Page 12 of Cocktails & Cauldrons

“You are, or you wouldn’t be sittin’ here, next to me.” Admiration, or something like it, was reflected back at her, and she wasn’t quite sure how she’d earned it.

“I’m nothing special, Eoin.”

His answering grin tied her stomach in knots. “Now there I’ll have to tell you, you’re wrong. I’ve kissed ya, remember?”

“How could I forget!” She cringed the second the words left her mouth, and when he laughed, she thought her cheeks would combust from the scorching heat. “I mean—”

“It was memorable for me, too, don’t ya know.” He closed his eyes, a smile still curling his talented mouth. “Get some rest, now. I’ve a feeling our time in Ireland will be eventful.”

“Not like that, it won’t,” she said quickly. “I’m not… I don’t… it’s not that I wouldn’t, uh, want to, becauselookat you, but…oh God, I need to shut the fuck up!”

His compelling eyes flared wide, and he was staring at her like he would a child’s chalk drawing hanging in a gallery of masterpieces. Which was to say with something resembling horrified amusement.

She closed her eyes and slammed her head back against the seat, wishing there was a parachute handy so she could jump out of this damned plane. Yes, they were over the ocean, butshe didn’t care. A watery death was better than dying slowly by humiliation. Maybe she’d forgo the parachute and just jump. She’d have to ask the flight attendant to tell her when they reached maximum altitude, because with her stinking luck, she’d survive the fall but break every bone in her body and not be found for ten days. When they pulled her from the water, she’d be blotchy and sunburned from exposure, and the news article would show a picture of the rescue from the wrong angle. They’d capture her in an awkward pose, looking god-awful.

The subtle noise of Eoin shifting was overly loud to her oversensitive ears. She’d been tuned in to any sound of movement in case he decided to run screaming in the opposite direction.

“Brenna.”

The gentle understanding in his voice made her weepy, and she scrunched her eyes tighter. His muffled laugh from directly beside her caused her lids to snap open.

“Do you always do the opposite of what people expect?”

His casual question threw her, and she didn’t have an immediate response. Didn’t have any thought other than she wanted him to kiss her like he had at the pub. Her gaze dropped to his mouth, and she licked her lips.

“Keep lookin’ at me like that, Brenna Sullivan, and we’ll be joinin’ the mile-high club, we will.” His Irish accent had thickened as an amorous glow lit his stunningly green eyes.

“We can’t,” she blurted.

“Oh, I assure you we can,” he whispered into the shell of her ear.

A flutter of anticipation ran through her, and her fingers itched to trace his chiseled jaw. What she really should be doing was pushing him away. She’d never be anything more than a joke to him; she just wasn’t one ofthosegirls. The kind who inspired art or poetry. The kind who could suck on a lollipop andhave every guy in a mile radius fantasizing about other things she could do with her mouth. The kind who understood their worth.

Except for a boyfriend in college, she hadn’t had a serious relationship. The total sum of her sexual experience was losing her virginity to a nerd in a dorm room. Parker Harris had dumped her the next day, stating she just didn’t “do it” for him, not like the character from his Final Fantasy PlayStation game. Brenna didn’t even want to touch that with a ten-foot pole. Not Parker’s obsession with video games, nor his micro penis. Through the school grapevine, she’d heard he died of an aneurysm a week after their one-night stand, and though she felt bad for his family and friends, she couldn’t say she was too torn up about it. The guy had been an asshole.

“Where did you go just now, love?”

Eoin’s husky voice startled her from dwelling on her crushing self-doubts. “Side trip,” she said with a scrunch of her nose. “You should know, I take those journeys from time to time.”

He chuckled. “You are a true delight, Brenna. Don’t ever change who ya are for anyone, yeah?”

“It’s doubtful I could.”

Eoin laughed and clasped her hand in his. “Good. Now try to sleep.”

It wasn’t like she was going to be able to afterthat. She’d need to overanalyze every look, every single touch. Hell, by Shannon Airport, she’d have convinced herself he was halfway to crazy about her. But the only true cray-cray one was her, a pauper who had severed ties with her benefactor and practically jumped at the chance to work for a temperamental, hot-as-fuck artist.

Eoin rana thumb over her knuckles in a simple, comforting caress. In an odd, inexplicable way, he’d felt Brenna’s mind working. It wasn’t that he’d been able to hear her internal dialogue, but he’d certainly known every time her brain fired up and she experienced tumultuous thoughts. He wished she’d just relax and trust him to take care of her, but he understood why she couldn’t.

The entire time they were on board, he’d been hyper aware of her beside him. All his nerve endings were sparking as if he’d handled a live wire, and he had no logical explanation for it. The only true energy connection he’d ever experienced was with Dubheasa, and that was more of a twin-bond thing. If she cut her hand, his stung as if he’d sliced it. Or if she was in turmoil, he sensed her unease. But that was nothing like what he felt since kissing Brenna. It was as if, by touching her, he’d created a cosmic link that tied him to her. She was always on the periphery of his mind, dancing just out of reach, waiting for Goddess knows what to make their bond stronger.

She had no magic that he knew of, but she’d bound him all the same, like the mysterious Siren.

A Siren!

Eoin dropped her hand, not as quickly as he would a scalding potato, but nearly as fast. He’d heard of all kinds of fae creatures, but legend stated Sirens were achingly beautiful individuals designed to drive a human mad with desire, then help them along to an untimely death after stealing their power. Was the insanity based on long-term exposure? Although he was distracted by Brenna, he wouldn’t consider himself gone mad. But perhaps time with her was best in smaller increments.

He stole a sideways glance to see her worrying her lip and staring forward. No, Brenna was simply an intelligent but lost woman with few friends, who he found fascinating for all her contradictions. With a sigh, Eoin closed his eyes and tried tosleep. Yet it evaded him as visions of Brenna flitted through his mind. What would she look like draped in a sheet, with her hair a tangled mass of curls down her back as she looked over her shoulder at him, biting her lip in her uncertainty as she was now doing? Or perhaps her eyes would be sparkling and a mischievous half smile would curl her lips as he tried to find the ideal blend of paint to match the bloom on her cheeks.

---