Wild Irish (Book 1 of the Weldon Brothers Series)

by Saints, Jennifer

  “The reporters shouldn’t be much of a problem from now on,” Jesse said. “I had my company’s lawyers call and threaten every gossip publication in the south with a lawsuit.”

  “Thanks. I can’t imagine what life is like for the people who have to deal with the press’s intrusion more often than I do. Usually, my name only shows up in the paper in association with fundraising events and never front page news.”

  Jesse winced, wishing he hadn’t brought up the newspaper subject again. They rode in silence for a little longer and he searched for another subject. “Lucy Taylor,” he said, recalling what his mother had told him earlier about Alexi involvement with a little girl at the hospital. “That’s the little girl you want to go see, right?”

  “How did you know?”

  He shrugged. “My mother mentioned how good you were to Lucy. But I don’t recall what the little girl’s problem was.”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “I’ve got time.”

  He drove as Alexi delved into Lucy’s story. “Her health is rapidly fading. She has to have a kidney transplant soon.”

  Jesse sat quiet, thinking. For a little girl to have been through so much pulled at him. He’d often thought as he’d traveled around the world that the children facing adversity everyday were the real heroes in life. “She’s on donor lists?”

  “Yes.”

  Something else was bothering him about Lucy’s story. “You’ve only spoken of her mother. Where’s her father?”

  “Karin doesn’t talk about Kevin Taylor much. I only know he left when Lucy was just a baby.”

  “Men who abandon kids need to be shot.” He hadn’t realized he’d spoken so vehemently until he saw Alexi jump. “Sorry.”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head. “I agree, but I might add women too. Mothers who abandon their kids are just as bad.”

  “Then we agree. I’d like to meet Lucy. Would you mind?”

  From her expression, you’d have thought he’d said he was from Mars. “No, Lucy loves visitors.”

  “Good. Maybe we can stop by the gift shop and get her some balloons. All kids love balloons.”

  “She’d love that. Can we go see her first then? The hospital is on the way to the hotel.” Alexi’s voice sounded strained, but she turned before he could read her eyes. Still, he realized that Lucy was more than just a charitable project.

  “Balloons for kids, coming right up.”

  At Memorial Hospital’s gift shop, Jesse picked out the largest bouquet of red balloons they made. Getting them on the elevator required some unique maneuvering, but he pulled it off without a single casualty. Faces turned their way, and smiles brightened as they walked through the halls. When they entered into Lucy’s room, the look on her tear stained face was worth a million dollars. Lucy’s angel blue eyes went from tears to smiles. When Jesse looked at Alexi to see if she’d noticed Lucy’s reaction, his breath caught. Alexi didn’t just care about Lucy, she loved the girl and all of that love was shining in Alexi’s eyes. God’s own angel. That’s what his mother had called her, wasn’t it?

  Turn around and walk out Weldon. You have no right to be in the company of angels. Jesse kept his feet moving as he crossed to Lucy and handed her the bumbling mass of bright balloons. Then he quickly sat in a chair before his body could react to his brain’s demand to get the hell out of Dodge before high noon.

  Alexi’s heart wrenched to realize Lucy had been crying. She gave the little girl a big hug and helped her attach the bouquet of balloons to the bed. Jesse had picked the perfect thing to bring Lucy. “Don’t you know you’re too pretty to have tears in your eyes, Lucy girl. What’s wrong?”

  “Missy went to a different hospital today. She’s going to have another surgery and she was scared. I sent Angela with Missy so she wouldn’t be alone and now I miss Missy and my doll. I thought I was going to be okay, but… oh Miss Alexi, is Missy going to die?”

  “Lucy girl.” Alexi sat on the bed and pulled the little girl into a hug, trying not to cry. “I bet you told Angela to take very special care of Missy, didn’t you?”

  “Yes.” Lucy’s lips trembled.

  “And I bet you prayed for Missy, too.”

  “I did.”

  “Then I’ll pray for her too and we’ll both have to trust that things will come out right. I know Missy will do all that she can to get better just to bring Angela back to you.”

