Текст книги "Irish Sex Fairy"
Автор книги: Kelly Jamieson
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Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 13 страниц)
Chapter Three
Kilkenny, California
“Keara! What are you doing here?”
Keara stood in the middle of Maeve’s small shop, and stared back at her great-aunt Maeve, trying to be casual and unconcerned about the variety of sex toys and other accessories surrounding them.
“What do you mean, what am I doing here?” She’d just talked to Maeve yesterday. “You said it was okay if I came to stay with you for a while.”
Maeve’s green eyes filled with confusion and her slender auburn brows drew down over her nose. “That was next weekend. Wasn’t it?”
Keara shook her head. “No, it was this weekend. Remember? I said I’d drive up tomorrow? Which is today.”
What was going on? Had she screwed up the days when she was talking to Maeve?
“Well, it doesn’t matter,” Maeve said briskly, throwing her arms around Keara. “You’re here, that’s what matters. I just…oh, never mind.” She gave her a tight hug and Keara hugged her back, her aunt’s bones frail beneath the sweater she wore. “How are you, muirnín? I’m so glad you decided to come and visit me. It’s been too long.”
Despite having lived most of her seventy years in America, Maeve’s voice still held a faint Irish lilt.
“I hope I’m not putting you out,” Keara murmured, breathing in the spicy, exotic scent of Shalimar. It had been a long time since she’d seen her aunt. At that realization a twinge of guilt snapped inside her like an elastic band.
“Of course not!” Maeve smiled at her as they drew apart. “I told you on the phone, I’m thrilled to have you! It’s been far too long.”
Keara studied Maeve. A few more lines framed her bright eyes. Her auburn hair—completely unnatural, Keara knew, but hey, it was the color she’d been born with nearly seventy years ago—stood up in short spikes around her head. Maeve still took the time to apply makeup, and still dressed like the fashionable eccentric she’d always been—slim black pants, a black turtleneck and, draped around her neck, a shimmery gold and orange scarf.
Keara smiled back. “Thank you. I needed a vacation.”
“A vacation, hmmm? Well. That is fine,” Maeve clucked, and tucked Keara’s arm through hers to lead her to the back of the store. “Come on upstairs. Jayla will watch the store for a few minutes, won’t you, a rún?”
Jayla, standing behind the counter, nodded her purple-spiked head. “Of course.” Maeve quickly introduced them.
“You actually have someone helping you now?” Keara said as they walked through the Staff Only door at the back, then climbed the stairs to the second floor where Maeve lived.
“Yes. Jayla’s been working here for a few months now, part-time. It’s wonderful to have someone so I can take things a little easier.”
Most people didn’t keep working into their seventies, but her aunt wasn’t like most people. She had more energy than Keara’d ever had, even when not drained by depression and stress, although Maeve took the stairs just a little slower than Keara recalled.
Maeve’s apartment above the store reflected her eclectic style, with walls painted a deep green and mismatched furniture slip-covered in spicy shades of saffron, cinnamon and sage.
“Are you hungry?” she asked. “I can make lunch for you…”
“No. I’m not hungry. I grabbed something in Santa Barbara a little while ago.”
The drive from LA had gone quicker than she’d expected with light Sunday traffic on the Ventura freeway. When she’d arrived in Santa Barbara she’d stopped for coffee and a muffin before continuing on the last hour of her trip, north and inland to Kilkenny on that crazy winding road through San Marcos Pass.
“Coffee, then,” Maeve said briskly, moving into her small kitchen attached to the living room. “Or maybe…you’d rather a wee bit of Jameson’s.”
Keara laughed and shook her head. “It’s too early for whiskey, Maeve.” She’d never called her great-aunt by the title “aunt”, had always called her only by her first name.
“It’s never too early for whiskey,” Maeve declared, but she began filling a coffee pot with water. “Later, we’ll be celebrating your arrival here with a little toast.”
With amusement, Keara recalled how her very Irish aunt liked her Irish whiskey. “All right,” she agreed. “Coffee’s fine for now.”
