Too Good to Be True(53)

“No, we didn’t spat. Spit—whatever. And that is God’s honest truth.” Perhaps now was a good time to change the subject. “Are you really Irish?”

“What do you think, genius?”

I think you’re a jerk. Oops. May have said that aloud.

“Maybe you should stick with a nice Coke the next time you go out, hmm?” he suggested. “How many drinks did you have?”

“I had two gin and tonics—actually, one and a half—and I don’t drink very often, so yes, maybe I’m feeling the effects. That’s all.” We came to a trestle bridge that crossed the railroad tracks.

“So you can’t hold your liquor. How much do you weigh, anyhow?”

“Cal, it’s a cardinal sin to ask a woman about her weight, so back off, bub.”

He laughed, that ashy, deliciously naughty sound. “I love it when you call me ‘bub.’ And I’ll call you ‘lush,’ how’s that?”

I sighed loudly. “Listen, Callahan O’ Shea of the leprechauns, thank you for escorting me this far. It’s only a few blocks to home. Why don’t you head back to your woman?”

“Because this isn’t the greatest neighborhood and I don’t want you walking home alone.”

Aw. It was one of the scruffier parts of town…in fact, when a drug deal went down, it usually happened right here under the bridge. I sneaked a look at Cal’s face. Aside from his being far too good-looking, I had to admit, he was being really…well, considerate.

“Thank you,” I said. “You sure your date doesn’t mind?”

“Why would she mind? I’m doing a public service.”

Going down the metal steps of the little bridge, I slipped a little. Callahan reached out and grabbed me before any harm was done, and for a second, I just clung to his arms. Warm, solid, reassuring arms. Wouldn’t mind staying here all night. He smelled good, too, dang it, like soap and wood.

He reached up and gently pulled something from my hair…a leaf. Looked at it for a second before dropping it.

Resumed his hold on me, his hand warm on my upper arm.

“So. Your date,” I blurted. “Um. She seems nice. Looks nice, I mean.” My heart was flopping around like a dying fish in my chest.

Cal let go of my arms. “She’s nice. Not my date, though. As I told you already.”

“Oh.” Relief flooded my knees, making them tingle painfully. No. I didn’t want Callahan O’ Shea to be dating anyone. And what did that say? We started walking once more, side by side, the mist cocooning us from the occasional head-beams that passed, muffling the sound of the cars. I swallowed. “So, Cal, are you…um …seeing anyone?”

He shot me a veiled glance. “No, Grace, I’m not.”

“Not the marrying type, I guess? Don’t want to settle down just yet?”

“I’d love to settle down,” he said. “A wife, a couple of kids, a lawn to mow.”

“Really?” I asked. Yelped, actually. Callahan struck me as the type who walked into the room while Bad to the Bone was playing. Mowing the lawn while the kiddies frolicked? Hmm. Hmm.

“Really.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Isn’t that what you and Dr. Wonderful want?”

“Oh. Uh, sure. I guess. I don’t know.” This was not a conversation I wanted to have while slightly inebriated. “It would be hard to be with a guy who’s married to his work,” I finished lamely.

“Right,” Cal said.

“So you know, things aren’t as wonderful as they seem,” I added, surprising myself.

“I see.” Cal turned to look at me. He smiled, just a little, and I looked down suddenly. I didn’t know anything about this guy. Only that he was undeniably attractive. That he wanted to settle down. That he’d served time for criminal acts.

“Hey, Cal, are you sorry you embezzled that money?” I asked abruptly.

He tilted his head and considered me. “It’s complicated.”

“Why don’t you just spit it out, Irish? What did you do?”

He laughed. “Maybe I’ll tell you someday. We’re almost home, anyway.”

We’re almost home. As if we had a place together. As if he might come in, and Angus wouldn’t bite him. As if I might make us a snack—or he might—and we’d pop in a movie. Or not. Or we’d just go upstairs, heck. Take off a few articles of clothing. Get a little exercise.

“Here you go,” Callahan said, walking up the path with me. The iron porch railing was slick and cold, and Callahan’s hand on my back felt even warmer by comparison. Whoa. Wait a sec. His hand on my back. He was touching me, and man, it felt good, like a small sun was resting there, radiating heat into the far regions of my body.

I turned to him, about to say something—what, I had no idea. The sight of his smile, his downturning, lovely eyes, wiped all thought from my mind.

My knees went soft and tingly, and my heart swelled against my ribs in a warm surge. For a second, I could feel what it would be like to kiss Callahan O’ Shea, and the strength of that image caused a buzz in the pit of my stomach. My lips opened slightly, my eyes fluttered closed. He was like a magnet, pulling me in.

“Good night, my little lush,” he said.