Tears Of The Moon

CHAPTER Eight

The tune waltzing its way through Shawn's head put him in the best of moods. While the smoke from his pots and pans drifted up, and the oil he was heating began to sizzle, he let it play through, bar to bar, then a key change for a bit of drama. The words weren't clear to him yet, but they would come. It seemed to him a summer song, full of light. And the thinking of it, the listening to it inside his head, chased the winter gloom away.

The shared beer and conversation in Aidan's kitchen the day before had settled him down. Which was just where Shawn preferred to be.

At the moment he couldn't understand why he'd gotten so nervy about matters. Little Mary Kate was just going through one of those phases girls went through, and it would pass as quickly as it had reared up. He'd gone through phases himself, hadn't he? He could remember clearly mooning and sighing over pretty Colleen Brennan when he'd been about eighteen. Fortunately, he'd never worked up the courage to do anything but moon and sigh, as pretty Colleen Brennan had been two and twenty at the time and engaged to marry Tim Riley.

He'd gotten over it in a matter of weeks, then had sighed over another pretty face. That was the way of things, after all. Eventually, of course, he'd done more than sigh and had discovered the rare wonder of having a woman naked under him. And that was a fine thing.

Still, he took care whom he touched and how he touched, so that when the time was over each could walk away happy with the experience. He wasn't a man to take the act of love as a casual matter. Which he supposed, was why he hadn't participated in that rare wonder for some months now.

And that, he imagined, was most likely why the O'Toole had set his glands to stirring.

Not that he was at all certain, as yet, if he intended to do anything about it. No, Brenna was a puzzle, and one he thought it might be best to leave unsolved. A little time, he decided, a little care, and the two of them would be back on their old familiar ground, if they could just let things be.

His mind would be quiet again, and life would slide along the way it was meant to.

All he had to do was forget how stimulating it was to have his mouth on hers.

He checked on the crubeens he was boiling with cabbage and jacketed potatoes. He added a bit more marjoram to the broth to flavor it up, a trick he'd learned by experimentation.

He particularly liked to present the dish when there were Yanks in the pub. Their varying reactions to being served pigs' trotters was always an amusement to him. Jude was doing the waitressing tonight, and he didn't think she'd disappoint him.

Meanwhile, he had fish to fry for the two hikers from Wexford. He slid the haddock into the oil, then glanced up as the back door opened.

Instantly his spine stiffened, his eyes narrowed, and a prickly ball bounced around in his gut.

"Smells good," Brenna said easily and sniffed the air. "Would that be crubeens you're doing there? I doubt we'll have such fare in Waterford City."

She was wearing paint, and sparkly things at her ears. And for God's sake a dress-one that didn't leave the matter of curves to a man's imagination and showed a great deal of slim, well muscled leg.

"What are you doing, done up like that?"

"Having dinner with Darcy and her Dubliners." She'd rather, much rather pull up a chair at the table, snag a portion and tuck into the crubeens, but she'd given her word. And that was that.

"You're going out with a man you've never laid eyes on."

"Darcy has, and I'd best go up and drag her away from her mirror or she'll primp another hour and I'll never get my dinner."

"Just a damn minute."

His tone alone would have stopped her, it was very sharp and un-Shawnlike. But even before she could turn back, he had her arm. "Well, what's lit into you, then?"

"Perfume, too," he said in disgust, as he got a good, heady whiff of her scent. "I should've known it. Well, you can just turn straight around and go back home. I'm not having you go off dressed like this."

Temper would have snapped out, would have bitten him on the neck, but it couldn't get through the thick wall of shock. "You're not having it? Dressed like what?"

"I'm not, no. And you know very well dressed like what. It's surprised I am that your mother let you out of the house this way."

"I'm twenty-four, if you've forgotten. My mother stopped approving my choice of attire some years ago. And it's surely no business of yours what I'm wearing."

"I'm making it my business. Now go home and wash that stuff off your face."

"I'll do nothing of the sort." The fact was, she'd used the lipstick and so forth only because she knew Darcy would have slathered twice as much on her if she'd shown up without it. But there was no reason to mention that, especially since that temper was busily gnawing through the shock.

"Fine, then, I'll do for you here and now." He hauled her up under one arm, ignoring her shrieked curse and the fist that swiped at his temple, and carted her toward the sink. He had a vision through the black haze of his fury of dumping her in headfirst and turning the water on full and ice cold.

