Chapter 9

Delaney did her best to contain the flutters in her tummy. Around Connor her palms always felt damp and…needy, like she had to touch him. His presence alone made her light-headed to a point she felt like she’d been drinking champagne for days. And he’d invited her to lunch. Lunch! In the middle of the work day. She’d arrived early and now tried not to fidget as she waited for his arrival. She’d ordered raspberry tea because plain, old mundane ice tea just didn’t fit the occasion.

The moment Connor appeared at the entrance, every female in the restaurant turned to stare. Delaney reminded herself to breathe as he strode toward her—handsome, self-confident and oh so very male. His deep blue eyes twinkled and his jet-black hair glinted like ebony. He paused at her chair and dropped a little kiss on the top of her head. She bit back a gulp and plastered what she hoped was an alluring smile on her face.

Connor dropped into the chair next to her and the waitress arrived to hover and flirt while he gave his drink order. Delaney didn’t blame her. Women flocked to Connor like moths to a porch light on a hot summer night.

“I’m glad you could slip away to join me, Delaney.”

She mmmhmmm’d, lost in the sparkle of his gaze.

“Luckily, my court appearance was postponed this afternoon. If you don’t have to rush back, we can take a long lunch.”

“Mmmhmmm.” He laughed and she flushed, blinking rapidly and straightening in her chair, appalled she’d been leaning, chin on palm, as she’d all but drooled on him. “I don’t have any appointments this afternoon.” Her voice only squeaked a couple of times. She grabbed her tea and gulped to give her ego a chance to catch up with her id even as she tried to squash her libido. Where was Dr. Freud when she needed him?

“Excellent. I’ll take you somewhere special for dessert.”

Her id did a happy dance as her libido rubbed its hands and bwa-ha-ha’d at her. His devilish grin only fueled the mutiny. Delaney had never been a fall-in-love-at-first-sight kind of woman, but there was just something about Connor, some connection she’d felt from the moment they’d met. While she didn’t want to rush into things, for fear of scaring him off, she found herself wishing and hoping for a happy ever after with this man.

Their salads arrived with an unexpected guest. “Laney!”

Her heart plummeted at the sound of her name. Nessa. What was her sister doing here? Effervescent, Nessa looked like a Miss America contestant. Where all the women had followed Connor’s progress, now the men all watched Nessa flow through the aisle of tables like water over stones—all liquid grace.

Delaney turned to Connor to introduce them but he only had eyes for her sister. Of course he did. Nessa was sunlight. The golden highlights in her hair danced in the sunlight filtering through the windows. Her sister’s green eyes sparkled like stained glass and her smile? The wattage should have caused a power outage in three states and it was all for Connor. As far as Delaney was concerned, neither remembered she existed.

Nessa offered her hand and her mouth formed a pouty little smile as her eyes turned sultry. “Well, hello there. I’m Nessa Burns.”

“Of course you are.”

Nessa chuckled, a throaty sound that made the hairs stand up on Delaney’s arms. She felt like a voyeur.

“Connor MacDermot.” He rose and offered her his chair. In moments, the waitress appeared with another chair and place setting. “Please join us, Nessa.”

Much to Delaney’s dismay, Nessa did, settling into the chair just vacated by Connor. She waved her hand airily at the waitress. “I’ll have whatever he’s having.”

Delaney’s heart sank. Her sister was a year older but she seemed so much younger…freer. And Nessa always got what she wanted, which at the moment appeared to be Delaney’s boyfriend. She bit back a growl. It’s not like she and Connor were an exclusive couple. She’d dreamed. She’d planned. But in retrospect, she’d read way more into Connor’s motives than she should have. All the clues were there, like a slap in the face. He preferred to meet her places for their dates, claiming their schedules as an excuse. He’d only picked her up and returned her to her door a handful of times. And while his kisses thrilled her, he’d never made any move to get more intimate with her.

She leaned back in her chair, forgotten by the other two as their animated conversation bounced across the table. Their entrées arrived but Nessa and Connor ignored theirs, too busy learning about each other. Delaney picked at hers, her appetite having fled.

Her eyelids prickled with the salty sting of tears. Clearing her throat, she pushed her chair back from the table. “You two don’t mind me.” They didn’t. She headed to the ladies room.

Twenty minutes later, she could stall no longer. After several fortifying breaths, which did nothing at all for her nerves, she headed back. In her absence, a pianist had appeared at the baby grand piano tucked into a discreet corner of the restaurant. The stage might as well have been front and center. Everyone—well, all but two everyones—watched and listened. Delaney stopped at the entrance, bracing a shoulder on the wall as she waited for the song to end.

