“We’re going to talk about whatever it is that’s bothering you, Isabella.”
I raise my chin. “Nothing is bothering me.”
“That’s bullshit if ever I heard it.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “I had a good evening. I feel pretty good. I can’t think of anything at all that’s wrong.”
“I feel you pulling away from me,” he says. “I felt the shift the second you walked into the pub this afternoon. What happened?”
I sigh, resigned to having this conversation, and hoping he doesn’t fire me. Not that I think Keegan is that kind of a boss, but still.
“Look, I just think it’s probably a good idea if we cool things between us. I don’t want any weirdness when it’s over.”
“When it’s over.” He shifts on his feet and tucks his hands into his pockets.
“Yeah, when it’s over. Your sisters told me today that you’re not really the kind of guy who gets serious about someone. And I’m not saying that I want to marry you tomorrow or anything like that—trust me, I’m not ready for that—but I do deserve to be with someone who might entertain the possibility of someday wanting me to be an important part of his life. And I’m not judging you for not being that person. Not at all. I guess I was just made aware that we’re very different people, and I love this job. And you and your family. So, I think it’s a good idea if we go back to being friends.”
I let out a breath and watch as Keegan rolls his tongue over his teeth, then nods his head and rubs his hand over his lips in agitation.
“You’re mad.”
“Frustrated is a better word for what I am,” he says slowly. “First of all, Maeve and Mary Margaret don’t speak for me. They don’t know the inner workings of any of my past relationships, and they aren’t psychic, so they can’t read my bleeding mind. Second of all, I think this is a decision I should be a part of.”
“Well, it’s just—”
“I’m not finished. You had your say, so I’ll have mine, as well.”
I close my mouth and nod.
“Is this what you really want, Isabella? Do you want me to back off and keep my hands to meself?”
His Irish has kicked up big time with his agitation, only adding to the sexiness factor.
“Well, I—”
“Because I will, if it’s what you’re wanting. I won’t bother you at all, and I’ll be the kind and respectful boss I’ve always been.”
That actually sounds horrible. And standing ten feet away from him, all I want is for him to pull me close and hug me. To reassure me that everything his sisters said is wrong.
I should have just talked to him rather than assume—making a mess in the process.
“I don’t think that’s what I want,” I admit.
He crosses to me and frames my face in his hands. Immediately, I’m calmer. My hands grasp his wrists as I look up into those intense eyes.
“I should have talked to you.”
“You should have, aye,” he breathes. “You’ve already become an important part of my life, Izzy. It’s only been a short time, but I look forward to my time with you, and I only crave more. Kissing you is at once heaven and hell because I want to take it further, but I don’t know what you’re ready for. Everything about you is a morgen’s call.”
“What’s a morgen?” I ask softly.
“It’s the Irish version of the Greek siren,” he says with a grin.
“Oh, that’s actually really nice.” My hands move up his arms and down his sides, then fist in his plain white T-shirt. “In case you’re wondering, I’m ready for much more than kissing. Although, the kissing is pretty damn hot.”
“Is it, then?”
“As is your accent.”
“It’s my accent you like, is it?”
“That can’t be the first time you’ve heard that.”
His lips twitch, but he doesn’t confirm or deny.
“So, if I invited you to stay the night with me upstairs…?”
“I’d accept.”
He lifts me into his strong hold, and I wrap my arms around his neck, my fingers diving into his thick, dark hair. Our lips fuse together. He kisses me as if he’s starving.
It’s the sexiest thing ever.
Keegan is the sexiest man ever.
And, hell yes, I want to stay the night with him. I want to be with him, in his big bed, tumbling around naked and enjoying each other.
I have a feeling sex will take on a whole new meaning with this man.
He easily climbs the stairs to his apartment, opens the door, and carries me right through to the bedroom.
Do not pass go. Do not collect two hundred dollars.
I like his style.
I expect him to drop me onto the bed, but he sets me on my feet and takes a deep breath before reaching up and tugging my hair from its ponytail.