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back after loving you.”
“I wasn’t thinking of him like that.” Appalled, she sat up, too mortified to remember she was naked. “I was just thinking that if he wasn’t having a baby, my mother wouldn’t have told me, and I wouldn’t have gotten upset and come down to the pub and—it all led to here, to this,” she finished weakly.
He still had the energy for arrogance. Lifting a brow, he said, “I’d have gotten you here eventually.”
“I’m glad it was tonight. Now. Because it was so perfect. I’m sorry. It was a stupid thing to say.”
“You’re going to have to stop assuming every stray thought that comes out of your mouth is stupid. And since there’s a logic to the pattern you just mentioned, I say we drink a toast to the timing of William’s virility.”
Relieved, she beamed at him. “I suppose we could, though he’s not half as good in bed as you are.” Instantly her cheery grin became a look of horror. “Oh, what a thing to say!”
“If you think I’m insulted by that, you’re mistaken.” Chuckling, Aidan sat up as well, and kissed her soundly. “I’d say it’s worth another toast. To William’s stupidity in not recognizing the jewel he had so she could fall into my hands.”
Jude threw her arms around him, hugged hard. “No one’s ever touched me the way you did. I didn’t think anyone would ever want to.”
“I’m already wanting to again.” He nuzzled into the curve of her neck. “Why don’t we go down and have that wine, and a bit of soup or whatever. Then we’ll come back and start all over again?”
“I think that’s a wonderful idea.” She ordered herself not to feel awkward as she climbed out of bed to dress. He’d already seen all of her there was to see, so it was foolish to be shy now.
Still, she was relieved when she was covered in the borrowed shirt and her slacks. But when she reached for a band for her hair, Aidan laid a hand on her shoulder and made her jump.
“Why are you tying it back?”
“Because it’s awful.”
“I like it wild.” He played his fingers through it. “Sort of rioting around in this lovely dense color.”
“It’s brown.” And she’d always considered it as original as tree bark.
“So’s mink, darling.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “What’ll we do with you, Jude Frances, if you ever take the blinders off and really look at yourself? I think you’ll be a terror. Come on now and leave it be,” he added and began to tug her toward the door. “I’m the one who’s looking at it, after all.”
She was too pleased to argue, but took a stand once they were in the kitchen. “You cooked breakfast, so I’ll fix dinner,” she said and got out the wine. “I’m not much of a cook, so you’ll have to make do with my fallback meal.”
“And what might that be?”
“Soup from a can and grilled cheese sandwiches.”
“Sounds like just the trick on a rainy night.” He took the wine and settled at a chair at the kitchen table. “Plus I get the pleasure of watching you make it.”
“When I first saw this kitchen, I thought it was charming.” She moved to the hearth and lit the fire with an ease that surprised Aidan a little. “Then I realized there wasn’t a dishwasher, or a microwave, or so much as an electric can opener or coffee machine.”
Laughing, she got a can of soup out of the pantry and set to opening it with her little manual opener. “I was a bit appalled, let me tell you. And I’ve done more in this kitchen and enjoyed what I’ve cooked here more than anything I ever put together in my condo. And that kitchen’s state of the art. Jenn-Air range, sub-zero refrigerator.”
As she spoke, she started the soup, ducked into the refrigerator for cheese and butter. “Of course, I haven’t tackled anything complicated. I’m gathering the courage to try to make soda bread. It seems fairly basic, and if I don’t mess it up too badly, I could work up to actually baking a cake.”
“Have you a yen to bake, then?”
“I think I do.” She smiled over her shoulder as she spread butter on bread. “But it’s rather daunting when you’ve never done it before.”
“You won’t know if you like it unless you try.”
“I know. I hate failing at things.” She shook her head as she heated the skillet. “I know it’s a problem. It’s the reason I haven’t tried a lot of the things I think about trying. I always convince myself I’ll muck it up anyway, so I don’t try. It comes from being an awkward child of graceful parents.”
She laid the sandwiches in the skillet, pleased when they sizzled cheerfully. “But I make pretty good cheese sandwiches, so you won’t starve.” She turned and bumped solidly into his chest.
His mouth was on hers again. Hot, a little rough and very exciting. When he let her breathe again, he nodded. “Nothing awkward about that, or the rest of you, as far as I’ve seen.”
