Page 126 of Road Trip
“You’re wrong,” she protested.
He stood and held his hand out to her. “Come on then. I’ll fetch your suitcase from your car. If this is your last night in Tarrymore, let’s get you a bath, and a bed. Lucy and I will take the sofa.”
She took her whiskey into the bathroom and set it on the sink, stripped, and left her clothes in a pile on the floor. It took her a good five minutes to figure out the intricacies of Liam’s old-fashioned bath faucets, but once she had, she took her time, standing under the hot water, contemplating what had just happened, and lathering herself with Liam’s magical scented goat’s milk soap.
Maeve had always done her best thinking in the shower. Now, she found herself replaying Liam’s remarks about her aversion to change. He was way off base about that. He was wrong about her, and maybe, since this would be her last night in Ireland, she should prove just how wrong he was.
When she was out of the shower and toweled off, she finished her drink and found herself feeling very nearly human again. She pulled her damp hair into a ponytail and brushed her teeth, and after some hesitation, exited the bathroom, dressed only in her pajama top.
True to his word, Liam was stretched out on the living room sofa, reading, with a blanket pulled up to his chest and Lucy slumbering beside him on the floor.
Maeve held out her hand to him. He looked up, surprised. “What’s this?”
“This is Maeve Dunagin, out to prove a point. Care to join me?”
He scrambled off the sofa so fast he dropped the book on Lucy’s paw and she yelped a protest.
Liam’s bedroom wasas tidy as the rest of the cottage, the bed neatly made up with a tufted comforter and fluffy pillows. The walls were painted a deep forest green and dotted with handsomely framed landscape paintings, and the heavy draperies were a tartan wool. The pine floors gleamed with polish.
Maeve stretched out on the left side of the bed, hoping she looked seductive. She crooked her finger at him. “You know this is a scene out of every ’50s and ’60s rom-com movie ever made,” she said. “Virginal Doris Day is forced to spend the night with Rock Hudson. She wears his pajama top, he wears…”
“Nothing at all,” Liam said, dropping his pajama pants onto the floor and climbing onto the bed beside her.
She cast an appreciative eye on his splendid nudity. “Actually, in the movies…”
“You forget I grew up in a family of male chimps,” Liam said.“Raised on a steady diet of John Wayne cowboy movies andGrand Theft Autovideo games.”
He reached for her and began to slowly unbutton her pajama top.
She shivered with pleasure as his hands found her breasts. “I don’t believe Rock Hudson ever actually managed to properly seduce Doris Day. Not until after the wedding, anyway.”
“Ahh,” he said. “Those were some dark times.”
Something solid andwarm had settled across her feet. She raised her head to see that Lucy was splayed belly-up across the bottom of the bed, snoring softly.
Liam had pulled the bedroom curtains closed the night before, but now a narrow shaft of sunlight shone directly in her eyes.
She leaned over to reach across Liam to retrieve her phone, which rested atop his nightstand.
When she saw the time she bolted upright.
“Nine fifteen? Oh my God.”
“Hmm?” Liam was a side sleeper, it seemed. Now he rolled over and propped himself up on his elbow to face her.
Maeve tugged at the hem of the sheet to cover her breasts, still stupidly self-conscious.
“I have actually seen your bosoms before, you know,” he said, chuckling. “Just hours ago, if I recall.” He winked and traced his fingertip from her earlobe to her neck, to her chest, stopping at her right nipple.
Maeve closed her eyes and sighed as he wriggled closer and kissed the trail his finger had just traced. But then she remembered the time.
She eased out of bed to retrieve the clothes she’d stepped out of the night before, and Lucy took the opportunity to claim the spot she’d just vacated.
Liam sat up and stretched and yawned, and she allowed herself a moment to appreciate the sight of him, bare-chested, hair tousled, eyelids still heavy with sleep.
Enough of the ogling, she told herself, retreating to the bathroom. She turned on the hot water tap and got into the shower.
There was a tube of shampoo on a shelf. More scented goat’s milk heaven. She was lathering her hair when a thought occurred to her. Her passport. The only place she hadn’t checked was at the gardener’s cottage. Could the passport somehow have fallen out of her purse on Wednesday morning while she and Therese were making their command appearance there?
