Reilly 12 - Show No Fear by Perri O'Shaughnessy

the audience is staggered. What an idiot! These aren’t exactly hard questions. So the MC says, ‘Here’s your last question, then. What was the crop whose failure led to the great Irish famine of the nineteenth century?’ What do you think the Irishman says, Nina?”
    “What?”
    “‘Pass.’ The audience starts to boo, but then, from way back in the audience, a loud Irish voice calls, ‘That’s right, me boy, don’t tell those bastard English a thing!’”
    Nina laughed with the others and thought, true enough. You don’t volunteer information to the enemy. Her dad had taught her that rule long ago.
    The waiter arrived to tell them their table was ready. As they followed his white jacket toward the dining room, Paul held Nina back for a moment, whispering, “Any chance I can see you again?”
    “Well, sure.”
    “Great. In addition to your obvious charms, Jack says you have a cottage behind your house for rent. And that you’d make an excellent landlord. Now that I’ve met you, I think he made a mistake.” Paul laughed at the look on her face. “You’d make a spectacular landlady.”
    She didn’t approve of this turn of events, but would never admit it. “Jack never mentioned you needed a place.”
    “I thought we should meet first.”
    “To see if we hit it off?” Nina leaned against the brick wall just outside the dining room. Paul had a good eight inches on her in spite of her heels.
    “Well, didn’t we?” He put his head close to hers and instead of kissing her, which she expected, rubbed his cheek against her cheek. Neither of them seemed to breathe. Then they both laughed and he took her hand.
    At dinner, Nina and Remy were called upon to provide brief sketches of their histories. Jack drank too much and Remy made an appointment with Paul to talk about a wrongful-death case she had. After starting with a bite-sized basil soup, and duck foie-gras ravioli, Nina ate a sublime rock lobster paired with a Sancerre. When the beef dish arrived, she made a valiant try, and she sampled the potato puree with a lobster béarnaise. “I’m hereby spoiled for real life,” she finally admitted, putting down her fork and allowing the waiter to clear her mostly uneaten plate.
    Jack touched her on the inside of her elbow. “Soft,” he said, “on the outside, but hard when you need to be.”
    Remy ignored the interaction, but Nina understood she had heard. Paul said, “Nina plays a good game but she does not play hardball.”
    Elected most sober, Paul drove them back. They dropped Nina just after midnight. Paul walked her to the door. He rubbed his cheek against hers again, then turned to face her, bent down, and gave her a tender kiss. “I love the curves of your body, your hips,” he said.
    “Uh,” she said, listening for the distant waves, right there on her own porch, enjoying his touch.
    “You’re so fine.” He squeezed her hips.
    “Stop that.” Nina pulled away from him, feeling his fingers continuing to explore.
    His other hand joined in the fun. “So nice.”
    Nina stepped away. “Stop again.”
    He looked at her calmly, only the hint of an eyebrow raised. “Don’t blame me for hoping. You’re a catch.”
    Nina waited with the door ajar while they drove away, then stood on the porch to wait for the tingle to wear off for a few moments before going into the house.
    “How was it?” Kanani looked up from her book.
    “Very nice,” Nina said, thinking, outstanding. “Did anyone come here while I was out?”
    “Nobody.”
    “Any calls?”
    “Not a one.”
    Bob had fallen asleep sideways in his bed. After profuse thanks to Kanani and good-byes, Nina woke him up a little, straightening him out. He smelled so good, like toast and butter. She had to smooth his hair a few times and kiss his plump cheek before she pulled his covers back over him.
    “Zorro, Mommy,” he said drowsily. “In a big, black cape.”
    “We’ll talk costumes tomorrow. Back to sleep.”
    She caught herself