Kelly nodded and looked earnest. "Because people are more important than an anonymous banker's score card."
"Without question," he said, supportively while Spazz nodded.
Their stout waitress arrived with boxes and the bill.
"I'll pack it away. No worries." Kelly held out her hand to the waitress.
Spazz waved away Kelly's offer to pack his food, saying there wasn't enough to be concerned over. He'd done justice to his meal.
"One moment. Don't go away," Spazz to the waitress, then settled back in his seat with obvious smugness.
A warning sizzled up his spine.
"Your turn," said Spazz and nodded to the bill on the table.
"What? I paid for the bloody plane tickets and the onboard meals."
Spazz offered a grin that was all teeth. "I told you I'd get you back for my busted lip."
The vengeful prick. He'd been paying for the too-exuberant punch for years now. He'd probably be paying for it the rest of his life, if Spazz had anything to say about it.
Joey reached for his wallet with a grimace and a grumble, extracted the charge card and passed it to the waitress with instructions to, "Add on thirty percent for the tip."
The waitress beamed and hurried away with the cards.
Kelly looked up from her task of packing away the uneaten portions of his and her meals. Approval radiated from her in waves. "What a generous tip. That's so kind of you."
Spazz rolled his eyes. "St. Patrick strikes again."
"Well, it is St. Patrick's Day weekend." Kelly tucked the boxes into a brown, compost- friendly paper bag.
So very Portland, he thought. Go Green was the city's mantra. Residents took the recommendation very, very seriously.
"Speaking of that," he continued, "I don't recall a city festival for the holiday before. Is it new?"
"The first time," Kelly answered. "No doubt pushed because it fell on a weekend this year."
"Any excuse to promote the local microbreweries," said Spazz.
"True. It's a Portland thing." Kelly laughed.
The waitress returned with the card and receipt, and Joey signed. As one, they rose from the booth and exited. Outside, the rain had stopped and true night had fallen. They walked back to the office and he contemplated the wet streets, the overcast sky, and the decorative lamps that framed the streets, dressed in festive garlands of green. Portland didn't feel like home anymore, but he'd found something infinitely precious here.
Twice.
Kelly broke the companionable silence.
"Enough about me." She adjusted her backpack straps, then tucked her hands into her jacket pockets. "What about you two? Tell me what you've been up to all these years."
Spazz leveled a thumb in his direction. "My story is far more interesting than his. All he can tell of is life among peat bogs and sheep."
"That can't be true." Kelly's laughter lightened the heavy rain clouds.
"He's ignoring the ball-busting years I spent at UCD." Joey sent a frown past her at Spazz's smug and smirking profile.
"You went to Davis, Joey? In California? But I thought you were in Ireland."
A hint of hurt flittered across her expression. Ah, hell, did she think he'd come back to America and hadn't looked her up? He put that thought to bed with speed.
"I was in Ireland, Kelly. My alma mater is University College of Dublin, where I received multiple degrees in business and finance. Undergraduate as well as graduate." Joey used the American terms for clarity.
"The usual shit for a trust fund baby." Spazz chuckled.
He swung toward Spazz with a snarl. Kelly interrupted their impending argument by laying a hand on his chest.
"Trust fund baby?" she echoed with a shocked, brittle tone. "You're rich?"
His gaze sliced Spazz, who had the grace to look embarrassed for letting his personal secret out of the bag. "My Da, originally. But I made my own wealth."
The information staggered her. Her cheeks, already reddened by the chill wind, darkened with a blush. Yeah, all that time she'd been hating on one-percenters, one of "them" sat in the booth beside her. One of "those" had taken her virginity.
"What the hell was a trust fund baby doing at Mount View High School?" she demanded. "Did your limo driver take a wrong turn?"
He cleared his throat and stabbed Spazz again with his gaze. "Our fathers met and bonded during the conflict in 'Nam. When Mr. Larson wanted to open up his hardware store, my family came over to fund and assist. It seemed unreasonable to send us to different schools."
Her lips firmed into a hard line.
