Текст книги "Irish Sex Fairy"

Автор книги: Kelly Jamieson

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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 13 страниц)

Chapter Seven

Shane knew he wasn’t going to stay away.

He’d told his mom he might have to work, so might not be there for her dinner party, but that was just an excuse and goddammit, he couldn’t stop thinking about Keara and her big shadowed eyes and her small anxiety attack. Yeah, he was still annoyed at how she’d ignored her aunt all these years, but it was kinda hard to stay mad at someone so lost and fragile, someone clearly struggling with some wicked demons.

Shit. Now he wasn’t just worried about Maeve, he was worried about Keara. What was with him and his damn desire to protect the whole damn world?

He rubbed the back of his neck as he walked in the front door of his parents’ house. They still lived the in spacious three-bedroom ranch-style house on Blarney Stone Drive, shaded by palm trees and enclosed by, yes, a white picket fence, where he’d grown up. The house was nothing fancy but it had been his home all his life. His parents had once mentioned moving to one of the new seniors’ condo developments on the edge of town, but he always shut down that discussion. His da loved his yard, maintaining a meticulous carpet of lawn, and lush flowerbeds. His mom, retired from her nursing job, enjoyed cooking and entertaining. For a long time after Da’s stroke, there’d been no big gatherings at the Dunstan home, but more recently they’d gotten back into having friends over nearly every week.

His parents had always wanted a big family and it had been a disappointment to them to have been able to have only one child, and late in life. Which is maybe why Shane felt such a deep obligation to his parents, to be there for them.

“Hey, Ma, I’m here!” He stepped into the foyer and heard a babble of voices in the kitchen. He followed the scent of roasting meat—was that roast beef?—and the sound of chattering voices into the large kitchen at the back of the house where the party always seemed to end up.

A crowd of people stood two or three deep around the big island, drinks in hand, nibbling at the snacks set out, everyone talking and laughing. His dad was about to take a seat on a stool, but when he saw Shane walk into the room, he rose and limped over to him with his cane.

“Shane, me boy! Good ta see you.” His dad gave him a masculine, one-armed hug and Shane returned it with a grin, but his gaze fell over his father’s shoulder and came to rest on Keara. She stood there smiling, a blousy black top hanging off her slender shoulders, but the smile didn’t warm her tired and defeated eyes. How he could feel a tug of attraction to her when she looked so forlorn was beyond him. He compared Keara to Laila, whom he’d dated a few weeks ago—Laila, the typical California blonde, bursting with health and energy, with endless tanned legs, long straight blonde hair and generously enhanced boobs. And yet, while the sex had been hot, Laila hadn’t appealed to him enough to want to see her again.

“Oh, you came, lad! I’m so glad!” His mom set a platter of appetizers on the island and wiped her hands on her apron, then quickly gave him a hug. He handed her the bottle of wine he’d brought.

“Ah, you didn’t need to do that,” she protested, but took it and slipped it into the refrigerator.

“Jameson’s?” Declan asked his son.

“Sure.” He accepted the glass of whiskey and leaned against the counter. His mom returned to the other side of the counter where she fussed with some vegetables, beneath the sign on the wall that said “Níl aon tintéan mar do thintéan féin”—there’s no place like home.

“How are you, Shane?” Maeve inquired, standing beside Keara. She wore an outrageous red, black and orange scarf draped around her neck. “No date tonight?”

Would she not leave him alone about that? Served him right for buying all those condoms, he supposed. He swallowed his sigh and smiled at her. “Not tonight.”

He greeted some of the other guests, neighbors and friends of his parents, some their age, some closer to his own age. As lively conversation flowed around them, he covertly studied Keara, until their glances collided then bounced away. Huh. She was doing the same thing.

She sipped her wine and he sipped his Jameson’s, letting it warm him inside while his dad shared a racy joke about an Irish priest that coaxed a real smile from Keara. He was glad she had a sense of humor.

He should know she did. It may have been thirteen years ago, but they’d shared a lot of laughs along with the hot sex. He and Keara had had a lot of fun together. Even though clearly she was a different woman than the young girl she’d been, someone didn’t change that drastically.

“Tell us about your day, Shane,” his mother invited, still fussing in the kitchen.

He shrugged. “Three-car pile-up on the freeway just outside of town. Thank the lord nobody was seriously hurt. Jim Mahon pulled over a man for drunk driving this afternoon. The guy tried to bribe him with his sandwich.”

Everyone laughed. “Sandwich?” Keara asked.

Shane grinned. “Yeah. He had a big sub wrapped up on the seat beside him and told Jim he could have it if he let him go home.”

