Thrill Me (Fool's Gold #18)(67)

He leaned in and kissed her. “Want to tell me how much you want me?”

“With every breath, but this is about your project.”

He straightened. “Shoot.”

“You could get some feedback. School started this week. Talk to the local drama teacher at the high school about speaking with his or her class. You could show them one of the videos and then get their thoughts. What worked, what didn’t and why. I’m sure the teacher would be pleased for them to see real-world application of the arts and you’d get information.”

He stared at her. “Damn, you’re good.”

She smiled. “So I’ve been told.”

“Seriously good. That’s brilliant.”

She shrugged. “I’m a good team player.”

“The best.”

He kissed her again, then slid off the stool. “I’m going to go find out who the instructor is and contact the school right now.”

He was out of the room before he finished talking. Maya appreciated his enthusiasm, even as she wished he wanted to talk about that team thing a little more. As in the two of them working together. Permanently.

* * *

NEARLY A WEEK LATER, Maya watched the Mitchell family men standing together. There was no doubt Ceallach was the father of his five children, she thought humorously. Talk about a powerful gene pool.

All five sons were tall, with dark hair and eyes. Del and Aidan looked a little more like Elaine, while the younger three favored their father. Each of them was strong, muscled and annoyingly handsome. Not a loser in the bunch. She might be a little biased, but she was confident that Del was the best looking of them.

Elaine joined the family. She looked so much more delicate than her boys. Maya refused to think about the illness she was battling on her own. This was a night to enjoy good company. Not to worry about her friend.

Sophie was in doggie heaven, going from brother to brother to get pats and treats. In addition to ordering dinner, Del had instructed Angelo’s to send over appetizers. There were trays of bruschetta, a couple of dips with crispy focaccia bread, stuffed mushrooms and mini mozzarella with tomatoes and basil on a toothpick. Wine flowed freely and Maya noticed that by the third bottle, conversation was a lot louder.

“Do you like it there?” Elaine asked, sounding doubtful.

Mathias and Ronan stood by their mother. “Happily, Inc. is a great town. A little like Fool’s Gold, but with a different vibe.”

“You’re still working in glass?” Ceallach demanded. “You must work in glass. The rest of it, any idiot can draw or paint. A three-year-old can paint. But to create something from fire, that’s talent.”

The twins exchanged a look. “Dad, we saw that article about you in Time magazine,” Mathias said. “Nice coverage.”

“The reporter mostly got it right,” the older man admitted grudgingly. “They don’t always.”

“That must be frustrating,” Nick said. “Remember the guy from the New York Times a few years ago?”

“Idiot,” Ceallach bellowed, then proceeded to list every way the reporter had failed him.

Del moved next to her. “You’re seeing it, too,” he murmured directly in her ear.

The feel of his breath against her skin made it difficult to concentrate, but she did her best to focus and process the words. “That they’re deflecting him every time he asks what they’re doing? Yeah, I noticed. Nick’s part of it.” She studied the middle brother. “Do you think it’s a plan?”

“Absolutely.”

She turned back to Del and found him standing deliciously close. If they’d been alone, she would have leaned in to press her mouth to his. Only they weren’t. Worse, they were surrounded by his family.

“Why do you think they don’t want to talk about what they’re doing?” she asked, then sighed. “Never mind. I know the answer.” Ceallach. He had a way of sucking the joy out of a room.

She wondered if it was really because he was brilliant or was he simply taking advantage of everyone around him. She knew Nick had a lot of talent, yet he managed to be a pretty decent guy. The twins were rumored to be just as brilliant as their dad, and although she didn’t know them well, they seemed okay. Maybe it was a generational thing.

“After dinner we’ll all go to the studio,” Ceallach was saying. “You can see what I’ve been doing.”

“We’d love that, Dad,” Mathias said. “There’s no one like you.”

Ceallach puffed out his chest in pride. “This I know.”

* * *

SOMETIME AFTER ELEVEN, Del stepped out onto the porch. The night was clear and cool and he could smell smoke from the fireplace.

Maya had ducked out an hour before. He couldn’t blame her for leaving. He would have done the same if he could have. Talk had turned to art and stayed there for much of the meal. Now Mom had gone to bed while Ceallach, Nick and the twins argued style, technique or whatever it was they could talk about for days.

He sat on the bench and stretched out his legs in front of him. A few minutes later, Aidan joined him.

“Tired of hearing about process?” he asked.

His brother grimaced. “That and being ignored.” Aidan sat in one of the chairs. “They give me a pain in my ass sometimes. It’s as if nothing else matters.”