Page 36 of Irish Fury
Since he didn’t seem capable of anything but staring at her, Mags pulled her hand from his and said, “Goodnight. Thank you for tonight.” Still nothing. “You and Daniel are great friends.”
“I’m not your friend,” he grumbled and took back both of her hands.
“Okay,” she drew the word out.
“Damn it! I mean, we are friends, but we’re more than that, or I hope we are. I want us to be.”
It was everything she wanted to hear. However, she only had to think of the many women she’d seen him out with to know his feelings were fleeting at best. She remained silent.
“Please, Mags. At least agree to meet me tomorrow.” Before she could say no, he added, “I know I don’t deserve it. I’m asking as someone who’s known you since you were little. Meet me for lunch. Just lunch. I need to tell you some things. Explain them, I mean.”
He groaned, shaking his head in exasperation. “Meet me at that bakery you like. I’ll buy you one of those American muffins you like so much. An hour, Mags. That’s all I’m asking for.”
No matter how he’d made her feel in the past, she couldn’t leave him hanging. “Not tomorrow, but Sunday, the girls and I are meeting for lunch with your mom and aunts. I’ll meet you on my way to the gallery. Eight-thirty at Bácús.”
Jonathan smiled and brought her hand to his mouth and pressed his lips to her fingers. “Thank you. I swear, you won’t regret it.”
She already did.
twenty-two
MAGS
Mags sworeas her tote bounced off her hip again. The repeated blows from a bag that had to equal her body weight had to be leaving bruises. She forced her steps to slow from a powerwalk speed to a fast saunter.
After all, she didn’t need to hurry. She wasn’t late for her meeting with Jonathan. The extra hustle in her step came from nerves.
She might have taken an extra minute on her appearance. Her wide-legged yoga pants, crew neck t-shirt, jacket, and tennis shoes were all in shades of taupe, casual but on trend. She wore tiny red rose earrings, and her long, wavy hair was held back by one of her favorite embroidered headbands, red and peach roses.
Hey, why not look cute and rep her business? Speaking of, the printers weren’t far away from Bácús. She could swing by and grab the business cards that Gray helped her design. What was a few more pounds of paper pulling on her shoulder’s tender flesh?
Someday, she would have a real shop where she’d have no need to tote half her sewing paraphernalia around.
Her shoe caught the edge of a raised stone in the ancient-as-hell footpath. “Christ, Mags,” she cursed herself.
She’d known Jonathan O’Faolain her whole life. Where was all this nervous energy coming from?
She also knew how he kissed. “Not helping,” she muttered under her breath.
She was determined to let him have his say. Whatever that might be. She’d convinced herself that he was on some sort of apology tour for that New Year’s Eve blunder, except he’d been touching her. Women plastered to his side and handholding had been kept exclusively for his many, many, many other women.
The question was why he was trying to do that to her. The why of it was driving her mad. She rubbed her palm over the backs of her fingers. He’d kissed those fingers last night. He didn’t do that with Bébhinn, Gray, or Blair. Ciar and Dagr would kick his ass if he tried, true, but he didn’t kiss Blair’s hands.
Her life had been way too dramatic lately. Even after Jonathan left her last night, the drama wasn’t done. As Mags had let herself into the apartment complex lobby, she was startled when Nasir stepped from a shadowed alcove near the elevators.
She was used to his blank expression and silence, so when he spoke, she was properly surprised. He also appeared to be very angry.
“I am leaving in a few hours for home,” he spat each word as though he was cursing her instead of discussing his travel plans.
She nodded in acknowledgment. Eze had told her that his father had recalled Nasir to Nigeria. When Mags asked him why they’d sent a bodyguard in the first place, when Eze had never had one before, he chuckled.
“I’m sure it was my mother’s idea, and she got Father to go along with it. Nasir was here to spy on my life and reportback. My mother worries,” he added sheepishly. “Mother was very aware of my relationship with Nasir and probably hoped his handsome face might entice me back to Nigeria.”
“And has it worked?”
“Oh, Nasir is an enticement, but I will not be altering my future plans for a person who struggles with fidelity,” he said grimly.
“Has he tried to speak to you? Privately?”
