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“Why not?” he says. “I like my kilt. This is the O’Connor tartan, and I also have two utility kilts in black and khaki. I wear them often.”
My mind hurtles back to Jennifer’s gaze of awe as she looked up Ronan’s kilt. “What exactly do you wear underneath your kilt?” I ask.
This time he grins. Not a huge grin, but it’s a grin. “Lipstick, if I’m lucky.”
Oh God…
He really is naked under there.
I have no idea how to respond to that, so I move my focus up his body. “That’s an interesting shirt.”
“It’s called a Jacobite shirt.” He pauses, eyeing me. “Don’t tell me you’re embarrassed to be seen with me like this.”
“Are you kidding? No. Of course not. But people are going to stare at you on the street. Gawk even. And not just because you’re dressed strangely. Because you’re so…” I sigh.
“I’m what, Blossom? Say it.”
I can’t not say it now. “Because you’re so fucking hot.”
He burns an ice-blue stare into me.
“If that bothered me, I wouldn’t dress like this. Besides, mo leannan”—he piles on the brogue again—“no one’s going to be looking at me if you’re by my side.”
My cheeks warm, my legs threatening to turn to jelly. “What did you call me?”
“Mo leannan. It means”—he leans toward me, his mouth close to my ear—“my lover.”
This time my legs do give out, but Ronan steadies me, and in a moment, our bodies are touching. He’s so warm, and even with his shirt on, I can feel the cords of his muscles through all of our layers of clothes.
“Mo leannan,” he whispers into my ear. “How about we have that pizza now?”
I breathe in and let it out slowly, gathering my bearings. Then I move back a few steps. “Absolutely.” I lead him toward the stairwell, which takes us up behind the bar in the building.
“Leaving so soon?” Alfred asks as we come to the bar.
“Ronan here wants a slice of mouthwatering New York pizza.”
“Gianni’s?” Alfred suggests.
“You got it.”
“What’s Gianni’s?” Ronan asks.
“Only the best New York–style pizza in the city. It’s not far from here, only a few blocks.”
“Sounds perfect,” Ronan says. “See you, Alfred.”
“Ro,” Alfred says, smiling.
“Ro?” I ask as we leave the bar.
“Not my favorite, but Alfred’s a good guy.”
“What do you like to be called?” I ask.
“Ronan, mostly. But for you? I’ll settle for…sir.”
God…
