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“I don’t know,” Emma said, her smile fading just a little, “okay, you’re a priest, but you are still a Reilly.”
“Guilty as charged,” Liam admitted. “And this Reilly wants to know what Connor did that upset you so much.”
“He dismissed me.”
“Excuse me?”
Emma shrugged, as if she could shift what felt like a load off her shoulders, then shoved both hands into the pockets of her jeans. Blowing out a breath, she realized that it was just a little harder than she’d thought it would be to talk about this. Saying it all out loud only made it harsher and made her remember the stupid smile in Connor’s eyes when he told her she was a “pal.”
Gritting her teeth, Emma got a grip on her anger and muttered thickly, “He actually told me that he didn’t want me, so I was safe to be around.”
Liam groaned. “He really is an idiot.”
“Yeah, well.” Feeling the sting of Connor’s words again, Emma turned her head and looked out the window, focusing on the gnarled trunk of the closest magnolia tree. She should just be mad, but there was an undeniable sting of hurt jabbing at her, too. And it was that niggling pain that bothered her the most. She hadn’t let a man close enough to actually hurt her in three years. The fact that Connor could do it without even trying infuriated her.
“He’s going to be sorry,” she whispered, more as a solemn promise to herself than to Liam.
“Emma?”
She wouldn’t look at him. How could she? She heard the concern in his voice, and though she appreciated it, she didn’t need it. She’d be fine. Just as she’d always been. And once Connor had been taught a very costly lesson, things would go back to the way they should be. “I’m going to see to it he loses that bet, Liam.”
He sighed and she heard him stand up and walk toward her. “Not that I wouldn’t be pleased if the church got a new roof,” Liam said when he stopped beside her. “But I feel I ought to caution you.”
“About?” She slanted him a look.
Shaking his head, Liam said softly, “Sometimes the best-laid traps can backfire, Emma. They can spring shut on the one who set the trap in the first place.”
Not if the trapper was careful.
“Don’t worry about me, Liam,” she said firmly. “I’ll be fine.”
“Uh-huh,” he said, and reached out to turn her face toward him. “But you and Connor have been friends for a long time.”
“So?” She didn’t mean to sound so much like a cranky child. But she couldn’t seem to help it. The fact that they had been friends was the very thing that had made this whole situation so infuriating.
“So,” he said, “it’s not that far a fall from friendship to love.”
Emma laughed and shook her head. “Sorry for laughing, Liam. But trust me, there’s no chance of that.”
Number one, she wasn’t interested in loving anybody. She’d tried that once and she still had the emotional bruises to prove it. And Connor wasn’t looking for love either. Heck, if anything, he was trying to avoid women altogether. And clearly, she told herself, her spine straightening and her chin lifting, if he were to go looking for love…he wouldn’t be looking at her. Nope. No danger here.
Still chuckling, she turned and headed for the door. “I’ve got to get back to the garage,” she said. “And don’t worry about giving me a ride back. It’s only a few blocks. I could use the walk.”
At the door, she stopped and turned back to look at him again. Father Liam was watching her with a concerned expression on his handsome face.
“Don’t look so worried,” she quipped. “I’m going to help you get that new roof.”
“A new roof’s not worth a broken heart, Emma.”
If something inside her shivered, she ignored it. He meant well, but he didn’t understand. This wasn’t about making Connor love her. This was about making Connor want her, and then leaving him flat.
This was about payback.
“Hearts are not involved here, Liam.”
Still worried, Liam watched her go. “For your sake, I hope you’re right.”
Two days later Connor couldn’t stand his own company any longer.
He’d been avoiding his usual hangouts—except for Jacobsen’s Garage—but Emma hadn’t had much time to talk to him in the last couple of days. He might have thought that she was avoiding him, but that didn’t make any sense at all.
To fill his time, he’d spent a few hours working in his mother’s garden, played basketball with Liam and had even mooched a meal from Brian and Tina. But, Connor thought, as good a cook as his sister-in-law was, he just couldn’t take another evening over there. Not with the way Brian and Tina were all over each other.
It was hell to be jealous of a married man.
But there it was.
“I think going without sex is killing off brain cells,” he muttered, and shut off his car’s engine. Instantly the air conditioner died and the temperature in the car started to climb.
