Page 68

“Well! It’s about damn time!” Peter scolded. “I’ve been trying to get in touch with you for twelve hours!”
“Horrors,” I said mildly. “What’s up?”
“No need to be snotty.” Peter sounded hurt. “Enid and I did the opening act at the Bottom Line last night for Brigid McKeon and the Beltane Beldames, remember?”
“Of course. I sweated for months to get you that gig.”
“Oh. I figured you’d forgotten, since you didn’t bother to come. Well, get this. Brigid liked Enid’s voice so much, she wants her to go on tour with the Beldames!”
“Wow,” I said. “That’s really great. Did you tell her to call me?”
“Of course I did, but you’ve been unreachable, so I expect you’ve missed her call. So? It’s not like Enid can say no at this point in her career to Brigid McKeon.”
“True. She shouldn’t,” I said.
“But she can’t throw away her solo career to be a Beldame, either. Enid belongs in front of the band, not singing backup.”
I lost the thread when I glimpsed Liam in the doorway, listening. I waved at him.
“Relax, Peter,” I soothed him. “I’ll talk to Brigid’s manager and get the dates, and see if I can switch Enid’s concert schedule, or maybe agree to just one tour, and use it as a selling point for her own tour.” I squeaked, startled, as Liam materialized behind me. He started to kiss my neck, and I batted his head away.
“You’re up there with some guy, right? The graphics are overdue for my album, it’s a week until FolkWorld, it’s a critical moment in mine and Enid’s careers, and all you can think of is your hormones? We’re talking serious money, here!”
“Speaking of money, I advanced you the registration fees for the FolkWorld Conference, remember?”
“Yeah, but we still haven’t gotten paid for those five gigs upstate!”
I wiggled as his hand slid down my belly and into the waistband of my jeans. “But my credit cards are maxed.”
“I can’t believe you’re nagging me like this when we’ve got this huge decision to make,” Peter bitched. “I don’t want to talk to you again until you’re ready to act professional.” He hung up on her.
I let the phone drop. “Damn. Now he’s pissed.”
“Good.” Liam’s hand delved deeper. “I heard the name Peter,” he murmured. “It got me going. I just couldn’t help myself. Let him stew in his own juices.”
“Easy for you to say!”
“What have you got to lose?” he demanded. “The cheap bastard doesn’t even pay you what he owes you, right?”
“Butt out of things that don’t concern you, Liam. I appreciate your help, but do not interrupt my business calls with inappropriate sexual advances.”
“Inappropriate? I’ll show you inappropriate.”
“Not today, you won’t.” She stuck out her chin. “I have stuff to do. Off with you.”
He backed away, hands up in surrender. “Later, then.”
I was riveted by the hot erotic promise in his eyes. “Um. Yeah. Later.”
The day raced by. I spent most of it on the phone rearranging concert dates and dealing with Brigid McKeon’s agency. Liam was unobtrusive, but I was intensely aware of him, sneaking hungry glances at the grace and power of his every movement. More than once he caught me peeking. His grin made my heart float up.
Daylight faded. I mocked up the new Mandrake promo brochure that had Eoin’s name on it, entered some new email addresses onto the newsletter sub list, and exited out of my computer. I hesitated for a moment—and then turned off my smartphone too.
It was the professional kiss of death, but right now, I didn’t give a shit. I went to the door that led to his workshop, which was dominated by a large and beautiful dining room table. He’d left the door open.
He was bending over a workbench, sanding some piece too small for me to identify. He looked up, though I was barefoot, and made no sound.
He put the piece down. “You done for the night?”