World Enough and Time

World Enough and Time

By

Lauren Gallagher

Just as dressage trainer Dani Blake decides the best kind of relationship is no relationship at all, along comes Connor Graham, and he's the perfect Mr. Right Now. Like Dani, he's newly single and not looking for any type of attachment…and the icing on the cake? He’s smoking hot in bed.

Best of all, he’s moving out of state in a few months, so there’s no pressure for – and no chance of – a long-term relationship. Even if Dani 
hadn’t
 already made the mistake of moving to another state for a man in the all too recent past, a mistake she’s not keen on repeating, she’s stuck in Seattle because she can’t afford to move her beloved horses again.

So she and Connor will just take advantage of the time they have and enjoy it until it’s over. It’s just enough time to have some fun, and not nearly enough time to fall in love with him.

Right?

This book was previously published as
Until It’s Over
.

Copyright Information

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
World Enough and Time

Copyright © 2013 Lauren Gallagher

Second Edition.

First Edition published as
Until It’s Over
by Carnal Passions (an imprint of Champagne Books) 2010-2013.

Cover Art by Libbie Hawker

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher, and where permitted by law. Reviewers may quote brief passages in a review. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Lauren Gallagher at
[email protected]

ISBN: 978-0-9898746-3-2

Had we but world enough, and time,

This coyness, Lady, were no crime

We would sit down and think which way

To walk and pass our long love's day.

-- Andrew Marvell, To His Coy Mistress

Chapter One

On my way into the Pike Street Pub, I let out a groan that drowned in the noise of sports and fans. I’d let my friend Susan talk me into coming even though I really didn’t feel like it, but it wasn’t until I stepped through the door that the knot of
Why the hell am I here?
made itself known.

A pub I could handle. Crowds, noise, people, alcohol. All of that was fine. In fact, this was my kind of place. Baseball games on old, grainy televisions above a bar that had seen better days. At least two dozen decent beers on tap and bartenders who would sooner hit themselves over the head with a bottle of Cuervo than serve a drink with a paper umbrella in it. All it needed was sawdust on the floor and it would’ve been perfect.

In the years before Seattle’s anti-smoking laws, the air probably would have been opaque and gray, but now it was perfectly crisp and clear. Just clear enough, in fact, for me to see exactly why I wished I hadn’t come at all: Susan had spotted me and immediately sprung to life, grabbing a tall blond guy’s arm and dragging him toward me. The way she gestured and rolled her eyes told me she was persuading him to follow her. The way
he
gestured and rolled
his
eyes suggested he wasn’t particularly enthused about it.

That must be Troy
. Troy Wilson, the guy Susan said I simply had to meet because he was perfect for me.

I groaned again as they wove between barstools, partygoers, and chest-high tables, closing in on me. My voice disappeared into the surrounding noise, but I didn’t have the luxury of a cloud of smoke to obscure my face, so I forced something in the vicinity of a smile.

“Hey Dani!” Susan squealed. She dragged Troy closer and gestured proudly. “This is Troy. Troy, Dani.”

“Hi.” Offering a smile that was a bit more genuine than my own, he extended his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.” I shook his hand, and when his smile broadened, I relaxed a bit. Maybe Susan was right and this was what I needed. He deserved a chance, and maybe I could enjoy an evening out.

Troy cleared his throat and suddenly looked a little shy. “Can I, um, can I buy you a drink?”

I released a breath and with it, more of my apprehension. Though he obviously hadn’t been thrilled about being pulled away from his other conversation, there was no evidence of irritation in his expression now. He seemed like a nice guy, and hopefully Susan wouldn’t steer me wrong.

“Sure,” I said.

“What’ll you have?”

I glanced at the bar. “Mac and Jack’s if they have it.”

“Good taste in beer.” He gave a nod of approval. “I like you already.”

“I’ll just leave you two alone.” Susan grinned at us. In a loud whisper, she added, “Go easy on him.”

My face burned. “Susan!”

Troy laughed. “Get out of here, Suze.” When she was gone, he nodded toward the bar and I followed him. After he’d ordered, he said, “Sounds like you’re getting a taste for some of the local beers.”

“Blame Susan. She brought me out a few times when we met. Made me try something other than my usual.”

“Which was?”

“Budweiser.”

He wrinkled his nose. “Then thank God she showed you light.” The bartender set our pint glasses in front of Troy, who then passed one to me. Troy sipped his. “So, how do you know Susan?”

“We work together,” I said.

Something in his expression changed. Dulled. “Oh.” He didn’t even try to feign interest.

I loved my job as a dressage trainer, but it seemed to be a coma-inducer for a lot of men these days, so I quickly changed the subject. “What do you do?”

That brought him back to life. “I manage commercial properties.” He squared his shoulders and puffed out his chest. “Mostly here in Seattle, but I’m working on getting into the East Side. So it’s—” He did a double take, glancing at something over my shoulder. “Oh, damn, that was fast. Looks like the game’s back on.” His smile was just patronizing enough to set my teeth on edge. “It was nice meeting you though, Dani.”

