around her waist. Just for a moment she wanted that illusion of quiet, settled love. 'Myself, I'm not in the market for a slave, but you're welcome to whatever you can forage.'
He settled for toast, since she didn't seem to have much else, and leaned against the counter while it browned and she poured boiling water over the waiting grounds.
'God.' He breathed deep. 'How does anyone live without the smell of that in the morning?' He gave her a pitying look. 'Tea.'
'You Yanks drink so much of it, you don't know it doesn't taste near as good as it smells.'
'Blasphemy. There's a deli two blocks from where I live. Now, they make coffee that brings tears of gratitude to a man's eye.'
'You miss that.' Since it did smell seductive, she got down a mug for herself. 'The delis, the hustle-bustle.' She opened the refrigerator and got out her little carton of cream. 'What else do you miss about New York?'
The toast popped. 'Bagels.'
'Bagels?' She got out butter and jam as well, then just stood holding them and staring at him. 'A man of your resources, and what you miss about New York is coffee and bagels?'
'Right at this moment, I'd pay a hundred dollars for a fresh bagel. No offense to your Irish soda bread. But, really.'
'Well, that's a wonder.'
He started to make some joke, but the glorious scent that filled the kitchen had his mind clicking in. It was, he decided, too good an opening to pass up.
'New York's got more to offer than coffee and bagels-though they shouldn't be lightly dismissed.' He put the toast on the plate she offered him. 'Restaurants, theater, art-and for the materialistic, anything and everything that can be bought. You'd love it.'
'Because I'm materialistic?'
'Because if you know what you want, it's next to impossible not to find it there. Thanks.' He accepted the mug with deep and sincere gratitude. 'It's one of the places you'd go if you signed with Celtic.'
And so, she thought, the door closes on intimacy and opens to business. There was no point in regretting it. 'And why would I go to New York?'
'The same reason you'd go to Dublin, London, Chicago, L.A., Sydney, wherever. Concerts, media, exposure.'
She added cream and sugar to her own brew. 'It's a lot to promise when you don't know how I'll record, or perform, or stand up to the kind of life that would make.'
'I do know. It's my business to know.'
'You've a lot of businesses, Trevor, and I'll wager you're good at each and every one. But it's this particular one that concerns me. I take your word on this and make this change, I change everything. It's a lot for me to risk because you like the sound of my voice.'
She held up a hand before he could speak. 'You'd risk as well, I understand that. You'd be making an investment in me. But that's what you do, isn't it? You make investments, and if one doesn't pay off, another does, so it's no great loss. A disappointment, an annoyance, but not your life.'
'Point taken,' he said after a moment. 'Get dressed.'
'I beg your pardon?'
'Get dressed. I think I have a way to settle your mind on part of this.' He glanced at the kitchen clock. 'Make it fast, will you?'
'You've your nerve, don't you? Ordering me about this way, and at six in the morning at that.'
He started to ask what the hell the time had to do with it, then wisely concluded that arguing would only force her to dig in her heels. 'Sorry. Would you come with me? It won't take long, and it does go to your point. Your very valid point.'
'Clever, aren't you? Well, I'll go because I'm up and about anyway. But keep in mind I'm not on your payroll, and I don't jump when you snap.'
She turned and stalked back to the bedroom. Satisfied, Trevor finished his breakfast.
For the second time that morning, Trevor roused someone out of sleep. In this case, the results weren't as cozy.
'Bloody fucking hell' was Nigel's response. 'If your lady's kicked you out of bed at this godforsaken hour, take the sofa. I'm not budging, and I'm not sharing.'
'I don't want to get in the bed, I want you to get out of it. Darcy's downstairs.'
One of the eyes Nigel had firmly shut popped open. 'Does that mean you're sharing?'
'Remind me to punch you later. Right now, get up, get dressed, and make yourself presentable.'
'No one's presentable at- Jesus, six-thirty in the morning!'
'I'm pressed for time, Nigel.' Trevor turned and started out. 'Five minutes.'
'At least put the bloody coffee on,' Nigel shouted.
'I'm not making it this time,' Darcy said firmly the minute Trevor came down the steps. She had her arms folded over her breasts and a steely look in her eye. She'd already made it known, in no uncertain terms, that she hadn't appreciated Trevor rushing her along.
'No problem.' He snagged her hand and pulled her with him toward the kitchen. 'Do you want some tea this time?'
'I won't be placated by a cup of tea. You barely gave me time to put on my lipstick.'
'You don't need it.'
Since he hadn't yet put the kettle on, he had to assume the hissing sound came from her and not from boiling water. 'Oh, it's ever like a man to say something so stupid and think it's a compliment.'
He got the kettle going, then turned back to her. 'You are,' he said, very deliberately, 'the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. And I've seen a considerable number of beautiful women.'
She only huffed and sat at the table. 'Flattery isn't going to help you.'
It surprised them both when he walked to her, cupped her face in his hands, lifted it. 'You take my breath away, Darcy. That's not flattery, that's fact.'
Her heart fluttered. There was no help for it, and no way to stop the emotion from swirling into her eyes.
'Trevor.' She murmured it, drawing him to her, then again with her lips against his.
And it was there, suddenly, like light. The love and the longing, the wishes yet unsaid. For an instant, for the time it takes a needy heart to beat, she felt him answer it, and her world shimmered like a jewel.
Music, she swore she heard it. The romance of harp-song, the celebration of pipes, the lusty beat of drums. The sound she made, her mouth warm on his, was a kind of song. A single note of joy.
'Sorry to interrupt,' Nigel said dryly from the doorway. 'But you did tell me to hurry it up.'
The light fractured, wavered. Trevor drew back, his hands still framing her face, his eyes still on hers. Then he stepped away, and the music died.
'Yeah.' Something was echoing in his head, in his heart, but he couldn't get hold of it. He rubbed a hand over his shirt, as beneath it the silver disk seemed abruptly hot against his heart.
Behind him the kettle shrilled, one long scream of frustration. Trevor turned and shut it off with a restrained anger that made no sense to him.
'Good morning, Darcy.' Nigel thought it was like stepping into raw nerves, but he kept his polished and pleasant expression in place. 'Can I offer you some coffee once it's done?'
'No, thanks all the same, but I've had some already. After my rude awakening this morning.'
'Ah.' Deciding to make the best of it, Nigel sat across from her at the table. 'When our Trevor gets in a mood, no one is safe. He's a tidal wave.'
'Is he, now?'
'Christ, yes.' Nigel lit his first cigarette of the day. 'You get swept along, or you drown. Of course, it's one of the ways he gets things done when he wants and as he wants.'
Enjoying herself now, Darcy leaned forward. 'Tell me more.'
'He's a single-minded individual, and detours only rarely-when he deems it worth his while. Ruthless, some would say, and they wouldn't be wrong.' He paused, blew out smoke. 'But he's a boy who loves his mother.'
'Shut up, Nigel,' Trevor ordered when Darcy laughed.
'Not until I've had my coffee.'
