Love Is a Breeze (11 page)

“A pub? At your age?”

“The owner was a friend of the family. I washed dishes and cleaned up.”

“Not much of a life for a kid.”

“It wasn’t so bad, really.” Brianna shrugged her shoulders.  “A little work never hurt anyone.” The waiter set the pizza on their table. “Ahh, saved by the pizza.”

John put a slice on his plate and reached for a knife and fork but Brianna covered his hand.

“You can’t eat pizza with a fork,” she admonished, grabbing a piece and biting into it. “You have to eat it with your fingers to appreciate the full flavor.” She licked a bit of sauce from the corner of her mouth.

John gulped, picked up his slice and bit into it.

“Delicious,” he said.

                                                             * * * *

“Now, it’s time for my picks,” John said as they got into the car.

“This ought to be good. What are the chances of there being anything I can afford on that list?”

“You’ll see. I kept your pocketbook in mind.”

Brianna was skeptical but humored him.

John headed northeast and took the lakeshore drive.

“There’s nothing in Lincoln Park that I can afford,” Brianna said when John turned into the parking lot of a complex.

“There might be.”

They looked at two that had lake views, and another one a block from the beach. All were very modern, very cold and very expensive. John turned onto a tree-lined boulevard about two blocks from the lake. He stopped in front of a pretty English Tudor style house. It was small compared to the other houses on the block but still quite large by her standards.

“I can’t afford anything like this,” she said.

“I’m not showing you the whole house,” John said. “According to the paper, there is a small apartment over the garage. It’s worth looking at and might be affordable.”

“Yeah, like all the others you found.” Brianna followed him up the curved walk to the front door. John lifted the brass knocker.

A tall woman with silver streaked dark hair answered the door.

“Hello. Are you the young man that called about the apartment?” Brianna knew that made his day.

“Yes. I’m John Sharp and this is my friend, Brianna Ryan. She’s the one interested in the apartment,” John said. Brianna shook the offered hand.

“I’m Mrs. Whitley. Please come in.” The interior was wonderfully cool and tastefully decorated. Mrs. Whitley led them through the living and dining rooms to the kitchen. “The apartment is back here, above the garage.”

They walked across the flagstone patio, bordered by a large shady lawn, to the garage. She unlocked a door on the side revealing a stairway to the upper floor.

At the top of the stairs there was a large living-dining room with windows on two sides and a breakfast bar at one end, dividing the galley kitchen from the main room. In the back was a bedroom that looked out on the lawn, and a bathroom. It had an old claw-foot tub that Brianna fell in love with.

“It’s a lovely apartment, Mrs. Whitley. How much is the rent?”

Mrs. Whitley named a price that was well within Brianna’s budget.

“Excuse me?” Brianna was sure she had misunderstood. “I’m not sure I heard you right.”

Mrs. Whitley repeated the figure. Brianna looked at John.

“Could I see you outside for a minute?” she said to John.

“What? You don’t like it?” John asked, when they were out of Mrs. Whitley’s range.

“I love it,” Brianna said, “but how can she rent it so cheap? I feel like I would be taking advantage of her.”

“Mrs. Whitley,” John called to the woman. “Brianna wants to know why you are renting this so cheap.” Brianna slapped his arm, John grinned. “Is there something wrong with the apartment that we should know about?”

Mrs. Whitley came into the room. “There’s nothing wrong with it, young man.”

“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Whitley,” Brianna said, glaring at John.

“It’s all right, dear. Men can be maddening sometimes, can’t they?” she gave John a stern look and patted Brianna’s arm. “Pay no attention to him. My husband died a few years ago and I don’t need the money. This was the servant’s quarter’s years ago. My nephew suggested I fix it up and rent it out just to have someone near,” she fixed John with another glare.

“How soon could I move in?” Brianna asked.

“There’s still some plumbing and electrical work to finish up. I’m sure it will be ready by the end of the month.”

“That’s wonderful,” Brianna said, barely able to contain her excitement.

They followed Mrs. Whitley back to her house. Brianna signed a lease and John offered to pay a deposit but Mrs. Whitley insisted it wasn’t necessary.

