even though she wore another T-shirt that had “Nerd” written across the chest, he could still tell there were some nice breasts underneath. “Grand,” he answered. “Couldn’t be better. Nice shirt.”
She squinted her eyes at him, slow to respond. “Thanks.”
“Well, I’ll leave you boys to it.” She hitched her satchel back onto her shoulder. “I’ll see you on Thursday. I have a surprise for group session.”
“Can’t wait,” Padraig said dryly. He took a large sip of his beer, showing off his nonchalance to Miss Sommersby. “Perhaps some more music therapy we can look forward to?”
“Perhaps.” Gillian leaned down between them, an arm on the back of each chair, her chest directly at Padraig’s eye level. She smelled of lavender. “Think doggie style.”
She briefly smiled at Del, then turned to Padraig. He could have sworn she pinned her gaze on him a nanosecond longer than she had Del. Was it a challenge? What did she see?
“That’ll be a beaut, Miss G! Padraig and I are already lookin’ forward to it. Aren’t we, Irish?” Del asked, slapping him on the back.
Padraig didn’t respond, but instead caught Gillian’s gaze to make sure she knew he was up for the contest. Whatever that might be.
“Okay, see you then.” She pinched a smile at them and left, making her way, with a nice swish of the hips, to a table at the far side of the beer garden. She sat across from an older man with long gray hair, wearing crazy-striped hippy pants and rows of leather and silver bracelets up his arms.
“Mate, there is something very sexy brewing under that there Miss Gillian,” Del said when she was out of earshot.
“You think every woman is sexy, mate . Why would we want to get involved with American girls when we’re going home?”
“At some point, yes,” Del agreed, “but not right now.” He rose from his chair and Padraig followed suit. “Right now, anything can happen.”
Chapter 7
The first thing Gillian saw when she walked in the door was Padraig. With Jenn, the receptionist, picking lint off his shirt. She had him up against the desk, her legs alternating with his. She stopped her grooming of the Irishman and worked her phone in front of her, punching buttons. Today, she wore a short summer skirt, tank top, and fashionable heels that looked like ankle boots, but were sandals. A bit much for the club, in Gillian’s humble opinion.
Padraig was sitting, his hands to each side, grasping the edges of the desk. And unlike most men pinned in that position, he wasn’t staring at her chest, but rather out into space, his gaze unfocused and sad.
Whenever she saw Jenn, Gillian always felt an immediate pang of envy, but it was quickly squashed by her logic. She didn’t want to be that type of girl, never had, never would. Sure, Jenn looked fantastic, gorgeous even, but gah—there was something so chintzy about her. Overdone, over-the-top fakeness that most men just didn’t seem to get. Did they actually believe her act was for real? That she wanted only him? That all the batting of her eyelashes and syrup-sweet smiles were genuine? God, she could gag.
Supposing with men’s egos, they would. Her brother was the same, always gawking over scantily clad women that whispered “no class” to Gillian, but obviously were yelling something else in his ears.
Conscious of her own sloppy cut-off shorts and baggy hoodie, she cleared her throat to interrupt the intimacy before she made a total fool of herself. The last thing she wanted was for one of them to look up and see her staring.
Jenn turned and sat next to Padraig. Practically on his lap. “Oh hi, Gillian. Didn’t see you there.”
Of course not.
Jenn ran her fingers back through her hair so that her chest rose. “Didn’t think you were coming in today.”
“Special favor for Coach ,” Gillian said, emphasizing the last word, as if she could conjure him to appear and save her from this awkward situation. Invading the
She squinted her eyes at him, slow to respond. “Thanks.”
“Well, I’ll leave you boys to it.” She hitched her satchel back onto her shoulder. “I’ll see you on Thursday. I have a surprise for group session.”
“Can’t wait,” Padraig said dryly. He took a large sip of his beer, showing off his nonchalance to Miss Sommersby. “Perhaps some more music therapy we can look forward to?”
“Perhaps.” Gillian leaned down between them, an arm on the back of each chair, her chest directly at Padraig’s eye level. She smelled of lavender. “Think doggie style.”
She briefly smiled at Del, then turned to Padraig. He could have sworn she pinned her gaze on him a nanosecond longer than she had Del. Was it a challenge? What did she see?
“That’ll be a beaut, Miss G! Padraig and I are already lookin’ forward to it. Aren’t we, Irish?” Del asked, slapping him on the back.
Padraig didn’t respond, but instead caught Gillian’s gaze to make sure she knew he was up for the contest. Whatever that might be.
“Okay, see you then.” She pinched a smile at them and left, making her way, with a nice swish of the hips, to a table at the far side of the beer garden. She sat across from an older man with long gray hair, wearing crazy-striped hippy pants and rows of leather and silver bracelets up his arms.
“Mate, there is something very sexy brewing under that there Miss Gillian,” Del said when she was out of earshot.
“You think every woman is sexy, mate . Why would we want to get involved with American girls when we’re going home?”
“At some point, yes,” Del agreed, “but not right now.” He rose from his chair and Padraig followed suit. “Right now, anything can happen.”
Chapter 7
The first thing Gillian saw when she walked in the door was Padraig. With Jenn, the receptionist, picking lint off his shirt. She had him up against the desk, her legs alternating with his. She stopped her grooming of the Irishman and worked her phone in front of her, punching buttons. Today, she wore a short summer skirt, tank top, and fashionable heels that looked like ankle boots, but were sandals. A bit much for the club, in Gillian’s humble opinion.
Padraig was sitting, his hands to each side, grasping the edges of the desk. And unlike most men pinned in that position, he wasn’t staring at her chest, but rather out into space, his gaze unfocused and sad.
Whenever she saw Jenn, Gillian always felt an immediate pang of envy, but it was quickly squashed by her logic. She didn’t want to be that type of girl, never had, never would. Sure, Jenn looked fantastic, gorgeous even, but gah—there was something so chintzy about her. Overdone, over-the-top fakeness that most men just didn’t seem to get. Did they actually believe her act was for real? That she wanted only him? That all the batting of her eyelashes and syrup-sweet smiles were genuine? God, she could gag.
Supposing with men’s egos, they would. Her brother was the same, always gawking over scantily clad women that whispered “no class” to Gillian, but obviously were yelling something else in his ears.
Conscious of her own sloppy cut-off shorts and baggy hoodie, she cleared her throat to interrupt the intimacy before she made a total fool of herself. The last thing she wanted was for one of them to look up and see her staring.
Jenn turned and sat next to Padraig. Practically on his lap. “Oh hi, Gillian. Didn’t see you there.”
Of course not.
Jenn ran her fingers back through her hair so that her chest rose. “Didn’t think you were coming in today.”
“Special favor for Coach ,” Gillian said, emphasizing the last word, as if she could conjure him to appear and save her from this awkward situation. Invading the
Similar Books
