Wicked Burn

The magic of their combined laughter seemed to melt away her nervousness, leaving only excitement and growing desire in its wake.

Niall had a wonderful time at dinner. True, she spoke three words for every one of Vic’s. He was adept at keeping her talking with just a few terse prompts. He was actually quite easy to talk to, once one got over the fact that he was not only a gorgeous hunk of man but a Pulitzer Prize-winning writer. Although he never gushed or rambled on any topic, he was surprisingly forthcoming about his work. She found herself truly relaxing as she listened to him describe in his succinct, spare language the challenges involved in getting his latest play ready for opening night. When he mentioned his leading lady’s first name, Niall tapped her forehead in recognition.

“Right! Eileen Moore. She used to be on that sit-com, Different Wavelengths. I thought she looked familiar when I saw her last night with you at The Art.”

Niall recalled the pointedly furious look the attractive actress had thrown her way and wondered once again if she and Vic were involved or if Eileen just wished they were.

“She’s too talented a stage actress to have been doing that crap in Hollywood,” Vic said as he set down his knife. “This is the third play of mine that she’s done.”

“Oh?”

His eyes flickered over to her face when he heard the tone of her voice. “Are you wondering if I’ve slept with her?” he asked bluntly.

For a few seconds Niall floundered for an answer. Nothing would come to her except the truth.

“Yes.”

Vic considered her for a second, his angular jaw making that increasingly familiar subtle rolling motion. “Yeah, I have,” he finally said.

Niall glanced down at her plate. She was embarrassed by how much his admission hurt. She clearly was losing her mind. Vic Savian had likely slept with hundreds of women before that moment and would sleep with hundreds more before his life was over. Niall was just one more name on a list of casual conquests. If she’d had to say whether or not he’d slept with Eileen Moore before he’d made his admission, she would have bet that he had. The flaming darts that the actress had thrown at Niall convinced her of that.

So why did hearing him say it out loud hurt so much?

She shook her head and laughed at her naïveté. “It’s really none of my business,” she said softly. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

Vic didn’t respond because a busboy arrived to clear the table. After the busboy left, Niall asked him about his farm in downstate Illinois, desperate to change the subject.

He explained that he’d inherited the farm from his mother’s brother over a year ago. Vic still couldn’t figure out why in the world his uncle Manny had made a specific point of leaving him the enormous farm while Meg, Vic’s sister, was designated as the beneficiary of Manny Padilla’s financial estate. It wasn’t that both inheritances weren’t generous far beyond expectation, of course; it was just that Vic clearly wasn’t a farmer. He’d thought about selling it, not having the time or interest for running a large farm since he already owned a ranch in Montana. But his sister, Meg, and her husband had said they would like to manage the extensive property.

“It’s worked out okay,” Vic said as he accepted the bill from a smiling Louie. “Maybe Uncle Manny knew something I didn’t. I’d already been in talks with the Hesse Theater when I inherited the farm. I guess it’s no secret how much I hate living in the city. They were willing to negotiate the actual amount of time that I spend in Chicago. I brought out some of my horses from my ranch in Montana. Meg and Tom live up at the big house and I live in a cottage that was built for a farmhand and his family years ago. We get along, but if we get sick of each other, we can hightail it to our respective houses and lock the doors. My contract with the Hesse is for only two years, anyway.”

Niall’s eyes crept up to study his face while he was focused on leaving a tip and signing his name to the bill. “Do you have other brothers or sisters besides Meg?”

“Nah, just Meg and me.”

His eyes abruptly leapt to her face, catching her skittish gaze and holding tight.

“I slept with Eileen Moore years ago, Niall. It was after I went through an ugly breakup with a woman I was supposed to marry. I was dead drunk for almost six months after the fact. If you want to know the truth, Eileen probably thought of it as a series of pity fucks. I was damned pitiful, that’s for sure,” he said with a wry twist of his handsome mouth.

Niall just stared at him for a long moment. His stark honesty always took her off guard, but she was undoubtedly drawn to it. She had no doubt that he stated things the way he saw them. He either hadn’t noticed or chose to ignore the fact that Eileen Moore still carried a blazing torch for him. And after having sex with Vic, Niall sincerely doubted that Eileen’s motivation for sleeping with him was pity. But Niall kept that to herself.

Vic surprised her a few seconds later when he reached for the hand that she wasn’t using to sip her coffee.

“I see that you were married before.”

Niall froze in the action of setting her cup back on the saucer.

“What?” she asked.

He lifted her hand. Before she could guess what he was about, he gripped her first two fingers in his right hand and pushed back her ring finger with the other. His thumb made tiny little circles at the tender apex, making Niall shiver with pleasure.

“I can see the outline of a ring here,” he said gruffly, referring to where his thumb rubbed.

“Oh . . . yes, I was.”