He had his hand on the tap when Jude rushed in. "Shawn!"

The stunned and somehow maternal tone stopped him, but barely.

"What in the world are you doing? Put Brenna down this minute!"

"I'm doing what needs to be done. Look how she's flaunted herself up, Jude, and all to go out with some strange man. 'Tisn't right."

Between curses, Brenna managed to turn her head and try for a good chomp out of his torso, but she only got a mouthful of flannel. She threatened to do something so particularly vile and vicious to his manhood that Shawn cautiously tightened his grip.

Well, well, Jude thought and struggled not to be amused. "Put her down," she said quietly. "You should be ashamed of yourself."

"I should? She might as well be naked as wearing this dress, and I should be ashamed?"

"Brenna looks lovely." Seeing no other choice, Jude walked up to him, carefully avoiding Brenna's kicking feet and snagged him by the ear. "Put her down."

"Ouch! Bloody hell." The last woman to pinch his ear in such a manner had been his own mother-and he'd been every bit as unable to defend himself. "I'm only looking out for her. All right, leave off," he said when Jude ruthlessly twisted.

He dumped Brenna back on her feet, then took the deep breath of the aggrieved. "You don't understand the situation," he began, then staggered when Brenna snatched up a pan and rapped it smartly over his head.

"Bastard. I'm not your dog in the manger, and don't you forget it."

He gripped the edge of the sink and watched triple Brennas march to the back stairs. "She coshed me."

"You deserved it." But Jude took him gently by the hand. "You should sit down. It's lucky for you she didn't grab the cast iron, or you'd be flat on your back."

"I don't want her going out with some Dubliner." Dizzy, he let Jude nudge him into a chair. "I don't want her going 'round looking that way."

"Why?"

"Because I don't."

Patient, and more sympathetic than she let him know, Jude ran her fingers delicately through his hair. "You don't always get what you want. It didn't break the skin, but you're going to have a bump, a good one." Jude tipped his face up to hers, and touched by the stubborn and miserable look in his eyes, kissed him lightly. "I never realized you had such a hard head. If you don't want Brenna going out with someone else, why haven't you asked her to go out with you?"

He shifted in his chair. "It's not that way."

This time she cupped his cheek. "Isn't it?" Leaving him stewing over that, she walked over to turn off the fish that was already burned beyond redemption.

"I don't want it to be that way."

Her mouth tipped up at the corners. Keeping her back to him for now, Jude got out fresh portions of fish. "I'll have to repeat, you don't always get what you want."

"I do." He got to his feet, gave himself a moment for the room to settle. "I'm careful about what I want."

"So was I once. Wanting more's what got me here."

"Well, I'm already where I want to be, so I can afford to be careful."

Still holding the fish, she gave him a bland stare. "Hard head, indeed."

"And that's the way I like it as well. No, don't trouble yourself there, I'll do it." He shoved the entire pan aside, and got out another to heat fresh oil. "Ask Aidan to serve the hikers another pint on me, with apologies for the delay in the meal, would you, darling?"

"All right." She started out, then turned back. This family business was still so new. "Shawn, maybe you do like where you are, maybe it's the right spot for you. But there are times when you have to make certain. Take a step forward or take one back. You're not being fair to Brenna or to yourself by running in place."

"Is that the psychologist talking?" He glanced back in time to see her wince, then lower her eyes. "I didn't mean that in a hard way, Jude. And you're right. I just haven't figured which direction to take." Brooding over it, he coated the fish. "The fact is, she gave me a push. I don't care to be pushed. It makes me want to dig in my heels."

"I can understand that, just as I can understand Brenna's the type who needs to move things along. One way or the other."

"Aye." Scowling, he touched fingers cautiously to the bump on his head. "One way or the other."

"If you can stand one more piece of advice, make yourself busy in the storeroom when you hear Brenna coming back down the steps."

"You're a wise woman."

"It's going well, isn't it?" Darcy powdered her nose in the ladies' room of the restaurant and slid her gaze to Brenna's in the mirror.

"The food's very good."

"Well, that, yes, but I mean the whole of it. It's so nice to be out with a man of some sophistication for a change. Matthew lived in Paris for an entire year," Darcy went on, speaking of her date. "He speaks the language like a native. I think I'll have him come up with the idea of taking me there for a weekend before much longer."

Despite herself, Brenna had to laugh. "Oh, you'll let him think he thought of it."

"Naturally. Men prefer it that way. And Daniel's very taken with you."