"I see." She clipped out the words. "Must be nice to be able to simply pack up and move whenever, not just out of the neighborhood, but to a different country."
"Be fair, Kelly." Spazz broke in. "It's not Joey's fault he comes from money. Blame his great-great grandfather for finding that diamond mine and selling it for an obscene profit."
Ignoring Spazz, she glared at Joey, but eventually softened.
"No, it's not fair," she admitted. "And it's not fair I'm holding a grudge for something you had no part of." Her eyes searched his and she held out her hand. "Forgive me?"
"Of course," he said and took her hand in his. They shook, but what he really wanted to do was pull her against his body and revel in the curves and scent of his Kelly.
Their hands parted, and she focused on Spazz as they resumed their journey up the street. "Didn't I read you graduated from Portland State?" she asked.
"Undergrad," he answered. "Then I won a George Mitchell Scholarship, which allowed me to do my graduate studies in Ireland."
Still irked, Joey growled. "My da's influence was useful then, aye? Got you to U. Dub."
Hell, yeah," Spazz said, crowing.
"How wonderful," Kelly enthused, all supportive. "You both did graduate work at the same university. It's great you two had each other to share those long nights of graduate studies and test prep."
Spazz coughed, a familiar delaying tactic he'd seen the man use time and time again, both personally and professionally, then carefully navigated the treacherous conversational path.
"Luckily, I remembered Mr. O'Connor after they'd moved back home," he said. "A few phone calls passed between us. Requests and recommendations moved along data lines. Goals and motivations were discussed and finalized. That sort of thing."
A good lead-in, Joey noted. He could work with it.
And so he did, saying, "All that brought him to a place where he could network his way to opening a business with European investors."
"Hell, yeah, I did," said Spazz with another whoop. "I jumped in that with both feet, make no mistake. And here I am, all these years later... a business owner and philanthropist in my hometown."
"A Cinderella story, no doubt about it." Kelly turned to him again. "What's your story, Joey? Other than the sheep and the trust fund, I mean."
Oh shit! Compared to what she'd confessed at dinner, his life was a paradise. Keep it as bland as possible. Don't give her reason to feel minimized.
"I followed in my father's footsteps and went to work as caretaker for a few of his affiliates. In time, I branched out on my own. Startup companies. Hedge funds. The usual."
They came to a stop at the building's first floor garage.
"My car's in here," said Spazz.
"So's mine." Kelly nodded. "They let me park here while I worked the festival."
Spazz punched a code into the wall unit, causing the gate to labor upward with a moan of gears against metal. As it lifted, Joey reflected on an oddity of her language.
Kelly said "they" a lot. It wasn't hard to conclude who "they" were in her life: the monied, the entrenched plutocracy, and the "entitled." However, her use of that pronoun told him much more. It told him she felt abandoned, unconnected and undervalued. That kind of pain went soul deep. He bit the side of his mouth to stifle a bellow.
She'd turned to him and asked, "Where did you park?"
"I'm also
inside." He nodded. "So I'll walk you to your car."
"Oh! Thanks. That's nice of you."
So startled, full of worry, and emotionally minimized. Didn't anyone do anything nice for Kelly any more? Damn this toxic American culture!
The gate whined to a stop. They stepped over the threshold and entered the modified garage, empty but for two cars. Spazz broke away from the group and headed for a sleek sedan preening in the parking slot labeled "Owner." A small, weatherworn four-door squatted inside one of the slots set aside for "Guest."
He and Kelly headed for that one.
"There're only two cars here," she said, frowning and glancing from side to side. "Did you forget where you parked?"
Joey pointed to the sedan. "He drove us here."
"Oh." She blushed. "Of course. What a dumb question."
Joey drank in her appearance like the starving man he was. So gorgeous in the full bloom of womanhood, Kelly caught his eyes with every movement. Her rouged lips acted like a siren's call. He swallowed the drool that pooled in his mouth.
