“No. Not until you tell me what’s going on,” she demands, then her eyes widen as it hits. I cringe, and wait for it…
“He was your one-night stand in Ireland?” she gasps, bringing her hands to her face. “The guy from the bar with the killer tongue you would not shut up about for weeks? That was Rory Maguire?”
“Well, two-night stand, but yes,” I nod weakly and look up at the sky.
God, please just kill me now.
“I know you were so looking forward to seeing him perform, but can we please go? I’m sure he saw me, and I just can’t face him right now. Not after how I left him, and not like this,” I plead.
Clare nods and wraps her arm around my shoulders, kissing my head. “Yeah, I was, but come on. Let’s get out of here.”
* * *
For the next couple of days, I’m as jumpy as hell. Every corner I turn, I’m convinced he’ll be around it. There’s over eight million people in New York City, so I don’t know why I’m so worried about bumping into him. It’s not that I don’t want to see him. I do, more than anything. I’m just so embarrassed, ashamed, and pretty sure he’d want nothing to do with me after the way I treated him.
I force myself to focus on other things, like my photography, to distract me from the reality that he’s here in town. I just finish my third class when Meisha asks me to stay behind. I wait until the classroom empties then head over to her. It’s silly, but I’m hoping I haven’t done anything wrong. Why would she single me out?
“Hey, Amelia,” she says, smiling. “Thanks for staying back. I have both an opportunity and a huge favor to ask you.”
“Sure,” I grin. “How can I help?”
“I have a big shoot lined up for tomorrow morning, and my assistant just called me to say she can’t make it as her kiddo is sick. I’d go on my own, but this is an important shoot for me. I’ve been doing some freelance work for a national magazine and I’m hoping it turns into something more permanent, so I want to make a good impression.”
“Are you asking me to help?” I say, barely able to contain my excitement.
She laughs. “If you wouldn’t mind? I’d be happy to show you a few techniques, one-on-one. It’s a great learning opportunity for you, and I’ll pay you something for your time, of course.”
“I’d love to!” I say.
“Great. Meet me at Cherry Hill Fountain in Central Park at ten.”
* * *
I wake up early the next morning, tired after being too excited to sleep. This will be my first taste of what it’s like to be a professional, and I can’t freaking wait. I take extra care getting ready as I want to make a good impression. I choose a black and white dress, pairing it with some sandals, and a short black jacket. I check myself in the mirror, then walk into the kitchen to make myself coffee and toast.
Clare smiles at me. “Good, you’re up. I need a favor.”
“I still haven’t recovered from the last favor you asked,” I remind her. She winces, then wraps her arms around my neck, kissing me on the cheek. I laugh and push her away.
“My car won’t start this morning. Can I borrow yours?” she asks.
“Normally, I’d say yes, but I’m helping out on a photo shoot today,” I say.
“Oh, how cool,” she says. “Where is it?”
“I’m meeting my instructor in Central Park.”
She thinks for a moment, then says, “Okay, how about I drop you off there? I’ll hang around for a bit, go to my meeting, and come back to pick you up,” she says. I frown, seeing so many things that could go wrong with this arrangement. She flutters her eyelashes. “Please?”
I sigh and nod. “Fine. But we have to leave right now, or I’ll be late.”
* * *
We walk through Central Park, and it’s the usual hive of activity. There are people everywhere, and I can understand why. It’s such a lovely place, and August is the time of year when all the flowers are out and looking beautiful.
“So, what is this? A wedding or something?” Clare asks.
“On a Thursday?” I say. “I doubt it. I don’t know, maybe an engagement shoot? But then Meisha said it was for a magazine, so who knows.”
“A famous engagement?” Clare suggests.
I’m still trying to figure it out when I spot Meisha standing by the railings overlooking The Lake. I walk over there and wave when I’m close enough for her to see us.
“Morning,” I say to her, a shiver of excitement racing through me. I watch her set up, thinking this could be me one day. It doesn’t look like the client is here yet, so I introduce her to Clare.