  Lucy smiled then. “That’s right. Missy will get better faster because of Angela. I did the right thing, didn’t I?”

  “You sure did. I’m proud of you.” Alexi brushed Lucy’s fine hair back from her brow and kissed her forehead.

  Jesse cleared his throat, reminding her that he was there. She’d almost forgotten he was with her. “I’d be honored to be introduced to so brave a girl.”

  Lucy giggled.

  “Lucy this is my friend, Jesse. He’s the one who thought to bring you all of these wonderful balloons. Jesse, meet Lucy, my very special friend.”

  Jesse stood, took Lucy’s hand, bowing like a gentleman. “Anyone who is a special friend of Alexi’s must be super.”

  Lucy blushed. “Thank you for the balloons, Mr. Jesse. They’re my favorite.” She brushed her hand along the ribbons anchoring the balloons, causing them to shift and bump together. “See, I can make them dance even when I can’t.”

  Jesse laughed. “They’re dancing because you’re already dancing in your heart and they want to dance with you.”

  A warm feeling took root inside of Alexi as she watched Jesse’s ease into talking to Lucy. Before she realized it they’d been with Lucy for over an hour. Lucy yawned just as her nurse brought in a supper tray. “Jesse and I had better go and let you get some rest. I’ll be back tomorrow, okay?”

  “Okay. My mommy’s going to come stay with me tonight, and if I start to miss Angela too much, I’ll hug my pillow tight.”

  “Hug your pillow tight and make your balloons dance some more. I’m sure Missy will be back soon.” Alexi hugged Lucy.

  “Miss Lexi, how come you didn’t get married to Roger?”

  “I found out that it wasn’t the right thing to do.”

  Lucy immediately looked at Jesse and Alexi could see that Lucy thought that Jesse was the reason she didn’t marry Roger. Alexi opened her mouth to say that Jesse wasn’t the reason she didn’t marry Roger, when a grain of hard truth rubbed a raw nerve. Jesse had been on her mind, potently in her mind, before her wedding. Though her actions concerning Roger’s betrayal would have been the same no matter what, she realized that even before the pictures had arrived, her doubts about marrying Roger had grown too large. She wouldn’t have married Roger anyway, and that reason had everything to do with Jesse.

  “It was a pleasure to meet you, Lucy.” Jesse held out his hand to Lucy’s; his warmth touched Alexi’s heart.

  Lucy took Jesse’s hand. “Thank you, Mr. Jesse. Can I tell you a secret?”

  “Sure.” Jesse leaned close to Lucy and she whispered in his ear. The questioning glance Jesse gave Alexi made her wonder what was said.

  She waited until they pulled out of the hospital parking lot to ask Jesse about it. “So what did Lucy have to say?”

  Jesse grinned and shrugged. “She told me not to tell you, so I can’t. All I can say is that she is a smart girl.”

  “Smart and sweet.”

  “Very. I found it hard to believe that she was so…so—”

  “Angelic?”

  “Yeah, I suppose that’s the word that describes her.”

  “I know what you mean. Sometimes I wonder if she tries too hard to be good. I heard her pray one time. She told God that she was being a very good girl so that she could get better so her mommy would have time to find her a new daddy.”

  Jesse drew in a deep breath, trying to ease the heaviness inside him. Hearing about rough situations, about children facing serious illnesses was one thing, but meeting them put their problems close. It grabbed intellectual understanding a
nd shoved it painfully into your heart. Yet, Alexi chose to spend her time in such a way. She didn’t write a check to ease her conscience. She involved herself on a personal level. “What are Lucy’s chances of getting better without a transplant?”

  Alexi sighed. “None. She has to have a transplant and she needs to have it soon.”

  They rode in silence after that and it seemed to him only minutes passed before he arrived at the hotel. Worry over Lucy’s situation slid to the back of his mind when Alexi retrieved her luggage from the hotel. The honeymoon suite where Alexi was supposed to have stayed last night had been ransacked.

  Since her luggage had been placed in storage, it had remained unscathed, but the room had been trashed. The hotel manager passed the incident off as if rowdy teens looking for a room to party in had been the culprits. But an uneasy feeling knotted Jesse’s shoulders and his sixth sense kicked up. Coincidence? Or was something in Alexi’s world off kilter?

