Love and Shamrocks: Ballybeg, Book 5 (22 page)

“It’s nothing fancy,” he said, handing her a glass. “Just a chicken tarragon casserole.”

“Just?” she teased. “Admit it. You’ve been slaving over a hot stove for hours.”

“Maybe a couple.” His dirty grin made her veins hum.

Taking a clean spoon from the drawer, he tasted the sauce. “Pretty good, if I do say so myself. Want to try?”

He held the spoon out and she closed the space between them. This close, their electrically charged sexual attraction fairly crackled. She put her lips round the spoon, licking the yellow sauce from it suggestively. “Delicious.”

Seán’s eyes darkened, and his gaze dropped to her mouth. Clio’s nipples hardened under her lacy blue top. A vision of shoving cooking utensils to the side and having sex on the kitchen counter loomed large…and then her treacherous stomach grumbled. Loudly.

That got a low rumble of a laugh. “I’d better dish this out,” he said in a thick voice.

“I think you’d better.”

The chicken tarragon casserole lived up to the promise of its tantalizing aroma. “This was seriously good,” Clio said after she’d eaten her fill. “Why hasn’t some smart woman snapped you up already and chained you to the kitchen?”

Seán’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “Do you like the idea of chaining me up?”

“I like the idea of you cooking for me, with or without chains.”
And with or without clothes
…

As if reading her thoughts, he grinned and refilled her wine glass. “So, Miss Clio. Are you going to fill me in on the Lar Delaney story, or will I have to drag it out of you?”

She made an exaggerated grimace. “I figured you’d recognize him.”

“Kind of hard not to. He was the youngest person on Ireland’s Most Wanted list when I was a junior policeman. I’d love to know how he managed to persuade the judge to give him an eight-year sentence and walk free after five.”

Clio gave a noncommittal shrug. She wasn’t stupid enough to divulge any information on her ex to a policeman, even one who was off duty. Truth be told, she didn’t know anything concrete to share. If Ray Greer was a slippery bastard, then Lar Delaney was opaque. And despite their shared child, Clio was wary of Lar, and even warier of his family.

She took a sip of her Pinot Gris and eyed Seán over the rim of the glass. “You’re curious to know how a wealthy private school girl got knocked up by the son of a shady paramilitary leader.”

That made him laugh. “I’m assuming the conception occurred in the usual way. But yeah, I’d like to know how you hooked up.”

“Lar worked part-time in his uncle’s betting shop. It was next door to a chipper that my friends and I sometimes went to after school. He was big, bad, and handsome and I fell for him. Plus he was the first guy to ask me out, and I was flattered. Within three months, I was pregnant.”

“And your mother hit the roof.” His smile was gone now.

“To put it mildly.” The memories of their explosive reactions were as fresh in her mind as though it had all happened yesterday. “My stepfather was still alive then. I believe he was the driving force behind the decision to throw me out.”

“Did Delaney dump you?” His voice hardened and his mouth formed a grim line of condemnation.

“Our situation was more complicated than that.” She sighed and angled her chair toward the window, staring out over the snow-speckled fields. “I’d assumed—and Lar had allowed me to believe—that he was nearly nineteen. He was tall and broad and had the swagger to pull it off. When my parents found out I was pregnant, they freaked out and hauled me round to the housing estate where Lar’s family lived. And we all got a shock. Turned out Lar was two months shy of his fifteenth birthday. Far from me being seduced by an older bad boy,
I
was nearly three years
his
senior.”

“Jaysus.” Seán blinked. “He got you pregnant when he was
fourteen
?”

“Yes. He was fifteen by the time Tammy was born and I was eighteen. So you see, he was never in a position to support us. Despite the streetwise attitude, he was still just a kid.”

“Where did you go after your parents kicked you out?”

“Lar’s aunt’s spare room. By the time Tammy was born, Lar and I weren’t even pretending to be a couple. He made an appearance at the hospital, then scarpered.”

Seán cleared their plates and fixed coffee. He set an espresso cup before her and reclaimed his seat. “Truth be told, I don’t know that I’d have been any more reliable when I was fifteen.”