“She’s just dropping me off—car trouble. She has a meeting to go to, though she’ll be there a bit early,” I explain.
“No, you’re welcome to stay and watch,” Meisha says with a smile. “It’s not every day you get to see a celebrity photo shoot.”
“Who are we shooting?” I ask, feeling my eyes widen with excitement.
“Just one of the hottest young guys I’ve ever laid eyes on, that’s who,” she says with a sigh. “If only I didn’t have a boyfriend, I’d be throwing myself at him,” she laughs.
As if on cue, I see Rory wandering over, and I literally stop breathing when I see him. I turn to face Clare and stand a little closer to her, trying to hide my embarrassment. All she can do is look at me and put a reassuring hand on my shoulder. I’m mortified.
“Hey,” he says, smiling at Meisha and offering his hand. “You’re my photographer, I’m guessing? I’m Rory.” He hasn’t noticed me yet, but I’m dreading the moment he does.
“It’s such a pleasure to meet you, Rory,” Meisha gushes, taking his hand and shaking it a little longer than normal. “I love that accent.” Next thing I know, she puts her arm around my shoulder and thrusts me in front of him. I stand meekly in front of him and have no choice but to look him in the eye.
“This is Amelia. She’s going to be my assistant this morning. She’s one of my photography students. One of my best students,” she adds, winking at him. I cringe as his eyes lock onto mine. He looks shocked, but that’s soon replaced with a broad smile, that familiar twinkle in his eyes and a look of amusement.
“Amelia,” he says in his thick Irish accent. “Nice to see you again.”
He extends his hand and I take it, ignoring the shiver running down my spine. I can’t speak. I can’t do anything. I’m struggling to get my head around the fact that this is really happening.
“You two know each other?” Meisha asks, confused.
Rory nods, gently squeezing my hand with his smiling eyes still locked on mine. “We do. I met Amelia when she came over to Ireland last month. I gave her a ride.” My eyes widen as he smirks at me.
“A ride to my hotel,” I choke out. Meisha looks at me strangely, while Clare tries, unsuccessfully, to stifle her laugh behind us.
“No, it was my hotel, remember?” He’s still holding my hand, stroking my palm with his fingertips. His eyes twinkle again as I widen my eyes at him, hoping he’ll get the message and stop talking. I’m doing everything I can to resist the urge to strangle him. I narrow my eyes and glare at him, my cheeks burning like a fire.
“Rory. Shut…up,” I hiss through gritted teeth, giving him the sternest look I can muster. I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life.
He chuckles. “Or what? Are you going to walk out on me again, lass?”
Thankfully, Meisha senses the tension and guides Rory away to begin the session. At that point, Clare makes her excuses to leave for her meeting and announces, loud enough for Rory to hear, that I’ll need to find my own way home. I know exactly what she’s doing, and she is so going to pay for it when I see her. I get through the shoot without making a fool of myself, avoiding any interaction with Rory as much as I can, and after saying goodbye to Meisha, he insists on walking me out of the park.
“Listen, Rory. For the record, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to walk out on you like that. I had a plane to catch, and I froze. I didn’t
know what to write,” I mumble when the silence between us becomes too much.
“I knew you’d have to come home at some time, but you could have woken me up to say goodbye,” he says with a frown. All traces of humor are gone from his expression.
“Yeah, I know, but you looked so cute sleeping there,” I say softly.
“Then you could have left your number, at least, or your email,” he replies. “Anything. To wake up and find you gone was like a knife to my heart.”
“I’m so sorry. It was thoughtless of me, and I didn’t mean to hurt you,” I murmur, not sure what else to say.
“I’ll accept your apology if you come and have a drink with me,” he says.
I frown. “A drink? It’s not even lunch time.”
He shrugs. “Lunch then.”
“Sure. I guess I owe you that much,” I mumble.
