considerably relaxed.' She opened her eyes and pondered the plasterwork of scrolls and stars on the ceiling. 'And enjoying the view.'
'Late eighteenth century.'
'Isn't that interesting?' Amused, she stretched under him like a cat, then ran her hands over his back, more for her pleasure than his. 'Would that be Georgian or rococo? I never can keep my historical periods straight.'
It made him grin and lift his head to look down at her. 'I'll give you the full tour with a lesson later if you like. But just now-' He began to move inside her again.
'Oh, well, now,' she murmured. 'You're a healthy one, aren't you?'
'If you don't have your health'-he lowered his head, bit her lip-'you don't have anything.'
He was a man of his word and took her to dinner. French food served elegantly enough to soothe, fussily enough to amuse, with wine designed to turn golden on the tongue. The surroundings-gilt mirrors, quiet colors, candlelight glowing in crystal-suited her, Trevor thought. No one looking at the stunning woman in the sleek and simple black dress would imagine her waiting tables in an Irish pub.
Another skill of hers, he decided, a chameleon's ability to alter her image at will. The sassy barmaid, the heartbreaking singer, the sexy delight, the breezy sophisticate.
And which, he wondered, was Darcy Gallagher, at the heart?
He waited until she was sipping champagne with her elaborate dessert before he touched on business.
'One of my meetings today involved you.'
She glanced over, momentarily distracted from her debate of whether eating every bite of that fancy and extraordinary concoction on her plate would be bourgeois.
'Me? Oh, you mean the theater?'
'No, though I had some dealings regarding that, too.'
She decided she could safely eat half of it without looking like a complete bumpkin, and spooned up a glorious combination of cream and chocolate. 'What other business might I be a part of?'
'Celtic Records.' He gauged his rhythm. One more aspect of her was the businesswoman, and he didn't underestimate that side of her.
She frowned a little, lifted her glass. 'For the recording of Shawn's music, and the performance at the opening. That's a family decision and a family enterprise, I suppose you'd call it. I think we'll be willing to come to terms on that.'
'I hope you will.' Casually, he sampled a bite of her dessert. 'But that isn't what I meant. I'm speaking of you, Darcy, specifically, exclusively.'
Her pulse jumped, so she set the champagne down again. 'Exclusively, in what way exactly?'
'I want your voice.'
'Ah.' She squashed the hard jolt of disappointment. It had no place here, she told herself. 'Is that why you brought me here, Trevor?'
'In part. And that part is totally separate from what happened this evening.'
When his hand covered hers, she glanced down, studied the way they fit. Then, because that was too romantic a notion for comfort, she looked back up at him. 'Naturally such matters must remain separate, or they're altogether a mess, aren't they? You wouldn't be a man who usually pursues, what would it be, clients, in this sort of way.'
He drew back from her, his eyes going hard as stone. 'I don't use sex as a lever, if that's what you mean. Being lovers has nothing whatsoever to do with any of our business dealings.'
'Of course not. And if we could only have one or the other, which would it be?'
'That,' he said stiffly, 'would be up to you.'
'I see.' She managed a faint smile. 'That's good to know. You'll excuse me a moment, won't you?'
She needed to gather herself, to give her head and heart a chance to settle. Leaving him frowning after her, she walked to the ladies' room, where she could lean on the pretty tiled counter and get hold of herself.
What was wrong with her? The man was offering her a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, one that was hers to take or discard as she pleased. Why should it hurt? Why did it leave her feeling not just unsettled but unhappy as well?
Somehow she had come to weave romantic notions around Trevor Magee without even being aware of doing so. And those notions, those imaginings, had him caring for her. Caring for who she was, with all her many flaws. Caring with no strings attached, no outside interests connected. Just caring, she thought, and closing her eyes, she lowered herself to sit on the padded stool in front of the mirror.
Her own fault, of course. He stirred something in her that no one else ever had. And he'd come very close, dangerously close, to touching something so deep in her heart that she had trouble recognizing just what it was.
But she thought she could fall in love with him, with very little effort. And perhaps no encouragement at all. Then what?
Steadying herself, she looked in the mirror. Face the facts, Darcy. A man like Trevor didn't tie himself permanently to a woman of her background and limitations. Sure, she could present herself well, play the game skillfully, but under it all she was and would forever be Darcy Gallagher of Ardmore, who worked the family pub.
Another type of man she could twist around her finger and make him forget such mundane matters. And hadn't she always planned to? Hadn't she hoped to find a fine, wealthy man one day who would fall under her spell and give her a life full of luxury? She'd have been willing to fall in love, or at least to have a great fondness for the man who fit the bill. She'd have wanted to respect him and enjoy him and would have given him all her affection and her loyalty in return.
That wasn't shameful.
But Trevor wasn't a man who would see only a pleasing face. He'd just given her proof of that. Business was very much a part of what he wanted from her, and a deal for mutual profit marched alongside the attraction.
Passion, she thought, such as they'd found in each other, would flame high and fizzle out. She didn't have to be a romantic like Jude to know that passion without love was short-lived.
So- it was best to be sensible and to take as much of both parts he offered her as she pleased. She rose, squared her shoulders, and went out to join him.
He'd ordered coffee and was brooding into it. He wasn't sure whether to be relieved or baffled that the sorrow he was certain had been in her eyes when she'd risen wasn't there as she sat across from him again.
'I'm not sure I made myself clear,' he began, but she shook her head, smiled easily.
'No, you did. But I wanted a moment to think.' She picked up her spoon, had another taste of dessert. 'First, tell me about Celtic Records. You said, on the plane, the company is six years old.'
'That's right. I had an interest in music, traditional in particular. My mother's fond of it.'
'Is she?'
'She's fourth generation. You'd think she'd been born in a crofter's cottage in County Mayo. She's fiercely Irish.'
'So you started the company for your mother.'
'No.' Then he found himself fumbling, frowning. Of course he had, in a very real way. Why hadn't he realized that before? For God's sake, he'd even named it for her. 'Partly. I suppose.'
'I think that's a lovely thing.' And made her want to stroke his hair. 'Why does it befuddle you?'
'It's business.'
'So's the pub, but it's family as well. I like your Celtic Records more for knowing it's both. It's more important to you, and you'll take more care of it, because it's both. I prefer considering dealings with a company that's well cared for.'
'This one is. And so are the artists we sign. We're based in New York, but we've cracked the international market, so we have an office here. And we'll open one in Dublin within the year.'
We, thought Darcy, almost never did he say / when speaking of it. She doubted it was modesty, but more a keen sense and appreciation of teamwork. It made her think of the pub again, and she nodded. 'What kind of arrangement are you looking for? Business-wise,' she added, pleased when his eyes narrowed.
'A standard recording contract.'
'Well, now, I wouldn't know what that entails, having no experience in the area.' She studied him over the rim
