not.'
Darcy tossed a sneering look toward the backseat. 'And neither are you, my girl.'
'And more's the pity.' Brenna shifted, came forward to prop her arms on the back of the front seats. 'So tell us poor deprived women about sex with Aidan. There's a pal, Jude.'
'No.' She said it with a laugh.
'Oh, don't be a prude.' Brenna poked her shoulder.
'Tell me, does he take his sweet time about it, or is he a member of the Irish Foreplay Club?'
'The Irish Foreplay Club?'
'Ah, you've not heard of it,' Brenna said soberly as Darcy snickered. 'Their battle cry is 'Brace yourself, Bridget.' Then they're in and out before their lager's gone warm.'
Surprising herself, Jude all but screamed with laughter. 'He doesn't call me Bridget unless I call him Shamus.'
'She's made a joke.' Darcy wiped an imaginary tear from her eye. 'Our Jude. What a proud moment this is.'
'And a fine one,' Brenna agreed. 'But tell us, Jude, does he take his time with it, sort of sliding around and nibbling in the right places, or is it all hot and fast and over with before you can call out you've seen God?'
'I can't talk about sex with Aidan with his sister in the car.'
'Well, then, let's dump her out so you can tell me.'
'Why can't you talk of it?' Darcy demanded, with barely a pause for a glare at Brenna. 'I know he has sex. The bastard. But if it troubles you, don't think of me as his sister for the moment, but as your friend.'
Exasperated, Jude blew out a breath. 'All right, I'll just say it's the best I've ever had. Although with William it was like- a precise military march,' she decided, shocking herself again. 'And before him there was only Charles.'
'Charles, was it? Brenna, our Jude has a past.'
'And who was Charles?' Brenna prompted.
'He was in finance.'
'So he was rich.' Darcy pounced eagerly on the magic word.
'His family was. We met during my last year of college. I suppose the physical relationship with him was- Well, let's say that when it was done all the figures added up, but it was a rather tedious process. Aidan's romantic.'
Her companions made oohing noises that had her giggling helplessly. 'Oh, stop. I'm not saying another word about it.'
'What a bitch to tease us that way.' Brenna tugged on Jude's hair. 'Sure you can give us just one little example of his romantic side as relates to good sex.'
'One?'
'Just one and we'll be satisfied, won't we, Darcy?'
'Why, of course. We wouldn't pry into her personal life, would we?'
'All right. The first time, he picked me up right off the floor at the cottage and carried me upstairs. All the way upstairs to the bedroom.'
'Like Rhett carried Scarlett?' Darcy asked. 'Or over the shoulder like you were a sack of potatoes?''
'Like Rhett and Scarlett.'
'That's a good one.' Brenna pillowed her cheek on her arms. 'He gets high marks for that.'
'He treats me like I'm special.'
'Why shouldn't he?' Darcy demanded.
'No one ever has. And, well, since we're on the subject, and it's not exactly a secret what's going on, I don't have anything- well, pretty, sexy. Lingerie and that kind of thing. I thought maybe you could help me pick some out.'
'I know just the place for it.' Darcy all but rubbed her hands together.
'I spent two thousand pounds on underwear.'
Dazed, Jude walked down bustling Grafton Street. There were people everywhere, swarming. Shoppers, tourists, packs of teenagers, and every few feet, it seemed, musicians playing for coins. It was dazzling, the noise and colors and shapes. But nothing was more dazzling than what she'd just done.
'Two thousand. On underwear.'
'And worth every penny,' Darcy said briskly. 'He'll be a slave to you.'
They were loaded with shopping bags, and though Jude had gone into the foray determined to buy recklessly, her idea of reckless was Darcy's notion of conservative. Somehow, within two hours she accumulated what seemed like an entire wardrobe, with accessories, all at Darcy's ruthless instigation.
'I can't carry anything else.'
'Here.' Stopping, Darcy snatched some of the bags from Jude and shoved them at Brenna.
'I didn't buy anything.'
'So you have free hands, then, don't you? Oh! Look at those shoes.' Darcy barreled through the crowd gathered around a trio of fiddlers, homing in on target. 'They're darling.'
'I want my tea,' Brenna muttered, then scowled at the strappy black shoes with four-inch heels that Darcy was drooling over. 'You'd have blisters and calf cramps before you'd walked a kilometer in those things.'
'They're not for walking, you idiot. I'm having them.' Darcy breezed through the door of the shop.
'I'll never get my tea,' Brenna complained. 'I'll die of starvation and dehydration and the pair of you won't even notice as I'll be buried under a mountain of shopping sacks, in which, I'll add, is not a single thing of my own.'
'We'll have tea as soon as I try on the shoes. Here, Jude, these are for you.'
'I don't need any more shoes.' But she was weak and collapsed in a chair and found herself studying the pretty bronze-toned pumps. 'They're lovely, but then I'd need a bag to go with them.'
'A bag. Jesus.' Brenna rolled her eyes back in her head and slid out of the chair in a heap.
She bought the shoes and a bag, then a wonderful jacket from the shop just down the street. Then there was a silly straw hat that she simply had to have for gardening. Because they were so overloaded, they took a vote and with Brenna the only nay hauled their purchases back to the car to lock them in the trunk before hunting up a place for a meal.
'Thank Mary and all the saints.' Brenna sprawled in a booth in a tiny Italian restaurant that smelled gloriously of garlic. 'I'm faint with hunger. I'll have a pint of Harp,' she ordered the second the waiter shuffled over, 'and a pizza with everything on it but your kitchen sink.'
'No, you won't.' Darcy flipped out her napkin and shot the waiter a smile that had him tumbling directly into love. 'We'll get a pizza and we each pick two of the toppings. I'll have a Harps as well, but just a glass.'
'Well, then, I want mushrooms and sausage for my picks.'
'Fine.' Darcy nodded across the booth at Brenna. 'And I'll have black olives and green peppers. Jude?'
'Ah, mineral water and-' She caught Brenna's eye, kept her face sober as her friend desperately mouthed pepperoni and capers. 'Pepperoni and capers,' she ordered dutifully.
She sighed, sat back and took inventory. Her feet hurt miserably, she couldn't remember half of what she'd just bought, she had a vague headache from lack of food and presence of constant conversation, and she was joyously happy about all of it.
'It's the first day I've spent in Dublin,' Jude began. 'I haven't been to one museum or gallery, or taken a single picture. I didn't walk St. Stephen's Green or go to Trinity College to see the library or the Book of Kells. It's shameful.'
'Why? Dublin's not going anywhere.' Darcy pulled herself away from her flirtation with the waiter. 'You can come back and do all that whenever you like.'
'I suppose I can. It's just that normally, that's what I would have done. And I'd have planned it all out, pored over the guidebooks and made up an itinerary and a schedule, and while I would have figured in some shopping time for mementoes, that would have been at the bottom of the list.'
'So you just turned the list around, didn't you?' Darcy offered the waiter another beaming smile when he served their drinks.
'Everything's turned around. Wait.' She gripped Brenna's wrist before she could lift her pint.
'Jude, my throat's dry as an eighty-year-old virgin. Have pity.'