  He didn’t believe in coincidences, and on the way to her art gallery, he told Alexi that.

  “I know what you mean. But how could it be anything else?”

  “Think, Alexi. What about jewelry? Might someone have been after the Jordan’s heirloom pearls? What about that Holstead’s diamond ring? Both of those pieces alone are worth quite a bit of money. Do you make use of the hotel’s safe?”

  “Usually, but when I arrive back at my room really late, I wait until the morning.”

  “Don’t,” Jesse said, his voice rough. “Don’t do it again. It isn’t worth the chance.”

  “You’re right. I won’t let it happen again.”

  Jesse supposed he had to be satisfied with her answer, but he wasn’t. What might have been continued to gnaw at him.

  “Southern Lights,” Jesse said, reading the name of the gallery off the gold lettered sign. “Nice name.” Her gallery, though tucked away in the middle of a long building of shops, stood out like the beacon of a lighthouse, calling everyone to take notice of the treasures inside. Parallel parking on the street in front, Jesse got out of the car with Alexi.

  He watched her key in numbers to deactivate the alarm system and noted that while it wasn’t the most recent technology available, it wasn’t completely antiquated either.

  “I like the name. As I said, I like to feature local artists, and in my way of thinking any creative work is a light into the soul of man. Pictures are like stories of the heart.”

  He followed her into the gallery, thinking about what she said, and only half noticing the door chimes. “So, you don’t sell art for the money, but for its intrinsic value?”

  She laughed. “Both. I am a businesswoman and though all art tells a story, I only show art that appeals to my heart.”

  “Mind if I look around while you work?”

  “Help yourself.” Alexi turned on the lights and locked the door to the shop. “I’ll be in the office at the back.”

  “Okay.” His attention was only half on her retreating backside. He had the idea that he might learn a lot about her through the art she chose to exhibit. Accented by rich, wood tones, and sedate gray-blue carpet, the gallery displayed in an uncluttered, tasteful manner, a varied collection of art mediums. Sleek mahogany sculptures, modern acrylics in bold colors, shelled pottery, seascapes that breathed the wild spray of the ocean and the gentle ebb of the tide. But the one section that caught and held his interest was historic and traditional in tone. The paintings were oil, focused in the center, and misty towards the edges, as if each picture was but a dream, or a fading memory of the past.

  Done in deep tones, dark greens and blues, jeweled reds and gold, they were of knights, and forests, and ladies in Medieval dress. Jesse wasn’t sure why, but he’d bet that these were Alexi’s favorites, because each picture told a very real story.

  Smiling, he made his way back to her office to see if he was right. The door was open and he stepped inside. She was studying a series of enlarged, framed photographs set up on easels along one side of her office, which looked more like an English drawing room instead of just a functional office space.

  The subject of the photos hit him with a punch. They were nudes, very sensual, very evocatively done in shades of black and white. Their faces were cast in shadows, but their body language said it all. Pure passion.

  Alexi was so engrossed in the photo of a perfectly muscled man that she didn’t hear him enter. In the picture, a man reached for an apple, and subtly double exposed over him was the figure of a woman awaiting her lover. The photo told one hell of a story, but Jesse was more interested in the way Alexi’s rose colored dress clung provocatively to her ass.

  His want of her ran like a fever in his blood—always there, ready to surge to the surface. He moved up behind her and spoke low into her ear. “If I were him and you were her, I’d definitely bite the apple.”

  Alexi jumped and he snaked his arm out to catch her about the waist and pull her against him.

  She didn’t look back at him, but kept her gaze on the photographs. "You don't think they're too much?"

  "I think they're just right. Like you, sensual and beautiful." He pressed closer to her, molding his body to her back. Today she smelled of roses, soft, sweet, velvety roses. “Do these pictures turn you on, Lexi? Do you want a man to hold you like that?” He pointed to the entwined couple.