Satisfied, he went back to the table and his wine.
Jude recovered in time to keep the soup from boiling over.
He stayed through the night so that she could curl warm against him. At sunrise, when the light glided through the window to shimmer on the air, he reached for her again, making lazy love to her that left her steeped in dreams.
When next she woke, he was sitting on the bed beside her, holding a cup of coffee and stroking her hair.
“Oh. What time is it?”
“Past ten, and I’ve ruined your reputation.”
“Ten?” She sat up quickly, surprised and grateful when he handed her the coffee. “My reputation?”
“Beyond redemption now. I meant to leave at dawn so my car wouldn’t be in your street. But I was distracted.”
She sighed deeply. “I remember.”
“There’ll be talk now, about that Gallagher lad cozying up to the Yank.”
Her eyes glittered. “Will there, really? How wonderful.”
He laughed, tugged on her hair. “I thought somehow you might enjoy that.”
“I’d like it better if I ruined your reputation. I’ve never ruined anyone’s reputation before.” She touched his face, delighted that she could, and trailed her finger down over the narrow cleft in his chin. “I could be that loose American woman who’s stolen the owner of Gallagher’s from under the noses of all the local ladies.”
“Well, now, if you’ve decided to be a loose woman, I’ll be back tonight after closing, and you can take unfair advantage of me.”
“I’d be glad to.”
“Keep a light burning for me, darling.” He leaned forward to kiss her, then lingered over it long enough to make himself uncomfortable. “Bloody paperwork,” he muttered. “I have to go deal with it. Miss me, will you, Jude?”
“All right.”
She settled back against the pillows when he left, listened to the sound of the door closing behind him, then of his car starting.
For an hour she did nothing but sit in bed and hum.
THIRTEEN
I’M HAVING A love affair.
Jude Frances Murray is having a passionate affair with a gorgeous, charming, sexy Irishman.
I just love writing that.
I can barely resist behaving like a schoolgirl and writing his name over and over again in a notebook.
Aidan Gallagher. What a marvelous name.
He’s so handsome. I know it’s completely shallow to dwell on someone’s physical appearance, but . . . Well, if I can’t be shallow in the pages of my own journal, where can I be?
His hair is a deep, rich chestnut, and the sunlight teases out the red in it. He has wonderful eyes, a dark and brilliant blue, and when he turns them on me, just looks at me as he often does, everything inside me goes hot and soft. His is a strong face. Good bones, as Granny would say. His mouth smiles slow and easy, and there’s just the slightest of clefts in his chin.
His body . . . I can hardly believe I’ve had it over mine, under mine. It’s so hard and firm, with muscles like iron. Powerful, I suppose is the word.
My lover has a very powerful b
uild.
I suppose that’s enough wallowing in the superficial.
All right . . . done.
His other qualities are just as impressive. He’s very kind and has a lively sense of humor. He listens. That’s a skill in danger of being lost, and Aidan’s is well honed.
His family ties are deep and strong, his work ethic admirable. I find his mind fascinating, and his skill in storytelling entertaining. The truth is, I could listen to him for hours.
He’s traveled extensively, seen places I’ve only dreamed of seeing. Now that his parents have settled in Boston, he’s taken over the family business and slipped into the role of head of the family with a calm and rather casual authority.
I know I shouldn’t be in love. What Aidan and I have is a satisfying physical relationship, and a lovely and affectionate friendship. Both are precious, and should be more than enough for anyone.
But I can’t help being in love with him.
I’ve come to realize that everything ever written about falling in love is absolutely true. The air’s sweeter, the sun brighter. I don’t think my feet have touched the ground in days.
It’s terrifying. And it’s wonderful.
Nothing I’ve ever experienced is like this. I had no idea I had such feelings inside me. Passionate and giddy and absolutely foolish feelings.
I know I’m the same person. I can look in the mirror and it’s still me looking back. Yet somehow there seems to be more of me. It’s as if pieces that were hidden or unacknowledged have suddenly tumbled into place.
I realize the physical and emotional stimuli, the charge of endorphins and . . . oh, the hell with that. This doesn’t need to be analyzed and slotted. It just has to be.
It’s so outrageously romantic, the way he walks to my cottage at night. Coming through the gloom or the moonlight to knock at my door. He brings me wildflowers or seashells or pretty stones.
