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“You’ll have to tell me those stories,a stór.” He faced her, his eyes bright with a soft emotion she didn’t want to name yet. “I almost touched your cheek before I remembered I have paint on my hand.”
Warmth spread through her chest. “Good catch. My cheek, huh? How are lips? I don’t think I have any paint on mine, and yours look…normal.” If gorgeous and delicious were normal, which they werenot.
He was already smiling as he lowered his head. “Good idea. Your lips are clean as a whistle too, and all the more tempting for it. Let’s see how this goes.”
The first touch of his mouth was a mere caress, and then he sampled her bottom lip.
“You’re going to make my knees give out if you do that again,” she said, her voice a murmur. “And we’re on scaffolding.”
“I won’t let you fall,” he whispered, taking her bottom lip between his teeth ever so gently as his hands cupped her protectively to his body.
She couldn’t take it. She crushed her lips to his, needing the pressure. He changed the angle to take the kiss deeper, making her moan. She lifted her hands to grip his back, both of them careless about the paint as they tasted each other with pure delight.
He pulled back this time. “Okay, we are on scaffolding, so I’m going to be the responsible one and say we need to stop that. But when we’re gone from here, I’d very much like to kiss you again.”
“That can be arranged, Mr. O’Hanlon.”
He sent her a sexy wink as he helped her make the transfer from the scaffolding to the ladder and descend to the ground. She tossed her paintbrush into the bin and started to clean up while Liam worked on packing up the extension ladders and the scaffolding. By the time he had the heavier equipment stowed, there was one remaining paint can on the ground.
“That’s the only one we didn’t use,” she said, kicking it because it felt good to hear the answering thud. “You rocked the supply count. I’m glad your gifts helped us there.”
He laughed. “Actually, I helped Carrick paint this bitch back when he built the house. I knew what the wall would take, and then with your design… But I have to be honest. I had some backup paint in a few colors in the supply shed.”
She wanted to kiss him again. “Honest, professional, and good company. I think this has all the makings of a beautiful relationship, don’t you?”
His smile made her shiver in delight. “I do. Come,a stór. Let’s get you home.”
Her buoyant spirits dipped. They would be leaving each other, and she wasn’t ready for that.
“Maybe you could stay over?”
He picked up the last paint bucket and met her eyes. “When you’re truly ready for that, you won’t ask it like a question.”
If he hadn’t smiled, she might have been crushed. But he did. And it was that simple gesture that had her lifting her hands to the dark sky as the heady sense of freedom shot through her while he walked to the truck to stow the can.
She gazed up at the length of the three-story mural. She would not be able to see its full effect until daylight tomorrow—like everyone else—although she’d pore over the closeup photos she’d managed to capture before going to bed. Deep inside, though, she knew it was flawless, even if she hadn’t painted every shape. Liam had given his all to this mural as much as she had.
Her first mural in Ireland. She’d considered not signing it with her tag, but who was she kidding? Shehadto sign her work. Because there was no way her fans wouldn’t recognize her voice. Besides, wouldn’t the attention it brought do more to help her take Malcolm down? Yeah, she didn’t think it was arrogant to admit it would. Her fans were going to go bananas over it. She glanced at the corner where it would go. If she added her tag now, she’d have to tell Liam the rest of her story. He might even have heard of her. As she watched him clean up the last of their supplies, she acknowledged what her heart had already known—her secret would be safe with him. After tonight, she trusted him completely. Impossible perhaps, but still true. He had more than proved himself to her.
“I said you could trust him,” she heard Sorcha say from behind her.
“You had to show up and gloat, didn’t you?” Taylor joked back as the scent of oranges tickled her nose.
“Of course.” She swept forward, surrounded by a white light very reminiscent of the ethereal glow Taylor had used for the Joan of Arc impression of herself in the mural. “I’m very proud to have this mural on the building with my name on it. Now your name will be on it too, a decision I’m glad you came to. You two did well.”
“Thank you,” she said, uncomfortable to feel the ghost’s approval mattered.
“You must hold tightly to each other now.” The scent of oranges intensified then. “To prepare for what comes next.”
With that, she vanished.
Liam jogged over, taking her by the arms. “You all right? What did Sorcha say?”
“We need to be ready for what happens next.” She gripped his paint-covered hands. “Now, I need to ask something of you. This is the last of my secrets. I think I know the answer, but can I trust you a little more?”
“Always,” he said immediately in that solid voice of his. No hesitation.
She leaned down and picked up her favorite spray can, the one she used to sign her name. Veritas.It wasn’t just a word to her. It was her creed. Her purpose. She was aware of Liam coming to stand behind her as she sprayed the word and added a bold line under it.