“Wow. Thanks for making it clear you’re having lunch with me because you feel like you owe me. Don’t you see all those girls screaming my name?” he says, pointing over to where a group of young girls have gathered at the fountain after noticing Rory during his shoot.
I turn to him, raising my eyebrows. “So, go take one of them out for lunch then.”
“Why would I do that, when I want to be with you?” he asks.
My heart pounds in my chest hearing those words. As much as I don’t want my body to react to them, it does, and the moment I gaze into his sexy eyes and see the sparkle in them, I’m gone.
I link arms with him and we stroll past his adoring teenage fans and out of the park.
“All right, then. Let’s go.”
Chapter Eight
Rory
I take Amelia back to my hotel, and it’s just as fancy as the one I brought her to in Dublin. Her eyes narrow and a wicked smile creeps across her pretty face as we walk inside the lobby when she realizes where we are. I grin, knowing where her mind is at.
“And if you think you’re going to get lucky with me again, I can assure you, you’re not,” I say.
She laughs, her face going red. “Like you’d resist me if I tried anything,” she teases.
I smirk and lean over to whisper in her ear. “You’re the one who wouldn’t be able to resist me, darlin’. I made you come several times, if I remember correctly,” I remind her. “Once with my tongue, twice with my cock, and once with my fingers. And for the record, I was bringing you here,” I say as we stop outside the hotel restaurant. She flushes bright red again.
We walk inside the restaurant, and I can tell she’s impressed. It’s much quieter than I was expecting. When we sit down, I glance at a menu and the prices, and I understand why. What’s a few hundred dollars for a good meal, anyway? Especially when my tour manager is covering it.
We order and wait for our food to arrive. I can’t keep the smirk off my face while she looks anywhere, but at me. She’s still so flustered at meeting me again, and I’m milking it for all it’s worth. Deep down, I’m so happy to see her again, and I need to explain something to her.
“I owe you an apology, as well,” I begin.
She frowns at me. “Why? What have you done?”
“I should have told you who I was back in Dublin.”
“Yeah, you should have. Why didn’t you?” she asks. “How could you let me go on about how much I hated country music like that without telling me that’s what you did for a living?” She covers her face with her hands and I laugh, remembering how passionate she was when she ripped my song to shreds. “God, I went on, and on about how shit your music is…to your face!”
“And it was hilarious,” I say with a laugh. “You have no idea how refreshing your honesty was, Amelia. So, you don’t like my music. Who cares? I’m sick of people telling me what they think I want to hear, just because I’m famous.”
“Cocky, much?” she says, her eyes sparkling.
“Not cocky if it’s the truth,” I reply. “How about we do something else after we eat?” I say.
“What are you suggesting?” she asks suspiciously, raising one eyebrow.
I shrug. “I don’t know. I took you around Ireland. How about you show me the sights of New York.”
“Okay,” she says, rolling her eyes. “I guess that’s fair. I’ll be your guide for the rest of the day, then we’re even.”
“Great,” I say. I’m confident I can convince her over the next few hours to see me again.
* * *
“So, have you been to New York City before?” she asks me as we walk out of the hotel.
I shake my head. “Nope, never. I’ve been to the US once, but it was just a short trip into Boston and then home again.”
“Okay. Well, first we’ll head back into Central Park.”
“Because it’s one of the most well-known parks in the world?” I guess.
She shakes her head. “No because it has the best pretzels out of anywhere. See over there?” She points toward a small, rundown van. “You won’t find a better experience than inside that van.”
“Really?” I say, with a laugh, raising my eyebrows. “You should watch who you say that to.”
“Don’t take my word for it,” she says, ignoring my innuendo. “Let’s go and you can find out for yourself.”
We walk over and order two pretzels, then head off to stroll around the park. We’re just enjoying each other’s company, no pressure and no awkward silences. I love how comfortable I feel around her. It’s like we never parted, and I turn to her and smile.
