One King's Way (On Dublin Street #6.5)(7)

I smirked. “If that’s a philosophical question then I can honestly say I have no bloody clue why any of us are here. If it’s a literal one . . . I’d tell you to mind your own business.” I added a little smile to lessen the blow of my words.

He gave me a small smile back. “Then I’ll ask you an easier question. How old are you?”

I sighed, realizing he really wasn’t going anywhere. “I’m twenty-four. How old are you?”

“Twenty-five. Where were you born?”

I frowned at the quick-fire question. “Inverness. Where were you born?”

“Edinburgh born and raised. What do you do for a living?”

I cocked my head to the side and studied him. “Are you planning on writing my biography?”

He gave me this mysterious little smile but said nothing else.

“I was told not to talk to strangers.”

“But I’m not a stranger.” He leaned on the bar again, seeming unable to maintain a distance between us. “My name is Craig Lanaghan. I’m a full-time bartender and I hope to own my own bar one day. I have two sisters, Jeannie and Maggie. Jeannie is engaged, Maggie is at university, and with her nest empty my mum has decided to start Internet dating and I hate the very f*cking idea of it. I’m a pretty laid-back guy, I like chilling with my friends on my down time, I like the color blue, I like crime novels and foreign martial arts flicks. I never say what I don’t mean, and I never let a woman think I’m offering her more than I am.”

There was a lot to like in all he’d said and I gave him a bemused smile. “I take it you expect me to return the gesture of info dumping.”

He grinned at me. “It would be nice.”

I felt that flutter in my belly again. “Stop flirting with me, Craig,” I repeated solemnly.

His grin changed to a coaxing smile. “Not possible, Rain.”

I sighed and glanced surreptitiously over my shoulder.

Still no Angus.

“You know if you tell me something I might stop pestering you completely,” he offered.

I tried to discern whether he meant it or not and decided I couldn’t tell. Hoping he was serious, I nodded. “My name is Rain Alexander. I own an online clothing boutique with my younger sister, Darcy. It’s called Darraign and we’re doing quite well with it. We design the clothes together and I handle the business side and manufacturing. Darcy is the dressmaker. Most of our stuff is manufactured but we sell limited-edition pieces that Darcy handcrafts. I’m extremely independent and always have been, I know what I want and what I don’t want and I have no room for compromise. I like the color red, I like romance novels and historical dramas. I always say what I mean and I never accept less than what I want from a man.”

Craig’s gaze grew heated at my final words. “In the bedroom or in life?”

My skin flushed at the thoughts I saw swirling in his gaze. “Both,” I whispered.

Our gazes locked and the heat between us intensified as the rest of the bar just melted away, darkness blurring my peripheral vision so all I could see was him. My eyes fell to his mouth and I wondered how he would kiss. Would his kisses be soft, coaxing . . . or would they be deep, drugging . . .

A loud cackle from a girl behind me snapped me out my reverie and I jerked back in my stool, breaking the moment between us.

Craig threw an irritated look over my shoulder before sighing. When he looked at me again, the heat in his eyes was no longer boiling, but simmering quietly. “You own your own company,” he said forcibly, his voice a little thick. He cleared his throat. “That’s impressive.”

I shrugged.

“Should we add modesty to the things I know about you?”

My shrug wasn’t out of modesty. I knew having my own successful company was an impressive feat and as nice as it was to hear, I didn’t need Craig’s opinion to know that. “I’m not particularly modest, no.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Not modest. Interesting. You said your company was called Darraign.” He gently grabbed my left wrist and turned my arm so that he could see the tattoo inscribed on the inside of my bicep. “You have your company name tattooed on you.” He frowned. “Darraign. As in Darcy and Raign?”

“My name is spelled like the weather, R-a-i-n. But yes, Darcy and Rain. Darraign.”

“Why the different spelling, then?” He rubbed his thumb over the inside of my wrist again and that small touch caused a lustful tightening in my breasts. I extricated my hand from him.

“Do you know what Darraign means?”

He grunted in amusement. “I didn’t even know it was a word.”

I nodded and looked down at my tattoo, drawing my red painted fingernails over the curled script that spelled out the word. “It means to vindicate. To justify or prove.”

When our eyes met again Craig’s were filled with something . . . something I couldn’t quite identify. “What?” I said softly.

“I think you just might be more than a little magnificent,” he said.

This compliment hit me square in the chest. It affected me in a way “beautiful” could never. “You don’t know me.”

“Then sit there and let me get to know you.”

Since I had no choice to sit there until Angus showed up, I ordered another wine and I nursed it for the next few hours as I waited.