Say You Will Read Online Free Page B

smiled at them in welcome. “What can I be getting you?” she asked in an Irish lilt when they reached the bar.
    “A shot of rye and a pickleback,” Rosalind said.
    The Irish woman shook her head. “A what?”
    “A pickleback. Pickle juice.”
    “With whiskey?” he asked incredulously.
    “Don’t mock it till you try it.” Rosalind grinned at the bartender. “How about Jameson’s?”
    “That I can do.” She tucked one of her stray curls behind her ear as she turned to him. “And you, handsome?”
    “The same.” He set money on the counter.
    The bartender poured them generous shots and gave him change. “There you go. My name is Niamh if you need anything else.”
    Thanking her, they took their whiskies to a private table in the back. “Pickle juice?” he repeated as he pulled out a chair for her.
    “It’s delicious. Much more civilized than a beer back.” Smiling her thanks, she sat down and took a sip of her drink. She sighed. “This is exactly what I needed.”
    He looked at her lips, full and tempting as she licked them. He knew what those lips were capable of. He knew what they tasted like—like Heaven. Sweet and salty with a fiery kick.
    “This pub is nice,” she said as she looked around, oblivious to his lust. “How do you know it? Do you live in the neighborhood?”
    “Actually, I live in Kensington. I have a house here, though until recently I hadn’t been home much.”
    “Does being a lawyer require that much travelling?”
    Nick cursed Summer for her scheming. “Work takes me to the continent a lot,” he evaded. “Until just recently, I spent a lot of time in France and Italy. I came back to be near Su—Sara.”
    “You and Sara seem very close,” Rosalind said, obviously fishing.
    “She’s like my sister,” he answered honestly.
    “She must be. Not many men would act as matron of honor.”
    “Yes, well, I love Sara.” Even when he wanted to strangle her.
    “That’s sweet,” Rosalind said softly.
    Feeling uncomfortable with the lies, he changed the subject. “How long are you going to be in London?”
    The worried frown returned to Rosalind’s brow. “I haven’t decided.”
    “You should stay a bit.”
    She looked at him with her clear, big blue eyes. “Should I?”
    “Don’t you want to?” he asked, instead of saying how much he wanted to see her again, which wasn’t going to happen given the circumstances.
    “I may have to stay with my mother for a while,” she admitted. “She’s taking my father’s, er, death hard.”
    “You don’t sound happy about staying.”
    “There’s a reason I put an ocean between my family and me. Although mostly that was because of my father.”
    Nick treaded cautiously. “You didn’t get along.”
    “Hardly.” She downed the rest of her shot and set the glass on the table. Leaning in, she said, “Can I tell you something? It’s confidential.”
    He’d barely met her, and he didn’t think he could deny her anything. This was trouble. “You can tell me anything.”
    “I probably shouldn’t, but you inspire confidence. It must be because you’re a solicitor.”
    He was going to murder Summer when he saw her next. He downed the rest of his drink and signalled Niamh for another round.
    Unaware of his dilemma, Rosalind said, “My father’s will is missing, and I said I’d help find it.”
    He played with his glass, hoping he didn’t look as guilty as he felt. “That doesn’t sound too cloak-and-dagger.”
    “I didn’t tell you what my sister wants to do with it.” She smiled at Niamh, who quietly placed fresh drinks in front of them. She lifted the glass and inhaled before taking a sip. “You don’t do criminal law or anything, do you? What’s your specialty?”
    “I, er—I’ve been leaning toward contracts,” he replied as honestly as he could.
    “Why contracts?”
    “Why do you design wedding dresses?”
    “My mother loves fashion, and I caught the bug,” she replied too casually.
    “I get the