And with that, he shook my hand again and then walked back to the other side of the room, where a few of the guys were focused on a Yankees-Cubs game. I watched, slack-jawed.
This is the man who was supposed to be ‘perfect’ for me?
I rolled my eyes and cursed under my breath before lifting my glass to my lips again.
Oh well. At least I got a free beer out of it.

Though it didn’t do much for my ego, it was probably just as well. I was only a few short months out of a relationship that should have ended years ago, so a boyfriend was out of the question. That, and one night stands weren’t my thing. Even if they were, and if Troy was as self-centered and inconsiderate as he’d shown himself to be, that was probably a good indicator of how he was in bed. I didn’t care how highly Susan thought of him, he obviously thought even higher of himself, and I’d just spent four years of my life with a man like that.

I leaned against the bar and sipped my beer for a few minutes, then decided there was no sense wallowing in a glass of self-pity. I could do that at home, and whether I wanted to be or not, I was here.

So, I went about joining the rest of Susan’s group of friends. With time and a little alcohol, I slowly got into the groove of mingling and socializing, striking up conversations with the few people I’d met before and even some of the ones I hadn’t. My second beer eased the tension in my gut enough that I finally relaxed into the party atmosphere and forgot all about Troy being a jackass.

Before long, several people and I were engaged in a lively discussion about the Mariners, who were having a decent season for once. Beer bottles rose and fell with the wild gestures of inebriated sports fans and I narrowly missed getting an ice cold Miller Lite down the front of my shirt.

“Sorry, sorry.” The guy flashed perfect white teeth and gave me a quick, conspicuous once-over. I didn’t mind. I gave him the same look, allowing myself a moment to indulge in a few fantasies about what he was packing in those tight jeans.

We exchanged a couple flirtatious looks, then resumed the beer-swinging baseball discussion. Though I wasn’t particularly loyal to the Mariners, given that this wasn’t my hometown, I knew and loved the sport. There were worse ways to spend an evening, I decided, than drinking beer over stats and scores. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all. At least I was out of the house.

Cheering on the opposite side of the room drew everyone’s attention. Our heads turned as one to see what the commotion was about.

And that’s when I saw him.

He was a few feet away, far enough that had the anti-smoking laws not been passed, he probably would have disappeared in the thick gray cloud. Without the exhaled tobacco, though, I had an unobstructed view, and I couldn’t take my eyes off him.

His attention had followed everyone else’s to the loud celebration at the other end of the bar. When the noise died down, he returned his focus to a conversation with the group in which he stood. Though everyone else spoke loudly and gestured wildly with hands and drinks, he wasn’t nearly as animated and didn’t say much. He seemed out of place here for some reason. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it at first, but soon realized it was
because
he was quiet. Subdued. Reserved. When the others laughed uproariously, only the faintest hint of a grin curled his lips, his amusement subtle but unmistakable. When he listened, lines of concentration appeared between his eyebrows as if he hung on every word. And when he spoke, even though he said little, every head in the group turned.

He wasn’t a wallflower by any means. Though he listened more than he spoke, he was as engaged in the conversation as anyone else. He was interested, but seemed content to merely observe and only occasionally offer a comment.

As soon as I saw him, he fascinated me, and I wasn’t entirely sure why. Maybe he just stood out because he was understated and calm in a sea of drunk and disorderly.

It was that magnetic quietude that caught my eye, but once I’d grown accustomed to his strangely intense presence, another fact about him made itself known: He was gorgeous.

He was probably a head taller than me and built slim and lean. Not a body builder, not skin and bones, but fit. Fit with just the right broadness of shoulders and narrowness of hips to make my mouth water. He held a pint glass in one hand while the other thumb hooked in the pocket of his jeans. Casual, but somehow dignified. Even standing perfectly still, he carried himself with a kind of masculine grace.

A tiny hint of rebellion glinted on his left earlobe, though I couldn’t tell from a distance if it was a stud or a hoop. He was clean cut except for the faint shadow of stubble, which drew my attention to his pronounced cheekbones. When I caught myself wondering what it would be like to trace the angle of his jaw with my fingertip, I quickly looked away, clearing my throat and sipping my beer. I tried to concentrate on the discussion going on around me, which had moved on to last year’s World Series. All I could think about, though, was that quiet presence nearby.

As soon as I was fairly sure my face wasn’t glowing brighter than the neon Budweiser sign in the window, I chanced another look.

He raised his beer to take a drink, pausing with his glass nearly to his lips.

His eyes shifted.

And met mine.

Maybe it was just the dim, warm light of the pub, but never in my life had I seen such vivid blue eyes. He lowered his glass, and for a moment we held each other’s gazes. Then a hint of a smile pulled at his lips and crinkled the corners of his eyes.

A second later, his attention returned to his conversation and I was left with trembling knees and a beer that suddenly wasn’t nearly cold enough.

My group of strangers eventually dispersed, but the guy who’d nearly dumped his beer on me earlier lingered.

“You’re Dani, aren’t you?” he asked.

“I am.”

“The Dani that works with Susan, right?”