House Calls: Callaghan Brothers, Book 3

by Zanders, Abbie

  “Because you are one gorgeous, sexy man,” she said, pressing her palms against his chest, flexing her fingers just slightly like a cat curling her claws. “But by candlelight, you are a god.”

  Michael felt the familiar warmth spread through him. Jesus, his toes actually tingled. He groaned. “You are a wicked woman, Maggie Flynn,” he lamented. “I have half a mind to carry you back in there and –“

  * * *

  Maggie leaned into him and pressed her lips to his, effectively putting an end to his description of exactly what he was going to do, and it was a good thing, too. Over the last few days Maggie discovered just how explicit and descriptive the good doctor could be.

  “I think your brothers are here.” Michael cursed under his breath in Irish. Maggie wasn’t quite sure what he said, but she’d heard her grandfather utter something similar enough times to get the gist.

  Through the frosted window, they watched as the powerful H2 pushed through the snow, the V-shaped plow mounted in the front making a clean path down the long lane to the house. Maggie heard the earsplitting thump of bass well before they drew close. Michael shook his head, but smiled.

  Michael identified each one as they became visible. Ian was the first to pop out, followed by Kieran, Sean, Shane, Jake, and Kane. Dressed in black coveralls from head to toe, they looked more like a black ops team from Call of Duty than a bunch of brothers heading for a tux fitting. Maggie said so jokingly to Michael, but he barely cracked a smile. When his eyes met hers, the intensity shocked her.

  “That is the last time you drive the Hummer,” Sean was saying vehemently, clutching his stomach as they moved en masse toward the house, but even Maggie could see that he was hamming it up.

  “True that,” his twin, Shane agreed.

  Kieran roared with laughter, a smile on his boyish face so bright it would have been blinding had the snow not been so gleamingly white. The three others – who look slightly older and mature – just shook their heads. It was clear to see the blizzard had been nothing but an excuse for them to get out their big toys and have some fun.

  “Mick!” The shout was accompanied by an insistent pounding on the front door. “Come out, come out wherever you are!” Another round of laughter reached them inside. George, coaxed from his doggie bed in curiosity, now ducked his head behind the couch.

  Michael opened the door with a look of complete martyrdom. “Jesus, grow up, will you?”

  It only made them grin wider. Maggie shrank back a little. The closer they got to the door, the more apparent the size of them became. Grinning boys in the bodies of massive men, all with the trademark jet black Callaghan hair and blue eyes. She wondered absently if her old porch could possibly withstand the weight of them all without collapsing.

  “Come on, Mick. Invite us in. Where is she?”

  “Yeah, we want to meet her.”

  “Fuck off.” He slammed the door in their faces and looked at Maggie apologetically, whose expression must have been somewhere between amused and terrified. “Sorry about this. I didn’t know they were all coming.”

  “They’re... um ...” Words failed her. Big, loud, gorgeous, forces of nature – those might have scratched the surface of her initial impressions. They hadn’t seemed quite so – intense – when they were sitting down and behaving themselves in the Pub (of course, the several shots she’d had that night in the midst of her performance anxiety probably skewed her perception a wee bit).

  “Yeah, that pretty much sums it up.” He leaned down and gave her a tender kiss that had the blood surging through her veins. How did he do that? “I’ll call you, okay?”

  “Okay.” The word came out sounding breathy, making him smile as a familiar heat filled his eyes. She loved that look, and wished fervently he could stick around to see it through.

  Maggie rested her back against the door as it closed behind him, listening to the good-natured ribbing Michael was taking, her cheeks blushing on his behalf. When she heard the Hummer start up again, she slid down to the floor and gave George a reassuring rub along the back of his neck.

  The sudden knock startled her so much she unintentionally pulled George’s ear, making him yelp. She rose slowly and opened the door a crack. A glance up the driveway revealed Michael being physically held back by five of his brothers. One striking blue eye of the sixth was looking through the small opening at her now.