“What kind of sub?” Da asked.

“Declan!” Ma gave his shoulder a tiny smack. “It doesn’t matter what kind of sandwich.”

Da grinned. “If it was one of those toasted ones from the Shamrock…”

“Declan!”

Shane grinned. “Jim turned down the offer. But he did say it made him hungry, and once he booked the guy he headed over to the Shamrock.”

More laughter.

“And what happened over on Ballycastle Road last night?” his dad inquired. “I heard the sirens. Was there a fire?”

Shane shook his head, another grin breaking out. “No. Some juveniles decided to have a pool party at a house that was for sale. Nobody was living there. They brought in a couple of kegs of beer and about fifty of their closest friends. The real estate agent brought someone by to show the house and got quite a surprise.”

“Oh dear lord!” Ma gasped. “What were those kids thinking?”

“They were thinking it was a great place for a pool party,” Shane said. He shouldn’t be amused, but none of the kids were known to them and luckily nothing had been damaged in the house, so it was just a crazy teenage escapade they’d have fun telling their grandchildren about one day. “I would never have done such a thing as a kid.”

His mother rolled her eyes. “No, certainly not. You only did crazy things like rolling the lawn tractor while you were plastered on tequila.”

Keara’s eyes widened as she looked from Shane to his mother. “I don’t think I heard that one,” she murmured. “Rolled the lawnmower?”

“I’d bought one of those nice John Deeres,” Da said, shaking his head with disgust. “He banjaxed it, totally, the eejit. And who in their right mind drinks tequila?” He glanced around the table in outrage. “Now if he’d been drinking whiskey…”

“Declan!”

Shane smothered a grin. His mother as usual was keeping his father in his place.

“You were a right chancer,” Declan continued. “The cops didn’t pick you up, and since nobody else got hurt we didn’t turn you in. Can you get charged with DUI on a lawnmower?”

Shane laughed. “Good question. Guess if I’d been caught, my career in law enforcement would have been down the toilet. But then again, I was a juvie.”

His mother gave a delicate snort. “Thank the good lord you weren’t killed, that’s what I say.”

Shane noted the way the laughter had brought a sparkle to Keara’s eyes and relaxed the pinched lines of her mouth.

His mother finished setting out a buffet dinner on the island and everyone filled their plates with roast beef and mashed potatoes and salads. Some stayed in the kitchen to eat standing, others wandered into the family room to sit with plates perched on their laps. Da had started some Celtic music in the CD player and the fiddle and tin whistle notes wove through the multiple conversations, deep voices and lilting laughter.

Shane elected to stay in the kitchen where Maeve and Keara sat on stools at the island. Keara didn’t eat much but she did give his mom’s roast beef high praise.

“I don’t know how you do it, Fiona,” Maeve said. “Almost every weekend you have a house full of people.”

Shane’s mom smiled. She loved it, he knew. She flitted from one room to the other, making sure wine and whiskey glasses were full, whisking away dishes that were done.

“Ma,” Shane said when she returned with hands full. “Sit down and eat.”

He gave her his stool and took the dishes from her, then strode over to the dishwasher. When he’d loaded them into the machine, he stood up and his gaze knocked up against Keara’s. A strange expression tilted the corners of her mouth up and had her eyes hazy.

“Keara, it’s been so long since we’ve seen you,” Fiona said. “Tell us all about life in LA.”

Keara gave a faint smile and dropped her gaze to her plate. “There’s not much to tell.”

“Your job keeps you busy,” Fiona said, with a nod. “No husband? No children?”

“No.”

“Maeve told us about your bank being robbed,” Fiona said and Shane saw Keara stiffen. She sure didn’t like to be reminded of that. But she was fine. Yeah, right. He got himself a beer out of the fridge—one whiskey was enough for him—and popped the top, again leaning against the counter.

“Yes.” She didn’t look up. Didn’t say another word.

Guests wandered back into the kitchen and the noise level rose several decibels. Da roared with laughter in the family room and you couldn’t help but smile at the sound. Now finished eating, everyone mingled and chatted. Except Keara, who remained on her stool, arms on the island, glass of wine between her hands. Deep in conversation with another friend, Maeve had stepped away.

Shane slid over onto the stool vacated by Maeve beside Keara.

“It’s women’s work to do the dishes after dinner,” his dad grumbled as Ma handed him a dish towel, earning him another smack.

“He just says that to push her buttons,” Shane said to Keara in a low voice. “He doesn’t really believe it. He helps with the dishes all the time.”

She grinned. “I’m glad you told me that.” She tipped her head to one side. “He must get that from you.”

