He didn't expect to see her till near to six, which gave him enough time to put together a platter of finger food. He hunted up wineglasses, polished them out, then opened the bottle of red he'd taken from the pub, setting it on the counter to breathe.

After giving his sauce a last taste and stir, he glanced around and nodded in satisfaction. It was all fine and done. The clock showed ten minutes before six when he heard her lorry pull into his street.

"She's a timely sort," he murmured, and was taken by surprise when nerves set to dancing in his belly. "It's only Brenna, for Christ's sake," he told himself. "You've known her all your life."

Not in the way he was about to, he thought. Nor she him. He had a sudden wild urge to dash into the little mudroom and rip something off the washing machine and forget the rest.

And since when had a Gallagher been a coward? Especially with a woman? With this lecture playing in his head, he started toward the front door.

She was already coming in, carrying her toolbox. Her jeans had a fresh rip in them, just below the right knee. There was a faint smear of dirt across her cheek.

She closed the front door, took two steps, then saw him. And nearly jumped out of her work boots. "Jesus, Shawn, why not just cosh me over the head as scare the life out of me? What are you doing here this time of day?"

"I've the evening off. You parked behind my car, didn't you?"

"I did, yes, but I figured you'd walked down or gotten a lift." While she waited for her heart rate to return to normal, she sniffed the air. "Doesn't smell as though you've taken advantage of a free evening. What are you cooking?"

"A sauce for spaghetti. I thought I'd try it out before we gave it a go at the pub. Have you eaten?" he asked, though he already knew.

"I haven't, no. Ma's expecting me shortly."

She wasn't, as Shawn had called down to tell Mollie he'd give Brenna a meal while she was there. "Have your dinner here instead." He took her hand, leading her back to the kitchen. "You can judge the sauce for me."

"I might do that, but let's have a look at your machine first to see what the matter is."

"There's nothing the matter with it." He took her toolbox, set it out of the way on the floor.

"What do you mean, there's nothing the matter? Didn't you call up the hotel and say it wouldn't run for you at all?"

"I lied. Try this." He plucked up a stuffed olive and popped it into her mouth.

"Lied?"

"I did, yes. And I'm counting on the sin being worth the penance."

"But why would you-" Realization dawned slowly, and left her feeling awkward and edgy. "I see. So this is the time and the place that suits you."

"Aye. I told your mother you'd be staying awhile, so you've no need to worry about that."

"Hmm." She looked around the kitchen, paying more attention. Fragrant sauce simmering, a pretty plate of fancy appetizers, a bottle of wine. "You might have given me a bit of notice. A little time to settle in to the notion."

"You've time now." He poured wine into the glasses. "I know wine tends to give you a head the next morning, but a glass or two shouldn't hurt."

She'd risk the hangover, if the wine managed to cool her throat. "You know you didn't have to bother with all this fuss for me. I told you from the start I didn't need it."

"Well, I do, and you'll just have to tolerate it." He was more at ease again, because she wasn't. He took a step toward her. "Take off your-" He nearly laughed when her eyes widened. "Your hat," he finished, then did so himself, setting it and his wine aside so he could run his hands through her hair until it tumbled in a way that most pleased him. "Have a seat."

He nudged her into a chair, sat across from her. "Why don't you take off your boots?"

She leaned down, tugged on the laces, then sat up again. "Do you have to watch me? You make me feel foolish."

"If you feel foolish with me watching you take off your boots, you're going to feel like a real horse's ass before much longer. Take off your boots, Brenna," he said in a quiet voice that sent a ripple running up her spine. "Unless you've changed your mind about the matter."

"I haven't." Annoyed, she bent down again to work on the boots. "I started this, and I finish what I start."

But it wasn't at all the way she'd imagined it. She'd simply pictured the two of them already naked, in bed, getting on with business. She hadn't given a great deal of thought to the mechanics of arriving there.

She kicked her boots under the table and made herself look back at him, steadily back at him.

"Are you hungry?"

"No." She couldn't conceive of eating under the circumstances. "Dad and I had a late lunch."

"All the better. We'll eat later. Let's take the wine upstairs."

Upstairs. All right, they'd go upstairs. It had been her idea, after all. But when he took her hand this time, she had to force herself not to bolt. "This isn't a fair way, Shawn. I've just come from working all day, and haven't had a chance to clean up."

