appear to be any left. When he put it down, it was very decisive. “Now you want small talk?”
“Small talk? I didn’t ask about the weather. A career is a big deal. The biggest, except for love.”
He sighed, and his very gorgeous jaw clenched. “Fine, now you want a deep discussion?”
She nodded. “The food’s going to take a few minutes. And I’m interested.”
Before he could respond, fresh drinks replaced the empties, and just as the waitress turned away, Liam jolted, stopping her with an urgent plea. “Wait.”
Tracy, whose nametag had somehow moved closer to her boob since her last visit, looked at him with a practiced pout. “Can I help you?”
“Whiskey. Double. Please.”
“We’ve got Bushmills, Concannon, Knappogue Castle, Clontarf, Jameson and Paddy. Any of those turn you on?”
He looked up at her, blinking again.
Aubrey reduced her tip by five percent.
“Bushmills. Thanks.”
“Welcome, honey,” Tracy said with a wink. She turned back to face the bar without giving Aubrey so much as a glance.
Ten percent.
“Sorry,” he said, his attention back where it belonged. “Why don’t you tell me about this big window display that’s got you so upset?”
“Well, all right, although you’ve already got the salient points. It’s a Christmas theme, naturally. And that makes it harder because, my God, everything’s already been done. The whole reason Yvonne hired me is because she saw what I did at this little boutique in Park Slope. That one cost virtually nothing. Just a few colored lights, and some borrowed hay.”
“You borrowed hay?”
She shrugged. “Not much. It worked, though. Because the pieces I chose for the display were all elegant as hell, a crystal chandelier, a silver tea set, clothes from the ’30s and ’40s. But good stuff, expensive stuff. I even had a legit Louis Quatorze commode that went to Christie’s afterward.”
“And the hay?”
“Oh, the backdrop was a barnyard. With real chickens and a goat. At least for a couple of days. Then it got too smelly.”
“That got you hired?”
“It worked. Completely. It was written up in the Post. I know, the Post, but still. My friends who own the boutique got a lot of business from that display.”
“Huh.” He drank some beer, stared at the saltshaker.
Holy crap, but his cheekbones were spectacular. Built to highlight his eyes, but also as a foundation for his amazing dimples and square jaw. His face could be an exhibit at MOMA and they’d sell all the tickets they could print.
Liam wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and sighed again. Didn’t meet her gaze. Her cue to dial it back a few notches. He was a muse, not a toy.
Tracy arrived with his double and the food, but to Aubrey’s delight, Liam didn’t give her the time of day.
Aubrey smiled at Tracy before she left, but the gesture wasn’t returned.
“I don’t know a lot about window displays,” he said. “But I’ll take your word for it.”
“That’s okay. We’ll talk more about the design as we go along.”
He exhaled heavily, his fork hanging loosely over the mac and cheese. Then he finally met her gaze with what she imagined was his getting-the-perp-to-confess-now look. “Did someone hire you to do this?”
“No.”
“Because if the idiots I work with paid you, just tell me. I’ll make sure you get your money. I swear. Then you can just give me the card back, and I’ll let the whole issue drop. Okay?”
“No one hired me,” she said, her happy mood cut off at the knees. “I’ve been completely honest with you.”
The music got louder, the room felt colder and time stretched as he looked through her. “Chickens and a goat?”
Everything tilted back to normal, at least on her side of the table. His half smile helped.
“Yes. It was all about contrasts and anachronisms.”
He ate for a bit, and she downed a slider. It was very good.
After he finished his appetizer, he shoved the plate to the center of the table and picked up his whiskey. “Lots and lots of sex?”
The last of her worries fled. “Yes.”
“How much is lots and lots?”
“Until I get the design right. I don’t know how long that’s going to take, although it can’t be that long because I’m on a deadline.”
He sipped his drink. Narrowed his eyes. “You said one-night stand.”
“Oh, well, it could just be one night. If you’re as inspirational as I hope. But I didn’t want to pressure you or anything.”
“I don’t have a creative bone in my body. Can’t draw, can’t carry a tune. I do my best writing on reports. I don’t even have a favorite movie. How can you possibly think I’ll be in any way inspirational?”
Aubrey leaned forward, put her hand over his. “You fell from the sky, Liam Flynn. Into my hand.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
“Maybe not, but answer me this. Did you know that the placebo effect has been proven as effective as medication in many cases? That when sports figures find a ritual or good luck charm their stats improve compared to players who don’t believe in omens? That the concept of the muse as inspiration is as old as human history? Frankly, it doesn’t matter whether you buy it or not. I do.”
“Do you actually expect me to answer any of those questions?”
“No. Frankly, it doesn’t matter whether you buy it or not. I do.” She lowered her lashes and looked up at him. “There’s only one question that matters tonight. Will you say yes?”
Shit. He was going to say yes.
Aubrey was completely nuts. Which wasn’t the turnoff it should have been. In fact, he hadn’t been this intrigued by a date in a hell of a long time. He was confused, absolutely, but at least Aubrey wasn’t boring.
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Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