A memory tickled her subconscious. The musician seemed very familiar but she was positive she’d remember him. The man was flat out gorgeous. Tall and lithe, a mane of blond hair flowed across the broad shoulders of his black shirt. His long, nimble fingers teased the tune from the instrument. His voice crooned a love song so sweet she could almost taste cotton candy on her tongue. She licked her lips. No, not cotton candy. Crackerjacks. Or both. She looked up to find him watching her. His eyes fixed on hers, knowing and wise as if he read her very soul. Disconcerted, unsettled, she couldn’t look away.

The song ended and applause erupted. She glanced toward Connor and Nessa. Their heads remained close together, and Delaney got the distinct impression there was a bubble surrounding them, forming a world of their own within the world around them. Jealousy twisted in her gut, and she swallowed the bile rising in her throat.

Her gaze returned to the musician. He still watched her, his expression shrewd. He knew. The man stood and, with the grace of a dancer, he waltzed toward her. Halting right in front of her, he offered his hand. She lifted her hand in a reluctant response and he gripped it. Staring into his eyes, she toppled into the kaleidoscope of colors swirling there.

The world tumbled around her like clothes in a dryer. She felt warm and oddly safe for all that her body felt boneless

Close your eyes, little one, a voice as sweet as spun sugar crooned in her ear. Arms circled her, held her close against a muscular chest. You’ll be safe so long as you’re with me.

“Where are we going?” Did she say the words out loud or only think them?

To a place far, far way. To a time when men still believed in magic.

“But I don’t want to.”

Doesn’t matter, child. Yee’ve lessons to be learned and ’tis time you did so.

****

Delaney stretched but didn’t open her eyes. Her sluggish body responded under protest so she burrowed deeper into her pillow, only something scratched her cheek. Her nose twitched and she fought the sneeze building, especially after she heard someone scream. Trapped between her desire to help and her fear, her body remained paralyzed. She couldn’t see, her eyes blocked by…hay? Nearby, a child whimpered and a dog growled but outside? Out there, even though the sounds were muted by whatever building she was in, the noise and racket sounded like a slaughter.

She caught a soft noise, like footsteps shuffling through something soft. Carpet? Dirt? Straw? Two men, talking in gruff voices. Their language might be unfamiliar but the crude sounds sent shivers down her spine. Instinctively, she knew they searched for the child. More shouts outside and the men fled.

Silence descended. Delaney strained to hear. More shuffling steps. The dog growled. Was he protecting the child? She heard a man speak to the dog in that strange language, but this time, she almost understood the words. The effect was similar to watching a foreign film with subtitles. By the time the movie ended, she could almost understand the dialogue.

“Ah, cailín, ’tis safe you are now. I have you,” the man said, and she heard the child gasp.

Delaney exhaled slowly. The little girl would be okay, but she needed to see the child’s rescuer. She tried to move again but couldn’t, and in a panic, she fought her paralysis. Desperate now, she had to see what the man looked like.

“Shhh, Delaney.”

She calmed, though her heart still thudded in her chest. This voice she recognized. The singer at the restaurant.

“You need only to see with your heart. Open your eyes to what it knows, cailín.”

She struggled again until a gentle hand cupped her cheek. Moments later, her vision cleared and with it, the strange paralysis. Disoriented, she clutched the wall behind her as the room swam in circles before her eyes.

A man sat at the piano, but not the mysterious musician who’d held her hand. Flatware clinked against china plates. A buzz of conversation hummed beneath the bright notes flowing from the piano. She glanced toward her table. Nessa’s hand covered Connor’s where it rested on the pristine tablecloth. He speared a strawberry from the fruit plate she’d ordered and offered it to her sister. She wasn’t sure what was worse—losing Connor to her sister or having a psychotic break over it.

Crushed, Delaney choked back a sob, turned to run. Only to collide with a hard body. Strong arms circled her shoulders and waist, and she buried her nose in a soft, cotton tee shirt. Inhaling deeply, her nose twitched. The man smelled like new mown hay, leather, and an underlying musk that made her knees wobble.

“Whoa, Doc. You okay?”

Rory? She fought to control her turbulent emotions as they smashed into her raging hormones.

I told you he would come. The musician’s voice melted in her memory, like buttercreme icing on her tongue.

Delaney fought the urge to wipe her nose on his shirt and prayed it wasn’t dripping as she raised her head. “Uhm…fancy meeting you here?”

