by Barri Bryan
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New Concepts Publishing
www.newconceptspublishing.com
Copyright ©2005 by Barri Bryan
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NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.
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KISS ME, I'M IRISH
By
Barri Bryan
© copyright by Herb and Billie Houston, March 2005
Cover Art by Jenny Dixon, © copyright March 2005
ISBN 1-58608-333-3
New Concepts Publishing
Lake Park, GA 31636
www.newconceptspublishing.com
This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author's imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.
Chapter One
Margaret O'Neil looked across the crowded, lavishly decorated ballroom with the glittering shamrocks festooning the walls with green and white balloons floating high overhead. Patrick would approve of her decision to carry on his tradition of an annual O'Neil Family Saint Patrick's Day Dance. A rush of pain surged through her. Her sweet Patrick would never approve of anything again; he was gone forever, struck down only months before by a massive heart attack. From nowhere his last words floated across her mind. Margaret girl, I'm not going to make it this time. Can you handle that? Margaret had assured him that she could; even as she had made that brave declaration, she knew it was a lie. How strange that the last words that she had ever spoken to her beloved husband had framed the only falsehood she'd ever told him.
An elbow in her ribs made Margaret turn and smile. Her lovely young step-daughter Felicia was standing beside her. Felicia O'Neil was wearing a low cut emerald green ball gown that complemented her creamy skin and displayed her smooth white shoulders. A radiant smile adorned her young face. “Margaret, guess who's here."
For all her nineteen years in some ways Felicia O'Neil was still a child. Margaret smiled indulgently, “Don't tell me that Brad Pitt has crashed our party?"
"Don't I wish?” Felicia's long brown hair swayed as she shook her head. “But it's someone who's a celebrity in his own right.” She clapped her hands together. “God he is so handsome."
Margaret's amusement gave way to impatience. If one of her stepson Todd's young friends had crashed this party he would be sorry. “For heaven's sake, Felicia, act your age."
Margaret's scolding didn't dampen Felicia's high spirits. “He's wearing a big round pin on the lapel of his tux that says ‘Kiss Me, I'm Irish'."
Margaret snapped, “How juvenile.” She thought that was just the sort of stupid prank one of Todd's friends would perpetrate and just the kind of romantic nonsense that would appeal to Felicia. Looking around the room, she asked, “Where is Todd?"
Felicia shrugged one bare shoulder. “How would I know?” She grinned mischievously. “I kissed him and wow!” Her huge dark eyes rolled heavenward.
Margaret tapped the toe of her expensive slipper on the smooth hardwood floor. She knew what Felicia was telling her still she couldn't resist asking, “You kissed your brother?"
"No,” Felicia snorted. “I kissed the hunk with the pin on his lapel."
"Don't tell me that you kissed some silly boy because he wears a pin that invites such stupid behavior?"
"Don't be such a prude.” Felicia pointed. “See, there he is and he's collecting another kiss."
Margaret looked across the room to see the back of a tall broad shouldered man. He had Roberta Simmons in his arms and he was kissing her soundly.
Margaret pushed her way across the crowded floor thinking as she went that she would reprimand this lad as kindly as possible. She didn't want to offend one of Todd's young macho friends.
That ruffian was still in a lip lock with Roberta when Margaret tapped him on the shoulder. “Excuse me, but...."
Roberta pulled from the man's embrace and leered drunkenly at Margaret. Too loudly, she said, “Mind your own business, Margaret O'Neil."
Before Margaret could respond, David Simmons appeared to collect his tipsy wife. “I'm sorry Margaret.” He took Roberta's arm and led her away as she protested loudly, “Unhand me you jerk."
Roberta's pursuer turned and Margaret's breath caught in her throat. The culprit was not a boy but a man she hadn't seen in eighteen years. She choked out, “Connal, Connal Cassidy?"
Connal flashed a sinfully sexy smile. “If it isn't little Maggie Donovan, long time no see."
Not long enough Margaret thought as she answered coldly, “Nobody calls me Maggie anymore and my name is no longer Donovan.” Even though she was in a state of mild shock years of schooling herself to behave at all times with self-assurance and decorum came to her rescue. “May I have a word with you in private?"
Obviously eighteen years had done little to change Connal Cassidy. He was not only still incredibly handsome he was also still unbelievably bold and abrasive. “Nothing would please me more. Shall we dance?"
Before Margaret could say no Felicia came to stand by her stepmother's side. “Margaret please, don't be angry. It's all in fun."
Todd appeared on Margaret's other side. “What's going on here?"
A circle was forming around the foursome. Margaret kept her voice low and calm. “Nothing's going on, Mister Cassidy was just leaving."
Not the least abashed, Connal took Margaret's arm. “They're playing our song, Maggie. Come on, one dance for old times sake?"
Maggie jerked her arm free and addressed her stepchildren. “I can handle this.” Once she got Connal Cassidy alone he was going to get a piece of her mind. Nodding in his direction, she snapped, “Follow me."
