Jewels of the Sun by Nora Roberts Page B

outfits, with her hair tidied back so he could imagine the pleasure of mussing her up.
     
    If Jude had had a clue where Aidan’s thoughts were traveling, she would never have found the courage to leave the cottage. Even without that added complication, she’d changed her mind about going half a dozen times.
    It would be impolite not to after she’d been asked.
    It would look as if she expected his time and attention.
    It was simply a nice way to spend a friendly evening.
    She wasn’t the type of woman who spent evenings in bars.
    Her own vacillation irritated her so much she decided to go on principle for one hour.
    She dressed in stone-gray slacks and jacket, jazzing them up with a vest with thin burgundy stripes. It was Saturday night after all, she thought, and added silver earrings that dangled cheerfully. There would be music, sheremembered, as she toyed with going crazy and adding a pair of thin silver bangle bracelets.
    She had a secret and passionate love affair with jewelry.
    As she slipped the bangles on her wrist, she thought of the ring the man in the cemetery had worn. That flash of sapphire in deeply carved silver, so out of place in the quiet countryside.
    He’d been so odd, she thought now, coming and going so quietly it was almost as if she’d dreamed him. But she remembered his face and voice very clearly, as clearly as that sudden burst of scent, the quick kick of wind and the dizziness.
    Just a sugar crash, she decided. All those cakes she’d eaten had leaped into her system and then away, leaving her momentarily giddy.
    She shrugged it off, leaning forward to the mirror to make sure she hadn’t smeared her mascara. She would probably see him again, in the pub tonight or when she took flowers to Maude the next time.
    With her bracelets jangling cheerfully and giving her confidence, she headed downstairs. She remembered her keys before she got all the way to the car this time, which she considered good progress. Just as she considered it a good sign that her palms didn’t sweat while she negotiated the road in the dark.
    Pleased with herself, anticipating a quiet and enjoyable evening, she parked at the curb just down from Gallagher’s. Smoothing her hair as she went, she walked to the door, breathed in, pulled it open.
    And was nearly knocked back again by the blast of music.
    Pipes, fiddle, voices, then the wild roar of the crowd on the chorus of “Whiskey in the Jar.” The rhythm was so fast, so reckless it was a blur of sound and that soundgrabbed her, yanked her inside, then surrounded her.
    This wasn’t the dark, quiet pub she’d stepped into before. This one was crowded with people, spilling over at the low tables, jammed into the bar, milling about with glasses full and glasses empty.
    The musicians—how could only three people make such a sound?—were shoehorned into the front booth, taking the space over in their workingmen’s clothes and boots as they played like demon angels. The room smelled of smoke, yeast, and Saturday-night soap.
    For a moment she wondered if she’d walked into the wrong place, but then spotted Darcy, her glorious cloud of dark hair tied back with a sassy red ribbon. She carried a tray loaded with empty glasses, bottles, overflowing ashtrays while she flirted skillfully with a young man whose face was as red as her ribbon with embarrassed delight and whose eyes were filled with desperate admiration.
    Catching Jude’s eye, Darcy winked, then gave the infatuated young man a pat on the cheek and nudged her way through the crowd. “Pub’s lively tonight. Aidan said you’d be coming in and to keep an eye out for you.”
    “Oh . . . that was nice of him, of you. I wasn’t expecting so . . . much.”
    “The musicians are favored around here, and they draw a good crowd.”
    “They’re wonderful.”
    “They play a fine tune, yes.” Darcy was more interested in Jude’s earrings, and wondered where she’d bought them and what the price might have