Wicked Burn(13)

Niall rolled her eyes. “If only Evan could be that subtle in return. The guy’s like a Mack truck.” Kendra looked concerned about that statement, so Niall quickly changed the subject.

“Any other calls?”

“Here are your messages.”

Niall glanced through the pieces of paper. Rose Gonzalez’s name caught her eye. What had the State of Illinois Public Guardian been calling her for? Niall wondered. Rose had patiently explained to her that she was wholly in charge now, not Niall. She knew that Rose usually left the office by five P.M. She’d have to call her first thing in the morning.

“Your mom was one of the callers,” Kendra broke through Niall’s preoccupation. Her voice level dropped until it was just above a whisper. “She wanted to know if you wanted to attend church at St. Patrick’s before the three of you go out to Evergreen Park this Sunday. You’re supposed to call her on her cell.”

Niall grimaced. How like her mother to suggest a good dose of Catholic-style guilt just when Niall was considering having a sexual fling with Vic. Alexis Chandler was damn scary sometimes, the way she could foresee events.

And Niall did not plan to go to Evergreen Park this weekend. That was one of her mother’s well meaning, but thoroughly irritating, machinations. Niall had made it clear that the ritualistic, soul-wrenching Sunday visitations at Evergreen Park were a thing of the past.

God, it made her feel slightly nauseated even to consider challenging her mother on the issue when she knew she was only doing what she thought was right. The lament of every child since Cain and Abel, no doubt, she thought sourly.

“Thanks.” Niall started to walk toward her office, but she paused, her feet moving restlessly. “You go to plays a lot, don’t you, Kendra?”

“Sure, when I can get Mark to let go of his death grip on the remote control for a few hours,” she teased, referring to her husband.

“Ever seen a Vic Savian play?”

“Yep. Misfit Cowboys and Aidan’s Fall. Are you thinking about seeing his new one that’s opening at the Hesse Theater? I’ve already got tickets.”

Niall plucked at her wool skirt, averting her face. “I was thinking about it. Is he any good?”

“Better than good,” Kendra said resolutely. “The guy’s a genius. Don’t get me wrong, his stuff isn’t a frolic in the park. His plays are gritty and intense, volatile, thought-provoking, but very . . . erotic, too.” Kendra shook her head and laughed sheepishly. “Tons of restrained lust is a Savian key ingredient. It’s what makes his plays so unpredictable and exciting. Hey, Niall?”

“Yes?”

“Why are you blushing?” Kendra asked with a fascinated expression on her round, earnest face.

Niall rolled her eyes and resumed walking to her office. “I am not blushing.”

“Sure looked like you were,” she heard Kendra say thoughtfully before Niall shut the door to her office.

She glanced into an antique mirror mounted on the wall. Kendra had been right. Her cheeks were bright red. In fact, the utterly foreign thought struck Niall at that moment that she looked like a very sexy, desirable woman.

All that, merely because when Kendra had talked about Vic’s plays, it had occurred to Niall that he wrote the way he made love.

Vic called her a few minutes after eight and said that he was running behind.

“Would it be all right with you if we just met downstairs at Louie’s, say at around nine thirty?” he asked.

“Of course,” Niall agreed as she eyed the outfit she’d laid out on the bed to wear on their date. “I’m actually relieved. I can just throw on some jeans.”

“I was going to be wearing jeans whether we went to Louie’s or Everest,” he said under his breath, humor lacing his tone as he referred to the famous Chicago restaurant.

Niall laughed. “I’m sure Everest would be happy to have your business, jeans or no. Everest caters to the pretheater crowd, you know. It’d be a feather in their cap if you showed up in swim trunks and a T-shirt, no doubt.”

“You know what I do for a living?” he asked.

“Oh . . . yes. My friend Anne—the woman I was with last night in the restaurant—told me that you’re a playwright.”

He laughed shortly. “Well, I know for a fact that Louie couldn’t give a shit about what I’m wearing as long as my ass is covered, so let’s stick with that. Besides, I hate French food.”

Niall smiled. His proclamation hadn’t particularly surprised her.

When she arrived at Louie’s, she immediately saw Vic in a booth near the bar, chatting with Louie himself. He was wearing a fitted, dark blue, Western-style shirt that accentuated his long, lean torso and broad shoulders. The shadow of a beard darkened his jaw. Heat flooded Niall’s lower belly when she recalled how his whiskers had erotically abraded her sensitive skin during their lovemaking.

Vic looked up and held her gaze as she approached, even though he continued to chat with Louie. His eyes lowered over her in leisurely appreciation before he stood as she greeted both men.

Vic caught her hand when she began to move to the opposite side of the booth from where he’d been sitting.

“Sit here.”

Louie grinned broadly as he watched the exchange. He nodded his head once in obvious approval when Niall assented to Vic’s terse request and slid into the seat before he sat down next to her.