Someone To Believe In Read Online Free Page B

asked.
    Aidan cocked his head. “Ah, I see. You got no
sense, man, comin’ down here?”
    The senator remained cool and unflappable,
though she noticed his jaw tightened, deepening the cleft in his
chin. “I’m sorry I upset your mother,” he repeated. “I didn’t
realize your parents were still involved in the pub. I just wanted
to talk to your sister, and she refused to see me.”
    Quickly Bailey untied the apron at her waist,
scooted around her brothers, and slid under the opening at the end
of the bar. “I’ll see you now.” She grabbed Wainwright by the arm.
“We can go down the street for that breakfast you wanted. I’m
starved.”
    Three brothers spoke at once...
    “Like hell!”
    “Over my dead body.”
    “We got business with him.”
    Aidan blocked them all. “Go, B., I’ll take
care of this.” He looked at Wainwright, who stood unmoving. “Now,
man, unless you want your nose broken.”
    Shaking his head, Wainwright slid off the
stool and grabbed his jacket. Bailey dragged him to the door, and
he heard behind them, “The asshole didn’t even pay for his
drink.”
    Aidan’s voice was soothing. “Guys, it’s not
all his fault. You know that.”
    Once outside and across the street, Bailey
let go of the senator. The rain had stopped and the early morning
was cool and misty; she shivered in her thin T-shirt.
    “Here, put this on.” He slid his jacket
around her shoulders. She bundled into it. It smelled male and
musky. It also dwarfed her. He was a lot bigger than she
remembered.
    “Thanks.”
    He ran a hand through thick, sandy-colored
hair. “That was a lynch mob in there.”
    She angled her chin. “They’re
overprotective.”
    “They all older?”
    “Yep.”
    “You must have had a hell of an adolescence.
Did you ever get to date?”
    “Not much.” Of course, after what happened to
Moira, she didn’t really care. She nodded down the street. “There’s
a diner a few doors away. Let’s go.”
    He stayed where he was. “Anybody in there I
need to watch my back on?”
    She smiled, in spite of the circumstances.
“No. They’re Greeks. They don’t even speak English.”
    They walked through the narrow street in dim
light, the silence broken only by the occasional honks of horns
and the curses of angry cab drivers. The diner was almost deserted
and Bailey led him to a table near the window. She kept his jacket
on to ward off the chill. He sat across from her in the too-small
chair and stared at her. It was the first time she’d seen him, even
in pictures, out of a suit. He wore a designer long-sleeved red
crewneck shirt with a black T-shirt underneath. A gold chain peeked
out. He’d always reminded her of Dennis Quaid, and like the actor,
looked pretty damned good for a man in his mid-forties.
    “So, Senator, what was so urgent that you had
to come down here and practically start a riot in my family’s
pub?”
    Clay stared across the table at the
woman still wearing his jacket. With her hair pulled back off her
face, she looked young and vulnerable. “I wanted to talk to you.
See if we could iron some things out. I had dinner with the
governor tonight and he’s concerned about our public feud , I think he called it.”
    A slight smile crept across her lips. “Does
this have anything to do with Eric Lawson?”
    “No. I’m worried that our differences are
going to hurt people.”
    “Hurt you, you mean?”
    “No, mostly women and children. Whom I fight
for.”
    “Not anymore. You vote down funding for
helping teenagers all the time.”
    A waitress came and poured them coffee.
Neither ordered breakfast.
    “I voted down funding for Guardian because I
think you’re going about things the wrong way.” He added
meaningfully, “Like you always have.”
    “And who made you my watchdog?”
    “The majority of twelve million voters in
this state.”
    She arched a dark brow. “Well, maybe that’ll
change. Your margin wasn’t that big last time. And you may have
stiff competition