Anything for You (Blue Heron #5)(86)

Connor turned onto Liberty Street. Just a short distance from the park and lake was a little stone-and-wood building, a hundred yards or so from the last house on the street. For as long as Jess was aware, it had been abandoned. A few years ago, there’d been a fire there—she’d been on the call, in fact—and whoever owned the place had just let it sit empty. A few scrubby cedar and wild raspberry bushes grew in front of it, and the grass all around it was long, making it easy to miss.

“Right this way,” Connor said, leading her up to the wide doorway. That face of the building was wooden, and black from the fire. He opened the door, and the inside was similarly damaged. The floors were scorched, but the stone walls seemed sound, and the windows were arched. There was a fireplace on the western wall.

“Welcome to the home of O’Rourke Brewing,” he said.

“Get outta here! Really? Oh, Connor, I love it.” Her chest filled with a strange, sweet pressure, and she squeezed his hand, then hugged him. “Congratulations!”

He laughed. “I’ll have to do a good bit of renovating, but my brother-in-law’s a contractor, so he’ll help me. It used to be a storage building for Jacob Manning’s boat company back at the turn of the century. It hasn’t been used since the thirties. Then that fire a few years ago... Anyway, we just have to put in electric and plumbing. And stairs. And replace the door. And the floor. Great location, though.”

“Definitely. Where will the tanks go?”

“Upstairs. Down here will be eight or ten tables. We’ll serve a little food, just enough to get people to see how great a beer would be with dinner.”

She finished her cone and brushed her hands off on her skirt. “And where will you put the tasting bar?”

“Watch your step. The bar will face the lake, of course. I’ll have a little patio outside, sort of like an arbor. I’ll probably hire Faith for that. Once I get the investors on board, we’ll get started.”

She looked around. The building seemed sturdy; Connor wouldn’t have bought it if it wasn’t. “Zoning approval and all that came through?”

“Yep.”

Of course it did. He was an O’Rourke, half owner of the most successful restaurant on Crooked Lake, son of the man who owned most of downtown. And though Connor wasn’t showy, she knew he had money.

The familiar, small flash of envy flared briefly. Jessica couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have enough money to own a house, a booming business and still be able to invest in more.

He was watching her, and her chest ached again in the nicest way. “This is just great, Con.”

“Thank you. I have a question for you, by the way.”

Please don’t propose again. Her heart started thudding at the idea. She grabbed her thumb and twisted the ring. “Okay.”

He grimaced slightly. “I have four people coming in from Ithaca. Empire State Food and Beverage, this company that funds businesses like mine. I can basically show them your PowerPoint, but just the thought of talking to them makes me...sweaty. I was hoping you might do the presentation.”

“Sure! Sure, of course! I can take the afternoon off from work, more than likely. I have a ton of vacation time.” She was so relieved it wasn’t marriage, she almost laughed. “You have to be there, of course.”

“I’ll just sit quietly and look pretty.”

She grinned. “No, you’ll have to answer questions. But, yes, you can look pretty, too. Maybe get a haircut. Wear a suit.”

He came a little closer. “Thank you, Jessica Dunn.” A little closer. His eyes were on her mouth.

She took a step back, only to find the cool stone wall there. That was fine. She wasn’t going anywhere.

He cradled her face in his hands. “There’s this old Irish saying,” he murmured, pressing a light kiss on her lips, “that if you make love in a building that needs renovation...”

She started laughing. “A building that will become a brewery?”

Another kiss, and even better, because he was smiling now, too. “Yes, a building that needs renovation so it can be a brewery...if you can get a girl to take off her panties and she lets you do dirty things to her, then the business will be very, very blessed.”

“Who came up with this saying?” she laughed.

“Some Irish guy.”

“I want to see it in writing,” she said, and he was laughing now, too, low and rumbly, his clever hands already under her dress, skimming up to her thighs.

“I’ll show it to you later,” he whispered, and his fingers went higher, sliding inside her panties, and she was very glad for the wall behind her.

He knelt down. Oh, God.

“Far be it from me to stand in the way of your profitability,” she said, her breath shaking, and let him do what he wanted.

* * *

WHEN THEY EMERGED from the building a while later, looking like guilty teenagers, no doubt, Connor took her hand again. This time, it didn’t make Jess feel so strange.

It made her feel...wonderful.

“You look rather flushed, Jess. I should get you home to bed. My bed, I mean.”

“I can’t,” she said. “Ned has a date.”

They turned onto Putney Street, walking slowly. This was one of her favorite streets, just a few down from the green, on the opposite side of the Village from Connor’s house. Connor’s street had grander houses, bigger yards. Here, though, it was more quaint. The houses were small but graceful, and trees lined the street. Birds swooped and sang, getting ready for the night, and the sky over the lake was lavender and pink.