and joists, stood under the tarp where the plumbers worked and listened to rain patter on canvas. He drank a gallon of coffee and began to feel marginally human again.
Brenna was right, he decided. Busy hands kept the mind occupied so what was troubling it could stew and turn in the corners. He would figure out what was happening and what to do about it while he dealt with the business at hand.
That, he thought, amused at himself, was a great deal more efficient than brooding.
Drenched and muddy and in a much happier frame of mind, he hefted another board. And nerves danced in his belly, up his spine, over the back of his neck. He was compelled, as he had been the night before, to look up.
Darcy stood in the window, watching him through the thin curtain of rain.
She didn't smile, nor did he. In that meeting of eyes was an acute awareness that was primitive, sexual, erotic as the slide of naked flesh on naked flesh. There was nothing of the casual flirtation that had passed between them that first morning. Nothing of the clever, seductive game they'd played since.
The flash and burn. Yes, he understood that exactly as he stood in the chilly rain staring at a woman he barely knew.
Barely knew, he thought, but had to have. And he didn't give a damn how quickly the fire died. Annoyed that he could be so easily manipulated by his own desires, he shifted the lumber on his shoulder and carried it to the team of carpenters.
When, unable to do otherwise, he looked back, she was gone.
She acted as if nothing had happened, as if that bolt of knowledge hadn't flashed between them. When Trevor came in out of the wet for lunch, she sent him a casual glance and continued to take the orders at one of her stations without a single hitch of rhythm.
It was admirable, and infuriating. He'd never had a woman stir both emotions in him so effortlessly.
The lunch crowd was thinner today. He supposed the weather kept some of the tourists within the confines of the hotel. Knowing it was perverse, he deliberately chose a table in Sinead's section. It would be interesting to see what move Darcy made in this little chess match they appeared to be playing.
Clever, was Darcy's opinion when she noticed his strategy. Though it would cost him in speed of service, he'd made his point. It was her turn to take a step ahead or back. Then again, she pondered as she scooped up the tip from a table that had just cleared, there was always sideways.
'A bit wet out today, is it, Trevor?' She called across the room while she gathered dirty dishes.
'More than a bit.'
'Ah, well, it's what makes us what we are. A day like this I imagine you'd rather be tucked into your fancy office in New York City.'
Enjoying himself, he propped a booted foot on his knee. 'I like it fine where I am. How about you?'
'Oh, when I'm here I think about being there, and vice versa. I'm a fickle creature.' Pulling out her pad, she moved to the next table, beamed smiles. 'And what is it I can get for you today?'
She took their orders, and those of another table besides, delivered them in to Shawn, and served drinks before Sinead managed to make her way to Trevor. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Darcy smirk.
He kept it simple, a bowl of soup, and waited until Darcy was serving the next batch of meals. 'I need to do some research in the area, and this seems like a good day for it. Why don't you play guide for me?'
'It's kind of you to think of me, but I wouldn't have time to do it justice.'
'I can only spare a couple of hours myself. How about it, Aidan, can I borrow your sister between shifts?'
'Her time's her own until five.'
'Borrow, is it?' Darcy let out a short laugh. 'I think not. But if you've a mind to hire me for the service of guiding you here and about, we could negotiate a reasonable fee.'
'Five pounds an hour.'
Her eyes were sharp and somehow sweet. 'I said reasonable. Ten, and I'll spare you the time.'
'Greedy.'
'Piker,' she shot back and had several customers chuckling.
'Ten it is, and you'd better be good.'
'Darling'-she fluttered her lashes-'no man's ever told me otherwise.'
She headed toward the kitchen, and Trevor dipped into the soup Sinead set in front of him. Both of them were completely satisfied with the arrangement.
She had to fuss a bit. It would have gone against both nature and habit for Darcy not to take time to put on fresh lipstick, dab on some perfume, rearrange her hair, debate about changing her clothes. In the end she decided the sage green shirt and black weskit and trousers were more than adequate for a daytime tour.
Yanks, as far as she could tell, were mad keen on driving around Irish roads, rain or shine, as if they'd never seen a field of grass in their lives.
Mindful of the weather, she tied back her hair with a black ribbon and tossed on a jacket before meandering back downstairs.
She was used to men waiting for her.
Shawn was whistling over the last of the lunch shift cleanup. It surprised her that Trevor wasn't, as she'd expected, cooling his heels in the kitchen and drinking a cup of the coffee he seemed to live on.
'Trevor out in the pub, then?'
'Couldn't say. I heard him mention to Brenna he had some calls to make. That was before you went upstairs to redo your war paint.'
Since that remark didn't rate a response, she sailed out into the pub, only to find Aidan alone, and preparing to lock up.
'Did you kick the man out and make him wait in the car?'
'Hmm? Oh, Trevor? No, I think he said he had someone to ring up.'
Shock ran straight down to her pretty painted toenails. 'He left?'
'I imagine he'll be back directly. Since you're waiting, I'll leave you to lock up. And see that you're back on time, Darcy.'
'But-' She could barely stutter out the single syllable, which didn't matter in the least, as Aidan was already out the door.
She never did the waiting. It was just wrong somehow to be ready and not have the man pacing about and looking at his watch for the second or third time. It set the wrong tone entirely.
More baffled than annoyed she turned to go back up to her rooms and forget the entire arrangement. The door opened, letting in a damp chill and Trevor.
'Good, you're ready to go. Sorry, I got hung up.' He stood, holding the door, smiling easily. The puzzled irritation on her face was very close to what he'd expected. He was certain that every man she'd ever dealt with had waited, panting, for her to finally make her entrance.
Your move, gorgeous, he thought.
'My time's worth considerable, even if yours isn't.' She strode past him, flashing him an annoyed look before she stepped outside.
'Time's part of the problem.' He stood, shielding her from the worst of the wet as she locked the pub doors. 'Everybody wants a piece of it. What I want is a couple of hours away from phones and demands for answers.'
'Then I won't ask you any questions.'
He led her to the car, held her door until she was settled. And wondering how long she was going to steam, rounded the hood to the driver's side.
'I thought we'd head north for a while. Maybe hook up with the coast road, then just- see.'
'You've the wheel, and the wallet.'
He pulled away from the curb. 'Everyone says getting lost in Ireland is part of its charm.'
'I don't imagine those with a destination in mind would find it charming.'
'Fortunately I don't have one at the moment.'
Darcy shifted, settled comfortably. It was a fine vehicle, roomy and with an expensive smell to it, even if it was leased. It wasn't such a hardship, she supposed, to ride around in a classy car with a handsome man. Who was, when it came down to it, paying for the privilege.
'I imagine you always have your destination firmly in mind before taking the first step.'