Maeve spooned coffee grounds into a filter. “I’m so glad you’re okay, after what happened to you. You’ll be telling me all about it.” She looked up at Keara, hands pausing.
Keara’s body tightened. “There’s not much to talk about.” She hitched a shoulder and pasted on a smile. “It wasn’t that big a deal. I’m fine.”
“All right. I just want you to know, you can talk about it anytime you want.”
“Sure. Okay.” She nodded mendaciously.
“So, what do you want to do while you’re here? It’s been a long time since you visited Kilkenny.”
“I know.” Keara’s smile softened. “You don’t have to plan things for me, I’ll just keep myself busy. Maybe I can help you in the store.”
“Ach, that’s not necessary.”
“I have to do something.”
“I thought you wanted a wee vacation.” Maeve’s eyes narrowed.
“I…uh…do. But…you know. I can’t just lie around all day.”
“Well, if you want to help, of course you can, muirnín.”
“Thank you.”
“You’ll find Kilkenny hasn’t changed much,” Maeve said. “Of course that’s because of all those laws. The town wants to stay as Irish as possible for the tourists.”
“It looks exactly the same. As if I flew across the ocean to Ireland rather than just driving up the coast. Is the store is still doing well?”
“The store is doing fine,” Maeve said, but she frowned as she leaned against the counter while the rich scent of coffee filled the air around them.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Well. Business is still good. Not only do the tourists get a kick out of The Irish Sex Fairy Shop, the locals make good use of my products also.”
“It amazes me that they’re not embarrassed to shop here,” Keara said. “Kilkenny is not that big, after all.”
“Why would they be embarrassed?” Maeve demanded. “Sex is natural and healthy. Most people do it. And most people like to spice things up now and then.”
Keara grinned. Her aunt’s refreshing openness and energy was just what she needed right now. “I guess that’s true.”
Maeve shrugged, a smile playing over her mouth. “Of course it’s true. Nothing to be embarrassed about. But there’s this big new sex super-shop opened up down the coast near Santa Barbara. Right next to the Home Depot. Lots of people are going to check it out.”
“A sex super-shop?” Wow.
Maeve shrugged. “It’s huge, but very impersonal. I doubt if it will have a lasting impact on my business.”
Maybe some people preferred impersonal anonymity when shopping for romance products. “Well. I hope not.”
“But I keep busy. I’m still involved with the Chamber of Commerce and the committee for Irish Days.”
“That’s great.” Keara shook her head in admiration, remembering how much fun the Irish Days festival had been. “You put us all to shame, Maeve.”
“Bah.” She waved a hand, then straightened and reached for two mugs. “You’ll be just like me when you’re seventy. You’ll see. Everyone always said we were alike.”
Really. Keara supposed they did share a certain drive, but Maeve had managed to follow her own path without caring what people thought of her, and people still liked her. Keara, on the other hand…ah, she didn’t want to think about that just now.
She accepted a cup of coffee from her aunt and they sat down on her couch. “Tell me about your love life,” Maeve invited, and Keara choked on a mouthful of coffee.
“Oh dear,” Maeve said. “I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay, Maeve. I don’t have much of a love life lately. For a while I was dating a nice guy but it just wasn’t…right. You know?”
“Hmm.” Shrewd emerald eyes, just like her own, assessed her. “Yes, I do know. So he was a nice boy. How was the sex?”
Again, Keara’s breath stalled. She shook her head. “It was okay. That’s what I meant…he was nice but not…you know.”
“Ah. No good in bed.” Maeve shook her head sadly. “That’s too bad, but that’ll kill a relationship every time. So you’re not seeing anyone right now?”
“No.” Keara sighed. “I work long hours. I have my girlfriends, and we go out together. Some dates, but…” She hitched a shoulder. “I guess I’ve been too focused on my work.”
“Being a bank manager is an important job,” Maeve said. “Your parents would be proud of what you’ve accomplished.”
“I hope so.” Regret that her parents hadn’t lived to see her success sent an ache through her. They’d been killed in a car accident just after she’d started her career at the bank.
