The bartender brought over a dirty dishrag and mopped up the mess. Margaret gave him an overblown drunkard’s apology, which made Liam smile, even under the circumstances. She may be plastered, but she was ever the proper lady.
Liam checked the time. It was almost ten. He still had hours before he could safely take her home, so he needed to drag this out. “Your turn, Margaret. Tell me something about you.”
She waved a hand, and this time Liam grabbed her drink glass so it wouldn’t topple over. “You know everything there is to know about me.”
Not true. Margaret always played her cards close to her chest when it came to details about her private life. Liam often wondered about her marriage, and how much she and her husband actually shared. Like a bed, for example. Back in Liam’s time, Margaret had hated her husband, so he’d always just assumed they didn’t have a physical relationship. But maybe that assumption was his own pigheaded pride getting in the way of reality. Back then, when Liam began the affair with her, he didn’t like to think she was sleeping with anyone else, even if that person was her legal husband. But in this life, Margaret seemed much more content in her marriage. Maybe even happy.
“Then tell me something I don’t know,” Liam urged, taking a bite of the grilled cheese sandwich. The food had gone cold, but it was still damned delicious. From the curl of distaste on Margaret’s face, she did not agree. People here were a lot pickier with their food, he’d noticed. And so cavalier about letting it go to waste. He still wasn’t over the shock of it, to see entire plates of food scraped into the trash at the end of a meal. It felt criminal. Cora had teased him about always finishing what was on his plate, but he couldn’t help it. So far, all the food he’d tried was amazing. If his family could see him now...
He set the sandwich down as guilt washed over him. The thought of his little niece and nephews, pale and thin, faces pinched from lack of nourishment, turned his stomach. That he could be sitting here eating and drinking his fill while they went hungry seemed almost sinful. But they weren’t going hungry, were they? They were dead and gone. A bleak mantle of despair began to settle over him. Liam ran a hand across the back of his neck, as if to shove it away. Then he focused his attention back on Margaret. She’d never had to worry about food and shelter. She’d been wealthy back then, and all her unhappiness came from the vile old man she’d been married to. Now she seemed healthy and content. Maybe in this life her husband, John, was a decent man, after all.
Margaret leaned her head back and smiled lazily. “Well, you know I teach botany. I enjoy gardening. Travel. Cooking.” She lowered her voice to a sultry purr. “Collecting silk lingerie.”
Liam shook his head. Those were all superficial things. “Tell me a secret. Something you’ve never told me before.”
She laughed. “Like what?”
“Do you love your husband?” The words barely left his mouth before he was cursing himself. Why the hell did he ask her that? John Brady was the last person in the world Liam wanted to talk about. He’d despised the man back in his old life, and the feeling had been mutual. Even if John Brady was a good man now, Liam still didn’t want to hear Margaret gush about him. He absently rubbed his throat, annoyed with himself.
Looking as surprised as he was, Margaret hesitated, then sucked back more of her drink. “I’d rather not talk about John.”
Fine. Liam felt a gritty prickle of annoyance just hearing her mention the man’s name. It was disturbingly close to jealousy, which was ridiculous because he had no right to be jealous. Maybe the one drink he’d been nursing was muddling his brain. “All right. Then what do you want to talk about?”
She gave him a wicked smirk and slid her foot up the inside of his leg under the table. “Let’s get out of here.” Those “hundred other things” she’d mentioned earlier were dancing in her eyes. Liam wondered what it would be like to step right in and take a spin around that dance floor. Exactly how many did this woman know? Would they be new to him? Regardless, he’d always been a quick study, so he felt confident—
“Do you want to?” she asked impishly. Her foot was making its way closer and closer to its target, which brought all Liam’s thoughts to a screeching halt. He needed to shut this down now, or there’d be hell to pay.
“It’s early yet,” he managed, shifting to lean against the wall so her foot fell away. “Tell me more about your silk lingerie collection.”
“I could just show you.” Chin resting on her hand, she blinked sleepily. “Actually, I think I really do need to go home.”
He had to think of a way to stall her. Anything! She was not going home tonight. Even if he had to handcuff her to a chair. He stared out the window at the neon motel sign across the street, mind spinning up another plan. Glancing back at her, he gave her a roguish smile. The kind that promised all sorts of deliciously wicked things, if the woman was willing. “Margaret, I have a crazy idea.”
“No.” She laughed, shaking her head a little longer than necessary. She was well and truly drunk. “No more of your crazy ideas. This restaurant excursion was more than enough for one night. I need a bed.”
Liam leaned forward and said, “My thoughts exactly.” He signaled for the check and paid, then led the giggling Margaret across the street to the motel. After paying a bored receptionist who couldn’t be bothered to glance up from his phone, Liam led Margaret into one of the shoddy motel rooms on the second floor.
“God, I can’t believe you talked me into this,” she said with a laugh. Her steps were unsteady as she spun in a slow circle. “I don’t even remember the last time I stayed in a place like this. The air is so stale in here. It smells like—”
“Adventure,” Liam said jovially.
“I think your idea of adventure is a little different than mine.” She plunked herself down on the edge of the creaky bed, then kicked off her shoes. “I do hope you came prepared, Indiana Jones.”
“For?”
She smiled coyly and began unbuttoning her shirt. “Adventure?” When Liam gave her a blank look, she rolled her eyes. “Condoms. You do have some, don’t you?”
“Ah.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Well, no. I didn’t think about it.”
Margaret groaned and flopped on the bed with her arms outstretched. “Worst. Date. Ever,” she said to the ceiling.
“Why don’t you wait here?” Liam offered. “There’s a convenience store on the corner. I’ll run over and be right back.”
“Bring me some water, too,” she mumbled, rubbing her temples. “And Tylenol. The room is spinning.”
“Here.” Liam coaxed the bleary-eyed woman under the stiff bedsheets. For a moment he was afraid she’d protest and demand to be driven home, but the drinks had done their job. He brushed the hair back from her face and whispered, “I’ll be back before you know it.”
When she snuggled down with a yawn, he quietly turned off the light and left the room, shutting the door behind him.