She Likes It Irish (12 page)

His mouth was minty, wet, and delicious, and she wanted more than the appetizing peck he teased her hunger with. It had ignited her desire for him, and she was ready to jump ahead to the main course. Before he could move away, she dug her fingers into his thick hair and pulled him back to her, giving him a long, languid kiss that was more appropriate for the bedroom than a fine restaurant.

“Excuse me.”

They glided apart at the waitress’ gentle interruption. To Kristin, it felt like they were moving in slow motion, as if their bodies were strongly opposed to the separation and resisting.

Their waitress set a glass of water before each other them, a lemon drop for Kristin, and a dark beer for Sean.

“Have you decided what you’d like for dinner?” the woman asked.

Sean looked at Kristin, who was smiling behind her glass. He smiled and smothered a laugh. “We’ll need another moment.”

If the waitress was exasperated, she hid it well. She simply smiled at him and agreed to come back in a few minutes.

“When you get us kicked out of here, we’re going for a green chile cheeseburger,” Sean whispered, making Kristin laugh out loud. He chuckled. “Look at your menu.”

“On one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“Come sit next to me. You’re too far away.”

He scooted back his chair, got up, and slid next to her into the booth. “This is much better,” he said and laid his arm along the top of the bench, his hand brushing her shoulders.

She turned toward him. “I hope they don’t seat another couple close to us. I might want to play footsy with you under the table.”

“If I’d known you wanted that much privacy, I’d have rented out the room they have in the back.”

“Next time.”

“Uh-oh,” he said grabbing his menu. “She’s headed this way again.”

Kristin put her hand on his menu. “Do you trust me?”

“Completely.”

“Is there any food you hate or are allergic to?”

“I like everything…except sushi and haggis.”

The waitress eyed Sean like he was the dessert of the day. “Are you ready to order?”

“Yes,” Kristin said, capturing her attention. She opened her menu. “We’ll be sharing the petite beef filet, medium, the baby greens salad with red wine-honey vinaigrette, asparagus spears, and the walnut and cheese-stuffed grilled figs.”

A smile lifted the corners of the waitress’ mouth as she repeated the order and committed it to memory. “Excellent choices. I’ll have it right out.”

“Odd combination,” Sean said, a look of confusion on his face.

She smiled but said nothing.

He took her hand in his. “Why do I get the feeling you have plans for me you’re not telling me about?”

“Aren’t you the suspicious one?” She sipped her drink. “Do you get that from your mom or from your dad?”

He laughed, but didn’t answer right away, as if he were gathering memories and weighing which ones could be shared and which ones had to be kept hidden. “My brothers and sister and I joke that if we tell our mum the sun’s out, she’ll make us bring in a bucket of the stuff to prove it. So, I guess I got that from her. I’m always looking for proof, too. My da was just the opposite. He believed everything and everyone.”

“Is your dad…gone?”

He nodded. “Two years ago this spring.”

She squeezed the hand holding hers. “I’m sorry. How?”

The corner of his mouth rose as if he were listening to a small private joke. “Dancing. If bands were playing trad at the pub near home, Da was there. He’d drink too much, laugh too much, and dance like he was twenty instead of fifty.”

“He was young. His heart?”

He nodded. “He died doing what he loved—living life full out.”

“We could all take a lesson in that—live life to the fullest while you can.”

“Yeah. I guess. But in his odyssey to cram everything into his own life, he sometimes forgot the other people in his life had needs, too.”

“A bit of an absentee father and husband?” she asked.

“Nice way of putting it. Mum was there for us. But having to shoulder everything made her a bit fanatical.”

When he paused to sip his beer, she jumped in. “My mom was the dreamer, the painter and poet, who refused to acknowledge life’s unpleasant moments…refused to acknowledge anything, really, but her own whims. My father, the corporate lawyer, thought being a good parent meant hiring people—nannies, cooks, housekeepers, etc.—to take care of things.”

“No siblings?”

“Nope. My parents are such polar opposites, I often wonder how they found their way to each other long enough to conceive even one child.”

