Kiss Me, I'm Irish. Jill Shalvis

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СКАЧАТЬ seasoned guys who know everything and the hotshots up from the minors who think they know everything.”

       She glanced at Sophie, then back at him. “What do they do, exactly?”

       “If you give her the job of training them, and tie their success to hers, she might be more prone to want them to succeed.”

       “She does want them to succeed,” she countered. “She also wants everyone to be as good as she is. With the computers, with the customers, with everything. And some of these kids are just out of college.”

       “Precisely.” He glided the sprayer hose back into place and twisted a faucet to wash his hands. “But make her feel like their accomplishments reflect her skills. Trust me. It’ll work.”

       She said nothing as he soaped and rinsed his hands, then gave him that gut-tightening smile. The real one. The one where she let down her guard. “Thanks for the advice. Now what are you doing here at this hour?”

       “I wanted to talk to you.”

       “Oh?”

       “I can’t seem to get you alone for five minutes.”

       “I’m busy.” She lifted a shoulder of indifference, but the cavalier act wasn’t working. She was avoiding him and they both knew it. “I’m busy. You work nights. I work days. And, by the way, you’re making my life complicated.”

       He managed not to smile. “I am?”

       “All this money, Deuce. How can I make a compelling argument to your father that we shouldn’t have a bar in here?”

       “You can’t. That’s the idea. And look at this place.” He gestured toward the computer stations, many that were taken with busy patrons. “You’re not exactly losing money while I’m making it.”

       She nodded. “As a matter of fact, café and Internet access revenues are up, too.”

       “Good, then you won’t mind investing in a pizza oven.”

       “A pizza oven?” She backed up to stare at him. “Now you want to turn this place into a pizzeria?”

       He swept a hand toward the wall of booze behind him. “They drink, they have to eat. I did some research and pizza is a very high-profit item. Especially per slice.”

       She looked dubious. “I don’t know.”

       “You might be able to serve it in the afternoon, too.”

       “With coffee?”

       He winked. “It’s best with beer.”

       “Deuce.” Her shoulders sank. “I’m on my way to meet with the architect and you are changing my business plan by the minute.”

       “To the tune of a grand a night.”

       “I know. I can count.” She put her fingertips to her temples and rubbed gently. His fingers itched to help alleviate the headache. “Let me think about the pizza oven and—”

       “I’m just going to order it. I wanted to know if you have a particular supplier you use.”

       “I do. Buddy McCrosson, over in Fall River. But I have to deal with him because he’s an old bag of wind and wouldn’t give you the best price.”

       “Then you can come with me to pick it out.”

       “I can’t, I have a new employee starting tomorrow—”

       “Put Sophie in charge of your new employee.” He gave her a victorious smile. “And we’ll take a drive out to Fall River tomorrow.”

       She shook her head, a flash of terror in her eyes. Was she afraid of the spontaneous change to her plans…or of being alone with him?

       “Kendra,” he leaned lower. “We’re partners here.” He almost closed the space between her temple and his lips. Would a kiss on that aching spot make her feel better?

       “We’re not partners,” she said stiffly, her eyes locked on his.

       “But you can’t avoid me for the next four weeks.”

       She closed her eyes as though his very proximity made her dizzy, sending a splash of satisfaction through him. He set his lips on the soft skin of her hairline and forehead and kissed. “I hope your headache goes away.”

       “You are my headache,” she said softly. “You make my head throb.”

       He laughed softly. “Great. We can work down from there.”

      THERE WAS NO DOUBT Sophie loved the idea of creating a training manual and implementing it. She fairly danced out of Kendra’s office the next morning, and even held the door for Deuce who had been waiting outside. For how long, Kendra had no idea.

       “So that went well, huh?” he asked, his dark eyes glimmering.

       She hated to admit it, but he’d been right, and one good turn probably deserved another. “Thank you for your advice,” she told him. “I owe you one.”

       “Great. I figure we can be in Fall River by noon, pick out the pizza oven of our dreams and kiss off the rest of the afternoon with an intimate beachside lunch.”

       Intimate? Kiss? Dreams? She ignored the rush of anticipation that meandered from her heart through her stomach and settled way, way too low. “I owe you one, Deuce, not a day and lunch. Anyway, it won’t take two hours to get there. We can be home and back to work by one o’clock.”

       “I need a pizza oven, sweetheart.” He waved a dismissive hand toward the disarray of papers and files on her desk. “And you need a break.”

       That much was true. Seamus had called from San Francisco to tell her that a few of the meetings had gone so well that the investors needed some more data. She’d pulled that together, which was no mean feat considering she wasn’t working evenings. Blowing off the day with Deuce seemed both insane and inspired.

       He leaned one impressive shoulder against the doorjamb and her gaze flickered over the taut fit of his navy-blue polo shirt, tucked into the narrow hips of a pair of khaki pants. He’d dressed nicely for their day trip. She’d worn jeans and a sweater—not fully believing he’d follow up on his threats to take her to Fall River. But here he was…looking…

       “You going to stare at me for an hour or are we leaving?”

      Stare. She blinked. “You’re imagining things. I’m just wondering what my restaurant supplier will think of you.” She made a showing of hunting for her bag. “I guess if he likes baseball, we’re in good shape.”

       “No,” he said, his serious tone forcing her to look up. “Let’s just leave my former career out of it.”

       She regarded him for a moment, the weight of her tote bag seeming as heavy as his voice. “Really?” She dropped the handle of the tote bag and just grabbed her purse. “That’s not like you.”

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