“We did well by each other tonight.”

That we did.” He rinsed off the pot, and angling his body toward her, started on the next. “I liked the arrangement you’ve put together for ‘Foggy Dew.’ ”

“It’s the first time we’ve tried it outside of rehearsal.” She walked to him, turning to lean back against the sink while he worked. “I’ve been working on a couple of other numbers. I wouldn’t mind running them by you.” She ran her fingertip down his arm. “I don’t have to be back tonight. Would you care to put me up as you did last time?”

Last time, they’d enjoyed music and each other for half the night. The woman, Shawn recalled, wasn’t the least shy about her talents. The memory made him grin even as he contemplated the most polite way to turn her down.

The only thing Brenna saw—besides red—when she carted in the last tray of empties, was the way Shawn had his head tipped down and the way the blonde had her hand on him. She stalked over, slammed the tray down on the counter by the sink with enough force to make the glasses dance.

“Is there something you’re after in here?”

Eileen was quick enough to read the threat in the eyes that were burning over her face, and the meaning behind them. “Not anymore.” In a cheerful gesture, she patted Shawn’s arm. “I guess I’m heading back after all. Some other time, Shawn.”

“Ah . . . hmm.” He had a split second to make up his mind, and going with instinct, fixed a guilty, sheepish expression on his face. “Well.”

“Always a pleasure, coming to Gallagher’s,” Eileen added as she strolled to the door. She kept the snicker inside and wondered how the pint-size redhead was going to make Shawn suffer.

“Is this the last of it, then?” Shawn began scrubbing the pot again, as if he’d dedicated his life to that single purpose.

“It is. And what was that about, I’d like to know?”

“What?”

“You and the singer with the big breasts and boy’s hair?”

“Oh, Eileen.” Deliberately, he cleared his throat as he set the pot aside to deal with the glasses. “She was just saying good night.”

“Hah.” She skewered a finger into his side and made him jump. “If she’d been any closer, she’d have been inside your skin.”

“Well, now, she’s just a friendly sort.”

“Just keep this in mind, while you and I are rolling on the sheets, you keep your distance from the friendly sorts.”

Even while delight rippled through him, he straightened slowly. “Are you accusing me of something, Brenna?” It pleased him that he managed the right mix of hurt and insult. “Of making moves toward another woman while I’m with you? I didn’t realize how little you thought of me.”

“I saw what I saw.”

He studied her a moment, then began to wipe off counters with a moody and injured air. It would be interesting, he thought, to see how much she worked to bring him around.