  This one had eyes just like Michael, as well as the same lopsided grin. He held out a small envelope, made even smaller by the sheer size of the man who wielded it. Dear Lord, she wondered, were they all this big?

  She glanced at the envelope, then at the man (whom she believed to be the groom-to-be, Ian), whose grin only widened. “Here,” he said, his eyes twinkling with amusement and curiosity. “I’m under orders to deliver this personally.”

  He extended the envelope, pushing it at her through the door. When she finally took it, his grin widened and he winked. “Great cookies, by the way.” Then he turned around and jogged back to the vehicle.

  Maggie watched as Michael was unceremoniously tossed into the back of the Hummer and they sped off. Only then did she consider what was in her hand.

  It was a small envelope with a satiny feel and intricate embossing of pearl and gold. With shaking fingers, she lifted the flap and pulled out a small card with a matching design.

  You are cordially invited

  to attend the wedding of

  Ian Patrick Callaghan

  and

  Alexis Cassandra Kattapoulos

  to be held

  Saturday, the 27th of February

  St. Patrick’s Roman Catholic Church

  1:00pm

  Reception immediately following,

  Celtic Goddess, Grand Ballroom

  Maggie’s jaw dropped as she re-read the contents several times.

  Well, damn.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “I can’t.”

  Maggie lay beside Michael, her back to his front, in front of the blazing fire. Michael had brought food, and flowers, and wine, professing his intent to spend a nice, romantic evening together before climbing into bed. But two days without seeing or touching each other had taken its toll. She had the door open for him before he even got out of his truck. A few steps into the house and she was in his arms, all soft and yielding, and everything else was forgotten.

  “Why not?” Michael trailed light, moist kisses along her shoulder while one hand stroked her belly possessively.

  “How many reasons do you want?” She placed her hand over his, relishing his touch, every skillful stroke that soothed and excited her at the same time. When Michael touched her, her body’s response was immediate, arching shamelessly for more. Her insides still ached slightly from his thorough and branding lovemaking, but it was a good ache, made all that much sweeter by the feeling of fullness that came from him emptying deep within her. She never would have imagined just how good that could feel, but now she craved it.

  “I’m a reasonable man. One good one should do it.”

  She took a deep breath. “Well, for starters, I don’t even know them.”

  “You’ve met Ian twice.”

  “Technically, I haven’t.” Erotically stripping before him at a bachelor party and accepting an envelope through a crack in the door weren’t exactly formal introductions.

  “It doesn’t matter. You would be with me, and I know them quite well, so that doesn’t qualify as a good enough reason.” He gave her a long, slow lick from her collarbone to her neck that sent delicious shivers through her entire body. When he did that it was hard to imagine why being with him anywhere, anytime, for any reason would not be a good thing.

  “Besides,” he added, the timbre of his voice making her sex ache and throb, “they’re dying to meet you. I’d just as soon rather it be all at once, when they’re all dressed up, in public, and behaving themselves.”

  Given the brief look into his family – his brothers at least – she could understand his
point. Not that it did much to alleviate the anxiety she felt at the prospect.

  “But Michael, I danced at his bachelor party.” Which, as she saw it, was a perfectly good reason the bride would not want her there.

  He laughed when she explained this, causing parts of his body to move against hers. Dear Lord the man was hardening again. Either he was naturally virile or he really, really liked her. She hoped it was the latter, because the feel of his substantial erection pressing against her was making her feel needy all over again. Since when had she become such a wanton? She’d managed thirty years of abstinence, now she found it hard to go thirty minutes without him inside her.

  “Clearly you do not understand my family. That only elevates you in their eyes,” he chuckled. His teeth raked the bottom of her ear while his hand skimmed the underside of her breast. “As a matter of fact, I heard Lexi say that Ian’s, uh, performance – after your little dance has her considering signing up for belly dancing lessons. If anything, I bet she’d thank you and ask you to teach her some moves.”

