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Thoughtfully, he opened the little box he’d put on the piano. Inside he’d placed the pearl he’d been given at Maude’s grave. He understood now what Carrick wanted him to do with it. But he was far from ready to offer that pearl, and himself, to Brenna.
Whatever others had planned for him, he would move in his own time, and in his own way. He’d promised Brenna friendship. He wouldn’t go back on his word, but he was beginning to understand just what keeping it would cost him if he couldn’t win the whole of her heart.
The woman who’d come to his bed that morning wasn’t looking for romance and the promise of a future. She was looking only at the moment and the pleasures it could bring.
He hadn’t been so different himself, at other times, with other women. It didn’t sit comfortably to be the one pining. Since comfort was important to him, he didn’t intend to pine for long.
It was just a matter of figuring which steps to take, in what order and in which direction. And as it was Brenna, he knew that he would get to his objective faster, and smoother, if he found a way to make her believe it was all her idea in the first place.
So . . . he ran his hands lightly over the keys. He just had to work it out so that he was in the position of being courted by Brenna O’Toole.
He was amused enough by the notion that his fingers began to move faster, to make the tune livelier. Even as he stopped to scribble down the notes, words began to jump into his head.
Come back ’round so you can catch me. I’ll give you a dance as long as you please. But circle back soon, my red-haired lovely, for it’s only you I’m wanting to tease. Now kiss me quick and say that you’ll love me from now till ever birds sing in the trees. I’m waiting right here so you can convince me the time’s come to get down on my knees.
It made him see the humor of it all, and smoothed out the knot of tension from the back of his neck. After all, how could anyone who knew the pair of them not see the absurdity of it?
She the planner, he the dreamer. Why, they rammed up against each other’s basic personalities at least as often as they meshed. Well, what did the heart know about the logic of things? And, he was wise enough to know that if he’d fallen for someone more like himself, they’d while their lives away without getting the first thing accomplished.
And though he couldn’t think of a man like Brenna, he imagined if she’d come across one, the two of them would hammer each other’s brains out within a week.
So, in the big scheme of things, by falling in love with her, and arranging for her to decide they should make what was between them a permanent thing, he was only saving her from a brief, and certainly violent, life.
Though he thought it might be best all ’round if he kept that opinion strictly to himself.
Satisfied, he closed the pearl back in its box, left his music scattered about, and went off to start his day of work.
• • •
He baked apple tarts with Brenna’s appetite in mind. If he was going to approach the business from a kind of role-reversal angle, baking one of her favorite weaknesses seemed rather canny.
He toyed with the idea of trying to talk himself out of being in love with her, as he imagined people did when the fit wasn’t as comfortable as they might prefer. He even imagined he could do a fair job of it, starting with listing all the reasons why it wasn’t a wise idea. The head of that would be the simple fact that he hadn’t planned on falling in love, not seriously, for years yet.
And when he imagined the woman on the receiving end, it was always a soft, feminine, gentle-natured sort. A comfortable woman, he thought as he trimmed his pastry. There was nothing comfortable about the O’Toole, for all she was a blessing in bed. After all, much as it appealed, a man couldn’t spend his life in bed with a hot-blooded, naked woman.
Which made him think about the morning, and the way she’d ridden him to a blind, sweaty finish before his brain had even waked up. Which made him a great deal less comfortable altogether. So, being Shawn, he put that thought away. For the time being.
It hadn’t been the sex he’d fallen in love with. That had simply been the key that opened him up so he’d see what had been waiting inside him for her. She’d never be an easy woman. God knew she’d poke and she’d prod at him until he was ready to throttle her. She would pick fights and would always find the way to put his own temper on the boil.
But Jesus, she could make him laugh. And she knew half of what was in his mind before he’d gotten the words out. There was treasure in that. She knew his every flaw, and didn’t hold any of them against him overmuch.
She didn’t think much of his music, and that stung more than a little. But he chose to think it just a lack of understanding. Just as he had no interest or knowledge of what mysteries were under the bonnet of his car.
Whatever the weight of the scale, for or against, didn’t matter. His heart was already hers. All he had to do was make her realize she wanted to keep it.
He fancied up the pastries, adding bits of dough in little designs, the way he’d seen in a picture somewhere. After brushing the lot of them with egg wash, he popped them into the oven.
When Darcy came in he was whistling over the Gallagher’s Irish stew he had simmering in his big pot.
“My larder’s bare as the top of Rory O’Hara’s head. I need a sandwich before shift starts.”
“I’ll make it.” Shawn cut her off before she could grab from the refrigerator. “You’ll just leave a mess for me to clean up otherwise.”