“Get what?” Shane frowned. “The chauvinism?”

“No! I mean the pushing-buttons thing. You seem to be very skilled at that, too.”

He stared at her. “What does that mean?”

“I mean, you keep pushing my buttons by bugging me about how I’ve been derelict in my duty to my aunt. You know I feel bad about that, but you keep pushing my buttons anyway.”

Shane leaned in closer. “Do you? Feel bad about it?”

“Yes.” Her eyes lowered. “I didn’t realize she was having…problems until I got here. I guess I thought she would just always stay the same. Crazy, energetic Maeve.”

He nodded and straightened slowly. A strand of hair hung in front of her eyes and he reached out, and with his index finger, pushed it back. Their eyes met and the boisterous crowd around them faded to a murmur.

“I guess we all wish our family won’t get old,” he finally said. “But it happens.”

“Your dad seems pretty good. He limps a little. I almost didn’t notice that he only used his right arm to eat.”

Shane nodded. “He’s amazing.”

Surrounded by laughter, talk, harp music and clinking glasses, they continued to gaze at each other, the air thickening. Shane wanted to lean over and kiss her.

Well. This wasn’t exactly a romantic location. In fact he couldn’t think of anywhere less romantic than a messy kitchen surrounded by people, including his parents and her aunt, laughing uproariously at something,

He took a big breath and sat back.

“This evening seems to have done you good,” he commented.

“What does that mean?”

Ah hell, now he was going to insult her again by telling her she looked crappy. The charm just kept oozing out of him around her. “Ever since you got here, to Kilkenny I mean, you’ve looked like someone who just got out of a war zone.”

She gave a choked little laugh as she lifted her wineglass to her lips. “Thank you very much.”

He tipped his head. “You’re gorgeous, Keara, and you know it. But you look so sad and you’re so jumpy. What’s going on?”

She paused, turned and lifted those emerald eyes to meet his gaze. “Nothing’s going on.”

“Bullshit.”

Amusement sparkled in her eyes.

“Maybe I can help.”

She lowered her chin. “Could we not talk about this?”

“Keara. What happened?”

She gave her head a tiny shake. “I’m okay.”

“Clearly, you’re not okay,” he argued, not sure why he was. “Have you seen a doctor?”

She slid off the stool to her feet and Shane reached out and grabbed her wrist. She flinched. Hell.

“Keara. Do you have post-traumatic stress disorder?”

She glared at him. “None of your business.”

“Keara. PTSD isn’t anything to be ashamed of. Lots of people have it.”

“Yeah. Sure.”

After a brief pause, he said, “I had it.”

Chapter Eight

Her mouth fell open, and the soft bottom lip invited him to kiss and nibble. He leaned toward her. Stopped.

“You had PTSD? When?”

“When I came back from Afghanistan.”

“Really.”

She sank back down onto the stool. Again they sat there just looking at each other, a connection drawing them together like an invisible cord. Keara broke the eye contact to gulp some wine.

“So maybe I can help,” he said softly.

“Maeve says I need sex.”

Shane choked. “Oh. Well. I guess that’s not surprising. Maeve thinks everyone needs sex.”

“True. She was citing the many health benefits of sex to me, including some hormones that will make me feel better. It’s good for stress, apparently. And sleep.”

“Ah.” He considered that. “There may be some truth to that.”

“I’m sure there is,” she agreed. “But…” Her voice trailed off and she rubbed her finger over the drops of moisture on the outside of the glass.

“You know, now that you mention it, that’s a damn fine idea.” Shane sat up straighter, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “And since I did just offer to help…”

Her hand stilled and her mouth fell open.

“Just to…you know…make you feel better,” he finished.

“Thanks,” she croaked. “That’s good of you. But not necessary.”

“It could be worth a shot,” he persisted, shifting just close enough to inhale the floral scent of her hair. She smelled like the flowers growing up the wall just outside the French doors. Jasmine? Honeysuckle? Whatever. It was warm. Feminine. Damn.

“I thought you were annoyed at me. For not visiting Maeve.”

“Well, yeah. But I’ve always liked helping people—hence the job—so I’d consider it a sort of…public service.”

“Thanks. You have no idea how turned-on that makes me.”

The dry tone of her voice gave him pause. She had a point there. Shit, everything he said around her came out wrong.

“Well, it’s not that it would be a hardship,” he tried to backtrack.

“More flattery to go to my head.”

He laughed. And Keara smiled. A genuine, wide smile that sparked her eyes and turned her face…stunning. Attraction pulled him toward her, the urge to touch her almost overwhelming.

