Page 86 of Beside Golden Irish Fields
His gaze held a challenge. “To remind you of how beautiful you looked tonight and to remember our first date.”
Like she could forget.
She suspected that was the point as he kissed her goodbye again and put her in her car.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Angie was coming to his house.
Hishouse. Not Sorcha’s house. Somehow the distinction was critical.
He surveyed his newest accomplishment: the floors were finally installed. The pine boards didn’t exactly gleam from his sweeping, but the boards’ individual characteristics were visible. He liked that his hands had laid down every one of them, further adding to the foundation of his house. After letting go of Sorcha’s words, he’d let go of this being her house.
He’d even altered a few of his plans. Why did the house need a music room? He was going to make it into a home theater instead, like he’d seen in fancy shows on the telly. He liked movies. Why not sit in a comfy theater chair with a big screen and surround sound? He could invite his friends over. The closest cinema was forty minutes away, after all.
He rose as he heard her car drive up.
He’d insisted they wait three long days to make sure she could still paint after their last encounter. No kissing or touching to cloud the experiment, he’d told her jokingly. To ensure there was no kissing or touching, they’d avoided being alone together. When he’d reached her this morning, a grin had spread across her face as she turned her pad to show him her half-finished painting of the dawn. They’d immediately made plans for tonight.
A knock sounded on the door moments later, and he loved the sound of his boots moving across the floor as he moved toward it. He spotted Angie through the sidelight windows around the door, a large blue gift bag in her small hands. Given the cool, rainy weather, she had on a black raincoat over her painter jeans, along with new wellies covered in daisies. Cute. She must have felt his presence because she looked over. Their eyes locked, and his heart was pounding as he opened the door.
“Hi. I asked a few people about the Irish version of a housewarming gift, and they gave me a load of answers I didn’t expect. I wasn’t even sure where to buy a bag of coal, but I didn’t take you for someone who’d want a plaque with Celtic knots and a traditional Irish blessing. This seemed better.”
“You didn’t have to bring anything.” Their fingers touched as she handed the gift to him. “Besides, the house isn’t done yet. Please come in.”
She crossed the threshold, and he could have sworn he felt a tremor under his feet. He looked at her then. God, he wanted to kiss her. “How are you in the painting department?”
Grinning, she lowered her hood. “Never better. Oh, it feels so wonderful to be painting again and again, whenever I want. Carrick, I can’t thank you enough. Is it too bold to ask you to kiss me?”
He caressed her cheek, fingering the ends of her shorter hair. “I was thinking the same thing. But before I do. You cut your hair after I saw you this morning.”
She raised her hands and touched the ends, letting their fingers dance together again. “I needed a change. Maybe it was the Irish wind, but it was tangling all the time. I held back from dying it auburn, though. Liam told me it would be way too Maureen O’Hara of me.”
Right. Liam loved classic movies. He’d think Carrick’s home theater was savage. “I like it. The style suits you better, I think. And while I know it’s dangerous to tell a woman anything about her appearance, I only want to say that I like your hair color as it is.”
Her mouth parted. “You do? It’s so mousy.”
He thought of how he’d first seen her. She’d shrouded herself in some ways. “Maybe it’s the Irish wind and sunshine that have brought out your highlights, but there’s nothing mousy about it. Your hair is now like the Burren in County Clare. There’s browns and yellows and reds. Oh, listen to me. Talking like an eejit when I should be kissing you.”
She linked her arms around his neck, her body brushing his. “I love you talking like that, but kiss away. I never want to wait three days again.”
He lowered his mouth slowly. The first brush of her lips had him going rock hard. Fighting the urge to cup the back of her neck and sink into her mouth, he kept their contact light. When he leaned back, her eyes were soft.
“You got the memo, huh?” she asked.
He wanted to lean in and kiss her all over again. “What memo?”
“About not kissing too crazy straight off.” She fanned herself. “If we carried on like that, we’d never get our tour in, and I came to see your house.”
“Since we’re talking about memos, you clearly didn’t get mine.”
Her lips twitched. “No?”
“We’re not making love tonight.” As much as he wanted to. “We pledged to set the stage. If you’ll glance around you, the floors are in and swept, but there’s no bed in sight. I did mention wanting to wake with you.”
She nodded. “You did. Good to be clear. I was wondering the whole way over. I bought some new underwear and some condoms in Westport since I went off the pill as part of my No Men Ever plan.”
“I bought some too. I went to the next village over to preserve our reputations.”
