“No!” Nell snapped. “I mean, that is to say, I have no idea. He doesn’t talk to me. But he doesn’t wear a ring, so I guess probably he…oh, hell. Never mind. It couldn’t be more irrelevant.”

But the damage was done. Nancy dug in her teeth. “Who is he?”

Nell threw up her hands. “No one! Just a random guy who comes into the Sunset Grill for lunch every day. I have a monster crush on a guy I serve lunch to. Believe me, it’s as stupid and pathetic as that.”

“Did you write your number on the check?” Vivi asked archly.

Nell rolled her eyes. “If I’d ever established eye contact with him, that would make sense. But he’s never even looked at me. And I mean that literally. He just looks into his laptop. It looks like code.”

Vivi flopped back and put a pillow over her face. “Oh, God. A techno-geek. You poor, poor thing.”

“Well, how about you, Viv?” Nancy demanded. “Romantic prospects? Any news? ’Fess up.”

Vivi looked pained. “Hell, no. I’m making celibacy into a high art. After what happened with Brian, I still don’t have the nerve to.”

“That was six years ago!” Nancy snapped. “Get over it already!”

Vivi’s soft mouth tightened at her sister’s sharp tone. “Believe me,” she said flatly, “I have tried.”

Something in her Vivi’s voice made Nancy back off. She studied her sister’s tight, averted face, suddenly.

But Vivi just waved her hand, brushing the subject away. “Forget Brian,” she said briskly. “He’s a putz. Nancy’s carpenter with the proportional ass is way more interesting. I can hardly wait to check him out.”

“Me, neither,” Nell said, with relish.

Moxie rose to her feet and started kneading Nancy’s thigh. Nancy popped the top off another beer. “God help me now,” she muttered.

Nell nudged her sister’s arm. “We don’t mean to torture you,” she said gently. “Well, actually we do, but it’s so nice to have something frivolous to smile about, you know? Bear with us. We’ve been so sad and confused lately. Your proportional-assed carpenter is hard to resist.”

Nancy squeezed Nell’s hand. It was true. It was nice to hear her sisters laugh. To chatter and bicker about men, dating, stupid crushes, nice asses. Silly, nonessential things. Nothing earthshaking.

Although the earth had definitely shaken during that kiss in the rain. Nor would she characterize that kiss as frivolous, or lighthearted.

Oh, no. Calling that earthshaking was putting it mildly.

She wouldn’t show. He was sure of it, but like an idiot, he kept checking his watch every half minute or so since he’d walked into Malloy’s and took his fiddle, flutes, and whistles out of their various bags and cases. He took a swallow of Guinness and wondered why he tortured himself. After all, the woman’s cell phone alone would drive him insane.

He could hardly believe his idiocy. Offering himself as an unpaid bodyguard? Getting all up on his high horse when she called him on his bullshit. Oh, sure, he’d keep her safe. Nobody would mess with her while she was snug and warm in his bed, pinned to the mattress beneath his heaving body. No problem. He’d keep her plenty safe.

But his eyes kept drifting to the entry door. He wanted to see her again. Hear her voice. He liked the way her mind worked, the way her brow furrowed when she was thinking. Those big leaves-under-the-water eyes. The way she wrinkled her nose when she was disgusted, which appeared to be fairly often. And when he kissed her, God. The rain that fell on him yesterday should have evaporated into pure steam.

“Yo! Earth to Liam! Come in, Liam!” Mickey the guitar player brayed into his ear. “Do that set of reels you did last week that ends with ‘The Tinker’s Bride,’ okay? I want to try out a new accompaniment.”

“Sure.” He took another swig of his pint. His watch said 11:07. He had to just get the hell over it and concentrate on the music. He tuned up his fiddle.

They’d just launched into “The Tinker’s Bride” when she walked in. He felt her even before she pushed through the crowd. A smile spread across his face. By the time she made it back to the table, it had become a grin. He started speeding up. The other musicians gave him panicked looks, dropping out one by one until only Eoin played with him. They finished with a flourish, to appreciative hoots and hollers.

She looked soft tonight. Amazingly, her hair was shiny and loose, surprisingly wavy, hanging long down her back. She was wearing jeans and a snug, low-cut red T-shirt that made her skin look pearly and glowing and showed off the perfect shape of those pert, suck-able tits.

Her eyes were cautious behind her glasses. Liam put down his fiddle and made his way over to her as the group tore into “The Redhaired Boy.” Her eyes widened as he leaned over and kissed her. As if he had the right. She smelled incredible. Her lips were so soft.

She swayed back. “Whoa,” she said with a nervous laugh. “You don’t waste any time, do you?”

“Fuck no.” He slid his arms around her, kissing her again.

It started happening again, like yesterday. The world fell away, narrowing down to just Nancy and his own pounding heartbeat. He could barely hear the music. He forced himself to pull away, glanced over his shoulder, to a circle of grins, smirks, and nudges. Eoin lifted his pint, his face discreetly curious.

Nancy’s face was pink. “Did I mess up?” he asked her.

“I’m not used to a guys just grabbing me,” she said.

“Oh. Uh, sorry.” He ached to grab her again. “Did your other boyfriends ask nicely before they kissed you?”

“I don’t think so,” she said doubtfully. “I don’t remember. To be truthful, I don’t think it was ever much of an issue.”

He looked baffled. “Dickless wimps. What was their problem?”

He was rewarded by an startled crack of laughter from her, and he grinned, delighted with himself. “Can I get you a drink?”

“You said the Guinness was good?”

“Best this side of the Atlantic.” He elbowed his way to the bar and got her a pint. She sipped, and sighed with an expert’s appreciation.

“I thought you wouldn’t show,” he admitted.

She licked foam off her lip. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea.”

“Me neither, but I don’t care,” he said recklessly. He dragged another chair to the musicians’ table and sat her down next to him, taking her hand. He wound his fingers through hers to warm them. In the confusion that followed the end of the set, she leaned over to him. “I want to hear you play!” she shouted.

Her breath against his neck made his head swim. He picked up his fiddle, Mickey called another set, and they were off. It was a good group. Guitar, fiddles, bodhran, accordion, and Eoin, locked in a trance of perfect happiness, his fingers flashing as he played his Uilleann pipes.

Nancy clapped vigorously as they finished the set, and leaned over. “You guys are great!” she said, her eyes alight with pleasure. “You kick ass with that fiddle, Liam! Where did you learn to play?”

“My stepdad played the fiddle,” he replied. “He got me into it when I was a kid. And I picked up the flutes and whistles a few years back, just for fun. I’d rather mess around with them than watch TV.”

“You’re hot,” she said. “Did you ever consider going pro?”

He used the excuse of having to talk over the noise into her ear to kiss the soft skin behind it, and smell the scent of her shampoo. “For about ten minutes,” he admitted. “Figured that would take all the fun out of it.”

“Hmm. I guess that’s one way of looking at it. Who’s the piper?”

“Oh, Eoin? He’s my cousin. Second cousin, actually. Fresh from County Wicklow. He works for me. Lives in my basement. Good kid.”

“He’s fabulous,” she said.

“Yeah, isn’t he just?”

That was all there was time to say before they plunged into another set of the reels. After the set she leaned over to him. “Would he be interested in touring with a hot band that gigs a lot?”