"Would you like a shower, then?" As they walked up the back stairs, he rubbed the smudge from her cheek. "I'm happy to wash your back."

"I'm just saying, that's all." She couldn't shower with him, for God's sake. Not just like that. The music drifted toward her, a whisper of harpsong. Her nerves were screaming.

She stepped into the bedroom, saw the flowers, the candles, the bed. And gulped her wine like water.

"Easy now." He nipped the glass from her hand. "I don't want you drunk."

"I can handle my drink," she began, then rubbed her damp palms on her thighs as he wandered around lighting candles. "There's no need for that. It's not full dark yet."

"It will be. I've seen you in candlelight before," he said easily as he touched the flame of the match to the candles he'd set on the narrow mantel over the fire he'd already set to glowing. "But I didn't take time to appreciate it. I will tonight."

"I don't see why you have to make the situation romantic instead of what it is."

"Not afraid of a little romance, are you, Mary Brenna?"

"No, but-" He turned, and the subtle and shifting lights of flame danced over his face, behind him, around him. He might have stepped out of one of the pictures Jude drew. Of faerie princes and valiant knights and poetic harpists.

"There's something about the way you look," she managed, "that makes my mouth water half the time. I don't much care for it, to be honest with you, and I'd prefer getting it out of my system."

"Well, now." His voice was as smooth as hers was annoyed. "Why don't we see what we can do about that?"

Keeping his eyes on hers, he crossed to her.

CHAPTER Twelve

However odd the situation, Brenna thought, it was still Shawn, a man she'd known and cared for all her life. However ridiculous it all seemed, she still wanted him.

Nerves were as out of place as the harpsong and the candlelight.

So when he laid his hands on her shoulders, when he ran them lightly down her arms to link with her hands, she tipped her head up. "If I laugh," she told him, "it's nothing personal. It's just the whole business of this that strikes me funny."

"All right."

Since he only stood watching her, seemed to be waiting, she rose to her toes and took his mouth with hers. She didn't mean to rush it, as she'd already concluded he wouldn't allow that in any case. But at that first taste she wanted more, she wanted it all. And quickly. Her hands flexed in his as she chewed on his bottom lip.

"I've got this powerful urge for you. I can't help it."

"Who's asking you to?" He wouldn't rush, no, but it was tempting to pick up the pace. That fascinating little body of hers was already vibrating against his, and her mouth was like a fever. But he thought it would be much more satisfying all around to let her drive him crazy for a while yet.

"Come up here." He let go of her hands to take her hips, to hitch her up so that her legs wrapped his waist as they'd done once before. "And kiss me again. I like it."

Now she did laugh, and the nerves that had worried her flitted away. "Do you, now? Well, as I recall, the first time I did it-" She brought her mouth to within a breath of his, then drew back-once, twice. "You looked as though I'd coshed you over the head with my hammer."

"That's because I wasn't expecting it, and you turned my brain upside down." He gave her bottom an intimate, and friendly, squeeze. "Bet you can't do it again."

"Oh, so it's a wager, is it?" Eyes glinting with the challenge, with the fun, she fisted her hands in his hair. "You're about to lose."

She put herself into her work, he had to give her that. He could all but feel his eyes roll back in his head as her mouth attacked his. There were times when surrender wasn't a humbling experience at all. There was a hint of wine still on her tongue, warm and rich. Mixed with her own flavor, it spun into him, a lovely and intoxicating combination.

Harpsong and candlelight, a hot-blooded woman twined around him. He let both the passion and the romance pump into his system. Alluring. Arousing. Pleasure took on a fine, sharp edge.

She felt his fingers dig into her hips, heard his breath quicken like a man who'd done a fast sprint up a long hill. When he shifted, turning toward the bed, triumph flashed through her.

She would have him now. Her way. Fast and furious and done. Then this terrible pressure in her chest, her belly, her head, would find release. Her breath caught in a laughing gasp when he spilled her onto the bed, then covered her, pressed her into the mattress, tight body to tight body.

"I'll have to give you that one." There was a gleam in her eye that only sharpened when he pulled her hands over her head and cuffed her wrists. "But now it's my turn. As I recall, the first time I kissed you, your eyes went blurry and blind." He closed his teeth gently over her jaw. "And you trembled."