She pressed a kiss to each of Aidan's cheeks. 'You were just what I needed, just when I needed you.'
She did give it time. Her talk with Aidan had settled her and made her able to enjoy the time. As the days passed into a week, she even found herself amused that neither she nor Trevor brought up the potential business end of their relationship.
He was, she thought, as canny a negotiator as she was. One of them would break first. She didn't intend for it to be her.
Work on the theater progressed in a kind of stage by stage that she found more interesting than she would ever have believed. A change was happening right outside her window. A monumental change that had its seeds in a dream and was so much more than bricks and mortar.
She wanted it for him. That, she supposed, was the nature of love. That you could want so intensely your lover's dream to come true.
Now that most of the roof was on, she missed seeing Trevor out her window. He was inside the shell of the building as often as not. As the noise was as terrible as ever, she rarely kept her windows open on the off chance of hearing his voice.
With summer, the beaches drew people to Ardmore, and so the pub. Work kept her mind occupied, and for the first time she began to see just what the theater would mean to home.
It wasn't only the villagers and the neighbors talking of it now, but those who visited.
She could stop for a moment in the crush of a lunch shift, look around at the packed tables and bar, hear the voices, and imagine what it would be like the following summer. And she could wonder where she would be.
As both she and Trevor appreciated the distance from work, most nights she went to the cottage. It became her habit to walk whenever weather allowed, though he never failed to offer his car. She liked the quiet that slid over the air after midnight, and the balm of the breeze, and rush of starlight.
Odd, but she wasn't sure she'd really appreciated it before she'd understood she wouldn't be there forever. The softness that came from the sea, and the waves that were a constant hum and lap in the night.
When the moon was bright, she liked it best, that alone time where she could see the cliffs throw shadows.
Whenever she reached Tower Hill, she stopped. If the wind was pushing the clouds, the spear of the tower seemed to sway, and the stones, old and new, beneath it stood silent and still.
Flowers bloomed yet on the grave of Johnnie Magee. But Carrick, if he was there, chose not to show himself.
She walked on. The road narrowed, and the scatter of lights in Ardmore were lost behind her. There was the scent now of fields and grass and growing things, then the glow out of the shadowed dark that was the lights in the cottage on the faerie hill.
He was waiting for her. And that, she thought with a delicious thrill, was just how she liked it.
As always, her heart grew lighter and she had to force herself not to rush to the gate. He called out to her the minute she stepped inside.
'Back in the kitchen.'
Now wasn't that homey, she thought, amused at both of them. The little woman home from work and the man in the kitchen. It was a bit like playing house, she supposed, and tried not to worry that the house, and the game, wasn't for either of them in the long run.
He was at the stove, which amused her. He could cook, as he'd demonstrated at that first breakfast. But he wasn't one to make a habit of it.
'Want some soup?' He stirred at the little pot, sniffed. 'It's canned, but it's food. I was stuck on the phone all night and missed dinner.'
'Thanks, no. I managed to get some of Shawn's lasagna, which I can promise tasted better than that will. If you'd called, I'd have brought you some.'
'Didn't think of it.' He turned to get a bowl out of the cupboard. One look at her, and he wanted to grab her. 'You're later than usual,' he said, keeping his tone casual as she set a bag on the counter. 'I wasn't sure you'd make it tonight.'
'We were busier than usual. I shouldn't say 'usual,' ' she corrected and rolled the ache from her shoulders. 'We've been packed every night this week. Aidan wants Shawn to take on some help in the kitchen, and you'd think Aidan had brought his manhood into question. Such a ruckus. They were still going at it when I left.'
'Aidan's going to need another man at the bar.'
'Well, I won't be the one to say so, as he'll have the same reaction as Shawn. I'm not having my head bit off.'
She got the kettle to fill as Trevor leaned back against the counter, spooning up soup where he stood. 'I'll have some tea to keep you company. Since you're eating, you might want to have what's in the bag with your tinned soup.'
'What is it?'
She only smiled and turned on the tap. Trevor set down his bowl, peeked in the bag. When his hand darted in, like an eager boy's into a pond after a prize frog, she laughed.
'Bagels?'
'Well, we couldn't have you pining, could we?' Delighted with his reaction, she carried the kettle to the stove. 'Shawn made them, lest you think I've been baking-and believe me you're better off I haven't. He wasn't pleased with the first batch or you'd have had them a couple of days ago. But he's well satisfied with these, so I think you'll enjoy them.'
Trevor only stood there, the plastic-wrapped bread in his hand, staring at her as she turned on the burner under the kettle. It was ridiculous, insane, but something was stirring inside him. Warm, fluid, lovely. In defense, he struggled with a joke.
'A full dozen, too. I guess I owe you twelve hundred dollars.'
She glanced back, her face blank for a moment, then it filled with humor. 'A hundred a piece. I forgot about that. Damn, I suppose I'll have to split it with Shawn.' She patted his cheek, then reached for the tea. 'Well, no charge this time. I thought you'd enjoy a little bit of home.'
'Thank you.'
His voice was so serious, she glanced back, saw his face. His mouth was serious as well, and his eyes were dark and fixed on her. Her pulse scrambled, so she covered it with a shrug. 'You're very welcome, but it's just a bit of bread after all.'
No, it wasn't. She'd thought of it. Without even realizing how much the small gesture would mean, she'd thought of him.
He set the bag down, stepped to her, turned her. And laid his mouth on hers.
Soft, lush, long and deep. That something that stirred inside him swelled.
He drew back, half believing he'd see what it was, what it meant, in her face. But her eyes were clouded. Deep blue smoke blurring whatever was behind them.
'Well.' She was sinking, sinking without meaning to have stepped into the bog. 'I can't wait to see what happens after you taste-'
But he silenced her. Another kiss, luxurious and tender. She was trembling, he realized, and had trembled against him before. But it was different, for both of them somehow different. The crackle of power that always snapped between them was only a low humming now, steady and true. The blood that always raced ran thick, almost lazy.
'Trevor.' His name circled in her head, slipped through her lips. 'Trevor.'
He reached behind her, switched off the burner, then lifted her into his arms. 'I want to make love with you.' And saying it, he knew it would be the first time.
She pressed her lips to the side of his throat as he carried her out. It was like sliding into a dream, she thought, one she hadn't known she had pooled inside her. Being granted a wish she hadn't known slept in her heart.
She felt- treasured.
When he carried her up the stairs, the romance of it made her heart ache. Music drifted through her head. Harps and flutes both low and sweet. He stopped, looked at her, and she thought he must hear it as well. Such moments were made for magic.
The bedroom windows were open, so the wind danced through the curtains and brought with it all the damp