“To be fair to Lar, he did come round to visit us regularly during the first few months of Tammy’s life, but he played with her like she was one of his younger siblings and not his daughter. I knew I couldn’t rely on him for support, and I’d been obliged to leave school before my Leaving Cert. Without a school certificate, I had no chance of getting a decent job. And once Lar was sent to a juvenile detention center, he was out of the picture for several years.”

“Right.” He nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face. “At what point did you move to Spain?”

She blushed and toyed with the handle of her coffee cup. “I guess you know all about my run-in with the law.”

He nodded, his gaze solemn. “I read your file when we were asked to look into your mother’s stalker. You got a suspended sentence for petty theft and possession of crystal meth.”

“Lar’s aunt…Lar’s family…well, you know who they are. Drugs were easy to come by, and I’d hit rock bottom.” An abridged version of events for sure, but she was keen to avoid elaborating upon what, precisely, the Delaneys got up to when the police weren’t looking. In comparison, Ray Greer was a candidate for sainthood. She’d met Ray through Lar’s aunt, Siobhan. Crazy as it sounded, taking a job with Ray was a smarter move than continuing to live with the Delaneys.

“One of the conditions for your suspended sentence was rehab,” Seán said quietly. The look of understanding in his eyes brought her to the brink of her self-control.

“Yes. After my sentencing, I went to rehab and Tammy was sent to live with a foster family.”

He took her hand in his, stroking the skin between thumb and index finger. “That must have been tough.”

“It was awful, but it was the best thing that could have happened. I got myself straightened out, and Tammy was cared for by a lovely family. I can’t say enough positive things about the Reillys. Despite having five kids of their own, they started fostering when their youngest was two. Tammy was their twenty-sixth foster child.”

“Wow. That’s impressive.”

“Despite my conviction and drug problem, they treated me with compassion. Officially, I was allowed one visit with Tammy each week, but Mrs. Reilly made sure I saw her more often than that. The only reason I regained custody as quickly as I did was due to the Reillys putting in a good word for me with social services.”

“They sound like decent folk.” He flipped her hand over and ran his thumb over her pulse. It beat wildly under his touch.

“I’m still in touch with the Reilly family. Actually, one of their daughters ended up becoming my closest friend. Funny how life turns out.”

“Yes,” he murmured, dropping a kiss onto her wrist. “The man upstairs has an odd sense of humor.”

The irony in his voice gave her pause. “What about your family? Are you close?”

He dropped her hand back onto her lap. “No.” The haunted look she’d noticed when he’d mentioned his mother’s death was back. “We’re not close. After my parents died when I was ten, my brother and I were sent to live with family in Dublin. My grandmother took me in, but because she didn’t feel able to look after two boys, my little brother was sent to live with an aunt and uncle.”

“After your
parents
died?” Clio blinked in surprise. “You mentioned your mother was dead, but I didn’t realize your father was too.” How horrible to lose both parents at such a young age.

An expression of raw pain froze Seán’s features. “It was a murder-suicide,” he said finally. “My mother discovered my father was having an affair and snapped.”

“Oh my God,” she gasped. “That’s awful.”

“They didn’t even own a gun.” His voice broke on the last word. “My father had borrowed one from a local farmer to get rid of a couple of foxes that kept wreaking havoc on our land. If my mother hadn’t had easy access to a loaded weapon, she’d probably have come to her senses and they’d still be alive.”

“I am so sorry that happened to you, Seán. It makes anything I’ve gone through pale in comparison.”

He gave a wobbly smile. “So you see why being back in Ballybeg isn’t easy. I went to all the trouble of changing my name and trying to bury memories only to end up being transferred to the very police station where my father used to work. The only saving grace is that both the building and the staff of Ballybeg Garda Station has changed since my father’s day.”

“You changed your name?” She reached for his hand and squeezed it. “Seán Mackey isn’t your birth name?”

He shook his head. “Mackey was my mother’s maiden name. Until I turned eighteen, I was Jonathan Fitzgerald. I started to go by Seán when I was in my early teens. Legally changing my name was a dramatic step, but I was young and dumb enough to think it would help erase the past.”

“It didn’t make a difference?”

“Not enough of a one,” he said grimly. “I’m sorry the conversation has taken a morbid turn.”

He stood abruptly and strode to the record player. A moment later, the Ramones started singing “Sheena is a Punk Rocker.” He turned and held a hand out to her. “Will you dance with me, Clio?”