Red-cheeked and wind-tossed, she stirred every cell in his body. Christ on the cross, the years hadn't dimmed his reaction to her. Even now, he was a horny teenager, all uncontrolled boner and raging hormones.
He plunged hands into his front pockets to hide his erection and struggled for a way to extend the reunion. Miracles shouldn't be disregarded with an indifferent shrug, no?
Spazz reached his car. He keyed open the door, shrugged out of his overcoat and climbed inside. The door closed behind him with a soft, solid thump, one hallmark of fine German vehicular engineering. The car started with a rumble of its powerful engine.
Kelly stopped at the dented, rusted hood of her car and giggled. His heart danced. She'd always had that delightful giggle--like a summer rain. Like liquid sunshine. The sound always caused everyone around her to smile, himself included.
"I thought wingmen weren't supposed to abandon the field," she said.
A trap loomed, he could feel it, although he didn't understand the lingo. Its presence dissolved the good feelings brought by her giggle.
"I don't know what you mean," he admitted.
The car lights switched on as Spazz prepared to drive away. How convenient. He could leverage the situation to his gain. Surely Kelly wouldn't abandon him in the garage? He owed Spazz a beer for leaving him behind. Excellent ploy. Why hadn't he come up with it?
Because I'm thinking with my nads.
Kelly's giggle bubbled again. "Sure, you don't, but I'll play. Just know if he leaves, I'll be very uncomfortable."
Busted. He whistled to catch Spazz's attention and held one hand out, fingers spread, in the ages old command to remain in place. The headlights dimmed as Spazz switched them off, leaving the running lights to gleam in the shadowed garage. The engine idled.
"He's not going anywhere, so relax."
"Okay." She moved to the driver's side, unlocked and opened the door, shucked her jacked, then tossed it inside along with her backpack. "Then you can kiss me now."
Fire sizzled along the pathways beneath his skin. Everything in him shifted into overdrive. Even so, an adult man's caution kept his feet rooted to the cement floor.
"What?" he gasped. Did she just say...
Her smile was as brilliant as her red hair.
"Joey, I know that look in your eyes. I know it well." Suddenly, she frowned. "At least, I used to know it well..." Her eyes dropped away, and she bit that full lower lip.
"Sorry," she muttered. "I got lost in the past. Ignore it."
She put one leg inside and was moving to put the rest of her inside. Your chance is here, dumbass. Don't blow it.
"I'm not going to ignore it," he said.
The rough timbre of his voice jerked her attention back to him. She paused, halfway in and halfway out of the car, eyes wide and softened mouth lax with surprise. He rounded the car without realizing he'd taken the first step.
"You're not mistaken about my wants, lass," he grated. "Far and away from mistaken."
He reached Kelly, took her shoulders in his hands and extracted her from the car. He waited only long enough for her to catch her balance as she wobbled. Then he cupped her head and put his mouth to hers.
Time warped. It stopped.
Her mouth moved beneath his, just like he'd dreamed of all of those long, lonely years.
Chapter 6
* * *
Joey's kiss shifted across her mouth like a butterfly. She sighed as the wispy curls of memory blended with the beat of her heart. His fingers tightened in her hair. His mouth firmed against hers. His tongue licked the seam of her lips, coaxed them open, and plundered. She gasped as his tongue delved into her mouth, found and twined with hers, and filled her with memories and promises.
Her own fingers tightened against the rough texture of his sweater. This was no kiss of a teenager in the grip of his first lust, but one freighted by the hungers of a grown man. A beautiful, mind-spinning blend of yesterday and now that shook her reality and threatened the stability of her knees.
He pulled his mouth from hers and dragged it across her cheek to her ear. The waft of his breath against the sensitive skin drew a hard shiver.
"God, how you affect me," he murmured into her hair.
From inside his car, Spazz tapped the horn. Two quick beeps echoed through the garage.
They both jumped and threw glances at the idling car. She guessed they looked as guilty as two kids caught raiding a cookie jar.
"I'm guessing he's tired of waiting and wants to take you home," she said.
Okay, he wasn't going "home," but her point was the same.
