The Gallaghers of Ardmore Trilogy

turned to get a bowl out of the cupboard. One look at her, and he wanted to grab her. “You’re later than usual,” he said, keeping his tone casual as she set a bag on the counter. “I wasn’t sure you’d make it tonight.”
    “We were busier than usual. I shouldn’t say ‘usual,’ ” she corrected and rolled the ache from her shoulders. “We’ve been packed every night this week. Aidan wants Shawn to take on some help in the kitchen, and you’d think Aidan had brought his manhood into question. Such a ruckus. They were still going at it when I left.”
    “Aidan’s going to need another man at the bar.”
    “Well, I won’t be the one to say so, as he’ll have the same reaction as Shawn. I’m not having my head bit off.”
    She got the kettle to fill as Trevor leaned back against the counter, spooning up soup where he stood. “I’ll have some tea to keep you company. Since you’re eating, you might want to have what’s in the bag with your tinned soup.”
    “What is it?”
    She only smiled and turned on the tap. Trevor set down his bowl, peeked in the bag. When his hand darted in, like an eager boy’s into a pond after a prize frog, she laughed.
    “Bagels?”
    “Well, we couldn’t have you pining, could we?” Delighted with his reaction, she carried the kettle to the stove. “Shawn made them, lest you think I’ve been baking—and believe me you’re better off I haven’t. He wasn’t pleased with the first batch or you’d have had them a couple of days ago. But he’s well satisfied with these, so I think you’ll enjoy them.”
    Trevor only stood there, the plastic-wrapped bread in his hand, staring at her as she turned on the burner under the kettle. It was ridiculous, insane, but something was stirring inside him. Warm, fluid, lovely. In defense, he struggled with a joke.
    “A full dozen, too. I guess I owe you twelve hundred dollars.”
    She glanced back, her face blank for a moment, then it filled with humor. “A hundred a piece. I forgot about that. Damn, I suppose I’ll have to split it with Shawn.” She patted his cheek, then reached for the tea. “Well, no charge this time. I thought you’d enjoy a little bit of home.”
    “Thank you.”
    His voice was so serious, she glanced back, saw his face. His mouth was serious as well, and his eyes were dark and fixed on her. Her pulse scrambled, so she covered it with a shrug. “You’re very welcome, but it’s just a bit of bread after all.”
    No, it wasn’t. She’d thought of it. Without even realizing how much the small gesture would mean, she’d thought of him.
    He set the bag down, stepped to her, turned her. And laid his mouth on hers.
    Soft, lush, long and deep. That something that stirred inside him swelled.
    He drew back, half believing he’d see what it was, what it meant, in her face. But her eyes were clouded. Deep blue smoke blurring whatever was behind them.
    “Well.” She was sinking, sinking without meaning to have stepped into the bog. “I can’t wait to see what happens after you taste—”
    But he silenced her. Another kiss, luxurious and tender. She was trembling, he realized, and had trembled against him before. But it was different, for both of them somehow different. The crackle of power that always snapped between them was only a low humming now, steady and true. The blood that always raced ran thick, almost lazy.
    “Trevor.” His name circled in her head, slipped through her lips. “Trevor.”
    He reached behind her, switched off the burner, then lifted her into his arms. “I want to make love with you.” And saying it, he knew it would be the first time.
    She pressed her lips to the side of his throat as he carried her out. It was like sliding into a dream, she thought, one she hadn’t known she had pooled inside her. Being granted a wish she hadn’t known slept in her heart.
    She felt . . . treasured.
    When he carried her up the stairs, the romance of it made her heart ache. Music drifted through her head. Harps and flutes both low and sweet. He stopped, looked at her, and she thought he must hear it as well. Such moments were made for magic.
    The bedroom windows were open, so the wind danced through the curtains and brought with it all the damp and mysterious scents of night. The moon shimmered through in silver dust.
    He sat her on the bed, then moved around the room to light the candles that had been set out for practicality and never used. Their flames swayed and tossed soft