“With pleasure.” And it truly was a pleasure. The sensation of his arms around her felt oh so right. Snuggling against his warm body, she traced a finger down the front of his shirt. She inhaled the twin scents of fabric softener and aftershave and leaned her head against his chest.

He was a good dancer. Way better than she was. After a couple of songs from the
Rocket to Russia
album, he switched from vintage punk back to seventies soul. After swinging her around to James Brown’s “Get Up (I Feel Like Being a) Sex Machine,” Seán slow danced with her to “Neither One of Us” by Gladys Knight & the Pips.

“Do you want to go to my bedroom?” he whispered into her ear.

The ache of longing that had been building since the moment she’d seen him standing outside his apartment door became a throb. She ran her hands through his short dark hair and murmured, “Yes.”

Tugging her by the hand, Seán led the way into his bedroom. Like the rest of the apartment, it was neat and tidy with colorful posters on the walls. “You’re a neat freak, aren’t you?” she asked with a laugh.

“I’ve been accused of being a tad excessive in my tidiness, yes. But right now, I have more interesting things on my mind than my housekeeping abilities.” He ran his hands over her shoulders and down her back, making her tremble. He tugged at the hem of her top. “How easy is this to remove?”

“Not as easy as your shirt.” She toyed with his collar and unfastened a button. “I see you opted for snap fasteners this evening.”

His laughter reverberated against her neck, sending her pulse into overdrive. “After our last encounter, I figured snap fasteners were a safer bet than buttons.”

He bent to kiss her, banishing all thoughts of buttons, snappers, and other fasteners from her mind. Not breaking the kiss, Seán pushed her top upward, finding her bra. They broke apart and she pulled her top off, discarding it onto the floor.

The sight of a light smattering of chest hair where his shirt was open sent her wild. Yanking the rest of the snappers open, she pulled his shirt off.

Her trousers were the next to go, quickly followed by his jeans. Not bothering with the niceties of a slow strip tease, they discarded their underwear and hit the bed.

Trailing kisses down her torso and over her abdomen, he located her clit with ease. Pushing her thighs apart, he teased it with his tongue. The twin sensations of his mouth on her clit coupled with his stubble grazing the tender flesh of her inner thighs had an electric effect.

She squirmed in pleasure, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. He maintained the pressure, kneading her buttocks, massaging the small of her back, tugging her nipples. “Don’t. Stop.”

He didn’t.

Clio ceased to think of anything but the wave surging inside her, finally cresting in a tsunami of pleasure. When it subsided, she collapsed against her pillow and gave a sigh of intense satisfaction. “Wow. That was even better than the last time.”

Seán danced his fingertips around her navel, and trailed them upward. “That, my dear,” he murmured into the base of her throat, “was merely the appetizer.”

CLIO HEAVED THE LAST tray of champagne glasses onto the table and wiped sweat from her brow. “Did my mother’s guest list reproduce? This seems like a lot of glasses for eighty guests.”

“Eighty?” Olivia blinked in surprise. “She told me to prepare food for one hundred people.”

“Oh, no.” Phoebe, Helen’s mousy and long-suffering PA, whipped out her smart phone. “I have one hundred and fifteen people on the guest list.”

Olivia swore beneath her breath, caught Clio’s eye, and laughed. “How do you think your mother’s Dublin guests will react to being served store-bought bread sticks if I run out of food?”

Clio thought of the overnight guests already causing mayhem and issuing orders upstairs. “Not well. Judge and Mrs. Carroll are very particular about their food.”

The corners of Olivia’s eyes crinkled in amusement. “Are they the snotty-nosed pair who waltzed in a few minutes ago?”

“Shh.” Phoebe pressed a finger to her thin lips and looked about in alarm as if the Carrolls—or Helen—would pop out of the wallpaper at any second. “Judge Carroll is a very important man,” she said in a stage whisper. “He was appointed to the High Court a couple of years ago.”

“Judge Carroll is a pompous git,” Clio said, placing a display bottle of champagne in a bucket of ice. “And if we have to serve him bread sticks because my mother was too scatty to keep track of all the people she invited, then he’ll just have to deal.”

Olivia grinned. “I can’t believe Helen asked John-Joe Fitzgerald to perform at the party. Does she know what she’s letting herself in for?”