“But you’re young. You should be having fun.”
“I do have fun.”
Maeve smiled slowly. “With a man.”
“You’re one to talk.” Keara clasped her hands around the warmth of the cup. “You never got married. You must not think it’s that important.”
Maeve’s face softened and her eyes focused on something behind Keara for a moment. “Yes, I never married,” she finally said. “But that doesn’t mean I was never in love. And,” she snapped her gaze back to Keara, “it doesn’t mean I don’t have men in my life.”
Good God, she was seventy years old! Keara didn’t know whether to cringe or be impressed. She decided to go with impressed. “So, who are you seeing, then?” she asked mischievously.
“Well, Glen O’Donnell and I have been out a few times.” Maeve’s eyes twinkled. “He’s a widower, and quite a hottie, too.”
Keara laughed. “A hottie? Oh, my goodness, I have to meet him.” Then she had a thought. “I won’t be cramping your style if I stay here, will I?”
Maeve waved a hand. “No, no. We can just as easily go to his place. Don’t worry about it at all.”
Okay. Keara swallowed her amusement. Not only did seventy-year-old Maeve have more energy than Keara, she had a better sex life too. Damn.
Maeve glanced at her watch. “I should get back down and let Jayla take a break. Why don’t you go get your things and unpack? You can stay in the spare bedroom, as usual of course.” She stood and led the way toward it, shaking her head. “Although it does seem like a very long time since you’ve been here and done that.”
Thirteen years. When she put a number to it, it was an embarrassingly long time ago. How had she let time get away from her like that? She’d gone to college, started her career. Her life was busy…she rolled her bottom lip in and sucked on it as she followed Maeve, guilt weighing heavy on her shoulders. God. As if she didn’t have enough guilt wearing her down right now.
“Here you go,” Maeve said. “I’ve redecorated the room. I hope you like it.”
“It’s fine.” Keara’s gaze moved over the Limerick lace curtains at the window, the lace cushions on the bed. She walked over to the dresser and stroked a hand across the polished golden oak, then smoothed the woven cotton throw on the bed with its intricate Celtic knots pattern. “It’s so pretty, Maeve.”
“Thank you.”
Keara followed her back down the stairs but she went out to her car parked on the street just down from the shop. The stone and beamed style of the buildings lining the street, the hanging wooden signs in front of the shops, and the curvy wrought iron street lamps made her feel like she was in Europe. As a teenager, she’d thought it a little cheesy, embarrassing even, for someone of Irish roots who didn’t really think much about her heritage.
She hefted her suitcase out of the trunk of her little BMW convertible, purchased as a reward when she’d been promoted to manager at Palladium Bank. The March sun warmed her face and the cool breeze held fresh green hints of spring. Saturday traffic clogged the street, and throngs of tourists wandered in and out of the small shops and pubs.
She carried the suitcase through the store and back upstairs, with a wave for Maeve, who was showing some customers a selection of lubricants. “This one is water based,” Keara overheard as she passed by. She pursed her lips against the smile tugging them. Lubricants. Jesus.
She spent a while unpacking her things, arranging her toiletries on the dresser, hanging some clothes in the small closet. Compared to the huge walk-in closet in her condo, it was miniscule, but then, she hadn’t brought her extensive wardrobe with her. Probably even the bank managers in Kilkenny didn’t dress in Donna Karan suits and Stuart Weitzman pumps.
Keara shut the closet door and sighed. She loved clothes and shoes, and shopping was a major pastime for her and her girlfriends. But what did it matter here if she wore ragged jeans and T-shirts every day? Nobody would mind, and clothes didn’t seem worth worrying about.
The quiet apartment sent her back down the stairs seeking some human contact. Maeve and Jayla stood behind the counter, Jayla ringing up a purchase for a customer while Maeve slipped a large box of condoms into a small, bright green plastic bag. Discretion must be the reason for the plain bag with no logo.
Keara lifted her eyes from the purchase to the customer. The man laughed at something Maeve had said, and two deep dimples creased his tanned cheeks. Something fluttered low inside Keara and she stopped just inside the doorway.