Brianna danced backward all the way to the car, afraid if she took her eyes off her garage it would disappear. She couldn’t believe her luck. A beautiful apartment in a beautiful neighborhood and it was affordable. She’d surely died and gone to heaven.

“Let’s celebrate,” John said as he turned onto North Shore Drive. “We’ll go home, change and go somewhere nice for dinner.”

“I know a fun place and we wouldn’t have to change clothes,” Brianna said. “It’s near the place we ate lunch, though.” John looked doubtful. “Really, you’ll love it. Irish food, Irish beer, and Irish music.”

“If you say so,” John said as he turned the car around.

“I do.”

When they entered Paddy’s Pub, Brianna waved at the stout, redheaded bartender.

“Evenin’ Breeze. Haven’t seen you in a while,” he said.

“Hey, Paddy. Some of us gotta work for a livin’ ya know,” Brianna said. “This is my friend, John,”

“John, pleased to meet ya,” Paddy shook John’s hand. “A friend of Breeze’s is a friend of Paddy’s. What can I git ya?”

“A couple of pints of Guinness, Paddy.” Brianna led the way to a booth in the corner, greeting several more people on the way.

“You seem to know a lot of people here,” John said.

“I told you, I used to live around here. This is where I worked.”

Paddy set the foamy mugs of ale on the table. “You be wantin’ t’ eat? Mary’s brewin’ a pot o’ her famous stew.”

“Not just yet, Paddy, thanks.” Brianna said. “Come on,” she said grabbing John’s hand. “Bring your beer.”

John grabbed his beer with his free hand while Brianna pulled him to the piano where a short man in a bowler hat, green vest and a red plaid bow-tie had just sat down to play. He placed an stein on top of the piano for tips.

“Any requests?” he shouted.

Several people called out various tunes, mostly Irish. He began with “When Irish Eyes Are Smiling.” Everyone joined in, singing loudly.

“This is your song,” John said, leaning close to Brianna’s ear. He raised his mug to hers and smiled into the emerald green depths of her Irish eyes.

Brianna could feel the heat rising in her cheeks. She turned and took a paper from the top of the piano. “Here,” she said, handing it to John, “the words to most of the songs. You’ll need them later. Some of the songs are not well known.” She flashed a mischievous grin.

One hour later, they sat at their table. “Maybe we should eat something.” John said. “What do you suggest?”

“We could try Mary’s Irish stew, it’s very good or they have wonderful corned beef on rye. Or… how about both? One of each and we’ll share.”

Brianna hailed the waitress. John watched the sway of her hips as she approached the table. Brianna nudged him with her foot.

“Hi, Erin. We’re ready to order,” Brianna ordered for them. “This is Paddy’s daughter. Erin, this is John.”

“A pleasure, Erin,” John said. His gaze lingered on the expanse of cleavage displayed when Erin leaned over to pick up the empty mugs and replace them with full ones. Brianna nudged him harder.

“She’s married,” Brianna said, when Erin had left.

“Damn!” John said, quickly moving his leg. Brianna kicked his chair and winced. She glared at him.

“Not only is she married, she has two kids.”

John released an exaggerated sigh of disappointment. Brianna smacked him with her napkin.

Erin returned and set a large, steaming bowl of stew in front of them along with a sandwich stacked high with corned beef and Swiss cheese.

“That’s a  small bowl?” John asked. “It’s a wonder everyone doesn’t weigh 300 pounds around here.” He picked up a sandwich half and attempted to smash it thin enough to fit his mouth.

“We’ll work it off later,” Brianna said. John gave her a questioning look. “I always get a little home sick when I come here.” She forked a cube of meat from the stew and put it into her mouth.

When they had finished eating, Brianna got up and grabbed John’s hand.

“I’m too full to move,” he said in protest, leaning back and rubbing his stomach.

She pulled him up and led him back to the piano where the music had been steadily getting faster and louder. A fiddler had joined in. Several people were dancing an Irish line dance.

“I can’t understand the words,” John said, raising his voice above the clamor.

“That’s probably for the best,” Brianna replied with a smile. She showed him how to do the dance. He caught on quickly and soon kept up with the others with only minor miss-steps.

