LITMIR.BIZ

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      He appeared taken aback by her request. But he recovered rapidly, his gaze scanning her from head to toe with an assessment that was as personal as her deliberate come-on. “I could do that.”

      A nasty thought occurred to her. “I suppose I should ask. Is there a Mrs. Kavanagh?”

      He nodded, sending her heart to her knees. “Yes. My mother. But she goes to bed early, so I doubt she’d want to join us.”

      “So you do have a sense of humor,” she taunted, refusing to admit—even to herself—that she was elated by the confirmation that he was single. Not all married men wore wedding rings, so she hadn’t been sure. “I was beginning to think they removed your funny bone at birth.”

      His lips twitched. “I’m guessing you weren’t spanked enough as a kid.”

      “And there you’d be wrong,” she said, her stomach twisting involuntarily. “Let me shower and I’ll join you in the lobby in half an hour. Does that work for you?”

      He nodded slowly, regarding her with watchful eyes that were a brilliant, intense blue. Combined with his thick, coal-black hair, she began to see the Irish ancestry his name suggested.

      She’d provoked him, and now he regarded her with a narrow-eyed gaze. “I’ll be there, Ms. Chamberlain. And I’ll have the kitchen deliver some special hors d’oeuvres to the bar.”

      “I’ve already had dinner,” she felt compelled to point out.

      “You’ll enjoy these,” he promised. “Nothing too heavy.”

      “Does every guest get this personal treatment?”

      Now, there was no mistaking his interest. “Only the ones who ask,” he said, the words calm and crisp. “I’ll see you shortly.”

      * * *

      Zoe decided not to shower in the dressing room. She hadn’t brought clean clothes with her, so it was easier to dart back up to her room and use the sumptuous facilities that made her feel decadent and a bit naughty. The clothes she’d had on earlier were somewhat travel-weary, so she reached in the armoire for a slinky black knit dress that packed like a dream. It showed every curve of her body, but she had worn it enough times to feel at ease in the sexy garment. Most of a woman’s appearance was dictated by confidence. Since she had learned stage presence long ago, it was easy to project an image, even if she didn’t feel her best inside.

      Timidity and nerves could be disguised. In some of her darker moments—when faced with a bully or an amorous drunk who didn’t want to back off—she’d learned that the only way to prevail was to act like she didn’t give a damn. How many times over the years had she done exactly that? Liam was no doubt a perfectly lovely man, but the ability to appear comfortable when she was uncertain of an outcome would stand her in good stead.

      Shaking off the dark memories, she inserted small gold studs in her earlobes and slipped her feet into black patent high-heeled sandals. The sleeveless dress was fairly modest except for the fact that it hugged her body. She glanced in the mirror and sighed. How long had it been since she shared an elegant meal with a man?

      Most of the time, she was the music in the background of someone else’s life. She had planned it that way...enjoyed it mostly. But tonight, she looked forward to enjoying Liam Kavanagh’s courtly manners. And perhaps slipping past his facade of propriety.

      She spritzed perfume at her ears and wrists and slipped a delicate gold chain around her neck. It hung between her breasts and caught the light. Somewhere, in a safety-deposit box far away, she had a large collection of expensive jewelry...pearls, diamonds, semiprecious stones. But as long as she played the role of gypsy, her baubles would go unclaimed. She didn’t care. Not really. But tonight it would have been nice to gild the lily with a bit of sparkly, feminine bling.

      Taking a deep breath, she tucked her room key and phone into a small bag and headed for the door. Liam Kavanagh was downstairs, and she didn’t intend to keep him waiting.

      Two

      Liam bobbled his glass of wine—splashing a few drops on his hand—when Zoe walked into the bar. All heads swung in her direction, though she appeared oblivious to the interest she drew. Finally, he pinpointed part of her allure. It was the way she moved...graceful, energetic, as if she were always off on a delightful adventure.

      Liam had been standing by the bar talking to the female bartender. With a lift of his hand, he caught Zoe’s attention, hoping his smile appeared more natural than it felt. His limbs tingled and his chest tightened. The physical manifestations of his arousal were disconcerting. He’d had a number of lovers in his adult life. He understood sexual hunger. But the intensity of his response to Zoe rattled him.

      The dress she wore should have been outlawed. Even the harshest of critics would have to concede that it was modest in cut. A shallow scooped neck front and back, plus a hemline that covered her ankles, might have added up to a demure appearance. But the soft, pliable fabric slid over Zoe’s phenomenal body like a second skin.

      He spent a good thirty seconds searching for any evidence that she wore underwear.

      “Hello, Liam,” she said, her voice smooth as cream. “May I call you that?”

      He took her hand and lifted it to his lips. “I think you just did.”

      Chuckling softly, she allowed him to seat her at a table for two tucked away in a shadowy corner. The bar was crowded tonight. He was glad. The public setting gave him time to get to know her and to decide if she was any kind of threat. Kissing her later seemed a foregone conclusion, but he would at least pretend to himself that he had a choice.

      She glanced around the room. “Nice place. You and your family have good taste.”

      “Thank you. I’m assuming you won’t be offended if I use your first name as well?”

      “Of course not.”

      “We’ve only just met. Some people prefer a bit of formality.”

      “Not me. Social conventions get in the way.”

      “In the way of what?”

      She shrugged. “I don’t know. Becoming friends, I suppose.”

      He took a sip of his wine, trying to read the subtext, if there was any. Before he could reply, a waiter appeared and set a plate of appetizers in front of them. Small wedges of melon and scallops wrapped in prosciutto had been skewered with toothpicks. He selected one and held it out. “Our chef is spectacular. Try a bite.”

      He’d anticipated an argument. Instead, her lips parted and she leaned forward, allowing him to slide the delicacy between her lush, glossy, pale-pink lips. “Wonderful,” she said, after she chewed and swallowed. “Thank you.”

      The sensuality and simple enjoyment in her response made him shift restlessly in his chair. As she sat back and smiled at him, her wavy golden hair swung around her shoulders. He couldn’t decide if she was trying to be provocative, or if he was overly sensitive to her allure.

      At that moment, his mother appeared at his shoulder. “Hope I’m not interrupting. Please introduce me to this lovely girl,” she said.

      A waiter scurried over with a third chair, and Liam stood until his mother was seated. Maeve Kavanagh had never been able to resist poking her nose into Liam’s affairs, either literal or metaphorical ones. Because he loved her dearly, he tolerated her interference, particularly since he hoped to get her impressions of the mysterious blonde. “Zoe Chamberlain, meet Maeve Kavanagh, my mother.”

      The two women shook hands. Zoe grinned wryly. “I’m happy to meet you. But you’re far too young to be Liam’s mother. I think he gave me the wrong impression when he described you.” She crossed her legs beneath the table, the toe of her shoe brushing the crease in his trouser leg. Was she doing that on purpose?

      Maeve shot him a glance that made the tops of his ears heat.

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