Irish Rose Read Online Free PDF

have to go back." It wasn't a retreat, she told herself. She felt cold all at once, cold to the bone.
    But even as she started to turn, he closed a hand over her arm. She looked at him, eyes clear, not so much angry as assessing. "You'll excuse me, Mr. Logan. The wind's up."
    "I noticed. You didn't answer my question."
    "No, because it's no concern of yours. Don't," she said when his fingers closed lightly over her chin, but she didn't jerk away.
    "I'm interested. When a man meets someone he recognizes, he's interested."
    "We don't know each other." But she understood him. When he'd brought his arms around her in the waltz, she'd known him. There was something, something in both of them that mirrored back. Whatever it was had her heart beating hard now and her skin chilling. "And if it's rude I have to be, then I'll say it plain. I don't care to know you."
    "Do you usually have such a strong reaction to a stranger?"
    She tossed her head, but his fingers stayed in place. "The only reaction I'm having at the moment is annoyance." Which was one of the biggest lies she could remember telling. She'd already looked at his mouth and wondered what it would be like to be kissed by him. "I'm sure you think I should be flattered that you're willing to spend time with me. But I'm not a silly farm girl who kisses a man because there's a moon and music."
    He lifted a brow. "Erin, if I'd intended to kiss you,
    I'd have done so already. I never waste time—with a woman."
    She felt abruptly as foolish as she'd claimed not to be. Damn it, she would have kissed him, and she knew he was well aware of it. "Well, you're wasting mine now. I'll say good-night."
    Why hadn't he kissed her? Burke asked himself as he watched her rush back to the inn. He'd wanted to badly. He'd imagined it clearly. For a moment, when the moonlight had fallen over her face and her face had lifted to his, he'd all but tasted her.
    But he hadn't kissed her. Something had warned him that it would take only that to change the order of things for both of them. He wasn't ready for it. He wasn't sure he could avoid it.
    Taking a last puff, he sent the cigar in an arch into the night. He'd come to Ireland for horses. He'd be better off being content with that. But he was a man on whom contentment rarely sat easily.
    She'd come late on purpose. Erin rolled her bike to the kitchen entrance of the inn and parked it. She knew it was prideful, but she simply didn't want Dee to know she worked there. It wasn't the paperwork and bookkeeping that bothered her. That made her feel accomplished. It was her kitchen duties she preferred to keep to herself.
    Mrs. Malloy had promised not to mention it. But she tut-tutted about it. Erin shrugged that off as she entered the kitchen. Let her tut-tut, as long as that was all she let out of her mouth.
    Dee and her family were visiting in town through the morning. That had given Erin time to clear up her chores at home, then ride leisurely from the farm to handle the breakfast dishes and the daily cleaning. Since the books were in order, she'd be able to take a few hours that afternoon to drive out to the farm where her cousin had grown up.
    It wasn't being deceitful, she told herself as she filled the big sink with water. And if it was, it couldn't be helped. She wouldn't have Dee feeling sorry for her. She was working for the money; it was as simple as that. Once enough was made, she could move on to that office position in Cork or Dublin. By the saints, the only dishes she'd have to clean then would be her own.
    She started to hum as she scrubbed the inn's serviceable plates. She'd learned young when there was work to be done to make the best of it, because as sure as the sun rose it would be there again tomorrow.
    She looked out the window as she worked, across the field where she'd walked with Burke the night before. Where she'd danced with him. In the moonlight, she thought, then caught herself. Foolishness. He was just a man dallying with what