“Were you lonely?”

Kristin paused, peering backward into her childhood. “I used to wish for a house full of brothers and sisters so I’d have someone to laugh with, fight with, keep secrets with. But…” She shrugged. “It wasn’t to be.” She had been lonely at times. But being a single child was all she knew, so it was almost as if she didn’t realize what she was missing.

“So are you a dreamer like your mum or a driver like your da?”

His question pulled her out of her memories and set her back down into the middle of the present with him. She linked her fingers with his and smiled to show him she was back.

“I try hard not to be like either of them.”

“Maybe you’re the best of both…reflective, impulsive, positive, and open like your mum. Strong, capable, intelligent, and practical like your da.”

“That sounds a whole lot better than ditzy and detached.”

“But then there’s the qualities that are uniquely you.”

“Oh, yeah? Like what?”

“Passionate, giving, independent, fun, a sharp and creative mind.”

His words touched her. She smiled. “You could make a lot of money reading palms and telling fortunes in Nob Hill.”

He laughed as if he could see the humor and gratitude lighting her words. “If I could see the future, I’d already know your middle name. I’ve become obsessed with names beginning with H.”

“Then we have something in common.” She took a sip of her sweet-tart drink then let her gaze tangle with his.

“How so?”

“I’ve become obsessed with finding out more about you.”

He ran his thumb across her bottom lip, brushing away the liquid clinging there. “What do you want to know?”

“Let’s start with…why archaeology?”

His eyes brightened as if she had hit on his favorite topic. “I like having proof for things going on in my world. Excavations—holding an artifact or a bone in my hands—give me proof of what went on before, which can tell us about ourselves today.”

A smile twitched on her lips. “But archaeology studies human societies of the past. When it comes to people, especially people of the distant past, you can never be certain of their motives and desires for doing things. Applying modern-day reasoning to a culture that didn’t have the same frame of reference doesn’t really provide you with proof…it only provides more questions.”

“True enough. The proof for me is that we came from somewhere, from a group of people that had similar desires as we do—food, water, shelter, and love. It tells me I’ll be here in the future through my children, my children’s children, and so on. That connection is proof enough that what we do here matters.”

“I love the way you look at it,” she said. And she meant it. The fact that he wanted children, wanted to leave a part of himself behind, touched her…made her long to be the one he made children with, forgetting her vow to never have any.

“You sound less than convinced.” He took a sip of his beer.

“No, it’s not that.” She shrugged. “I guess I never thought of it in those terms. I’m in archaeology, too, but with a focus on forensics, where one can satisfy the need for proof easily. The skeleton shows evidence of disease or it doesn’t. It was a male or a female. He died young from a blow to the skull or old from the ravages of age. She was of this race, not that. And so on.”

He was quiet for a moment, studying her face, with a small smile on his face, and she started to wonder whether she had offended him.

She laughed. “I’m sorry. I’m sounding like one of those geeks feuding with a fellow scientist over whose area of expertise is better.”

“Can we agree that our chosen paths complement the other?”

“Yes.” She squeezed his hand.

“Will you do research or field work?” he asked.

“Research. I’m a lab rat. But maybe a little in the field just to get my hands dirty. See where it all comes from. You?”

“Field, definitely. I like being outside, working with my hands, getting them dirty, as you say.”

“You’re good at it.” At his confused look, she added, “Working with your hands. But go on.”

He kissed the hand he was holding. “You know, if you’re looking for an analyst position after graduation, there’s an excellent university in Dublin with a world renowned lab devoted to archaeology. There’s also the commercial archaeology company I work for now. They’re always looking for good lab rats who want to get their hands dirty.”

“That company—is that where you’ll be after leaving here?”

“Yes. I’ll go directly to a dig site with the team I’ve been working with since I started college.”

She found her breath then her voice. “Is there a woman waiting for you there? Someone I’m going to have to open a can of kickass on to get her out of your life? If I were to go to Dublin, that is.”

Even though he chuckled, his gaze dropped from hers to the table and his body tensed against the seatback. “No,” he said, and shook his head.