"I'd rather ye did so." Joey's thick and rich brogue rolled over her.
She considered his statement for about three seconds. The decision was surprisingly easy to make. "Okay."
He grinned and waved off the waiting car.
Spazz flicked the lights, eased out of the parking slot, and headed for the garage entrance. The brake lights glowed red when he paused and waited for cross traffic to clear before he turned onto the street and throttled away.
The parking gate rattled closed.
Joey's mega-watt smile gleamed in the garage's dim lights. Heat liquefied the chocolate brown of his eyes as his gaze traveled across her face and down her body in a sizzling slide.
"Now where were we?" he murmured.
He crowded her back against the car and pressed his body to hers. Sparks danced across her skin. She squeaked as a cramp twitched her intimate muscles. Her spine rolled as he pushed the hard slide of his erection between her legs, the action bringing the instinctive and undeniable cradling of his hardness in the welcoming softness of her crotch.
"Ah, Kelly..."
He stroked against her, wrapped her in his arms, and slanted his mouth against hers once again. She murmured, whimpered, mewled. He tightened his arms and deepened the kiss. Her awareness tunneled down to small but intense details: the taste of him was a heady mix of dinner and desire; his short hair crisp against her fingers as she tunneled into it; the mountainous span and breathtaking strength of his body; the adoring caress of his hands as they skimmed her body and cradled her head.
The glory of now, the sweet memories of younger years, the undeniable sexual interest of this gorgeous, virile man all blended together in a mix of delight. She arched against him, rejoicing in his strength as he pushed back against her.
Ah, yes, so good.
"Where are your keys?" He rumbled the question against her mouth.
"My keys?" What? "In my pocket." Well, unless they weren't. Weren't they? She grabbed at one back pocket of her jeans. The reassuring murmur of metal-against-metal was her answer. "Why?"
He didn't answer. Instead, he shifted away and put a foot onto the floorboard of the open door. There he toed the control lever, causing the seat to lurch forward with a snap of plastic and a twang of springs.
"Now I can't get in." She giggled.
He tossed her a gr
in, returned his foot to the garage floor, then folded at the waist and reached into the car, one arm extended. A snick sounded when he tugged up the lock peg. He'd unlocked the back door. When he unfolded himself and straightened, he did so with a shove of his elbow that pushed the front door closed.
Good grief!
"What are you doing?" she sputtered. "We need to get in there."
A smug, very masculine smile curved his mouth. He crowded her gently but determinedly toward the trunk. A warning flashed in her head. Serial killer? But no, he didn't conk her unconscious and bundle her into the trunk. Instead, he opened up the unlocked back door with a leer and a dramatic lick of his lips.
"Did you forget, lass?" he asked, teasingly. "We learned long ago that necking is best done in the back seat."
More of her giggles melded with the purr of his chuckle.
He urged her inside with a light push. She complied and was forced to shove folders, papers, and books off the seat. They landed on the floor with a waterfall of complaints. The reality of her vehicle shattered her sensual glow. The squeaky door, the patch of roof lining that dangled, the cracked weather stripping. But the car moved, and to a poor college student that was all that mattered.
The shocks rattled and grumbled as he climbed in behind her and suddenly the car felt three sizes too small. Embarrassed, she swiveled in the seat and saw him stuffing himself into the tiny area.
"Sorry." Her cheeks heated. "I bought it used. It's not in good shape."
"You are," he said, "and that's all I'm interested in right now."
Joey crowded close as he turned to face her and rested one arm on the parcel shelf.
The idea was humorous and sweet, but reality wasn't benevolent.
"We don't fit," she stated.
He disagreed with a shake of his head.
"We'll make it work," was his conclusion.
So saying, he closed the back door and sealed them inside the cozy space, then nothing else existed but them. Joey: large and strong and hungry; she: trembling and excited and unsure of her path. Memories of then juxtaposed over now, and her mind transported her back to the evening she surrendered her virginity to him in another car's back seat.
Ides Of March Page 4
