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His gaze falls to my lips, then he leans in and kisses me so lightly it’s barely more than a tickle. A warm, soft,do that againvariety of tickle.
“Did you just kiss me?”
“Well, if you can’t tell, I made a bad job of it.”
I touch a fingertip to his mouth. “Let me rephrase. Why did you kiss me?”
Even in the low light of our corner, I see his face pink up. “I have no idea.” He captures my finger in that amazingly warm and gentle palm of his. “Please accept my apology for the unprovoked and unappreciated kiss.”
I lay my hand over his. “Not unappreciated.” Looking deep into his eyes, I feel as if I’m sinking into that dark blue sea that rages around his pupils. “That was the sweetest kiss I’ve had in a very long time.”
He slides his chair around so he’s next to me instead of across the table. “Is there anything you want to ask me about the show before you dive in tomorrow?” Jay slings his arm over the back of my chair.
I want to lean into him. Rest my head in the hollow of his shoulder while he strokes my hair. This big, warm, sweet man feels like a haven in the swirling confusion my life has become. I’ve known him less than a day, but he gives me the sense that if I fell, he’d catch me. Treat never made me feel that way.
I lean on the tabletop, head resting on my hand. “Tell me what you like best about working onTheChieftain’s Son.”
He mirrors my position so our noses almost touch. “The story. I want to believe a love like the one Donal Cam and Nieve share exists. A love time can’t destroy no matter how hard it tries. Bobby said you’re a fan of the books, am I right?”
“Yes. The characters get to me, especially Donal Cam. I guess I need to believe there’s a man, even a fictional one, that sticks to his principles, his truths.” It might be the Guinness or Jay’s benevolent steadiness, but I feel completely open to him.
“Ya. The bugger’s got his flaws to be sure, but goodness drives him. Every book, the man gets thrown into a different time, and his Nieve doesn’t know him. Donal Cam’s got to be a loyal warrior son to his latest chieftain while he wins her love over and over. It kills me that she never remembers him until he’s earned her trust again. And then, as soon as he manages,poof,Deidre LaRochelle sends the poor bastard off to serve a new chieftain. Back to square one—his eternal gut punch.”
Soul mates. This series is about soul mates. I wanted that with Treat.Silly girl.Gilly the silly girl.
Jay is so close his breath warms my face. I bump his nose with mine. “Poor bastard indeed.”
I’m just about to move in for another taste of those blush-colored lips when the haze of my fantasy drunk buzz clears. I ease away from him to recoup some sense without completely closing the door to whatever the heck is going on between us. Jet lag and Guinness are not a good pairing for spontaneous decision making. I’m going to be working with this guy. I have the luxury of not cashing in on this attraction immediately as if this were our only night together. “What is it you do on the show?”
He sits straight in his seat, looking at me like I just asked him to buy me a unicorn. Jay recovers, and a sly expression sneaks over his face. “Have a guess.”
I study him. I’m amending my initial impression of carpenter or electrician. The man’s long locks say artsier type. Maybe he’s in set dec or props, possibly a scene painter. After his butterfly kiss, I figure I’ve been granted permission to touch, so I squeeze his bicep. The muscle flexes beneath my grip. It’s not the only part of him I’d like to explore. “Something athletic. Hints please.”
Jay leans in conspiratorially. “Bows and arrows, swords, and the occasional mace are involved.”
I use our guessing game as an excuse to let my eyes explore his gorgeous bod.Weapons, huh?After taking a cursory inventory, I clap my hands. “You’re the fight coordinator or a stunt double.” What else would this body of an Irish chieftain be doing on a show about Irish chieftains?
Jay slides a hand to the small of my back. “Glad you’re coming aboard Gilly, and I’m saying that for purely selfish reasons.”
I slide to the edge of my chair. “Which are?”
“I get the chance to know more about this silly girl who can dive into the soul of book likeThe Chieftain’s Sonand swing a golf club like a madwoman.” He trails a gentle fingertip on the skin beneath my lower lashes. “Your eyes are the strangest reddish-brown color I’ve ever seen. Not quite a rust. Maybe if I study them in sunlight, I can name it.”
I lay my head on his shoulder then, to escape the intensity that’s building as we stare at one another. As much as I want him to kiss me again, I don’t want it to be because Treat isn’t kissing me. Jay strikes me as a decent guy—too decent for a rebound romp. Working on the show together will give us a chance to become friends. This evening with him has been great. We both golf. He can be my new Irish friend, Jay. Friends can be a dandy place to start.
“That’s the nicest thing any guy has said to me in a very long time. Thank you. By the way, I was beginning to consider the long game with the show even before the eye comment.”
“That’s grand.” He takes my face in those warm and wonderful hands. If I let this follow-up kiss happen, it will be more than a fly by.
“Jack!” A compact woman about my age in a tidy, dark brown suit that matches her hair perfectly sweeps up beside Jay and grabs his arm. Panic brightens her eyes. “Into the snug, now!”
The sensation of being pulled under by a wave when you can’t find up or down washes over me as the woman yanks Jay, who in turn yanks me, into a small, partitioned space at the end of the bar.
“I’m sorry for this. I told them we’d be in Tralee, not here in Blennerville. Someone in the pub must have tipped them off.” The woman peers back into the main room.
I tug at Jay’s arm. “What’s going on?” He looks like he ate bad clams.
“Reporters, paparazzi, the whole mess,” whispers the woman, then she eyes me skeptically. “Who are you?”
