'
'He faced that moment we all do when we decide to take action to turn the dream into reality. Work with the right people, put yourself out there, go for it, know that you might have to face rejection and disappointment and betrayal.'
'Are we talking about Cliff or you?'
She suddenly was overwhelmed with emotion. 'I'm going upstairs.'
She moved fast, taking the stairs two at a time. She avoided even a glance at Jeremiah Rush in the lobby and was grateful she was alone on the elevator. Once she was in her room, she splashed cold water on her face and fought back tears.
There was a knock on the door. 'Sophie--it's Scoop. You okay in there?'
She opened the door, forcing herself to smile. 'Sorry. Come in. I've noticed I get walloped with jet lag right about this time of the evening. It's better every day.'
'Not that the quiet homecoming you've had helps.'
She held up a hand. 'Don't talk. Let me explain.' She led him into the room, the door shutting quietly behind him. She paced on the soft rug. 'I've worked hard, and I've done well--no question. I'm grateful. It wasn't an easy path.'
'There are no easy paths.'
'I've encountered jealousy, envy, criticism, disappointment and broken promises along the way. Who hasn't? You do your best and in the end...' She turned back to him. 'In the end you can't base your happiness on whether you achieved all your dreams. You enjoy the journey. You let go of the disappointments and betrayals.'
'You weren't just on a lark last year.'
She smiled. 'Always the detective.' Her smile faded. 'I faced a dark night of the soul. Tell me, Scoop, isn't that what you were doing in Ireland?'
'It felt like I was facing a thousand dark nights of the soul.'
Her breath caught. He wasn't a talkative, introspective man, but his words brought home just what he'd experienced only a few weeks ago. 'You've been to hell and back, haven't you?'
'The key word is back.' He brushed his knuckles along her jaw and eased his hand around the back of her neck, threading his fingers into her hair. 'I can't think of anywhere I'd rather be right now, and if I had to go through hell to get here--well, then it was worth it.'
He lowered his mouth to hers, slowly, as if giving her time to tell him to go back down to the bar and have a drink. She didn't. 'You're why I knew I had to see the ruin on the Beara,' she whispered. 'I was pulled there. I knew I had to go. There was a rainbow that morning after we met. Scoop...'
'I can do a lot of things, sweetheart, but rainbows are above my pay grade.'
She didn't have a chance to laugh before he kissed her, softly, tenderly, even as he lifted her into his arms and she could feel the tension in his muscles. She'd seen how he'd handled Acosta. She wasn't worried about him hurting himself with her. Clearly he wasn't, either. Their kiss deepened, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, sinking into him. He was aroused, hard against her. She could feel herself melting into him, hot and liquid.
He carried her to the bed and pulled back the covers. Her iPhone went flying. He laid her on her back. 'I'm not very good with little buttons,' he said, eyeing her blouse. 'Either I rip it off or you--'
'It's an old top I found in Taryn's apartment.'
He had it off in seconds, and then he took his time, touching her through the silky fabric of her bra, easing her pants over her hips with great care as he trailed kisses, his tongue, along her throat, then lower, tasting, lingering, sweetly torturing. She wasn't even aware he'd dispensed with her pants until she felt the sheets cool under her bare skin, his touch between her legs. She reached for him, traced his hardness with her fingertips. He thrust against her hand, a promise of what was to come.
'Scoop...I haven't...' She wasn't sure how to get the words out. 'It's been a long time.'
'Good,' he whispered, easing his fingers into her, where she was hot, ready. 'I'll be gentle.'
She smiled. 'Not too gentle.'
She tore at his shirt, but he didn't budge, just moved his fingers deeper, probing, his thumb circling, until she cried out and gave herself up to the sensations coursing through her. He kissed her, his tongue matching the erotic rhythm of his fingers. With his free hand, he caught her nipple between his fingertips.
'I can't last,' she said between kisses.
'Then don't.'
'I want to feel you inside me.'
'You will,' he said, driving his fingers in faster, even deeper. 'Trust me, Sophie, you will.'
She was gone, rocking against him, letting the waves take her. He wasted no time. He got his clothes off in short order, and he came to her, easing on top of her. She ran her palms along his hips, up his back, feeling the strong muscles, the ripples of scars. Just the touch of him against her sent a bolt of urgency through her. He must have felt it, or was past his limits. He entered her, careful at first, but she was more than ready.
In seconds, they were in unison, fused, responding, giving--knowing where and when to touch, to move--and when she came this time, it was with him, together.
Later, she propped herself up on one elbow and looked at him in the fading light. 'You're an amazing man, Cyrus Wisdom, but I think it was my mud-encrusted wellies that caught your eye in Ireland.'
'Must have been,' he said, laughing as he took her back in his arms.
28
Sophie walked over to the Boston-Cork folklore conference offices after a pleasant breakfast with Scoop.
