Kiss Me, I'm Irish. Jill Shalvis

the back of her head. Her stomach braced for another dizzying kiss. “I’d gone to the bar that night after having dinner with some relatives who were still in town for the funeral.” He did remember that night. The realization that it was important to him made her almost as lightheaded as the way he was holding her. “So I had dress pants on, something like these. I wouldn’t wear those with a baseball jersey.” His smile was victorious.

       “Okay, so you remember some things. But if we had a contest, I’d win.” Why she’d admit that the night meant so much to her, she wasn’t sure. Probably because the game was fun. His hands were fun. That last kiss was way more than fun.

       “Care to exchange more memories, sweetheart? I’m really looking forward to the historic reenactment of…” He paused for a moment.

       Bingo. She had him. “You don’t remember the date.”

       “I do. Of course I do. It was June. Before the All-Star break.” He dragged his hands up and down her spine, closing his eyes as though he was memorizing the feel of her, and for a moment she thought she might melt right into the sand. “June twelfth,” he said. “A Friday night.”

       “I’m in trouble,” she said with a laugh. “You’re starting to scare me.”

       “I told you, I remember everything.”

       “The date and the style of my bra. Hardly everything.”

       He pulled her close again, putting his mouth up against her ear. “I remember what you said afterwards.”

       I love you, Deuce Monroe. I’ve always loved you and I always will.

       Her heart really did stop, then it thundered in double-time against her chest. She waited for him to repeat her declaration and knew she couldn’t deny it.

       “You said…” His breath tickled her ear. “‘I can’t wait for the next time.’”

       Yes, she’d said that, too. Maybe he didn’t remember the whole I-love-you-forever-and-always part. She could hope.

       “Guess what, Miss Locke?”

       She backed away from his treacherous lips and looked at him. “What?”

       “I think I out-remember you.”

       “Not a chance.” Was there?

       “What did I say to you when you left?”

       She regarded him, looking for clues in those eyes. How could she forget? But she had? She had no memory of his last words to her. “You said, ‘See ya later, Ken-doll.’”

       He shook his head. “I win. I’ll pick you up tonight after the bar closes. Say, midnight?”

       “What did you say?” she asked, trying to ignore the voice in her head that was screaming yes, I’ll be ready at midnight! “When we said goodbye, Deuce. What did you say to me?”

       “I’ll tell you tonight. Or better yet…” he grinned at her the way he did right after he left some poor kid at the plate not knowing what had hit him. “I’ll tell you tomorrow morning when you wake up.”