"He's pleasant enough." Knowing Darcy would be ages yet before she deemed herself freshened up enough to go back to the table, Brenna took out her lipstick.

Well, Mary Kate's lipstick, copped from the bathroom, if the truth be known.

"He's marvelous-looking and wealthy as sin. Why don't we let them take us both to Paris?"

"I don't have the time to go off to France, nor the inclination to pay for the journey in the way a man would expect."

"We've nothing but time." Darcy fluffed at her hair. "And a clever woman doesn't pay, in any form, unless she wants to. I'm not after sleeping with Matthew."

"I thought you liked him."

"I do, yes. He just doesn't give me a tug that way. But that could change," she added cheerfully.

Lips pursed, Brenna studied the lipstick as she wound the tube up and down. "Have you ever wanted to sleep with a man who didn't want to sleep with you?"

"I've never known a man who wouldn't pull down his zipper at the least provocation. It's the way they're made, so you can't blame them."

"But there would be some, under certain circumstances, who just wouldn't find a particular woman attractive in that way."

"I suppose there are exceptions to every rule. But you've not to worry." She gave Brenna a supportive pat on the shoulder. "Daniel finds you very attractive. I'm sure he'd be glad to sleep with you if you wanted."

Heaving a breath, Brenna dropped the lipstick back in her bag. "Well, then, what a relief."

She had a wonderful time. The best time she'd ever had in her life. A civilized meal in a civilized place with civilized people.

She'd been bored half to death but wasn't ready to admit it.

With that block in place, she'd given Daniel her number and promised herself she'd go out with him again should he ring her to ask. He'd been polite and amusing, she reminded herself as she drove home from the pub, where she'd been let off after the date. He'd pretended to be interested in her work and had actually made the effort to find something they had in common! Which had turned out to be old American films, the noir type.

He had an extensive collection of them on video and had made casual mention of her coming up to Dublin, where they could have their own little film festival.

It might be something she'd enjoy. Just as she'd enjoyed the good-night kiss. He hadn't been overly familiar with it, he hadn't let his hands roam where they shouldn't so early in an acquaintance.

A perfectly nice individual.

And damn Shawn Gallagher for ruining her palate for the taste of another man.

She slowed, then stopped as she came to his cottage, letting her lorry idle on the road while the fragile fog swam around it.

Oh, he was in there, all right, the snake in the grass. See there, the parlor light was on. He was likely playing at his music. If he'd had a window open, it would have drifted out into the night so she could hear it.

She wished she could.

Because knowing that made her feel soft, she deepened her scowl. She was tempted, sorely, to whip the truck into his street, march right in the door to give him a piece of her mind and the back of her hand.

But that would put too much importance on his earlier behavior. She'd rather shun him. The bastard.

What kind of man was it who could kiss you one night as if he'd happily spend eternity with, his lips on yours, then behave like a furious father the next?

Wash her face indeed.

She sniffed, started to turn back in the seat to take the wheel when the movement in the upper window stopped her. For a moment she was terrified, mortified, that Shawn was there, looking out while she stared at his cottage.

But the embarrassed flush never had the chance to heat her cheeks as she saw the figure of a woman and the shine of pale hair in the delicate moonlight.

So now Brenna sighed, and rolling down her window, crossed her arms there and rested her chin on them.

How many nights, she wondered, had poor Lady Gwen stood there in that window, alone and lonely and heartbroken? All because of a man.

"Why do we bother with them, Gwen? Why do we let them get into our heads this way? When you push all the rest aside, they're so bloody irritating."

His heart's in his song. Brenna heard the words as if they were whispered directly into her ear. And so are you. Listen.

She squeezed her eyes tight, as something frightening was trying to swell and shift in her head. "No, no, I'm done with that, and with him. I'm not giving more of my thoughts and more of my time to Shawn. He's had enough of them, and for too long already."

Almost violently, she shoved the truck back into gear and drove home.

He knew she was working alone because he'd checked. Mick O'Toole was seeing to some business up at the cliff hotel, and Jude was running some errands.

He could hear her banging away at something as he climbed the steps. Which meant, he realized, the woman was armed. It was a risk he'd have to take.

He'd spent most of the night thinking the situation over-which was becoming too much of a habit and costing him a great deal of sleep. He'd come to the conclusion that Jude was right. It was time to move one way or the other. He imagined the conversation to come would determine which direction he headed.