"Yes ma'am.” Completely at ease, Connal shrugged, followed her across the dance floor and into the cloakroom near the front entrance. Once inside he dropped into a chair. Before Margaret could close the door, he flashed that insufferable grin and said, “It's good to see you again old friend."
Easing the door shut, Margaret turned and leaned against it. They had been much more than friends; at least that's what Margaret had believed at the time. Apparently, Connal hadn't thought so. At the end of that magical summer he'd left for college without a backward glace or a word of good-bye. That was all in the past now and best forgotten. She sighed and then she lied. “It's good to see you too,” before adding, “But that doesn't excuse your crashing this party or behaving so outrageously after you got inside."
Connal scratched the side of his head with long slender fingers. “One of us is confused. I got an invitation to this bash.” He fished around in his pocket, pulled out a guilt-edged card and held it up for her to see.
Margaret frowned. “That's impossible."
Connal turned the card over and read, “To Mr. and Mrs. C. J. Cassidy."
The light dawned as Margaret pressed her fingers to her temples. “That invitation was to your parents. I had no idea you were back in town."
Connal slipped the card back into his pocket. “My name is C. J. Cassidy too, how was I supposed to know?"
He did know and Margaret knew that he knew. She could have said so many things. She decided that it would be easier to let the incident slide than to go to the trouble of having him thrown out on his ear. “If you plan to stay take that stupid pin off your lapel. You can't go around kissing my guests."
Connal took the pin from his lapel and slipped it into his pocket. “If you're talking about Roberta Simmons, I didn't kiss
her, she kissed me."
Margaret could believe that. “What about Felicia?"
Connal gave her a blank stare. “Who is Felicia?"
She suspected that he knew, but she told him anyway, “She's my step daughter."
Connal's full lips turned into a half smile. “That little cutie, forgive me, Maggie but she was so damned young and beautiful I couldn't resist."
Margaret could believe that too. Through the years she'd followed Connal's romantic escapades. He'd had two wives and if the tabloids were to be believed, countless affairs. “Stay away from Felicia and don't call me Maggie.” She opened the door. “Go on, get out of here."
As Connal got gracefully to his feet, Margaret thought that Felicia was right—he was one handsome son-of-a-gun. She reminded herself that he was also fickle, self-centered and immature.
Connal came to stand directly in front of her. He exuded more self confidence and sex appeal than any one man should possess. His nearness stirred poignant old memories. “How about that dance, shall we?” He extended his arm.
Fortunately, the years had replaced Maggie Donovan with Margaret O'Neil. “I don't think that would be wise."
Connal moved closer. “When were we ever wise?"
Turning, Margaret hurried from the room, calling over her shoulder as she went, “Enjoy yourself but please behave."
"I'll do that, Maggie, I promise."
Later when Margaret caught sight of Connal mingling with other guests near the punch bowl she breathed a sigh of relief. But that relief was short lived. Five minutes later she spied him sitting with Felicia in a dark corner. He was holding her hand and the two were in deep conversation. One look at the rapt expression on Felicia's face made Margaret realize that she had to do something about this situation and fast. She knew what a charming rascal Connal could be and she knew how vulnerable her young step daughter was right now.
Margaret moved slowly around the sides of the huge oval room trying as she went to decide what the hell she was going to say once she reached Connal and Felicia. She could have saved herself the bother. Before she could reach the couple the band began to play a slow song, the lights dimmed and Connal led Felicia onto the dance floor.
As she watched Connal hold Felicia too close and caught the look of adoration on her step daughter's face, Margaret thought that if Patrick were here he'd put a stop to this foolishness in short order. Patrick wasn't here and he never would be again so it was up to her to do what she knew he would have done—protect his daughter. Margaret watched helplessly as Connal and Felicia moved gracefully across the floor. She should have thrown the bastard out when she had the opportunity.
After what seemed a very long time the music stopped and the lights came up. As Connal and Felicia made their way back toward that dark corner, Margaret caught up to them and grabbed Connal's arm. “I need to talk to you."
"Again?” Connal flashed that insufferable grin. “Are we going back to the cloak room?” His voice carried a suggestive note that made Margaret's blood boil.
Before she could answer a tall gangling youth hurried toward Felicia. Margaret held onto her anger as he shyly asked Felicia to dance. As the two moved onto the dance floor, she hissed, “Connal, I warned you."
Connal was the picture of innocence. “I took the pin off, honest I did Maggie and I haven't kissed a single woman since then.” His grin widened. “Or a married one either."
He was doing this to annoy her although Margaret couldn't imagine why. “That's not what I'm talking about. I told you to stay away from Felicia.” She took his arm and led him toward the dark corner he'd recently been sharing with her stepdaughter.
Connal followed along as docile as a lamb. “Maggie, where are you taking me this time?"
"Never mind just shut up and follow me.” Maggie made it to the corner, sat in one of the chairs and pointed to the other. “Sit down, Connal.” Maybe she should try appealing to his decency. Even Connal must draw the line somewhere short of taking advantage of an innocent young thing like Felicia.
Connal perched on the edge of the other chair. “Come on, Maggie, lighten up. All I did was dance with Felicia."