After several songs, they sat down to catch their breath and quench their parched throats. Brianna barely had time to set her mug down when a local patron seized her hand and pulled her back to the dance floor for an old-fashioned Irish jig.

John watched, fascinated by the lively steps as they increased their pace to keep up with the music. Brianna finally collapsed in her partner’s arms, exhausted but exhilarated. He escorted her back to the table.

“This here’s the best little jigger this side of the Atlantic,” he declared. “You take real good care o’ her.”

John nodded, keeping his eyes on Brianna’s flushed face and sparkling eyes.

“Are you having a good time?” she asked John.

“Incredible,” he answered. “Hey, they’re playing your song again.” He pulled a reluctant Brianna to her feet.

“You can’t be serious. My feet are killing me and I can barely breathe.”

“Come on. It’s slow and you can lean on me.”

John turned her into his arms. He signaled the musicians to slow the tempo a bit more.

Brianna could feel the beating of his heart beneath her cheek as she relied on him to keep her upright. Her left hand curved around his neck as he tightened his hold on her waist. As the song ended, he twirled her around and caught her to his side. He grasped her waist and lifted her off her feet, letting her slide down his body as the little band played the opening cords of ‘Danny Boy.’

“Let’s go. This is the last song and it always makes me cry,” Brianna said.

“All ready?” John glanced at his watch, surprised to see that it was past two in the morning.

Brianna hummed ‘When Irish Eyes Are Smiling’ all the way home. John kept a steadying arm around the sleepy girl until they reached her bedroom door. He grasped her shoulders and kissed the top of her head.

“Thanks for a delightful evening, my little Irish rose,” he caressed her cheek with the back of his hand before gently pushing her into her room. She gave him a dreamy smile and closed the door. John waited a moment before walking down the hall to his room.

CHAPTER Twelve

Brianna woke with a smile, humming “Oh, What a Beautiful Morning.” In the shower she sang an array of Irish tunes. She finished the last chorus of “My Wild Irish Rose” as she entered the kitchen, surprised and disappointed, to find it empty.

She filled her teapot and set it on the stove and made a cup of coffee for John. She sat at the bar with her bowl of cereal when John wandered in looking wonderfully disheveled. He went straight for the coffee.

“Good morning,” Brianna chirped.

“Hm,” he replied, holding up a hand. “Don’t talk until I’ve had some caffeine.”

“Rough night?” Brianna lowered her head to hide a smile.

He leaned against the counter, closed his eyes and gulped the steaming liquid.

After finishing her Cheerios in silence, she brewed a cup of tea for herself and another cup of coffee for John.

“Ahh, I feel almost human,” he said as he drained his second cup. “I never sleep this late. It’s your fault, keeping me out until the wee hours dancing like a young pup. This morning I feel old enough to be your father.”

“Aww. You poor old man. You’ll feel better after a nice hot bath. Should I run one for you?” Brianna teased.

“Feeling a bit cheeky this morning, aren’t we?”

“I feel wonderful. I have a new apartment that I love and, even better, that I can afford.”

“Tired of living with me?”

“No, not at all, but I’ll bet you’ll be glad to get rid of me.”

John gazed at her intently before pushing away from the counter. “I’m going to take a shower.”

When he returned, Brianna set a piece of toast and another cup of coffee in front of him. “What are your plans for the weekend?”

“Just a little R and R.” He picked up his cup. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to the beach with Carly. It’s Rob’s weekend to work. Why don’t you ask Ms. Schuster out?”

“Kaitlyn?” John set his cup down and looked at her. “Why would I do that?”

“Because she likes you and you have a lot in common and you need some fun in your life.” She ticked off the reasons on her fingers.

“Oh, I do, do I? And, what makes you think she likes me?” 

“I’ve heard talk at work.”

“You mean gossip.” He looked at her over the rim of his mug.

“Call it what you want. The fact is she’s a ladder climber,” Brianna declared smugly.

“A what?” John asked.

“A ladder climber. You know, someone who wants to better herself and be successful.” Brianna said, adding naively, “According to the girls, she knows the fast track up the corporate ladder.”

John spewed coffee, set the cup down and laughed. “Do you have any idea what that means?”

“It’s a good thing, isn’t it? Wanting to better yourself.” Brianna bit her lip.

