Intoxicated

by Jeana E. Mann

  “Oh my God! You are infuriating!” With her self-control ruined, she grabbed a pillow from the bed and proceeded to beat him about the head and neck until feathers flew, putting all of her frustration into flogging him. He raised his hands in a feeble attempt to protect himself, laughing so hard that his face turned bright red beneath his tanned skin.

  “Damn, but you’re hot when you’re mad,” he said. “Remind me to make you mad more often.” She rewarded him by swatting him with the pillow again, raining blows over his face and shoulders until her arm ached. Exhausted and exasperated, but feeling somewhat vindicated, she stopped to catch her breath.

  “Come here. I want to kiss you so bad right now.” The low timber of his voice made her toes curl. He crooked a finger at her and beckoned in a seductive come hither motion.

  Deep inside that sexy man was an incorrigible little boy, she realized. She raised the pillow to swat him again, but he caught her by the forearm and gave it a tug. She bounced onto the mattress with a squeak of surprise. A glimpse at his face told her that he was enjoying this way too much. With a speed that surprised even her, she rolled over and landed on top of him, pinning his arms down by the wrists.

  “Ha! Now I’ve got you,” she exclaimed in triumph. His face was red from laughing and his dimples deeper than ever. They were both breathing hard. He squirmed beneath her, testing her grip. She scrambled up into a sitting position, straddling his waist, and tightened her thighs around him. “Ha!” she said again.

  Suddenly he bucked and before she could draw her next breath he rolled her beneath him and stretched over the top of her, holding her captive.

  “If you’ve got me, it’s only because I let you, baby girl,” he said in a low and dangerous voice. He lifted his head to kiss her. She’d forgotten how soft his lips were. The taste of whiskey burned her tongue; she almost felt intoxicated from the contact.

  “How much have you had to drink anyway?”

  “Dunno,” he replied. “Lost count. Kitty…Kathy…Katie cut me off.” He snorted. “She cut me off. Can you believe it?”

  Ally made a mental note to thank Kitty…Kathy…Katie the next time she visited the pub.

  “Let me up, Jack.” She wriggled beneath him. “I’m serious. My dad hates it when I’m not ready.”

  With a melodramatic sigh, he rolled away from her. “Fine,” he pouted.

  She finished with hair and makeup, just a sweep of blush and clear lip gloss, and proceeded to put on her outfit. Casting a wary glance in his direction, she hesitated.

  “It’s not like I haven’t seen it before,” he said as if reading her mind. She scowled and was rewarded with another one of those rare devastating smiles. “You aren’t wearing that, are you?” He nodded at the clothes draped over the end of her bed.

  “Why? What’s wrong with it?” She had chosen a sleeveless black shell and dark gray slacks. She had put a lot thought into that outfit, searching for the perfect mix of casual and sexy, hoping to impress her father with her conservative good taste. Jack shook his head in disapproval.

  “Great if you want to look like an Amish schoolteacher,” he answered. “What about that green dress you wore to the bar a while back?”

  “You remember that?” For a minute, she forgot to be mad at him, stunned that a man – any man – could recall such a thing. Brian hadn’t noticed when she cut her hair during a personal mini-crisis, let alone her wardrobe on any given day.

  “Sure. Your tits looked amazing. I wanted to rip it off of you – with my teeth.”

  “I spilled a drink on it,” she said. “Besides, we’re only going to dinner.”

  He frowned, deep in thought, then leaped from the bed and began going through her closet. He threw a pair of jeans at her, the ones with bling on the pockets. “I bet your ass looks amazing in these,” he said before she could interrupt him. “Now for the top.” He rifled through the hangers before pulling out a simple short-sleeved white blouse. She raised an eyebrow at him and he shrugged.

  “I’ve got six sisters,” he said as if that explained everything.

  “Can you turn around?” She contemplated dressing in the closet but there really wasn’t room between all of the purses and shoes.

  “No,” he replied. His eyes brightened with mischief. “I’ll help you get dressed.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” As usual he ignored her and rummaged through her lingerie drawer for a pair of pink silk panties. “You’re going to fall down and break something.”

