Page 10 of Irish Rose
“Please, Mrs. Malloy—”
“Is at the market.” He picked up a dish and began to polish it dry.
He was standing close now, nearly hip-to-hip with her. Erin resisted the urge to shift away, or was it to shift closer? She plunged her hands into the water again. “I don’t need any help.”
He set down the first dish and picked up another. “I’ve got nothing else to do.”
Frowning, she lifted out a plate. “I don’t like it when you’re nice.”
“Don’t worry, I’m not often. So what else do you do except wash dishes and dance?”
It was a matter of pride, she knew, but she turned to him with her eyes blazing. “I keep books, if you want to know. I keep them for the inn and for the dry goods and for the farm.”
“Sounds like you’re busy,” he murmured, and began to consider. “Are you any good?”
“I’ve heard no complaints. I’m going to get a job in Dublin next year. In an office.”
“I can’t see it.”
She had a cast-iron skillet in her hand now and was tempted. “I didn’t ask you to.”
“Too many walls in an office,” he explained, and lowered the pan into the water himself. “You’d go crazy.”
“That’s for me to worry about.” She gripped the scouring pad like a weapon. “I was wrong when I said I didn’t like you when you were nice. I don’t like you at all.”
“You know, you’ve only to ask and Dee would take you to America.”
She tossed the pad into the water, and suds lapped up over the rim of the sink. “And what? Live off her charity? Is that what you think I want? To take what someone is kind enough to give me?”
“No.” He stacked the next plate. “I just wanted to see you flare up again.”
“You’re a bastard, Mr. Logan.”
“True enough. And now that we’re on intimate terms, you ought to call me Burke.”
“There’s plenty I’d like to be calling you. Why don’t you be on your way and let me finish here? I’ve got no time for the likes of you.”
“Then you’ll have to make some.”
He caught her off guard, though she told herself later she should have been expecting it. With her arms still elbow deep in water, he curled a hand around her neck and kissed her. It was quick, but a great deal more of a threat than a promise. His lips were hard and firm and surprisingly warm as he pressed them against hers. For a second, for two. She didn’t have time to react, and certainly no time to think before he’d released her again and picked up another dish.
She swallowed, and beneath the soapy water her hands were fists. “You’ve a nerve, you do.”
“A man doesn’t get very far without any—or a woman.”
“Just remember this. If I want you touching me, I’ll let you know.”
“Your eyes say plenty, Irish. It’s a pleasure to watch them.”
She wouldn’t argue. She wouldn’t demean herself by making an issue of it. Instead, she pulled the plug on the sink. “I’ve the floor to do. You’ll have to get your feet off it.”
“Then I guess I’d better take that walk.” He laid the cloth down, spread open so it would dry. Without another word or another glance, he strolled out the back door. Erin waited a full ten seconds, then gave herself the satisfaction of heaving a wet rag after him.
Two hours later, after a quick change into a skirt and sweater, Erin met the Grants in the public room of the inn. Joe’s overalls were bundled into a sack tied on the back of her bike, and she’d used some of Mrs. Malloy’s precious cream to offset the daily damage she did to her hands. Burke was there. Of course he was, she thought, and deliberately ignored him as he bounced young Brady on his knee.
“Ma sent this.” Erin handed Dee a plate wrapped tightly in a cloth. “It’s her raisin cake. She didn’t want you to think Mrs. Malloy could outcook her.”
“I remember your mother’s raisin cake.” Dee lifted the corner of the cloth to sniff. “Now and then she’d bake an extra and have one of you bring it by the farm.” The scent brought back memories—some sweet, some painful. She covered the cake again. “I’m glad you could come with us today.”