“Okay, this is pretty amazing,” I say, after taking my first bite. I take another bite, savoring the sweet, yet salty taste. She’s right. They are good.
“Told you,” she grins.
“So, how’s things been with you since you got back home?” I ask casually. What I really want to know is whether she’s been thinking about me. Did she regret leaving me the way she did? God forbid she’s found a new boyfriend.
“Okay,” she says with a shrug. “I didn’t go back to my boring old job as a legal secretary after all. Though, the fact I was Meisha’s assistant during the photo shoot probably gave that away.”
“I kind of got that, yes,” I grin. “So, photography, huh? That’s pretty cool.”
“Very,” she says, her face lighting up. “I’m really enjoying it.”
I love the way she can’t wipe the smile off her face as she talks about it. That, right there, tells me she has more passion for it in her little finger than she had for her last job.
“How many more shows do you have?” she asks me. “When I Googled…” She stops, and looks down, her face going red again. I find that so endearing about her.
“You Googled me?” I ask.
“Um, yeah, I did. I just wanted to see when you were leaving.” She narrows her eyes and looks at me intently. “Is this the special project you mentioned that night we met at the pub?” she asks, changing the subject.
I hold my hands up in defense. “Scout’s honor. I had no idea I was coming over here until the day before I flew out. The special project I referred to is my new album. I’ve been having a bit of trouble getting it right.”
“You mean writing the actual songs?” she asks.
“No, they’re all written, and the music is done. It’s just recording it that I’m struggling with,” I say, shaking my head. “I just can’t get the emotion and feeling I want into the production, if that makes any sense at all.”
“It makes plenty of sense,” she says softly. She swallows and looks at me. “You saw me at your show, didn’t you?”
“I thought it was you, but then I convinced myself it was my mind playing tricks on me,” I admit. “Is this where you tell me how much you hated my song? Oh wait, you’ve already done that. I still have a decent backlist of material for you to destroy, though.” I chuckle at the thought. She leans forward and glares at me. If looks could kill, I’d be dead.
“I was about to tell you how much I enjoyed it,” she says, sternly.
“Sure, you were,” I tease, g
lad she’s still so easy to wind up.
She slaps my arm, then takes my hand and we stroll to Columbus Circle and take the subway to West 34th Street. The Empire State building is only a short walk from there and the view across the city from the top is spectacular. I should be taking it in, but I can’t take my eyes off Amelia as she clicks away with her camera. Her eyes light up every time she spots something new or sees something old from a different angle. I’m captivated, just watching her.
I saunter over to her. “Do you want to come back to my hotel?” I ask. She turns and frowns at me. “It’s just in case I get lost getting back there,” I add, playing the innocent.
“I’m pretty sure you’ll have no trouble finding your way to one of the most expensive hotels in the city,” she says dryly. “You could ask anyone in the street to direct you there, and they’d know it.”
“I’m shy,” I protest with a straight face.
“Bullshit.” She shakes her head and laughs. “Okay, fine. I’ll take you back there, but there’s no way I’m going back to your room. Come on, let’s take the elevator and get you home.”
* * *
Half an hour later, I open the door to my room and let her walk in first. I chuckle as she curses at herself under her breath. So much for her resolve. I always knew I was irresistible to her.
“Kick off your shoes and make yourself at home. You know, you’re here of your own free will, right?” I say, just making sure we’re on the same page. “You can go at any time. I’m not making you do or say anything you don’t want to.”
“I know that, smart ass,” she growls, slipping out of her heels and putting her jacket on the back of a chair. “I don’t want to leave, but I know I shouldn’t stay, either.”
“Oh, that’s deep,” I say with a grin. I’m not sure if I should be flattered or offended, but I roll with it. “Maybe a drink will help you relax?”
“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you, Rory Maguire?” she says, narrowing her eyes, and I hold my hands up defensively for the second time. She’s a feisty one today, alright.
“Hey, I’m just trying to be a gentleman,” I argue.
Irish Affair Page 7