The banging, he noted, was from inside the baby's closet. Following impulse, a rare thing for him, he closed the door, locked it, and pocketed the key. That, at least, would keep her from walking out on him until he'd finished.

Braced for the explosion he was sure he was inviting, he walked toward the closet.

"Jude? Back so soon? Well, have a look at these shelves here and see if they're to your liking." From the third step on her ladder, she looked over her shoulder and saw Shawn in the doorway.

He waited, but rather than blistering him with her tongue, she just looked through him, then turned back to work.

That, he thought, was a very dire sign indeed.

"I want to talk to you," he began.

"I'm working. I've no time for chatting."

"I need to talk to you." He stepped in, laid a hand on her hip. It took a great deal of courage not to spring back when she stared down on him and took a fresh grip on her hammer. "Would you put that down?"

"No."

He might have had courage, but he also had brains. In a quick move, he yanked the hammer out of her hand. "I've a knot the size of a fucking golf ball on my head. I'm not after a second one. I just want a few words with you, Brenna."

"I've nothing to say to you, Shawn, and as I value the friendship we've had all our lives, I'll ask you to leave me be for now."

Dire indeed, he thought as a tongue of panic licked the inside of his throat. "I want to apologize to you." She shifted on the ladder again, gave him her back and pulled out her measuring tape.

The woman brought out the worst in him, was all Shawn could think as he gripped her by the hips and lifted her down from the ladder. She came around swinging, and though he'd expected no less, he didn't dodge the blow. Not after he'd caught the sheen of tears in her eyes.

"I'm sorry." Panic was more than a sly lick now. It simply coated his throat. "Don't cry. I can't stand it."

"I'm not crying." She'd let the tears burn her eyes out of her head before she let a single one fall in his presence. "I asked you to leave me be. Since you won't, I'll leave you."

She strode to the door, wrenched at the knob, then simply gaped in shock. "You locked the door!" She whirled back. "Have you lost your mind?"

"I know you-so I knew you wouldn't listen. Now you have to."

He saw her slide a look toward her toolbox, imagined she was thinking of the nice weapon supply inside. However sincere his apology, he wasn't prepared to have holes hacked out of him, so he stepped over to put himself between Brenna and temptation.

"You say our friendship matters to you. It matters to me as well. It matters a great deal to me. You matter to me, Brenna."

"Is that why you treated me like some tramp last night?"

Her voice broke, alarming him, so he bore down. "I suppose it was, yes. It's not a regular thing, after all, for me to see you looking that way."

Frustration had her throwing up her hands. "What way?"

"Lovely." He saw her eyes go round in shock, and took advantage of the moment to step a little closer. "You looked so polished up and female."

"I am female, for God's sake."

"I know it, but you don't usually trouble to make it an issue."

"Why should it be?" she demanded. It was a sore point, and one she hated probing. "Just because I know how to hammer a nail or fix a pipe, I'm not allowed to be a woman as well? Wearing a dress and some lipstick makes me a tramp?"

"No, it makes me a fool for letting you think I meant that. Clumsy, foolish, and spiteful. And I'm sorry for it."

When she said nothing, he stuck his hands in his pockets, pulled them out again. Best, he told himself, to get it all out and over. "The truth of it is, I was thinking of you, thinking about things when you walked in, looking the way you did and about to go off with another man. I was jealous. I didn't realize it at the time, didn't want to admit it later after my mind had cleared a bit. I've never been jealous before. I can't say I cared for it."

She'd calmed down enough to begin to speculate. And consider. "I didn't like it much myself."

"I told myself you'd done it-put on that dress and left your hair all falling down and made your mouth slick and wet to stir me up."

Yes, she considered. And she nodded. "Sure I might've, if I'd thought of it. My mind just doesn't work in those clever ways."

"No, you're a straightforward woman. I know it." He stopped, angled his head. For every step he took she took one in evasion. "Why is it, Brenna, that when I come toward you now, you back away? Aren't you the one who started it all?"

"Aye, I did, but I've had time to reconsider. Just keep your distance, will you, while I'm mulling it over," she demanded when she caught the dark male amusement in his eyes. Not an expression to settle a woman's nerves. "We've been friends a long time, and I don't want to lose that part of my life. If we'd acted when I first mentioned sex, if you'd just grinned and said, 'Well, Brenna, what a fine idea, let's go up to bed,' it would've been fine all around. We'd have enjoyed ourselves, kept it simple, and parted friends as always. But now it's stopped being an impulsive sort of thing and it's complicated."