  “Hold onto your towel and step in,” he commanded. He knelt down in front of her, spreading the panties with his fingers.

  The idea of being dressed by Jack was so wholly novel and exciting that she caved. Besides, she had to admit that he was the most fun she’d had in months. Gripping the knot of her towel with one hand, she placed the other on Jack’s broad shoulder for balance and stepped into the panties. His fingers skimmed over calves, thighs, and hips as he pulled the panties up, smoothing the lace around the waistband. He did the same thing with her jeans. She stood breathless as he buttoned up the fly, the tips of his fingers brushing her panties.

  “Turn around and drop your towel,” he ordered. She turned slowly around and let the towel fall to her feet. He threaded her arms through her bra straps, fitted the cups to her breasts, his hands lingering a few seconds longer than necessary before he hooked the closure in the front. Her shirt followed. She watched with bowed head as he buttoned up the front, leaving the bottom few buttons open to expose her navel.

  Being dressed by Jack had to be the most erotic thing ever. Her breath came hard and fast as she cursed her raging hormones. Jack stepped back to admire his work.

  “Fuck,” he breathed.

  Unaccustomed to such open displays of admiration, she blushed and turned to the mirror. The most Brian ever did was give her a pat on the shoulder. In fact, he had never said that she looked nice or noticed the way that she wore her hair. She always chalked it up to male apathy, but perhaps she was wrong. Jack came to stand behind her and watched their reflection in the mirror. Bending down, he kissed the fluttering pulse in her neck and slid his hands into the waistband of her jeans. She watched his reflection in the mirror as his fingers skimmed along the lace of her panties. His eyes, dark as midnight, glanced up to meet hers in the mirror. The sight of his dark head next to her fair one inspired a growing dampness between her thighs. A groan escaped her lips as he spread his fingers against her pelvis and pressed her hips back against his erection. She tried to look away but couldn’t, held captive under the spell of his black gaze. When his lips found her mouth, her fingers slid up into his hair, tangling in the silky locks as his tongue played with hers.

  The doorbell rang again. She jumped as if stung.

  “Shit, shit, shit! You’ve got to hide,” she hissed. She yanked Jack’s hands from her pants and pushed him towards the back of the bedroom as if intending to hide a towering hunk of man candy in her closet.

  “What are you? Twelve? Why do you keep doing that?” Jack laughed, his deep voice echoing through the room. “Do you want me to jump out the window or something?”

  “I don’t care what you do, just get out of sight. He can’t see you drunk like this.” She gave him a final shove and warning glare. He toppled back onto the bed.

  “Mind if I stay here and wait for you? We need to talk about a few things.” The furrow between his brows deepened and a quick stab of anxiety shot through Ally. The doorbell rang again. She’d have to worry about whatever Jack had to say when she got back.

  “Alright, but stay out of sight. Okay?” She meant to drop a quick kiss on his forehead, but he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her forward, resting his cheek against her belly. She liked drunken Jack. He could be so sweet when he wasn’t trying to be the tough guy. The thick glossy locks slid through her fingers as she ruffled his hair. “I won’t be gone long.”

  “Promise?” His voice was muffled in the fabric of her shirt, but she felt the
heat of his breath on her belly. It sent tingles of excitement all the way to her toes.

  ***

  Heads turned as Ally and her father followed the maître’d to their table. Female heads. Ally tried not to notice; the idea that her father was hot kind of creeped her out. When she was a kid, women were always bringing over casseroles and pies to the poor divorced father raising his daughter all alone as a neighborly gesture. As an adult, she knew it was because her father had the same charisma that Jack possessed. Michael Taylor was tall and blond and still able to charm the ladies from the appreciative glances of the women and the jealous glares of their husbands. Construction work kept him fit and tanned. He moved with confidence to pull out Ally’s chair then took a seat at the table across from her.

  “So you’ve got a new boyfriend.” Mike launched into his interrogation without preamble.