John grinned before explaining. “It means sleeping your way to the top”

Brianna’s jaw dropped and she felt the heat rising in her cheeks until she was sure her face matched her hair. She stared at him wide-eyed.

John picked up his cup and took a sip. He seemed to be enjoying her embarrassment. He set the cup down.  “They think she’s sleeping with
me
?”

“Oh, no!” Brianna shook her head. “They just think she would like to— go out with you, not sleep with you, I’m sure.” She wished she could just fade into the woodwork.

John shook his head and left the room.

                                                              * * * *

A couple of hours later, she met Carly at North Avenue Beach.

“Let’s grab a sandwich at the Castaways,” Carly said naming the popular restaurant above the shops at the park. “Did you find an apartment? I tried calling you a couple of times last night.”

“We got in very late,” Brianna said. “I found the most wonderful place in Lincoln Park. A widow renovated a servant’s quarters above her garage. It’s charming and so is she. It’s as if she decorated it with me in mind. I love everything about it. I can’t wait to move in.”

“The shar–boss getting on your nerves, is he?”

“No, he’s been really great,” Brianna said. “It’s just that I need my own place. I can’t stay there forever.”

“Do I detect a hint of regret?” Carly asked.

“No... Yes...  Maybe. I don’t know, Carly. He’s different when he’s away from work. He rented a red convertible yesterday just for me. We had such a good time looking at apartments, even the awful ones. We went to Paddy’s Pub last night and danced until early morning.”

“Where is he today?”

“At home.  I told him he should take Ms. Schuster out.”

“You did
what
?” She noticed Brianna’s dismal expression. “You’re falling in love with him aren’t you?”

“I…don’t…I think… maybe. Yes,” she finally admitted to Carly, and herself. “But it wouldn’t work. We’re too different. It could never work.”

“You don’t know that. It could work. It certainly sounds like he’s interested in you.”

“Interested maybe, but not in love. I’m a novelty to him. He likes smart, sophisticated, beautiful women. I’m different. I amuse him. He may be interested but he’ll never buy, the novelty would soon wear off. Where would that leave me? Broken-hearted, that’s where. I don’t think I’d get over this one easily. No, it’s better this way.”

“Better for whom? You underestimate yourself, Bree. You’re smart, attractive, charming, funny and passionate. Sophistication never kept any man warm at night.”

They finished lunch and headed for the beach. Carly squeezed her shoulder. “Let’s find a volleyball game.” Brianna shook her head. “Come on. It’ll be good for you, work off some of that pent up– frustration!”

                                                             * * * *

When she got home there was a note from John saying he had gone to play golf and would be eating at the club. He didn’t say with whom.

Certain that he would not be back for hours; Brianna made use of his large tub again. She had just finished soaking away the aches of hours of activity in the sun and wrapped herself in a bath sheet when she heard John in the bedroom.

“You’re home early,” she called through the adjoining door, warning him of her presence.

“Are you about done in there? I need a shower.”

“I was just coming out,” she answered, opening the door.
Oh, Lord,
she thought
,
wishing he would put his shirt back on so her heart could beat normally.
Exhaust myself with hours of frustration relieving activity and now I’m right back where I started.

John took one look at her and exclaimed, “Good Lord! Your skin is as red as your hair. We need to put something on that before it blisters.”

He guided her back into his bathroom. Pulling a bottle of Aloe Vera out of the cabinet, he motioned for her to turn around. The gel felt cool on her hot skin as he gently smoothed it across her back and shoulders.

Brianna asked. “Who did you play golf with?”

“Dr. Anderson.” He turned her around to apply gel to her nose and cheeks.

Happy that he didn’t say ‘Kaitlyn’ she gave a sigh of relief.

“Feels better, doesn’t it?”

Brianna nodded.
If he only knew how good
. She sighed again.

When he started to put some gel on her chest, she took the bottle from him.

“I can manage the rest,” she said, leaving him to take his shower.

                                                             * * * *

She dressed and wandered out to the balcony. John joined her within a few minutes.

His eyes locked on her mouth. Brianna ran her tongue over her lower lip as her heart did a back flip and landed in her stomach. He briefly raised his eyes to hers before turning away. She took a deep breath.

