other to Ireland. We still have family there.”
'And what's your favorite?' She rested her elbows on the table and her chin in her laced fingers. 'Of all the places you've been.”
'Hard to say. The west coast of Ireland, the hills in Tuscany, a sidewalk cafi in Paris. But at the moment, right here is my favorite place.”
'There's that silky tongue again. All right then, tell me about Boston.”
'It's a New England harbor city of great historical importance.' When she laughed, he sat back and soaked it in. 'Oh, that's not what you meant.”
'Tell me about your family. You have brothers, sisters?”
'Two brothers, one sister.”
'Big family.”
'Are you kidding? My parents were pikers in the go-forth-and-multiply area. Mom has six brothers and sisters, my father comes from a family of eight. None of their siblings had less than five kids. We are legion.”
'You miss them.”
'I do? Okay, I do,' he admitted reluctantly. 'From this nice, safe distance, I've realized I actually like my family.”
'They'll come visit you?”
'Eventually. Everyone will wait for my mother to start actually speaking to me again. In our house if it's not one thing, it's your mother.”
She sampled the appetizer he'd ordered for her. She wore no rings, and he wondered why. She had lovely hands, slim, elegant, delicate. The silver key rested against that smooth, dusky skin, and there was a glint of silver at her ears. But her fingers, her wrists were bare. Beautifully bare, he realized, and wondered if the lack of ornamentation was some sort of female ploy to make a man notice every line, every curve, every sweep of her.
It was sure as hell working that way on him.
'You think she's mad at you? Your mama?”
He had to blink himself back to the threads of conversation. 'Not mad. Irritated, annoyed, baffled. If she was really angry, she'd be down here in my face, chipping away until I crumbled to her terrifying will.”
'Does she want you to be happy?”
'Yes. We love each other like idiots. She'd just be more satisfied if my happiness aligned with her point of view.”
Her head angled, and again he caught that wink of silver through the thick, dark curls of her hair. 'Why don't you let her know she hurts your feelings?”
'What?”
'If you don't let her know she hurts them, how is she going to stop?”
'I let them down.”
'Oh, you did not,' she replied, with a kind of impatient sympathy. 'You think your family wants you to be miserable and unfulfilled? Married to a woman you don't love, working at a career that you don't want?”
'Yes. No,' he answered. 'I don't honestly know.”
'Then it seems to me you ought to ask them.”
'Do you have any siblings?”
'No. And tonight we're going to talk about you.
We'll save me for another time. Did you find what you wanted at your antique shops?”
'And then some.' More comfortable talking about acquisitions than family, he gave her a blow-by-blow that took them into the main course.
'How do you know what you want before you have the room done?”
'I just do.' He moved his shoulders. 'I can't explain it. I've got this great davenport on hold for the upriver parlor. That's where I'm starting next, and it's not nearly as big a job as the kitchen. Walls and floors mostly. I want to get a good start on the interiors so I can concentrate on the galleries, the double stairs, have the place painted starting in April, if I'm lucky. That way, we should be able to shift back inside before the summer heat.”
'Why are you pushing so hard? The house isn't going anywhere.”
'Remember the single-minded, competitive nature I told you about?”
'Doesn't mean you can't relax a bit. How many hours are you putting in in a week?”
'I don't know. Ten, twelve a day generally.' Then he grinned and reached for her hand.
'You worried about me? I'll take more time off if you'll spend it with me.”
'I'm not that worried about you.' But she left her hand in his, let it be held against that hard, calloused palm. 'Still, Mardi Gras's coming. If you don't take some time to enjoy that, you might as well be in Boston.' She looked at the double souffli their waiter set in the middle of the table. 'Oh my. My, my.' She leaned forward, closed her eyes, and sniffed. And was laughing when she opened them again. 'Where's yours?”
He took her dancing. He'd found a club that played the slow fox-trots and jazzy swings of the thirties, and surprised her by whirling her around the floor until her legs were weak.
'You're full of surprises.”
'Bet your ass.' He swung her into his arms, had her blood pressure spiking when he ran his hands down her body and gripped her hips. Her body rolled against his, a wave sliding under a wave while a tenor sax wailed.
He dipped her, had her laughing even as her pulse went thick. She let her head fall back, her hair stream down as he lowered his face toward hers. His lips skimmed over her chin, just a hint of teeth, then he swept her up again, circled her, seduced her.
The lights were a warm, smoky blue, and his movements fluid so it was like moving underwater. The yearning she wasn't ready for crawled into her belly. With her eyes half closed, she skimmed a hand into his hair, brought his face closer, that last inch closer so his mouth met hers.
'You fit, Lena. We fit.”
She shook her head, turned it so her cheek rested against his. 'You make love half as well as you dance, you must have a trail of female smiles in your wake.”
'Let me show you.' He nipped at her earlobe, and felt her quick shiver. 'I want to touch you. I know how your skin will feel under my hands. I dreamed about it.”
She kept her eyes closed, tried to lock away the yearning. 'Just dance with me. It's getting late, and I want one more dance.”
She rested her head on his shoulder in the limo. The music, the wine, the soft lights were all still playing in her head. She felt drenched in romance, and knowing that had been his intention didn't diminish the effect. It only enhanced it.
He was a man who would trouble himself with the details. The large and the small. With the house he'd chosen, with the woman he wanted.
She admired that. Admired him.
'You show a girl a good time, cher.”
'Let me show you one tomorrow night.”
'I work tomorrow night.”
'Your next night off, then.”
'I'm going to think about that. I'm not being coy, Declan.' She sat up so she could look at him. 'I don't like coy. I'm being cautious. I can't say I care much for that, either, but where you're concerned I think it's the smart thing to be. And I do like being smart.”
As the limo glided to the curb in front of her home, she trailed a finger down his cheek. 'Now you walk me to my door, and kiss me good-night.”
He carried the silver bucket with the purple tulips. He set them down in front of her door, then framed her face in his hands.
The kiss was sweeter than she'd expected.
She'd been prepared for heat, the persuasive, pervasive heat that might melt her resistance. Instead he gave her the sweet, and the gentle, ending the evening as he'd begun it. With romance.
'How about before you go to work?' He lifted her hand to his lips now. 'I'll take you on a picnic.”
Undone, she stared at him. 'A picnic?”