“There was someone, though, wasn’t there?” A flare of jealousy ran up her spine at the plume of silence that swirled up between them. His tone, his reaction, his hesitation before answering told her that the relationship had been important to him. And hurtful.

“There was. It ended a few months before I came here.”

“Why?”

He brought his beer to his lips and drank deeply. “That’s a conversation for another time.”

“Do you miss her?”

He caught her eyes, then leaned forward and reached out his hand to caress her face. “Not anymore. Someone else fills my mind these days.”

She breathed in. “
Moi?
” She kept her tone light and a smile on her face so he’d know she was teasing, but she meant the plea.

He nodded. “
Tu
.”

She kissed his smiling lips, releasing the tight hold she’d had on her breath, the beating of her heart.

She was tired of leaving this man, of going home alone and wanting. To hell with his schedule. To hell with his not-in-my-room policy. Tonight, she’d get into his bed.

The waitress arrived with the feast Kristin had carefully selected to arouse Sean’s appetite for sex, but she could barely taste it.

****

“I wasn’t sure about grilled figs, but they were good,” he said as they walked hand-in-hand toward her dorm from the parking lot. “I’ll let you order for me next time.”

Excitement bubbled through her that he was thinking beyond their payback schedule. “There’s going to be a next time?”

He stopped and linked his fingers behind her back. “You want there to be?”

It was a risk to tell him the truth. But she wanted to. Had to. She slid her arms around his neck, leaned into him. “Yes.”

His hands slid down her back and settled on her ass. He pulled her against him and kissed her slowly, softly, so fully that her bones felt like they were melting.

“Whatever makes you happy…” he said.

His hands on her ass, squeezing, pressing her into him, made her very happy. “Do you really mean that?”

He nodded. “I mean it.”

“Then, take me to bed, Sean. Now. Tonight. Not two days from now when it’s on the schedule. If it really is on the schedule…Honestly, I can’t even really tell.”

He stared at her in the dark, speechless. Had her bold request troubled him? Or was he just unwilling to go that far to make her happy?

She slid her hand down the front of his pants to cup his dick. “I don’t care who might be listening to us or what they might be thinking or doing. I want to go to your room. I want to make so much noise that we keep the neighbors awake. I want you to fuck my brains out.”

His cock hardened against her hand and she saw his pulse thumping at his throat, but still he said nothing. He remained motionless, letting her handle his rod, letting her go off at the mouth, and letting his eyes swallow her.

“And I’m a smart girl, with a lot of brains, so it’s probably going to take all night long.”

Suddenly, she realized he’d been silent for a long time, and that his gaze hadn’t budged from her face.
Shit!
Her audacious words suddenly felt like a huge mistake that she wished she could take back.

Her hand moved off his arousal. “But if you don’t want to, I—”

“Kristin….”

“Is it the whole ‘schedule’ thing?”

“Kristin…”

Her face hot, she held up her hand to stop him. “You know what, it’s okay,” she said, putting her hands to her stomach, trying to calm the embarrassment rolling there. “Forget I said anything.” She backed away from him. “Thanks for tonight. I had fun, but I’m going to go, now.”

Before she got three feet away, he grabbed her hand and pulled her back into his body. He cupped her face with his hands, gently, like she was a rare and delicate flower, and stared intently into her eyes as if that would ensure she was focused on every word he said or didn’t say.

“I want you.” He kissed her again, deeper, more passionately than any kiss she’d ever had. His heat closed around her, creating a raging embrace that made her squirm with desire. She felt his desire course through her body, too, and had to ask.

“Then why don’t you want to be with me?”

A little smile lifted the corner of his lips. “Darlin’ I’ve wanted to fuck your brains out since the night you came to my door looking for condoms.”

She laughed. “It’s taken you this long to make your move? I never knew the Irish to be such a timid bunch.”

“Timid?” he repeated, and she shivered when his hand rounded over her breast. “It took all my control not to pull you into my room and make love to you all that night, the next day, and the day after that. A gentleman I was being that night.”