He solved the problem of keeping her still by reaching out, planting his palm on the wall just above her head. Before she could shift, he planted the other and caged her in. "You've a habit of acting on impulse, and I'm one for pondering over things. You move fast and I move slow."

Her blood was beginning to hum. But pride kept her in place now, as sure as his arms. "Jesus, Shawn, a glacier moves with more speed than you."

"But I get where I'm going just the same, don't I? I'm thinking, Brenna, that weighing impulse and consideration, speed and caution, we can still meet somewhere in the middle of things."

"It's too- sticky now."

"Your heart's pounding," he murmured as he eased closer. "I can almost hear it." Watching her, he laid his hand between her breasts. Awareness snapped into her eyes, breath trembled between her lips, then drew in, soft and sharp when he let his fingers spread. "Now I can feel it. I've wanted to touch you."

Her knees wanted to buckle. "You'd never have thought of it if I hadn't mentioned it."

"Sure and I can't say I mind it being your idea, as I'm thinking of it now." He lowered his head to nip lightly at her bottom lip. "And I'm finding it hard to think of much else. When I came up here today-" He shifted his head so his lips skimmed up along her jaw. "I thought I'd apologize, make things as right as I could between us. Then I was nearly sure, very nearly sure that I'd take a step back and leave it that way. But now I want to touch you." He toyed delicately with the nipple that strained against her shirt. "I want to taste you."

And finally, finally covered her mouth with his.

She gripped his hips, fingers digging in as she let her tongue dance with his, let her lips heat with his. She wanted faster, hotter, harder. She thought she might die from the gentle and glorious warmth.

"Wait." Something was breaking loose inside her. A vital something that needed to stay firmly in place. "Wait. You think I need all the fancy work." She turned her head, but that only meant his teeth found her ear.

Oh, Jesus, the man had the most magical of mouths.

"I don't need it." Her breath was coming hard and fast and making her dizzy. "Or seductions."

"I do." He tilted his head so he could nibble down her throat.

"If you've decided-and it appears to me you have-that we should have sex after all, we'll take an hour now and go to your cottage."

His chuckle was muffled against her skin, skin that was soft as sun-warmed silk. "Somewhere in the middle, Brenna. I want you." He felt her shiver as his mouth found hers again. "But I've a mind to drive us both a bit crazy before I have you naked and under me."

"Why?"

"Because it's more enjoyable that way. Do you like it when I do this?" She drew in her breath in three short gasps when he feathered his fingers just under her shirt so the backs of them rubbed the curve of her breast. "I see you do. Your eyes are blurry."

"I'm half blind. The hell with the cottage, we'll just finish this right here."

But when she locked her arms around his neck, he laughed and swung her in a circle. "Oh, no, we won't. I won't short myself or you of the pleasure."

"It doesn't seem like middle ground from where I'm standing. It's leaning heavily toward your way of things."

"Maybe, but you'll thank me for it when we're done."

"So like a man," she said when he set her on her feet. "Always thinking you know what's best and how it all should be done."

His teeth flashed. "Brenna, darling, if I wasn't a man we wouldn't be having this conversation."

She blew out a breath, settled her cap more firmly on her head. "Well, you're right about that, aren't you?"

"You told me you had an itch, well, I'll scratch it for you, in my own time and my own way. That's fair."

She looked at him, nodded. "Frustrating, but fair."

"And wherever we stand now or after, we walk away friends at the end of it. As much as I want you, I won't touch you if we don't take a vow here to walk away friends."

How could she help but care for him, Brenna wondered, when he was the kind of man who would think of that? And would mean it. "Friends now, during, and after." She offered her hand on it. "I'll promise that to you."

"And I to you." He took her hand, held it. Then, just to see her reaction, brought it to his lips to nuzzle.

Her mouth fell open, delighting him into a rolling laugh.

"Mary Brenna, I believe you're in for a few surprises along the way."

"Maybe." She tugged her hand free, put it behind her back, where it continued to tingle. "But I'm not without a few tricks of my own."

"I'll count on that." Plucking the key from his pocket, he turned toward the door. "Why don't you come down tonight and I'll fix you supper, and I can show you some- surprises in the storeroom."

"In the storeroom?" Before she could laugh, a thought took root. "Just how many women, might I ask, have you surprised in the storeroom?"

"Mauverneen." He winked at her before he strolled out. "I'm not a man who counts."