The Gallaghers of Ardmore Trilogy

a bowl of soup, and waited until Darcy was serving the next batch of meals. “I need to do some research in the area, and this seems like a good day for it. Why don’t you play guide for me?”
    “It’s kind of you to think of me, but I wouldn’t have time to do it justice.”
    “I can only spare a couple of hours myself. How about it, Aidan, can I borrow your sister between shifts?”
    “Her time’s her own until five.”
    “Borrow, is it?” Darcy let out a short laugh. “I think not. But if you’ve a mind to hire me for the service of guiding you here and about, we could negotiate a reasonable fee.”
    “Five pounds an hour.”
    Her eyes were sharp and somehow sweet. “I said reasonable. Ten, and I’ll spare you the time.”
    “Greedy.”
    “Piker,” she shot back and had several customers chuckling.
    “Ten it is, and you’d better be good.”
    “Darling”—she fluttered her lashes—“no man’s ever told me otherwise.”
    She headed toward the kitchen, and Trevor dipped into the soup Sinead set in front of him. Both of them were completely satisfied with the arrangement.
     
     
    She had to fuss a bit. It would have gone against both nature and habit for Darcy not to take time to put on fresh lipstick, dab on some perfume, rearrange her hair, debate about changing her clothes. In the end she decided the sage green shirt and black weskit and trousers were more than adequate for a daytime tour.
    Yanks, as far as she could tell, were mad keen on driving around Irish roads, rain or shine, as if they’d never seen a field of grass in their lives.
    Mindful of the weather, she tied back her hair with a black ribbon and tossed on a jacket before meandering back downstairs.
    She was used to men waiting for her.
    Shawn was whistling over the last of the lunch shift cleanup. It surprised her that Trevor wasn’t, as she’d expected, cooling his heels in the kitchen and drinking a cup of the coffee he seemed to live on.
    “Trevor out in the pub, then?”
    “Couldn’t say. I heard him mention to Brenna he had some calls to make. That was before you went upstairs to redo your war paint.”
    Since that remark didn’t rate a response, she sailed out into the pub, only to find Aidan alone, and preparing to lock up.
    “Did you kick the man out and make him wait in the car?”
    “Hmm? Oh, Trevor? No, I think he said he had someone to ring up.”
    Shock ran straight down to her pretty painted toenails. “He left?”
    “I imagine he’ll be back directly. Since you’re waiting, I’ll leave you to lock up. And see that you’re back on time, Darcy.”
    “But—” She could barely stutter out the single syllable, which didn’t matter in the least, as Aidan was already out the door.
    She never did the waiting. It was just wrong somehow to be ready and not have the man pacing about and looking at his watch for the second or third time. It set the wrong tone entirely.
    More baffled than annoyed she turned to go back up to her rooms and forget the entire arrangement. The door opened, letting in a damp chill and Trevor.
    “Good, you’re ready to go. Sorry, I got hung up.” He stood, holding the door, smiling easily. The puzzled irritation on her face was very close to what he’d expected. He was certain that every man she’d ever dealt with had waited, panting, for her to finally make her entrance.
    Your move, gorgeous, he thought.
    “My time’s worth considerable, even if yours isn’t.” She strode past him, flashing him an annoyed look before she stepped outside.
    “Time’s part of the problem.” He stood, shielding her from the worst of the wet as she locked the pub doors. “Everybody wants a piece of it. What I want is a couple of hours away from phones and demands for answers.”
    “Then I won’t ask you any questions.”
    He led her to the car, held her door until she was settled. And wondering how long she was going to steam, rounded the hood to the driver’s side.
    “I thought we’d head north for a while. Maybe hook up with the coast road, then just . . . see.”
    “You’ve the wheel, and the wallet.”
    He pulled away from the curb. “Everyone says getting lost in Ireland is part of its charm.”
    “I don’t imagine those with a destination in mind would find it charming.”
    “Fortunately I don’t have one at the moment.”
    Darcy shifted, settled comfortably. It was a fine vehicle, roomy and with an expensive smell to it, even if it was leased. It wasn’t such a