“I–” Her voice squeaked. She cleared her throat. “I really think you should ask Kaitlyn out.” 
I am crazy.

John turned to face her, folding his arms across his chest and leaning against the balustrade.

“You’re like a dog with a bone. Just let it go. I usually make it a point not to get involved with people I work with.”

Brianna flicked her gaze to the stars, released a heavy sigh and took a step toward him.

“But she likes you.” She spread her arms, palms up.

John’s mouth twitched. “You like me. Maybe I should ask you out.”

Brianna stepped back. “I’m serious. You’re not getting any younger and you’re too nice and good-looking to spend the rest of your life alone.” Why did her tongue never fail her when she needed it too. One of the great mysteries of the Universe.

“So you think I’m nice and good-looking but too old. Too old for what? Romance? Love?”  His eyes locked with hers. “You?”

Brianna’s eyes widened. She took another step back.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” She frowned at him and put her hands on her hips.

John chuckled, “Oh. You meant I should find someone before I lose my good looks and become a lonely, grouchy old man.”

She glared at him.

“Now you’re just poking fun at me.”

She spun on her heel intent on leaving the terrace but John caught her arm halting her in mid-stride.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Brianna looked at the hand on her arm spreading warmth. She suppressed the desire to cover it with her own, to lace her fingers with his. She squeezed her eyes and inhaled shakily.

“Apology accepted.”  Facing him, she said, “I still think you should ask Ms. Schuster out.” John groaned but Brianna wouldn’t be swayed. “It’s obvious she likes you.”

“Subtlety is not one of her strong points. Are you sure it’s me or a promotion she wants?”

His gaze fastened on her mouth again. Brianna contemplated his for a moment until they both looked away. She knew she should retreat to the safety of her room but her Irish heritage won out. She stubbornly–foolishly–stood her ground.

“Okay.” John brought his eyes back to hers. “I’ll ask her out but only if we make it a double date.”

“I don’t think–I mean, I don’t know any–that is not what I had in mind.”

“That’s the deal. And I know the perfect guy for you.”

“I can get my own date, thank you.” Brianna narrowed her eyes and set her jaw.

“You picked my date so I get to pick yours. Dinner Saturday night good for you?” The amused glint in his eyes had Brianna seething.

“Fine,” she said, through clenched teeth before leaving the terrace. The sound of John’s chuckle followed her through the living room. 

                                                               * * * *

Despite the physical exhaustion, Brianna did not sleep well. Plagued by senseless dreams and the stinging sunburn, she gave up at dawn and climbed out of bed. She went into the kitchen and poured a glass of juice before wandering out to the terrace.

The deep pink of dawn gave way to lighter pinks, streaked with orange, as the sun began its journey across the sky. It encountered no problems, no setbacks, no confusion along its path. It rose and set every day, laughing in the face of storms. Why couldn’t her life be that simple? Get up, go to work, come home, go to bed, no turmoil, no uncertainty, no misunderstandings... no emotion, no passion, no life. Well, maybe she didn’t want her life to be that simple but did it have to be completely bewildering? Couldn’t she just find the right man? The problem was she had found her Mr. Right; she just wasn’t his Ms. Right!

“And that’s a fact,” she said, draining her juice.

“What’s a fact?” the deep voice startled her. The glass slipped from her grasp, shattering on the tiled floor.

“I didn’t hear you come out. Ouch!” she said as she stepped on a large shard of the broken glass. She raised her foot to remove the glass.

John saw the blood trickle from the cut in her foot and wasted no time scooping her up and carrying her toward his bathroom. Brianna protested briefly but looped her arm around his neck and enjoyed the ride.
Too bad it’s such a short distance
, she thought, mentally shaking herself.
I really need to get a better grip on my thoughts.

John set her on the counter. “Put your foot in the sink,” he commanded.

Brianna swung around and complied while he gathered supplies from the cabinet. She bit her lip as he ran water over the wound.

“There isn’t any glass in there,” he said after gently probing and drying the area. Brianna pulled her foot back and sucked in a breath.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Brianna shook her head. Pain is not the word she would use to describe the sensation running up her leg.

He applied antiseptic and a bandage. “There you go, good as new.”