  “How could you possibly know that?” The man had uncanny resources when it came to her private life. He might not take an active role in her life, but he certainly kept tabs on her.

  “I have my sources,” he said with an enigmatic gleam in his eye. “Besides, there were giant cowboy boots in your foyer and a pickup truck parked at the end of your driveway that had boyfriend written all over it. Why didn’t you introduce us?”

  “We aren’t to the meet-the-parents stage yet, and he…uhm…wasn’t feeling well,” she said which was only a partial lie. “He’s a bartender. And no he isn’t rich or educated or anything like that.” Might as well get that out of the way while they were in a public place. He’d be less likely to cause a scene.

  “I hope you got someone with a backbone.” Mike said. “What you need is a straight up, no-nonsense kind of guy. Won’t put up with your bullshit. Not like Brian.”

  “Daddy! I thought you liked Brian.”

  “Brian’s an ass. Never liked him. Thinks old money and status are everything. Give me a good old-fashioned hard-working bartender over a kiss-ass ad exec any day.” Mike took a piece of bread, spread a thick layer of butter over it, and handed it to her. “You know I did some bartending back in the day, before I met your mom. Lots of long hours and sore feet from what I remember.”

  “He’s a good guy, I think,” she said, flushing at the thought of Jack waiting on her bed for her return.

  “Not much money in it, though. You need to find someone with his own business, that can afford those ridiculous shoes you wear, and take care of you.”

  “I don’t need anyone to take care of me.” The irritation in her voice made her father’s brows draw sharply together. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve been taking care of myself for years and I’m sure I can get by for another twenty-five years without your or anyone else’s help.”

  “What’s your bartender have to say about that?”

  “It has nothing to do with Jack.”

  Mike raised a finger to the waiter and ordered a glass of Scotch for himself and an iced tea for Ally. “You tell him about your mother yet?”

  “No!” Ally’s eyes widened in horror. If things went well, Jack would never know about her mother. “He doesn’t need to know about her. There’s nothing to tell.”

  “She’s back, you know. Back in town.”

  “I know,” Ally said, eyes fixed on her plate. “She stopped by my office the other day.”

  “Says she’s been getting help and she’s on a new medication for the bipolar disorder. She’s been sober for almost a month.” A second waitress appeared to fill their water glasses and flirt with Mike. He smiled up at her, radiating his special brand of charm that brought a nervous blush to the girl’s face.

  “She made a huge scene and had to be escorted out. That doesn’t sound like sober to me.”

  “Really? Well, that’s not good.” Mike frowned into his Scotch. “Doesn’t surprise me, I guess. When I saw her, she had her shit together. Looked better than I’ve seen her look in twenty years.”

  “Yeah, well, when she’s got a year under her belt, maybe I’ll believe it then,” Ally said, stirring her iced tea with vehemence. “She’s always clean and sober until she’s not. You know that as well as I do. Why should this time be any different?”

  “I don’t know. Seems committed to it this time.” Mike kept his sharp green eyes trained on her. “She said she’s been trying to get in touch with you but you haven’t called her back. What’s up with that?”

  “I don’t have anything to say to her.” Ally pushed back from the table, her appetite suddenly gone. “She could’ve gotten me fired.”

  “She’s your mother, Ally. The only one you’ve got.” He reached across the table and covered her hand with his big calloused paw. The unusual contact made her uncomfortable. She could only remember a handful of times in her entire life that he’d ever touched her. “I’m not going to nag you about it. Just give it some thought, would you?”

  “She’s the one who left us, Dad. I don’t feel like I owe her anything. How can you forgive her for what she did to you – to us?”

  Mike squeezed her hand again. “I can forgive her because it was a long time ago. She did those things because of her illness and because she was mad at me, not because she didn’t love you. You’ve got to let go of all that anger or it will poison everything you do.” He let go of her hand and took another drink of his scotch. “

  “Fine. I’ll think about it, but I’m not making any promises.” Ally shook her napkin into her lap and bit her bottom lip.

