Monahan's Gamble. Elizabeth Bevarly

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СКАЧАТЬ suppose one might find it interesting,” she agreed, “were one studying astronomy or astrology or astrophysics or Zoroastrianism or one of those other astro-sciences.”

      “Actually,” Sean said, “I don’t think Zoroastrianism is an astro-science, per se, but rather a philosophical outlook that’s really quite fascina—”

      “In any case,” she interjected smoothly, folding her elbow on the counter. She cupped her chin in one hand and studied Sean with some intent. “I was under the impression, Mr. Monahan, that you designed computer software for a living. Some of those fantasy-driven games with monsters and caves and large-breasted women, the kind that might be created by someone who was reluctant to leave his childhood behind.”

      Oh, now this was getting interesting, Sean thought. He folded his arm to cup his chin in his hand, mimicking her posture…and bringing their faces within inches of each other. The mingling scents of cinnamon and apples and bread that surrounded her suddenly enveloped him, too, very nearly overwhelming him. And much to Sean’s surprise, he realized he wanted nothing more in life than to lean forward a bit more so that he could…nibble her. He was suddenly anxious to know if she tasted as sweet as she smelled.

      He bit back a sigh of his own, one that, had he released it, would have no doubt been filled with much satisfaction. “I thought you said you didn’t know which Monahan I was,” he murmured in as smooth a voice as he could manage. “But it sounds like you know me pretty well. Autumn.”

      She gazed back at him in silence for a moment, with an expression he could only define as…inscrutable. Then, very suddenly, very quickly, “It was a cup of coffee you said you wanted, wasn’t it, Mr. Monahan?” she piped up brightly.

      Before he had a chance to respond—not that she seemed to want him to respond—she straightened and spun around on her heel. She marched straight through a door Sean deduced must lead to the kitchen, her russet-colored, waist-length braid swaying rhythmically—and not a little seductively, he thought—above luscious-looking hips. Within seconds she returned with a cardboard cup—a really big cardboard cup, like the kind for which no sane person would ever ask a refill—and thrust it toward him. Fortunately, there was a lid on the cup, so none of it sloshed out to make a mess on the counter…or burn off a layer of her skin. Unfortunately, however, at least for Autumn, that wasn’t the main thing Sean had come in to ask for.

      “What are you doing Wednesday night?” he asked, ignoring the cup she extended toward him.

      Her expression went from inscrutable to…well, quite scrutable…in a nanosecond. Mostly, Sean thought, she looked really confused and not a little panicky. “I—I’m working,” she said, thrusting the cup toward him again, more insistently this time.

      And again Sean ignored it. “How late?” he asked.

      She gaped faintly for a moment, gazing at him as if he had just asked her to come with him to the Casbah, where they could make beautiful music together. Then she shook her head quickly, once, as if to clear it of a muzzying fog…and extended the cup of coffee forward, very insistently, again. But her conviction seemed to be wavering some as she told him, “I, um, till nine.”

      He nodded his approval…and continued to ignore the cup of coffee. “Nine,” he repeated with interest. “Right about when the sun will be almost down and the new moon will be visible.”

      She eyed him now with something akin to intrigue and absently licked her lips. Sean considered the simple gesture to be highly erotic. “Actually, Mr. Monahan, new moons aren’t visible,” she said. “Hence the term ‘new.”’

      Yeah, yeah, yeah, Sean thought. Whatever. “A minor technicality,” he assured her aloud. “It’ll be a nice night for…” He paused meaningfully. At least, he hoped she considered it a meaningful pause. God knew he sure intended for it to be meaningful. “A lot of things,” he finally concluded, likewise meaningfully. “How about we make a night of it, just the two of us?”

      Autumn gazed back at Sean Monahan in frank disbelief, trying to tamp down the heat that swirled unhampered in her midsection, trying to assure herself he was not doing what he seemed to be doing. He was not coming on to her. He was not asking her out. He was not trying to tell her, with all his discussion of the new moon, that he wanted to be the next man in line to…to…to…

      To date her.

      Was he?

      Oh, surely not. Not Sean Monahan. He, of all men in Marigold, was to be steadfastly avoided. That was why she had so steadfastly avoided him ever since coming to town. Of all the Monahans—and certainly all of them were to be steadfastly avoided—Sean posed the greatest threat. Because although each of the Monahan brothers was handsome and charming and eligible, Sean Monahan was the most handsome, the most charming and, indeed, the most eligible. Where one or two of his brothers did show potential for being the marrying kind—it was widely known that Finn, for example, carried a massive torch for one Violet Demarest, whom Autumn had never met, because Violet no longer lived in Marigold, even if her rather bad reputation did—Sean had never made any secret of his confirmed bachelorhood. On the contrary, Sean seemed to go out of his way to drive home his very absolute intention of remaining single for the rest of his life.

      Which, now that Autumn thought a bit more about it, might actually be just the thing she needed in a…date. Someone who wouldn’t have expectations of anything lasting. Someone with whom she could just have a casual, easy, fun time of it for a few—or four—weeks. Someone who wouldn’t drop to his knees at the end of that four weeks and beg for just one more lunar month, please, for God’s sake, just one. Someone who didn’t crave permanence, so would never propose marriage and, consequently, would never leave her waiting at the altar, filled with humiliation and horror and self-doubt for the third time in a row.

      No, no, no, no, no, a little voice piped up inside her. It wasn’t just Sean whom Autumn had to worry about. She had to think about herself, too. Because as troubling as it was to have men falling for her—even though she knew whatever those men felt was only temporary and would soon go away—there was always that chance that Autumn might fall for one of them. Just because that hadn’t happened since she’d come to Marigold didn’t mean there wouldn’t be a first time. Yes, her lunar-month deadline did pretty much prevent any potentially long-lasting feelings. But she did believe that love could happen much more quickly than that. It wasn’t likely, of course, but it was possible.

      Not that she thought Sean would fall in love with her, because, clearly, he wasn’t capable of such a deep, abiding emotion. Otherwise the man would have been married a long time ago, because there was no shortage of women in town who would like to have reeled him in. Women did talk, after all, especially when they were waiting in line to buy something. Something like, oh, say…bread, for instance. Over the past two years, Autumn had heard more than her fair share of gossip about the local citizenry. And Marigold’s gossip was unusual in that A, it was seldom malicious and B, it was seldom inaccurate.

      Yes, Autumn knew a lot about Sean Monahan. She knew a lot about all of the Monahans, in fact. For instance, she knew that Sean’s little sister, Tess, who taught first grade over at Our Lady of Lourdes Catholic School, was, at this very moment, pregnant by a man who’d been forced to go into the Witness Protection Program. Such talk had been rampant in the bakery over the last month or so. And in addition to Finn Monahan’s torch bearing on behalf of Violet Demarest, Autumn also knew that Miriam Thornbury, the local librarian, had a major thing for Rory Monahan, even though Rory didn’t know she existed. But then, Rory didn’t really know anyone existed outside of history books, so that wasn’t exactly surprising.

      So Autumn had learned much over the past two years through the snippets СКАЧАТЬ