  Maggie sincerely doubted that. The real question was, could she face them? Even now her cheeks flamed at the thought of the seductive dance she had done. Granted, she hadn’t stripped entirely, and the men had been absolute gentlemen, really, but still.

  She snuggled her backside against him, shamelessly enticing him. He groaned, grasping her hip and pulling her closer.

  “I have nothing to wear.”

  He nudged her upper thigh with his knee and slid into her smoothly from behind. They moaned simultaneously as he stretched her almost painfully. Ah, infinitely better. “So we’ll go shopping.”

  With the arm that was beneath her, he fondled her breasts, alternating gentle, kneading squeezes and little pinches of her tight, hard nipples. The other was draped over her hips, this thumb and fingers swirling skillfully, though with maddening slowness, over the outside of her sex. The result was a flood of sensation across her entire body that threatened to burn her to ash. She moved with him, against him, into him, desperately needing more.

  * * *

  Goddamn the woman was hot, driving him crazy as no one else ever had. The first time had been hot and heavy, no time for finesse. This time he wanted to take it slow, make it last, but she was making it damn hard. He forced himself to take long, slow strokes. Within minutes Maggie was panting, crying his name in those breathless, pleading, husky whispers and he couldn’t help himself. His thrusts became harder, faster; his fingers moved more quickly. When she came, she did so twice as hard as the first time, tightening around him in rolling spasms that nearly had his eyes rolling back in his head, and, impossibly, he found himself releasing inside her once again.

  For a long while there was only the sound of their heavy breathing mingling with the crackle of the fire as they drifted back to earth together. It was Michael who spoke first.

  “I really want you there, Maggie,” he said quietly. He’d been thinking about it since he first realized what Ian had handed her. It was the perfect opportunity to introduce her properly to his family, and that was best done sooner than later, because he already knew that she was someone very special. To spend the evening in her company, talking, laughing, dancing, celebrating, was infinitely preferable to counting the minutes until he could make a respectable exit to be with her again.

  Still, it was a lot to ask for a “first date”. He wished he could have taken her to dinner a few times, maybe a few movies first, but sometimes you just had to work with what you had.

  His fingers twitched on her hip. “But if going would really make you uncomfortable, I understand.”

  “Why?” she asked.

  “Well, I know my family can be a little overwhelming, and given the way you feel it might be better to introduce you to them in small doses –“

  “No,” she interrupted. “Why do you really want me there?”

  Michael was stunned. She didn’t know? Reluctantly he withdrew from her, only so he could turn her around and look into her face. Christ, he thought, looking into her eyes. She really didn’t know. He saw hope and fear and uncertainty and genuine puzzlement.

  “Because I am falling hopelessly, desperately in love with you, Maggie Flynn.”

  Her eyes widened, her lips parted. “You are?”

  “Yes,” he confirmed, stroking her cheek with his hand. He had hoped she was feeling the same way. It was hard to believe otherwise, given the way things were between them. The thought of her smiling at anyone else the way she smiled at him ... it was just wrong. And thinking of her doing any of the other things they did with someone else? Well, that was just unthinkable, period.

  “Okay.”

  “Okay what?”

  “Okay I’ll go.”

  Michael’s heart swelled. She hadn’t returned his declaration, said she loved him in return, but she wasn’t running, either. And she was agreeing to go to the wedding with him. Michael was a patient man. For the right woman – for Maggie – he could wait for the words that he believed were inevitable. When they finally came, they would mean that much more.

  But now there were more pressing concerns as the sound of Maggie’s stomach growling had him grinning. “Hungry?”

  She smiled shyly. “A little.”

  Michael got up, pulling on his jeans. “I brought dinner – hang on. It’s probably cold, but...”

  He disappeared into the foyer and returned with two huge bags. Maggie was already pulling on that old flannel shirt. He smiled when he realized it was the same one he’d put on her that first night. It was just one more indication of how she felt about him.

