Nora Roberts - Irish Gallagher's Pub - 1 by Jewels Of The Sun

Author:Jewels Of The Sun [Sun, Jewels Of The]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-01-16T23:29:02.639000+00:00

"You're soaking wet."

"It's raining, and I've been walking in it." Her voice was clipped with an undertone of heat. She shoved at her wet, heavy hair. She'd lost her band somewhere along the run. "That's the usual result. Can I have a drink or not?"

"Sure, I've the wine you like. Why don't you take it over by the fire there, and warm yourself a bit. And I'll get you a towel for your hair."

"I don't want the fire. I don't want a towel. I want whiskey." She issued it like a challenge and dropped a fisted hand on the bar. "Here."

Her eyes still made his think of a sea goddess, but it was a vengeful one now. He nodded slowly. "As you like."

He got out a short glass and poured two fingers of Jameson's into it. Jude snatched it up, tossed it back like water. Her breath exploded out of the sudden fire dead center of her chest. Her eyes watered but stayed hot.

A wise man, Aidan kept his face carefully blank. "You're welcome to go upstairs to my rooms if you'd like to borrow a dry shirt."

"I'm fine." Her throat felt as if someone had raked hot needles down it, but there was a rather pleasant little fire simmering in her gut now. She set the glass back down on the bar, nodded to it. "Another."

Experience had him leaning casually on the bar. With some you could empty the bottle and no one was the worse for it. With others you nudged them out the door before they bent their elbow once too often.

And there were some who needed to pour out their troubles more than they needed the publican to pour the whiskey.

He recognized which he was dealing with here. Added to that, if a glass and a half of wine gave her a buzz, two shots of whiskey would put her under. "Why don't you tell me what the trouble is, darling?"

"I didn't say there was any trouble. I said I wanted another glass of whiskey."

"Well, you won't get one here. But I'll make you some tea and a seat by the fire."

She drew in a breath, then let it out with a shrug. "Fine, forget the whiskey."

"There's a lass." He patted the fist still bunched on his bar. "Now you go and sit, and I'll bring you tea.

Then you can tell me what's the matter."

"I don't need to sit." She tossed her wet hair out of her face, then leaned forward as he was. "Come closer," she ordered. When he obliged and their faces were only inches apart, she took a handful of his shirt. She spoke clearly, concisely, but still had the wit to keep her voice low. "Do you still want to have sex with me?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me." But it gave her a dark thrill to repeat herself. "Do you want to have sex or not?"

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