"Yeah, only a month and half until St. Patrick's Day." Shaun laughed as I elbowed him in the ribs."Don't remind me; green beer and drunken college kid..., yuck!" It's pouring the fifty thousand pints of Guinness that I hate," Shaun moaned gloomily. "That stuff is a pain in my ass." A properly poured pint of Guinness takes no small amount of skill and patience, luckily for Mac's, Shaun possessed both.His hand wandered lazily across my arm, gliding down to brush past the outside curve of my breast.. He then offered to help me carry my bags up to the hotel, andI happily acquiesced. I held my purse in front of my lap to hide myunladylike bulge, and we walked over to the hotel, with him carrying mybags. We chatted as we walked, and I learned that he was a struggling artist whospent his daytime hours as a consultant. It paid the bills and allowed himto maintain the two wardrobes of his chosen lifestyle. He was afascinating person, and I realized that I wanted to talk and talk with himto find. More

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