His big hand cupped her face and he brushed his thumb across her cheek. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.”

“Little liar. You’ve been crying.” His gaze tracked across the restaurant and settled on the table where Connor and Nessa sat oblivious to anything but themselves. “Ah.”

That one syllable carried the weight of his disapproval and she felt the need to defend Connor. “It’s not like we were an item or anything.” She hated that her voice sounded whiny. And that she’d automatically used the past tense in regards to her relationship with the other man.

“But you had a lunch date with him. What happened? Who’s the chick?”

“My sister.” She blurted it out even as her mind whirled. “Wait. How did you know I had a date with Connor?” Her brow furrowed as she glared up at him.

“Mandy.” He dropped the name of her receptionist like that explained everything. Which it pretty much did.

“I really need to talk to that girl.”

“In her defense, I wheedled it out of her.”

“Wheedled?” One eyebrow arched in amusement.

“I’m quite good at it.” His lips quirked in a not-quite smile.

“Yes, I imagine you are. You seem like the kind of man who can pretty much wheedle whatever he wants out of a woman.”

Now the crooked smile formed and reached his brown eyes—his amazing amber gold eyes. She blinked and dragged her gaze from his face to glance over at Connor. Midnight and sunset. That’s what they reminded her of.

“True and right now, I’m turning my charms on you. C’mon. I know a great burger place just around the corner.”

She watched Connor and Nessa for a wistful moment and her heart ached. Then her stomach growled. “Can I get onions on it?”

“You bet.”

His hand on her elbow felt strong yet gentle, and she was reminded again of the dichotomy presented by this man. She’d seen him comfort terrified hostages. Heck, he’d comforted a terrified doctor after her first full-blown incident. But she also knew he could stare into the eyes of a criminal through the scope of his sniper’s rifle and pull the trigger without hesitation. The scientist wanted to dissect his psyche. The woman wanted to be saved by him. She almost snorted at her thoughts. She’d worked her whole life to be a woman who didn’t need saving.

“Do you need to tell them you’re leaving?”

Delaney studied the couple across the room. She lifted one shoulder in a negligent shrug as the corner of her mouth dragged down in a half-frown. “No. I took all my things to the ladies room with me, and they’ll never know I’m gone. Besides, Connor is feeding my lunch to Nessa.” Turning, she caught a fleeting expression she couldn’t decipher before his face settled into a blank canvas.

“I’ll feed you fries and onion rings. C’mon.” His hand pressed against the small of her back, urging her toward the exit.

The hostess offered a puzzled look, and then she gave Rory the onceover. Three times! Delaney bristled, glaring at the young woman. Outside, she had to wonder at her reaction. When the hostess escorted Connor to the table, she’d been bright and chirpy and obviously interested until the waitress swooped in and took over. Delaney took that in stride. Connor was GQ gorgeous. Rory was… She cut her eyes to the man. Rugged. Square-jawed. Auburn hair flamed above his brown eyes. She hadn’t noticed his body before. Not like this. During his therapy sessions in her office, she remained focused on the job and his emotions, not the package they came in. In fact, the only other times she’d been this close, he’d been in full body armor. He’d always projected a sense of strength but in the tight tee shirt and form-fitting jeans, she could see the muscles. All his muscles. Oh yes. Tall, wiry but oh-so-very muscled.

She felt heat rush into her cheeks as Rory glanced down at her. His eyes danced with humor, and she’d bet money he’d read her thoughts. Mortified, she broke eye contact by looking down.

“Don’t do that.”

His voice whispered across her embarrassment and compelled her to glance up at him. “Don’t do what?”

“Doubt yourself.”

She stared at him, her mouth slightly agape. “I wasn’t!” She blinked several times and pursed her lips, thinking. “Was I?”

He nodded and then steered her into a little hole-in-the-wall café. He pushed the door open, waiting for her to precede him. Odors rolled over her—grilled onions, hot grease, baking bread. The place had the vibes of a neighborhood bar. Construction workers in hard hats knocked elbows with guys in three-piece suits. Rory grabbed a table next to the front window as two banker-types vacated it. He stacked the dirty dishes on one corner. A waitress sailed by, dropped two menus, and grabbed the dishes.

Moments later, she was back to wipe down the table and put tall plastic glasses with ice water in front of them. She pulled out flatware rolled in napkins from her apron pocket, placed the rolls on the table and had her ticket book ready for their order. And she didn’t flirt with Rory. Delaney decided right then to slip her an extra tip.

About half-way through her burger, she swallowed and said, “I don’t, you know.”