  “I think we’re going to want to heat this up,” he said, his eyes sparkling as he looked at her. Her hair was messed (his doing), her skin was flushed (he took credit for that as well), and she practically glowed with the look of a woman well sated (obviously). “But we can come back in here for dessert.”

  Oh yeah, he knew exactly what he was going to do with the strawberries, chocolate, and whipped cream he’d brought along.

  For the first time, Michael noticed Maggie was favoring her right leg. Not that he’d really had much of a chance to notice earlier. Two feet inside the door he’d swept her into his arms and carried her into the living room.

  “Maggie, is your ankle bothering you again?”

  She deliberately averted her eyes, reaching into the cupboard for plates. “No, not really.”

  “Maggie.”

  “I’m fine.” He recognized the tone, and it chilled his blood. That familiar unease washed over him again, the one that told him, without a doubt, she was hiding something.

  “Maggie.” He put the food down on the table, before his hands took her gently around the upper arms and he guided her onto the nearest chair. She sighed heavily in resignation, and a feeling of apprehension came over him.

  A flesh-colored bandage covered several inches along the side of her shin, midway between her ankle and knee. He hadn’t paid much attention to it before; he’d just assumed she’d wrapped her sore ankle, and other parts of her had commanded most of his attention. But now that he looked closer, the wrap wasn’t down around her ankle, it was higher than that.

  “What happened?” he asked, his fingers automatically reaching for the edge of the bandage.

  “It’s nothing,” she said, attempting to swing her leg under the table. Michael’s grip was gentle but firm, holding her leg in place between his knees. He shot her a look that suggested she not even try. Another sigh.

  Michael pulled away the bandage and found an ugly gash several inches in length surrounded by swollen, bruised flesh. “Jesus, Maggie! What did you do?” Instead of waiting for an answer, he was on his feet, retrieving the first aid kit he’d seen in her kitchen.

  Maggie hissed as he poured antiseptic over the wound. “I did all that already,” she bit out through clenched teeth.

  Michael’s face was hard. “What. Did. You. Do?!”

  “Nothing, it was just a little accident, that’s a
ll.”

  His heart pounded in his chest, but his well-trained hands were steady, moving with rote, practiced movements. It was a good thing, because he found that he wasn’t thinking all that clearly at that moment.

  “Maggie.”

  “I was chopping wood, aimed wrong, glancing blow, end of story. I’m fine.”

  “Jesus Christ, Maggie! You cut yourself with an ax?” His voice was sharp, making her flinch. “What the hell were you thinking? And why in God’s name didn’t you say anything?”

  “Stop yelling at me!” she said, her tone wounded, and Michael felt a slight pang of regret, but not enough to quell the uneasiness within him. He’d treated hundreds of patients with injuries much more serious than this without batting an eye, but this was Maggie.

  “I was thinking that with the power out for several days I needed to split a few more logs. And in case you’ve forgotten, I’ve been a bit occupied since you got here.”

  Michael took a deep breath, praying for patience. He wasn’t sure who he was more upset with – Maggie, for doing something that got herself hurt and not telling him, or himself, for not checking the wood supply before he left or noticing that she was wounded because he was too busy slaking his lust on her.

  His jaw was clenched so tightly she must have heard his teeth grinding, but he refrained from making any further comment while he redressed the wound. He felt Maggie’s fingers softly threading in his hair. It soothed him. Slightly.

  “Michael,” she said softly, “I’m alright.”

  The hell she was. At least she’d had the good sense to clean it out well. It looked as though she had applied some kind of poultice as well. He would have to remember to ask her about that later when he could think logically again.

  “Get dressed. We’re going to the hospital. You need stitches. Definitely a tetanus shot. Maybe an X-ray because it looks like you might have clipped the bone.”

  Her hand stilled in his hair and he felt her tense. It was as if a field of static electricity sudden powered up around her as she pulled away from him. “No.”