Free Deadly Gift by Heather Graham

cast off the strange fancies no doubt born of exhaustion.
    “So where are we going?” he asked Caer casually when he reached her side and sat down. He was close enough to smell the subtle scent of her perfume. Nothing overwhelming.
    Just…
    Seductive.
    “Irish Eyes,” she told him, signaling to the young man behind the bar to bring her check.
    Irish eyes. Was that what hers were? Bluer than cobalt or sapphires, a color so vibrant and deep. Irish eyes.
    “Irish eyes,” he repeated questioningly.
    She stared at him. “Irish Eyes. It’s the name of the pub,” she said.
    He quickly regained his composure, feeling like an idiot. “Right. Forgive an outsider’s confusion,” he said lightly.
    She smiled. “No problem. It’s a very popular place at Temple Bar. I’m sorry if that disappoints you, since many an American tourist makes his way there, so you won’t be getting off the beaten track, I’m afraid.”
    “I’ll still be with a native,” he said gallantly.
    He took the check when it came, though she tried to demur.
    “Hey, we’re both working for Sean, right?” he said.
    “Working?” she said, studying him with a frown. “But you’re his friend.”
    “I am his friend. A friend who intends to make sure he remains on this earth for a long time to come,” Zach said firmly. He signed the check to his room and started to turn away.
    “A minute,” she told him.
    He frowned as she reached for her pint and arched a brow. “We’re headed to another pub. You don’t have to swig.”
    “Swig,” she said, rolling the word on her tongue and smiling as if she liked it.
    “Or we can wait,” he said, leaning back.
    “It’s just that this is an exceptionally lovely beer,” she told him.
    “Sure,” he said.
    She didn’t swig, but she didn’t tarry, either. When she finished, she set the glass back on the table and smiled her enjoyment. She must have sensed that he was watching her, because a slight stain of color touched her cheeks.
    “I’m sorry. I don’t get out all that often,” she told him.
    “I see.” He didn’t see at all, though. Why would a woman who looked the way she did not get out? It couldn’t be for lack of invitations.
    “Let’s go,” she said cheerfully.
    As she stood, she swayed slightly. He automatically put an arm around her, steadying her, and his libido took a wild leap. She was warm, so vital against him that he found himself instantly lost in carnal thoughts that entwined with the reborn desire to protect her from…something. He gritted his teeth, torn between the desire to push her away and the urge to shake her and demand to know the truth.
    What truth?
    …Why was he so convinced that there was more to her than what he saw? Why not just accept her at her very attractive face value and be glad for the chance to spend time in her company?
    He didn’t know, nor did he have time to explore the thought, because she pulled herself together quickly and apologized. “I am so sorry. I haven’t had a drink in…I can’t even remember. I’ll go slow tonight, I promise you.”
    “Don’t worry, I won’t let any harm befall you,” he said, stepping back and wondering why he’d chosen that particular turn of phrase. For just a moment their eyes seemed to lock.
    Images flashed through his mind. Eddie on an open sea. Maeve dying in his arms. Sean in his hospital bed. Blue eyes, bluer than the sea and sky, deep and dark, staring back into his eyes. Eyes filled with enigma and shadows…
    She turned swiftly, heading for the door. “Chop-chop, then. Let’s go on for a bit of supper and get back, eh? Tomorrow will be long.”
    She had moved, and whatever had held him hypnotized lifted its hold.
    Yeah, supper. Something to eat and a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow, back to reality, and starting tomorrow night, the search for Eddie.
    He would bring logic to bear, and discover the truth behind Eddie’s disappearance and Sean’s illness.
     
    Cal Johnson usually slept well.