Sapphire eyes sparkled beneath dark, thick brows. Black hair cropped short on his perfectly shaped head, neat sideburns and a shadow of dark beard made him look just like an Abercrombie and Fitch model.
Shane.
Heat and memories swept over her as she stood there in the doorway. The last summer she’d been to Kilkenny she and Shane Dunstan had…connected. Combusted. They’d spent every minute they could together before Keara went back to LA to start college.
He seemed taller. Did boys grow even after they were eighteen? He seemed broader, too, with powerful shoulders and arms stretching a black T-shirt. She swallowed, and just as she started to turn and leave, Maeve spotted her.
“Keara, come here, muirnín. Come and say hello to Shane.”
Keara felt her eyes grow wide and she swallowed through a dry throat. She forced her feet to move forward.
“Shane, you remember Keara, surely?”
Those gem-like eyes fastened on her. His brows lifted, then drew down into a frown. He didn’t smile. “Keara. Long time no see. Nice of you to finally visit your aunt.”
Keara blinked. Had he just been snotty to her?
“Shane is now the deputy police chief here in Kilkenny,” Maeve continued cheerily.
“And a customer,” Keara added, eyeing the bag Maeve handed him.
His lips twitched. “That’s right. Is that a problem?”
She shrugged. “Not a problem at all. Nice to see the police shopping in a sex shop.”
His brows snapped together. “What the…”
“Keara,” Maeve said. “Shane is off-duty, and even police officers have sex lives.”
And you don’t, Keara finished for her. Fine. She didn’t need sex. It was way overrated.
Kayla’s cheeks heated and she lifted one foot and set it atop the other as she stood behind the counter. “Quite an active one from the size of that box,” she said, nodding.
Shane grinned. “I’m hoping.”
Oh lord. Who was the lucky girl he was going to be having sex with tonight? Keara’s cheeks burned at scorching memories of her and Shane together.
He lifted the bag in a wave. “Thanks, Maeve. I’ll see you next weekend. Mom says you’re coming for dinner.” The smile disappeared. “Nice seeing you again, Keara.”
Well. He apparently didn’t treasure those memories the same way she did. It was as if he didn’t even remember that summer. In fact, he’d seemed downright…cool toward her.
“Have fun tonight!” Maeve called as he strode out of the store.
“Shane has a hot date tonight with a woman from Santa Barbara,” Maeve said. “And it’s about time he started dating again. That bitseach he was engaged to broke his heart.”
“Maeve!” Keara still remembered the Gaelic curses Maeve was fond of using.
“She was a bitch,” Maeve replied unapologetically.
Shane had been engaged? But apparently wasn’t married now. Keara rolled her lips in. Why was she even thinking about that? What had been between them was a long, long time ago.
“And what was that rudeness about, may I ask, young lady?”
Keara licked her lips. “He was rude to me first.”
Maeve arched a brow. “He was?”
“Never mind.” God, what was wrong with her? She’d never in her life been deliberately rude to someone. But that jab about finally visiting her aunt had struck a nerve she didn’t even know was there.
“You and Shane were friends at one time,” Maeve said, tapping her lips with one finger.
Ha. Friends. Had Maeve not realized what was going on between them?
“Did you two have a fight or something that summer?”
“No.” Keara looked at the floor.
“Well, you just need to get reacquainted. Everyone loves Shane. Not only is he delicious-looking, but he could charm the moss off a tree. He’s so charming he can tell someone to go to hell and have him look forward to the trip.”
Keara couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her at that.
“And…” Maeve winked. “You should see him in his uniform. Jesus and Mary, he looks hot.”
More customers entered the store and Jayla and Maeve became occupied helping them. Keara retreated upstairs to the apartment, head full of thoughts and images of Shane. She hadn’t thought about him in years. And there was no reason to think about him now.
* * *
Keara woke with a gasp. Her cotton tank clung damply to her skin. She stared at the ceiling, her heart thudding, taking in big lungs full of oxygen through her nose. She pressed a hand to her stomach.
