Bringing himself out of that morose thought, he wondered if she’d answered more than once. “Red, we’re having meat.”
Stupid statement, he also knew she’d stocked up with Irish wines. Every time they’d entered the Irish pub, Sláinte, he caught some silent communication with her and the owner. Not only had the man put her in contact with a store that carried fine Irish wines, but, because the owner referred her, her wine was delivered.
Danny knew she visited the bar when he’d had meetings and training. Having her country’s music, food, and togetherness seemed to help her acclimate. She’d kept to the area and didn’t balk at his security restrictions. They had no direct threat, but he’d purposefully omitted telling her about the men he’d hired to watch her, so she could feel independent but remain safe.
While the meal finished cooking, he pulled out his laptop and sat on the couch. It’d been a few days since he’d chatted with Justin. According to Justin, Boyle bought the fake deaths. The man hadn’t even choked up over his own daughter’s death. A daughter he’d loved until he found out she was in love with a police officer.
In an effort to keep in touch, he and Justin had set up secure email. It wouldn’t be instant communication, but it’d be something to keep each other updated. When he logged in, nothing new appeared. Danny silently swore. They had a schedule, and Justin had missed his update. Either Justin worried someone would trace their communication, or he— Danny swallowed that thought. If Justin had been questioned, tortured, or worse, he wouldn’t be able to warn Moira or Declan.
Danny kept his hope that nothing had changed with Boyle’s thoughts, but he still felt better keeping a small security detail on her.
Before he logged out, a new message appeared from Justin. Shouldn’t he be sleeping? Danny glanced at his watch, figured the time difference and worried.
Don’t forget to water the roses for me.
In a reply to the email, he typed, Should I add fertilizer?
The quick reply put him at ease—a little. No. I think they’re fine without it.
With the conversation over, Danny deleted the message and double deleted it how Devon had shown him to make sure it couldn’t easily be retrieved.
The aroma coming from the kitchen made his stomach growl as he finished shutting everything down. From his position, he watched her as she pulled out the bread, which made his mouth water. Maybe it was her bending over the stove, that—
He shouldn’t go there. The good news was, according to his brother, there was no word of Boyle suspecting Moira or her brother were still alive. Technically, they were safe. He’d still contact the DEA agent in Ireland. Maybe he could pull some information that Justin couldn’t share, due to communication limitations.
After putting away his laptop, he joined her in the open kitchen-dining area for supper. She’d allowed him to set the table, which made him feel like less of a dud making her cook in his house. It’d been an agreed-upon pattern, but sitting while someone cooked for him was hard. As he imagined it was for her also, especially in a strange house.
Through an excellent supper, he told stories of his teammates and they laughed at the antics of the crew. She looked remarkably enticing, even though he doubted she’d tried. She had that natural beauty appeal down pat.
It’d been tough keeping his growing feelings at bay. The draw to her had begun when he’d spotted her stepping out of the plane. After spending time with her, the more he’d learned about her, the deeper his cravings. It’d also told him that he needed time away from her for all the reasons he’d stated, plus the fact she was taken and didn’t give him the impression she reciprocated his feelings. Abruptly, he stood and tossed his napkin to the table. “I’ll help clean up.”
She looked at him funny. “Fine,” she agreed softly.
Together, they cleared the table and handwashed the dishes after a fight over who washed and dried. He rarely used his dishwasher as it took too many days to fill.
“You can dry,” she said. “Because your dishes aren’t clean enough when you wash.”
With a hand to his heart and a step back in feigned horror, he didn’t agree, but it didn’t matter. They’d get clean either way.
“I made some friends at the gallery down the street.” She handed him a white plate. He wasn’t very creative with his decor. Maybe she could help him spruce the place up some. He’d love her hand in making his house a home.
Wiping the plate, he nodded. “Wait. You what? When was this?” He hadn’t received that in a report from his men.
“Laura and Luke.”
His hand tightened on the next plate she’d handed him. Luke? “Are they a couple or something?” Please say yes, he thought, because he didn’t wear jealousy well.
With a swift shake of her head, she said, “Nay.”
Before he could probe more, they turned toward each other and Moira’s momentum brought her into his chest with her hands between them. Instantly, he grabbed the sides of her waist to steady her.
Fuck me. His breath caught and his heart squeezed as he held her against him. Gazing down into her bright eyes and watching them slowly darken sent heat south, tightening his jeans. All he wanted to do was take her into his arms and carry her to bed. He almost felt done in when she licked her lips. As if not in control, he dipped his head to kiss the ever-loving hell of her, but he came to a screeching halt. He couldn’t kiss his brother’s girl. But— “I want to kiss you so bad it hurts.”
Her