“I’ll have some of that roast beef if there’s any left.”
“There’s enough.”
“Well, then, don’t be stingy.” She sat, propping her legs on the chair beside her, as much to admire her new shoes as to r
est her feet before the long shift ahead. When she noted the bowls he’d yet to wash, she sniffed the air. “Is that apple tarts you have in the oven?”
“It might be. And I might see there’s one left for you, if you don’t badger me.”
Experimentally, she ran a finger around the inside of the bowl that had held the filling and licked. “I seem to recall that Brenna favors apple tarts particularly.”
Shawn sliced the sandwich neatly in two, knowing Darcy would complain otherwise. “I recall that as well.” His expression bland, he slid the sandwich in front of her.
“Are you—” Darcy cut herself off, picked up the first half of her lunch. “No, I don’t want to know. My best friend and my brother,” she said over the first bite. “I never thought to have to work to keep that image out of my head.”
“Well, keep working at it.” Curious, he sat across from her. “You’re friends with Jude, and it never seemed to bother you that she and Aidan—”
“I was new friends with Jude.” Darcy stared at him over her sandwich with eyes that were blue and sulky. “It’s a different matter entirely. It has to be your face,” she decided. “Because she knows you through and through, so it’s certainly not your riveting personality. She’s just dazzled by the look of you, as there’s no denying you’ve a strong and handsome face.”
“You’re only saying that because we look so much alike.”
Her teeth flashed before she bit in again. “That’s true enough. But we can’t help being beautiful, can we, darling?”
“We can only do our best to bear the terrible weight of it. Then offer it up.” He said it ponderously and made her snicker.
“Well, it’s a burden I enjoy carrying. And if a man doesn’t want to look any further than my face, I’ve nothing to complain over. It’s enough that I know I’ve a mind behind it.”
“Is the Dubliner you’ve been seeing treating you like a pet, then?”
She moved a shoulder, annoyed with herself for being dissatisfied with a relationship that held so much potential. “He enjoys my company and takes me nice places in fine style.” And because it was Shawn, she could hiss out a breath. “Where he spends half the time bragging about himself and his work and expecting me to be impressed beyond speech. And the thing of it is, he’s not nearly as smart as he thinks he is, and owes most of his accomplishments, such as they are, to family connections rather than his own hard work or skill.”
“You’re tired of him.”
She opened her mouth, closed it again, then shrugged. “I am, yes. What’s wrong with me?”
“If I tell you, you’ll be after throwing that plate at me.”
“I won’t.” As a sign of truce, she pushed it aside. “This time.”
“All right, then, I’ll tell you what’s the matter. You underestimate yourself, Darcy, then you get annoyed when others do the same. You don’t have any respect for the men who fall at your feet, promising to give you the world on a platter. You’ve filled your own platter all your life and carried it with your own hands. And you know you can keep doing it.”
“I want more.” She said it fiercely, finding herself inexplicably on the verge of tears. “What’s wrong with wanting more?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all.” He reached out to close his hand over hers.
“I want to go places, see things. Have things.” She shoved away from the table, prowling the kitchen as if it were a cage. “I can’t help wanting it. Everything would be easier if I could be a little bit in love with him. Just a little would be enough. But I’m not, and I can’t talk myself into it. So I woke up this morning knowing I’d be breaking it off, and tossing away a lovely trip to Paris.”
“That’s the right thing to do.”
“I’m not doing it because it’s the right thing to do.” Frustrated, she threw up her hands. “I’m doing it because I’m not having my first trip to Paris spoiled by sharing it with a man who’d bore my brains out. Shawn.” She came back to the table, sat again, and leaning forward, spoke seriously. “I’m not a nice person.”
He took her hand again, patted it. “I love you anyway.”
It took her a minute, then her eyes lit with appreciation. “I should have known better than to expect you to list my virtues. But I feel better in any case.” Because she did, she dipped her finger in the bowl again, scooped out another smear of filling. “I wish I could find someone to have a bit of fun and frolic with, like you and Brenna.”
She might not have caught it, the quick change in the eyes before he rose to clear the table. But she knew him as well as, often better than, she knew herself. “Damn it all. I was afraid of this. You’ve gone and fallen for her, haven’t you?”
“It’s not for you to worry about.”
“It is, of course it is, when I love both of you. You great blockhead. Couldn’t you just enjoy yourself, like any other man?”
He thought of that morning, and licked a bit of apple filling himself. “I am enjoying myself.”
“And how long will that last now that you’ve fallen in love with her?”
Interested, he glanced back at her as he began to work. “Does the fun go out