Joe McKinnny approached them to ask Shane what to do about his neighbor’s barking dog and Shane talked to him with as much patience as he could dig up, but wanted to growl when Keara stood and excused herself with a smile.

It was an hour before Shane could find his way to her side again, after talking with other guests, helping his mom serve dessert and finding a minute when Keara wasn’t occupied in conversation. What had started as a crazy joke had lodged itself in his mind, and his dick, apparently, which had been half hard ever since they’d talked about having sex, and he wanted to pursue that possibility.

Keara had been talking to Darlene from across the street for quite some time, and her eyes had begun to glaze over.

“Darlene, you’re looking stunning tonight,” Shane said, moving between them. “You’ve lost weight haven’t you?”

Darlene smiled with delight. “Yes, I have.”

“Would you excuse us? There’s something I need to show Keara.”

He took Keara’s arm and led her away from Darlene. Keara also murmured an “excuse me” to the woman.

“Was she telling you about her hysterectomy?” he said in her ear, steering her through the crowd to French doors leading out onto the patio.

Keara snorted a laugh. “Yes, as a matter of fact she was. That was apparently quite the tumor they removed. Benign, luckily.”

“Mmm. She loves to talk about her health. I thought I’d rescue you.”

“Thank you, I guess.”

They stepped out onto the patio, paved with attractive honey-colored stones and surrounded by curved beds bursting with flowers. The sun had set, leaving the sky the intense sapphire blue of dusk. A cool breeze drifted over them along with the scent of the jasmine flowers growing up the wall of the house.

“So where were we?” Shane said. “I think we were interrupted as we were about to leave and go to my place.”

“We were?” She eyed him, clutching her empty wineglass. That was no good. She needed a refill. “I don’t recall that.”

“I recall you saying that you needed to have sex.”

She sputtered. “I didn’t say that! Maeve is the one saying that. And it’s only a theory.”

“Ah. Right. But one worth checking out, don’t you think?”

The sound of the party was muted outside here, and crickets chirruped somewhere behind them.

“Shane.” She stared at him. “This is not a good idea.”

He met her eyes. “Why not? I think she could be right.”

She sighed and his eyes were drawn to the way her breasts rose and fell beneath the black blouse she wore. “I don’t even know where to start. There are about a million reasons.”

He shifted close enough to feel the warmth of her body, close enough to see that she did indeed still have faint freckles on her small nose, close enough to see the tiny flecks of lighter green in her emerald eyes.

“So? What are they?”

She moved away from him. “Well, first of all we’re not teenagers anymore. Second, I’m not looking for any kind of relationship. Third, my aunt is friends with your parents. Fourth, uh…”

“See, there aren’t a million reasons.” He smiled and breathed in her sweet scent again. “True, we’re not teenagers anymore. I see that as a plus. And no one said anything about a relationship, so don’t panic about that. We’re just talking about sex here. We both know how good it was. Aren’t you curious to know if it still is?” He stroked a hand from her shoulder down over her bare arm to her wrist, his fingers resting on the warm pulse point. She shivered.

He was doing pretty good. She seemed to be softening—her eyes warming and her smile widening. She shook her head.

“And as far as Maeve and my parents being friends—another thing that has nothing to do with us having sex.” He bent his head and stroked his fingers back up to her inner elbow, her skin as soft as the petunia petals in the basket beside them.

“I have to go now. I’ll just go say goodnight to your parents.”

And she walked away.

Damn.

* * *

Keara moved up beside Maeve and flashed an apologetic smile at the man she was talking to.

“Oh, Keara, there you are! I want to introduce you to Glen. Glen, this is my great niece, Keara. Keara, Glen O’Donnell.”

Her aunt’s…uh…friend.

“So nice to meet you.” Keara extended her hand for a warm handshake. Glen appeared to be about her aunt’s age, with thick white hair and a ruddy face, lines crinkling up around his eyes as he smiled warmly at her.

“I’m glad to meet you too,” he said. “Maeve has told me so much about you. You’re right, Maeve, she is beautiful.”

Keara’s cheeks warmed. “Thank you. Uh…Maeve, I’m ready to go home now.”

“Already!” Maeve glanced at her watch. “It’s early!”

“I’m a little tired.”

“Oh…” Clearly Maeve did not want to leave and Keara felt bad at dragging her away from her friend. “Well…you could take my car, and I’m sure I could get a ride home later.” She shot a glance at Glen who nodded. Keara felt her stomach clench at the thought of returning to the apartment alone.

“I’ll take her home.” Shane’s voice, deep and husky, spoke from behind her. She whirled around.