“Yes, you do.”

She huffed a breath. “You don’t have to sound so positive.”

He tilted his head and watched her. Delaney did her best not to fidget under the intensity of his gaze.

“I don’t do things by half measure, Doc.”

Her appetite pacified for the moment, she leaned back in her chair and studied him. “True. You are a man of action.”

“Nothing wrong with that.”

“Especially given your job?”

“This isn’t a therapy session, Doc.”

“You don’t like therapy, do you?”

“You always ask questions.”

She chuckled. “Guilty. But while you are a man of action, I am a woman of words.”

“Mars and Venus.”

“Something like that. What are you afraid of?”

He shook his head. “We’re here for lunch, Doc. If I want you poking around in my psyche, I’ll come to your office and stretch out on your couch.” Devilish lights glinted in his eyes. “Though I have a better plan for that couch.”

Heat flushed her cheeks again and she choked. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“You know what.” She glared at him. “We have a professional relationship. I am not crossing that line.”

His grin matched those glints in his eyes. “Then sign off on my psych profile. We won’t have that problem, and I can ask you out without treading on your sense of professional responsibility.”

“You are feeling pretty darn sure of yourself, Rory MacDermot.” Once again, his last name registered, and she stared at him, wondering. “Wait. Are you two really related?”

Rory shook his head. “He thinks we’re long lost cousins or something. His dad is some Irish clann guy. Never been to Ireland, have no plans to ever go.”

“Oh, that’s right. You’ve met.” Her voice squeaked and she grabbed her glass and gulped, hoping he hadn’t noticed.

“Yeah. A couple of weeks ago at that fancy restaurant where you met him for dinner. The team was there to celebrate Jessie’s birthday.”

She nodded, remembering. “You were called into the station.” She blushed, remembering that Connor had mentioned Rory…and his suspicion that Rory had more than a professional interest in her.

“Yeah.”

“When you called me to explain, you only said it was for a debriefing. If it was for an incident, I would have been included.”

His eyes slid away from hers, and he stared out the window as if trying to decide what to say. “There was a small problem with the new boy.”

“Dean Carter?”

“Yeah.”

Delaney leaned forward, resting her forearms on the table. “You aren’t going to explain?”

“It’s a personnel matter, Doc. The captain took care of it.”

She wasn’t satisfied, but his closed expression and the way he folded his arms across his chest left no room for further questions. She watched him for nonverbal cues and pushed with another question anyway. “Did it have to do with the night the team served that warrant? If there’s a continuing problem, Rory, it could affect the efficacy of the team.”

His face twisted into what could only be described as a “Really? D’uh” expression, but he didn’t respond verbally.

The implications of that night hit her. “Wait. You didn’t get in trouble did you? For punching him?”

He still didn’t respond. Instead, he dragged an onion ring through a puddle of catsup and dangled it in front of her. She bit, nibbled, chewed. And her eyes watered. She managed to swallow and grabbed her glass, gulping long swallows.

When she could speak without gasping she waggled her finger at him. “You did that on purpose.”

“Really?”

She scowled. “Really. I didn’t see you mix any hot sauce in your catsup.”

His gaze shifted to the bottle of Tabasco next to the red squeeze bottle of catsup. “I put Tabasco on everything I eat.” His eyes darkened as he gazed at her. “Well, almost everything.”

Her breath caught in her chest, and she swore her heart was beating so loud the whole restaurant could hear it. She attempted a smart retort, but even though her mouth hung open, no words witty or otherwise spilled forth. Half of her wanted to wipe the smirk off Rory’s face. The other half wanted him to prove his point. The waitress arrived with the bill, saving Delaney further embarrassment. To hide her blush, she picked up her glass to finish her iced tea.

Rory fished in his pocket and pulled out a couple of bills. He handed them and the tab to the waitress, his eyes never leaving her face. He stood and offered her his hand. “You coming?”

Delaney coughed and sputtered as she tried to swallow that last mouthful, her brain going someplace it shouldn’t. He pounded her on the back.

“Talk.”

“No.” The word came out strangled but it came out, and she sucked in a breath.

He appeared to relax a bit, but still looked like he was ready to perform the Heimlich—or hold her in his arms. Her mind drifted. Would he give her mouth-to-mouth? And how much would she enjoy it? She blushed. Technically, she was his therapist so he couldn’t kiss her. Yet. Ever. She wouldn’t risk her license for a fling. Oh, but he was temptation incarnate. Was he really a “patient?” She shut down that line of thought, not wanting to cross it. But what if he weren’t?