Summer nights weren’t much cooler than summer days and the humidity was enough to make a grown man weep. He stared through the windshield at the Off Duty Bar and told himself if he was smart, he’d fire up the engine, turn the car around and drive back to his empty apartment.
But damn it, temptation of women or not, Connor wanted a couple of hours of listening to music, drinking a beer and talking to his friends.
“I can do this,” he assured himself as he opened the car door and stepped out into the sultry summer air. Music, loud but muffled, floated to him on the way-too-slight breeze and the scent of jasmine, coming from the bushes growing at the edge of the parking lot, was thick and sweet.
Connor slammed the car door, punched the alarm button until the car horn beeped, then headed for the front door. As he walked closer, a couple left the building, the man’s arm wrapped tightly around his woman’s shoulders as he dropped a kiss on her hair.
Connor groaned and seriously considered turning back while there was still time. But the lure of air-conditioning, cold beer and some conversation was just too strong. He grabbed the silver bar in the center of the door and gave it a yank. The door flew open, music slapped at him, and the scent of perfume, beer and cigarette smoke welcomed him.
He stepped into the dimly lit room and nodded greetings as he made his way to the bar. Signaling the bartender, Connor said, “Beer. Draft.” He slapped a bill on the bar top and when his drink was ready, he lifted it and took a long pull.
The icy froth soothed him as it slid down his throat, and he shifted his gaze to take in the room. The bar itself was old. Probably fifty years at least. The walls were painted battleship gray and the furniture was scarred. From the open, beamed ceiling, hung memorabilia of the corps. Vintage helmets, bayonets in frayed scabbards, and even a ceremonial sword, belonging to the current owner, a retired Sergeant Major. The whole place was designed to make a military man feel welcome. A Marine, most of all.
There were pool tables at one end of the main room, and on the opposite end, a dozen round tables were lined up in a wide circle, so that the middle of the ring could be used for dancing. The jukebox, which looked older than Connor, blasted out current rock along with some of the classics.
Most of the regulars at the Off Duty were Marines. Winding down after a day of work or just stopping in for a cold one before going home. Of course, there were also a few civilians and more than a few women.
Not that Connor was noticing.
Then the crowd shifted. His hand tightened on the glass of beer. Through the gap in the people milling around the bar, he had an all-too-clear view of a tall blonde in a skirt short enough to be just barely legal.
She was bending over the pool table, lining up a shot.
Connor’s mouth went dry.
Her long, blond hair hung in a honey-colored curtain down to the middle of her back. As she tipped her head to one side, that fall of hair shifted, off her shoulders and his gaze was caught by the way the overhead light picked out streaks of sun-kissed hair, brighter than the rest. She wore a pale-blue tank top that looked as if it had been glued onto her body, and the tiny denim skirt, just covering her behind, hitched even higher as she leaned farther over the pool table. Her shapely legs looked smooth and tanned and about three miles long. She wore black, sky-high heels on her small feet, and her ankles looked as fragile as her thighs looked sexy.
Sexy?
The woman oozed sex.
His fingers squeezed the glass of beer until he wouldn’t have been surprised to feel it shatter like spun sugar in his grasp. Scraping one hand across his face, he inhaled sharply and watched, spellbound, as she lifted her right foot and rubbed it slowly against her left calf.
Need spiked.
His body went instantly hard.
His breath shuddered and his heartbeat staggered.
He watched one of the guys closest to her, lean in and whisper something, and Connor wanted to grab the guy and pitch him through a window.
Okay, breathe.
He sucked in air and told himself that he was only reacting like this because of his recent dry spell.
But it was more.
There was something about her.
Something that called to him from all the way across the room. Something that made a man want to toss her over his shoulder and carry her off to a cave where he could have her, over and over again. Where he could listen to her moan and taste her sighs.
He took another gulp of beer, hoping the icy drink would put out some of the fire. But he knew better. Damn it, he never should have come in here.
The blonde straightened up slowly, then hitched one hip higher than the other as she laughed. That tight, short skirt of hers hugged her behind. She shook her long blond hair back from her face, and Connor was captivated, watching the thick, wavy fall of blond shift and dance around her.
