Michael reached out, his fingers lightly skimming the edges of the cellophane bandage. Words failed him. It was ... beautiful. Somehow the artist had managed to take the masculine crest and transform it into something inherently female. Feminine, yet powerful, it cradled the rest within it.
Ian whistled as he leaned over the bar to get a closer look. “He outdid himself this time.”
“Tiny?” Michael asked, his voice rough. Tiny ran a tattoo and piercing shop over in Birch Falls; he had been handling the family ink for as long as they could remember.
“You think I’d trust her with anyone else?” Taryn scoffed.
“It’s exquisite.”
Taryn smiled. “I know, right? I liked it so much, I made him vamp up mine, too.” She smiled brightly, lifting her shirt to show off hers as well. “After all, we Callaghan women have to stick together.”
A familiar hunger lit Jake’s eyes as they took in the recent artwork. “Ian. Watch the bar, man. Taryn and I have something to discuss.” Without another word, Jake took her hand and led her from the room so quickly Taryn was forced to jog to keep up with his long strides.
“Talking, my ass,” Ian mumbled, but Maggie and Michael didn’t hear him.
“Yeah,” Michael said, his voice husky and an odd expression on his face as he helped her pull her sweater back on. “Maggie and I have some things to do, too.” Murmuring words of thanks to Ian, he led her from the Pub and into the Jag.
*
Maggie wasn’t quite sure what to think. Was he angry with her for getting the tattoo? She had wanted it to be a surprise, a permanent expression of her love for him.
Michael remained unusually quiet for the ride home. He kept his eyes focused on the road, but every now and then he’d glance her way, his expression unreadable. Maggie wanted to ask him what he was thinking, but couldn’t bring herself to do so. The only time she’d ever seen him like this was when something was really bothering him, or when he was really pissed. She remained quiet, trying to quell the nervous wriggling in her belly.
He parked the car. She followed him into the house. The second they were inside the door he pinned her against the wall, his expression as fierce as she had ever seen it. Seconds later his mouth came down on hers, hot and hungry yet infinitely tender.
“Mine,” he growled, and a bolt of pure heat shot through her.
Michael pulled away only long enough to relieve her of her clothes, then took her right there by the door.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The fact that Spencer Dumas was up to something became clear a few days later when Lexi was called unexpectedly into a meeting with her longtime friend and business partner, Aidan Harrison. It was unusual for him to summon her, especially when he knew she was busy planning the evening’s specialty menu.
Lexi did have a private office right next to Aidan’s, but she was rarely in it, preferring to remain in the kitchens with the staff while Aidan oversaw the day to day business operations. Lexi was the “phantom” partner – the silent talent behind the unprecedented success of the menu, the one who shunned publicity regularly and whose loyal, devoted staff protected her fiercely.
Several times throughout the day Aidan tended to find his way down to her to discuss whatever needed to be discussed, to sample the day’s creations, to just spend time with Lexi. He did everything he could to keep her away from all of the ugliness of the business, letting her focus on what she did best: namely, creating their unique culinary offerings, and keeping Aidan grounded and in touch with the staff. They knew every one of their employees by their first names, knew the names of their spouses and children, and treated them like family. For as elaborate and high-brow as the Celtic Goddess appeared from the outside, within it was all very casual and informal, a close-knit family that worked together remarkably well.
She was therefore quite surprised when she received the rather formal request at the hand of Aidan’s personal assistant, a very efficient woman with sharp eyes and short hair and a heart of gold. Discarding her chef’s coat, she smoothed down her cotton blouse, swapping her rubber-soled black Reeboks for a pair of slip-on gold sandals. With her faded blue jeans – standard attire for Lexi – and partially-freed multi-hued golden hair she looked more like a teenager than a world-renowned chef.
“Thanks for joining us, Lex,” Aidan said when she entered the office. He was, as always, impeccably dressed in a dark, tailored designer ensemble, though Lexi always told him he’d look just as good in Levi’s and boots instead of his Dior slacks and Bruno Magli shoes. He stood and tried to bite back a smile as he discreetly wiped a smudge of flour from her cheek with his thumb.
“Lex, this is Spencer Dumas. Mr. Dumas, allow me to introduce Alexis Kattapoulos, the heart and soul of the Celtic Goddess.”