"I know and after I'd asked you not to.” Margaret drew a long breath. “Listen to me Connal and try to understand. Felicia is very young and impressionable. She lost the father she adored less than a year ago. Two months ago her fiancé who was twice her age, dumped her. She's very vulnerable right now, especially to the charms of an older man."
Connal had the audacity to laugh. “I don't know if I should be flattered or insulted.” He raised one winged eyebrow. “Older man, am I?"
He hadn't heard a word she'd said about Felicia. But he had paid heed to her remark about his age. She drove her point home. “Felicia is barely nineteen years old, to her thirty-seven must seem ancient."
Margaret realized she'd been wasting her breath when Connal asked, “If I promise not to dance with Felicia will you dance with me?"
She was set to tell him to go to hell and then she reconsidered. Entertaining Connal Cassidy for the remainder of the evening was a small price to pay for keeping him away from Felicia. “Okay, I'll dance with you."
She felt a little surge of triumph when a look of startled surprise spread across his handsome face. “You will?” He stood and offered her his hand.
Margaret let him lead her onto the dance floor. As he took her into his arms and pulled her very near she felt a quickening of passion that she thought had died with the passing of time. It was discomforting to find that he still had the power to stir her baser emotions. She pushed back and looked up into his face. It was like looking at the blank page of a book. She could read nothing. “So, how long will you be in town this time?"
Connal smiled down at her. “I'll be going back to Los Angeles in a couple of months to start filming again."
Maggie breathed a sigh of relief. Connal played the roll of Doctor Michael Drayton on the popular daytime soap titled The Wayward Heart. She should be able to keep an eye on Felicia until the middle of May. “I'm sure that your parents are glad to have you home for a few months."
"My parents want me home for good."
Margaret was not surprised to hear that. Connal was the Cassidy's only child. They both adored him. “How are your parents?"
"Mom is okay. Dad's not well."
Although Margaret had never been overly fond of C. J. Cassidy she was sorry to hear that he wasn't well. “Is it anything serious?"
"I'm afraid so, it's his heart."
Painful memories crowded into Margaret's mind. “Patrick died of a heart attack."
Connal murmured a soft, “I'm sorry.” An uneasy silence fell between them. There seemed nothing else to say.
Margaret was relieved when the dance ended. She thanked her partner and was walking away when Connal called after her, “I need a word with you."
The tone of his voice made her ask edgily, “About what?"
Connal pointed to the dark corner. “Can we sit down first?"
Margaret shook her head. “No.” She couldn't make it any plainer than that.
Connal looked around the room. “Where did Felicia go?"
Margaret got the message. Her lips thinned. “This is blackmail.” She followed him to the corner and sat in the chair she'd recently vacated. “What in the hell do you want now?” Connal smiled and Margaret felt her heart beat a little faster.
Out of the blue he asked, “Will you go out to dinner with me Friday night?"
Chapter Two
Connal Cassidy was not accustomed to having to plead with a woman for anything. He hid his aggravation behind his famous sexy smile as he waited for Margaret to reply. When she did speak her answer was an emphatic, “No."
Connal's aggravation moved toward anger. Damned if she wasn't more beautiful and more stubborn now than she'd been when she was seventeen. Once more he smiled that smile that had charmed any woman he'd ever chosen to pursue, until now. “Not even for old time's sake?"
/> Margaret wasn't moved. “Find someone else to play your game, Connal. I'm not interested."
When he'd come here tonight Connal had expected one of two things—that Margaret would either fall into his arms or rant at him. Either of those things he could have handled. Her indifference left him angry and annoyed and even though he hated to admit it—wounded. Damned if he'd let her know that. “You're right. I should find a younger playmate."
Margaret got the message. “Is that a threat?"
Connal put on his most innocent face. “I don't know what you mean."
Margaret's green eyes narrowed. “Stay away for Felicia, Connal."
Nobody, but nobody gave Connal Cassidy orders. “And if I don't?"
Margaret dropped her head and groaned, “Oh, God.” Her chin came up. “Aren't you ever going to grow up?"
Connal bit down on his anger. His voice dropped to a caressing murmur. “Maggie Darlin', I am a man. You should know that since you were the first woman to have her wicked way with me."
Margaret gasped, “Connal really."
"You took my virginity, Maggie love."
"You are impossible.” Margaret smiled, Connal suspected against her will.
Connal pushed his small advantage. “Will you go out to dinner with me Friday night or shall I seek a younger playmate?"
Margaret grimaced. “All right, I'll have dinner with you.” Then she surprised him by saying, “It would be better if you came to my house."
After giving him the cold shoulder all evening did he dare think that she asking him to her house because she wanted to be alone with him? “Are you sure?"
"I'm positive but don't go getting ideas. I'm asking you to my home because I don't want to be seen with you in public.” Connal's puzzled glance made her add. “Patrick has only been dead nine months."
Connal decided he'd be wise to quit while he was ahead. “What time Friday evening?"
Margaret stood and pushed her chair back. “Dinner is served promptly at seven and don't be late.” She hurried away.