For a few heartbeats she didn’t know where she was. Moonlight peeked between the edge of the blind on the window and created a strip of lacy light through the curtain.
Maeve’s. She was at Maeve’s. She was okay.
But damn, she’d had the nightmare again.
She took a few more deep breaths, her heart slowing. Then she sat up in the bed, shoving the pretty coverlet down her legs. She sat cross-legged in the dark for long moments, trying to forget the gruesome dream.
She knew from experience she would not get right back to sleep. The doctor had told her not to lie there and dwell on things, but to get up and have a cup of herbal tea, read a good book, do some knitting.
She didn’t know how to knit.
Maybe Maeve knew how to knit. Or crochet. Maybe she could teach her.
But that was no help tonight. She swung her legs out of bed, reached for the lamp and flicked it on. Shadows shrank back into the corners of the room. She stood on the soft cotton rug, straightened her tank top and ran her thumbs under the low waistband of the little shorts she wore. She’d brought a couple of books with her, so she retrieved one from the shelf she’d set it on, and looked back at the bed. Maybe she’d go sit in the living room and read for a while.
Television was supposedly bad. It played with your brain waves or something, and interfered with sleep, rather than induce it, but after Keara found herself rereading the same page three times, she tossed her book aside and picked up the remote for the TV. Then she glanced down the hall at Maeve’s room. She didn’t want to disturb her aunt.
She leaned her head back against the couch. The television provided voices almost like human company and she probably relied on it too much to soothe her agitated nerves.
Herbal tea. Did Maeve actually have any of that?
Keara padded into the kitchen and opened and closed cupboards, feeling a little like she was snooping. When she opened a cupboard and spotted the bottle of Jameson’s, she paused. With a little huff of laughter she recalled her aunt’s earlier insistence that they have a drink and toast Keara’s being there. “Sláinte chugat,” Maeve had said, lifting her glass.
Another shot of whiskey might be the answer. Why not? It didn’t look like Maeve had any chamomile tea. So she poured amber liquid into a glass and wandered back to the living room. She peered out the window overlooking the street, now quiet and deserted, light pooling in a circle around paving stones beneath the street lamp. Alone.
On a long inhalation, she turned and surveyed the room. Hey. She could go downstairs and look around the store. She could check out every single kinky thing there with nobody else around.
On bare feet, she padded out of the apartment and toward the stairs, feeling for the light switch she knew was at the top. She flicked it on, descended and pushed through the door into the front of the store. She debated whether to put the lights on. She didn’t want to attract attention from anyone passing by but…there was no one passing by at this time of night. And wandering around in the dark shop did not appeal to her. She looked at the small clock on the desk behind the counter. Ten minutes after three.
With a shrug, she flicked on the light and strolled over to a wall display, her glass of whiskey clutched in both hands. She lifted it to her lips and sipped, the strong spirits almost taking her breath away. How did Maeve drink this stuff? Give her a nice Pinot Noir any day.
She studied the vibrators arranged on shelves. Rabbits, pocket rockets, bullets. Waterproof. Dual ended. Good lord, there was quite a variety. She’d left her own trusty rabbit back in LA. Along with her love of clothes, shopping and dining out, another thing she’d lost interest in over the last six weeks was orgasms.
She moved along the wall to the lubricants. Another large selection. She studied lotions flavored with strawberry, pineapple and coconut, chocolate body paint and honey dust. Now that was intriguing…
She paused in front of a display of lingerie, fingered the silky fabric of a cami set that was surprisingly pretty. Real silk in a rich gold color.
A rap on the glass door had her whirling around, whiskey sloshing out of her glass over her hand, her heart surging in her chest. She gave a small cry, eyes searching at the dark window. Jesus, was someone out there?
She saw movement, a dark head then a face at the door peering in.
Her feet froze to the floor, skin prickling as every hair on her body rose, pulse skittering. Dear God, the place was being robbed. Run. She had to run. But as in her nightmares, when she tried to move her feet it felt like she was dragging them through thick mud, her legs heavy. She stood there paralyzed, blood pounding in her ears.