  “That’s all I’m asking.” Mike settled back into his chair and clasped his hands in front of him. “Now, how’s your job going? You making real money yet?” When her face fell, he pressed his lips into a tight line. “I don’t know why you stay there. You should be working for me, learning to run the company. It’ll be yours someday, you know.”

  It was only a matter of time until he began the routine denigration of her career choice, but she had naively thought they might make it through the main course before he started in on her. In Mike’s opinion, she should be at his side, riding on his coattails, learning the business of commercial construction from the inside out. When she’d been recruited by Alessandro Reyes, straight from college, her father had been very vocal in his disapproval and predicted her imminent failure.

  “We’ve been over this a million times. I want to be on my own for awhile. And I’ve got a good job now. It just doesn’t pay a lot yet. Most people would kill for a chance to work at Reyes Corp.” With careful deliberation, she set down her knife and fork and chose her next words carefully. “Success isn’t measured by how much money you make.”

  “Who the hell told you that?”

  “You did. The first time you filed bankruptcy. That’s one of the reasons I chose to work for Alessandro. The experience I’ll get is invaluable.”

  “You can get experience at my company.” Mike slammed his hand on the table, making the water glasses slosh and the plates jump. Thankfully, a family with several noisy children had taken the table next to them and no one noticed her father’s escalating irritation.

  “I’m not coming to work for you.” It took all of her self-control to keep her voice even but she did it. “You can either accept it or not. It’s my life and my decision.”

  They glared at each other over the spray of daisies in the center of the table. She met his stare with equal intensity, refusing to blink. After a long moment, her father’s handsome face cracked into a reluctant grin.

  “So damned stubborn,” he muttered as he took a long drink of his Scotch. “Like talking to a stone wall. You see all these gray hairs on my head? You put every one of them there.”

  Two hours later, Mike pulled his extended cab pickup into Ally’s driveway and shut off the engine as if he expected her to invite him in. She stalled, hoping that he’d take the hint, but he hopped out of the truck and came around to her side to help her out.

  “You don’t have to come in if you’re in a hurry, Daddy,” she said, hoping that she didn’t sound too obvious. “I know you’ve g
ot a busy schedule.”

  “Don’t give me that crap,” he said and took her house keys from her hand. “There are a few other things I want to discuss with you and I want to meet this guy of yours.” Mike pushed open the front door.

  Jack met them in the foyer. Freshly showered and clean shaven, he smelled of her raspberry shower gel. Had he used her razor? The idea of her delicate pink razor in Jack’s big hand brought a blush to her cheeks. He must have had clean clothes stashed in his truck because he wore a different shirt and jeans. The traces of inebriation had either worn off or he hid them well; his eyes were sharp and clear. She breathed a sigh of relief.

  “You must be Ally’s dad. I’m her boyfriend, Jack Jameson.” Her boyfriend? Even though her heart thrilled at his declaration, she held her breath as Jack extended a hand to her father. They stood toe to toe in the foyer, eyeing each other like dogs from rival packs. Then they shook hands with much more force than necessary. Jack took a deep breath which seemed to swell his chest and increase his size by ten percent. Her father, who matched Jack in size and build, was undaunted. She shot a pleading look at Jack, willing him to behave. The now familiar glint of mischief twinkled in his eyes.

  “Mike Taylor.” Her father released Jack’s hand and took a step back. Ally let out her breath with a whoosh. “So you must be the bartender.”

  “Actually, I’m a co-owner of Jameson’s Pub and Felony,” Jack replied and winked at Ally as her mouth dropped open. “I was just getting ready to have a cup of coffee. Would you like some?”

  “No!” Ally interjected. “I mean…Dad’s pretty busy…”

  “Nonsense,” Mike said with a wave of his hand. “I’ve got a few minutes before I need to take off. And make it a Scotch neat, would you? You’ve got Scotch for your old man, don’t you, Ally?”

  Ally followed Jack toward the kitchen. He seemed to know his way around pretty well considering that he’d never been to her house before tonight. She hated to think about what he’d been doing while she was gone.