He swallowed hard.
Then she tipped her head back and playfully patted the other guy’s chest.
Connor dropped his beer.
The glass shattered at his feet, splashing ice cold beer on everyone close by.
He didn’t notice.
He couldn’t take his eyes off the blond with the body made for sex.
“Emma?”
Three
Even over the pounding rhythm of the jukebox, Emma heard the glass shatter.
But then, her ears were attuned to everything. She’d seen Connor walk into the bar—which was exactly why she’d maneuvered herself to the end of the pool table. She’d even opted to take a lousy shot, because she knew exactly what kind of picture she’d make, leaning over the pool table.
Nerves hit her hard and fast. Her stomach spun, and the edges of her vision got a little foggy, but she could deal with that. Had to deal with it. Too late now to change her plan.
Smiling up at the guy she’d just beaten at pool, she ignored the sensation of Connor’s gaze boring into her back. “That’s twenty bucks you owe me, Mike. Want to go double or nothing?”
The tall Marine smiled down at her as he handed over a twenty-dollar bill. “How about you let me buy you a drink instead?”
“How about you take off?” Connor’s voice was nothing more than a low growl.
Emma shifted a look at him and had to force herself not to smile at the stunned-to-his-toes expression on his face. Good. She definitely had his attention.
“Connor,” she said, in mock surprise. “I didn’t see you come in.”
Viciously he rubbed the back of his neck, then let his hand drop to his side. “Yeah, well. I sure as hell saw you.”
“Friend of yours?”
Emma glanced back at the man she’d just beaten twice at pool. Tall and good-looking, any other night she just might be interested. Tonight, though, every thought was centered on Connor. But Mike didn’t look too pleased at the idea of sharing.
They were attracting a small crowd, drawn no doubt by the bristling testosterone in the air. Emma wanted to shake her head at the ridiculousness of it, but there was a small part of her enjoying the whole show.
After all, she spent most of her time being just what Connor had called her. One of the guys. A pal. Well, she’d been underestimated most of her life. True, she’d probably played into it by never bothering to dress the part of “female.” But she’d always figured she shouldn’t have to. A woman who was a successful business owner should be accepted on her own terms without having to stand in killer high heels and skirts so short she felt a breeze way too high up.
“Emma,” Mike said, bringing her up out of her thoughts with a jerk. “You know this guy?”
“Oh, yes,” she said, sending another look to Connor and really enjoying seeing him watch the other guy through narrowed eyes. “Connor and I are old friends.”
“And we need to talk,” Connor said, not bothering to take the warning out of his voice as he faced the other Marine. “So why don’t you get lost?”
“Yeah?” Mike snarled. “I don’t remember inviting you over.”
Connor’s chin went up, Mike stiffened and curled his hands into fists, and Emma suddenly felt as though she were in the middle of a special on that cable channel about animals. The men were like two bull elephants about to butt heads.
And in spite of the anger she still felt toward Connor, a purely female spurt of delight shot through her—which she quickly shot down. Seriously, two men go caveman and woman reverts right along with them. Must be contagious.
Stepping in between them, Emma smiled up at Mike Whatever-his-last-name-was and said, “It’s okay. I do need to talk to Connor so…” She let her sentence trail off and shrugged an apology.
He didn’t like it, but he moved away, rejoining his friends at the bar. Connor glared after him, then shifted his gaze back to Emma.
With a calm she wasn’t quite feeling, she folded the twenty-dollar bill she’d just won and tucked it into her bra—the push-up kind that gave her more cleavage than God had ever gifted her with. And she didn’t miss Connor’s gaze following the action.
A swirl of something hot and thick simmered within, and she told herself it was purely a female reaction to a male stare of appreciation. Although, she hadn’t exactly been panting when Mike was giving her the once-over.
Doesn’t matter.
All that mattered was that her plan was working.
She smiled to herself and rubbed the tip of her cue stick with a square of chalk. Then, setting it aside, she pursed her lips and blew gently on the tip. Connor swallowed hard.
This is just fun, Emma thought.
“So,” she said, tipping her head to one side so that her hair fell around her like a gold curtain, “what’d you want to talk about?”
He snorted and swept his gaze up and down her. “You’re kidding, right?”