“Oh no, that’s okay…”

“Thank you, Shane! What a dear boy you are.”

He grinned. Keara opened her mouth to protest, but Maeve continued. “You should go say goodnight and thank you to Fiona and Declan before you go, Keara.”

Keara resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Of course she was going to thank her host and hostess before she left. She just didn’t want to leave with Shane.

His flirting earlier had thrown her off balance. What had he been doing? Trying to humiliate her? There was no way he was attracted to her after the barely hidden contempt he’d shown her every time they’d met. Which had now apparently changed to feeling sorry for her. Why, why had she blurted out that bit about Maeve thinking she needed sex?

She was so confused now, wondering what Shane really thought about her, wondering why she felt so mixed up inside, like she was attracted to him but afraid, reluctantly, surprisingly aroused—but nervous.

She allowed him to once again draw her away and lead her across the room. His parents sat in the living room, side by side, Declan’s arm around Fiona’s shoulders. Aw. Sweet.

“I’m taking Keara home,” Shane announced. “Say good-night.”

Keara shot him an exasperated glance. “Thank you so much for having me tonight, Mr. and Mrs. Dunstan. It was a lovely party, as usual. I always remember coming to your house and having so much fun.”

Friona stood and took both Keara’s hands in a warm, maternal gesture that made Keara’s heart go soft. “Thank you for coming,” she replied. “I’m so glad you’re here to visit Maeve.” She flicked her eyes toward Shane and then back, and Keara waited for some embarrassing question or comment. But none was forthcoming and Fiona just smiled. “I hope we’ll see you again while you’re here.”

Keara nodded, and after their farewells, she and Shane left through the front door. His car was parked on the street in front, beneath the orange glow of a street lamp.

“You’re leaving early,” Shane commented. “I hope not because of me.”

She studied him as he started the car. “What if I said it was?”

His eyes flicked sideways and he put the car in gear. “Then I’d feel bad. I didn’t mean to chase you away.”

She sighed. “You didn’t. I just find it exhausting being in a crowd like that right now.” And yet, she was afraid to be alone. Go figure.

“That’s not like you,” he said, and the fact that he remembered her, that they had a history together, warmed and softened her inside. “You used to love parties.”

“Yes.” She looked down at her hands clasped in her lap as light from a street lamp slid over them, faded to dark, then light again as they drove. “I did.”

“You will again.”

She sucked in her bottom lip to keep it from trembling. She wanted to believe that, but at times it seemed so hopeless that she would ever be the same again—fearless, independent, sociable.

Shane insisted on walking her inside, and she trembled as she unlocked the back door of the shop and disarmed the alarm, anticipating that he was going to try…something. A kiss, maybe. And when he saw her upstairs and said goodnight, then left—she was unreasonably, confusingly disappointed.

She wandered through the apartment, after having ensured the doors were all locked securely, turning on lights. She’d wanted to leave the party because she was exhausted, but now her body hummed with energy and a strange anticipation. She put a hand to the vague ache low in her belly and realized she was…aroused.

Dear lord. What was happening to her? Shane had gotten her all worked up. She washed her face in a trancelike state, changed into pajamas and crawled into her bed, drawing the covers up under her chin. She closed her eyes, but couldn’t ignore the liquid heat between her legs.

She slid a hand down over her stomach, under the elastic of the sleep shorts she wore, over her pubic curls. She cupped her pussy, holding it for a moment, feeling it pulsing against her fingers. She couldn’t believe she wanted this…wanted to touch herself like this. After the horror she’d experienced, sex had seemed so…trivial. So unimportant.

Her other hand slid up under her tank top and covered one breast. She squeezed gently. It felt good. She squeezed harder and a small moan leaked from her mouth. She parted her legs, let her fingers delve deeper into the folds there, and when she found slick wetness, she gasped.

Her tummy did a flip flop and images of Shane rushed into her head—his sparkling sapphire eyes, his deep dimples, his long, sexy fingers. His body had a perfect masculine shape—wide shoulders tapering to narrow hips, flat abdomen—and she pictured him without a shirt. She’d seem him shirtless, but that was thirteen years ago when he was still a boy. Now he was bigger, broader, more solid and she wanted to know what lay beneath the T-shirts he always wore.

She wanted to feel his long fingers on her body.

Her own fingers stroked, dragged wetness up to the bump that quivered and jumped when she touched it. Another flash of Shane, a young Shane with his face between her legs and his mouth on her pussy. She turned her head into the pillow, fingers of one hand rubbing her clit, fingers of the other pinching her sensitive nipple, tension coiling in her until she climaxed in a hard, shuddering orgasm.