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To cold.
Chapter Five
Two days later, it was already hot and sultry by 10:00 a.m. New York seemed to be moving from a scorching summer right into a slightly less scorching Indian summer. For the rest of the weekend I’d assiduously avoided bars and stuck to exploring my neighbourhood. I’d taken a picnic to Central Park on Sunday and spent the afternoon people-watching, which in New York could be considered a vocation.
The problem was, even when I’d been lying on the grass with my eyes closed, trying to think of something else, I’d seen Liam in my mind’s eye—that scorching blue gaze intent on me just before he’d kissed me. And worse, I’d remembered what it had felt like when he’d thrust so deep inside me that I couldn’t breathe for a moment.
I’d tried to force him out of my mind, assuring myself I’d never see him again. It had been an aberration. A mistake. This mental torture was what I got for giving in to the dictates of my vibrating clitoris. But something inside me still felt raw...I’d been so close.
To my relief I spotted distraction from my circling thoughts: a notice in the window of a bar I was passing: Bar Assistant Wanted. Must Be Experienced. See Inside.
I looked up and saw the name Sullivan’s Bar and Eatery. An Irish bar? I went in. The place was huge and airy, surprisingly bright and well laid out, with small tables dotted around the place. A few people lingered over late breakfast. A beautiful polished oak bar ran the length of the room with a massive mirror behind it, with the Guinness logo firmly in the centre. Definitely an Irish bar.
A friendly-looking guy about my age was drying glasses behind the bar. He saw me. ‘Can I help you?’
I walked over. ‘I wanted to ask about the job being advertised in the window?’
He called over his shoulder, ‘Boss, someone is asking about the job.’
There was a few seconds’ delay and then a tall broad figure stepped into the light at the other end of the bar. My eyes widened. Everything in me went cold. Icy.
No. No. NO!
The sun landed directly on him, highlighting that messy dark blond hair. That stunning bone structure. Faded jeans. A worn grey T-shirt that hugged the hard musculature of a broad chest. I could see the piercing blue of his eyes from here.
I know what an orgasm feels like and you weren’t even close...
How cruel was this? How big was Manhattan and I run into the last person I ever wanted to see again? Not entirely accurate, taunted a little voice. Well then, who I was sure never wanted to see me again.
I got out through the shock, ‘I’m sorry...I made a mistake.’
I turned and fled, limbs like jelly, mortified. Outside, I walked quickly, blindly, not even knowing what direction I was taking, just wanting to get away from him.
‘Caitlin, wait!’
No. Not happening. I sped up. I heard, ‘Dammit.’ And sped up some more.
There were steps behind me, and then, ‘Caitlin, will you stop, for crying out loud.’
I stopped, breathing hard, heart almost pounding out of my chest.
Liam walked around in front of me, hands on his hips. If he’d been gorgeous in the dim lights of the bar, dusky night and then the apartment...by daylight he was ridiculous. He looked like the love child of Daniel Craig and Matthew McConaughey. Even now I could feel his effect on my body. That betraying little hum in my pants. Which was so galling.
I hated my schizophrenic clitoris. And I regretted tying my hair back into a low plait. I must look about sixteen. He ran a hand through his hair. He looked awkward, as if he regretted running after me. I wanted to make it easy on him. Really easy.
‘Look, I had no idea that was your bar...it’s cool, I’ll look for a job elsewhere.’
I started to walk around him, but he caught me with a hand on my arm. Instantly the breath left my chest in a whoosh. ‘Wait.’
And then, ‘Is that it? Not a word of acknowledgment about the other night?’
Reluctantly I looked at him, ‘I’d really prefer not to talk about it.’
He looked at me for such a long moment I could feel my toes curl. And then he blinked and let his hand drop. I wanted to touch my arm, as if he’d singed my skin from that
contact.
‘Fine.’