  "You liked the mirror. That turned you on. What about a picture of yourself with a lover? Would it fascinate you to see us captured on film in a passionate embrace?”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Jesse heard Alexi’s breath catch. “No,’ she said, but there was no outrage in her voice. In fact, her slight breathless quality told him a little bit of a different story.

  “Let's play what if,” he said softly, running his fingertips from her stomach to lightly caress the sides of her breasts then up to her shoulders. “What if I were an artist, or a photographer, and you came to see me about exhibiting my work because of the story you saw within my art. Maybe I’m an artist who paints Medieval pictures, like the ones in your gallery.”

  Alexi angled her head back to see him. Her eyes gleaming with interest and he knew he’d been right about those pictures being her favorite. “You walked through the door and captured my imagination and my desires. I wanted you and you wanted me. Would you succumb to the passion of the moment?”

  “Maybe,” she said, so low he could hardly hear her.

  He unbuttoned the back of her dress, placing tiny kisses along her spine as he moved down. "Would you let me seduce you? Undress you?"

  She didn’t tell him to stop, so he delved deeper into the fantasy.

  “Would you let me capture your beauty and grace in my art?” He slipped her dress off her shoulders and arms and kissed the nape of her neck.

  “I’d paint you on that Victorian couch. I’d put you naked against all that resplendent propriety. Do you want to see how I’d paint you, Lexi?”

  For a long moment she didn’t answer and he wondered if this little fantasy pushed her limit. Reaching around, he cupped her breasts, rubbing her nipples through the white lace of her bra. She pressed her bottom back against him and pleasure raced along his nerves, kicking his heart to a faster pace. “Can I show you, Lexi? Can I pose you naked? Here. Now. Can I show you how I’d see you, if I were the one taking pictures like these of you?” He nodded towards the nudes splayed before them.

  “Yes,” she said, stirring his blood even more.

  He unclipped her bra, draped it over the Adam and Eve picture, and pushed her dress from her hips so that she only wore white lace panties and black come-on shoes. “Come with me then.” Taking her hand, he led her to the green and gold brocade couch. He placed the pillows at one end and turned her to face him. Her pupils dilated and her lips parted in a soft invitation to kiss her. He did.

  He kissed her over and over until she had the dazed look of a woman ready for anything a man had to give. Then he turned his attention to her breasts. “I see you as a woman waiting, on the verge
of climaxing. I’d paint you, or photograph you that way, knowing that the edginess to your sensual beauty was there because of me. And anytime I looked upon the picture, I’d remember loving you, taking you in a red hot moment."

  He moved her back to the couch, his blood thrumming with anticipation. "Sit here and lean back on the pillows. So far back that your breasts are lifted, wanting a lover’s touch. She leaned back, but not far enough. "More, Lexi, give me more."

  He eased her shoulders back and pressed another pillow behind the middle of her back. Then when she was just right, he kissed and sucked her nipples to hard points. She moaned.

  "Good. That's right, sunshine. Get hot for me, burn for me." He stepped back to look at her. Damn but he was ready to take her now, so ready to bury himself inside her heat. But not just yet, he wanted more first.

  She watched him from beneath her lowered lashes. Sliding his hand down her chest and across the smooth expanse of her stomach, he cupped her damp sex through the lace. After a few pleasing strokes, he moved to her thighs and pressed them open. "Bend your knee, Lexi. Put your heel upon the sofa, so that your come-on black shoe is in front of your white lace underwear. Now put your other foot on the floor and let your leg fall to the side, so that you're open for me."

  He stepped back to look at her and more blood surged to his erection. "One last thing, Lexi. One more thing before I come deep inside you. I want you to touch yourself right where you need me the most. Show me, sunshine, show me where you’re hot."

  Her eyes widened and her breasts rose higher as she breathed deeper. He knew she'd never touch herself intimately before a lover. "Show me, Lexi. Show me where you want me. Let me watch you touch yourself."

  He watched her intently, waiting for her. She moved slowly at first as she slid her hand down her stomach. "Here." She brushed the top of her lace panties. "I want you here."

  "More," he said softly, deeply. "Let me see more."

  She slid her fingers beneath the edge of her underwear. "That's right. That's what I want. Let me see you."