by Josie Kerr
Ashley laughed. “You know it! So what do you want to do? What do you want out of this, Em?”
“I think I just might want it all. All of it and all of him.”
Ashley made a low, long whistle. “Girl, you have got it bad. Like scary bad.”
“Ugh, I know, Ashley, I know.” Em laid her head on the table with a bang. “This isn’t a romance novel where the hero and heroine fall in love at their first encounter. This is real life, and more importantly, this is my life, and the whole ‘immediately hot, bothered, and wanting him to rip my panties off’ thing is most definitely not me.”
“Okay, enough. Maybe you need to use your heart and not head for once, Em. And anyway, you can’t do anything about it now, right? You’re out of town for the next week or so, right? Get some distance. Maybe he’ll want to come borrow some sugar when you get back in town.” Ashley wiggled her eyebrows. “So tell me more about this boss of yours. Likes, dislikes, felony convictions. Gimme the scoop, lady.”
Em laughed loudly, grateful for the change in topic. “Let’s see. He’s not a smoker that I know of. Likes Irish whiskey. Has a standing mani/pedi appointment. And when we were in Los Angeles, he picked up four pair of bespoke jeans.”
Ashley whistled. “I like this man more and more already.”
“Oh, and I found out yesterday that he was a champion Irish step dancer when he was in school and was almost in a touring production of Riverdance! Y’all could form a dance company if this real estate/internet security stuff doesn’t work out,” Em teased. “In the not-so-good news, he has a tendency to date young. Not icky young, but like college co-ed, recently graduated young.”
“Hello! Who have I been dating for the past three years?”
Chapter 12
Em thought about what she was calling The Kiss the whole time she was out of town. She couldn’t believe she had just kissed him, on the stairs, in front of God and everyone. She didn’t know what had gotten into her. They hadn’t even gone on a real date! At least when she got home, Mick would probably still be out of town, so she wouldn’t have to see him and be immediately mortified at her forward behavior.
Even after they met for dinner, Em and Ashley continued to dissect The Kiss like a couple of junior high girls. Ashley thought it meant something, that Mick was interested; Em was pretty certain it just showed that she was 42-year-old single woman who was starved for physical affection.
How long had it been? Eighteen months? If she was honest, it had been closer to three years since she had had a truly physical relationship. She and Tripp hadn’t been intimate the last year they were together even though they put on a good front for public outings. No, she was lucky to get a peck on the cheek or a hand on her lower back when they were at a party.
Of course, now she knew why. Tripp had been getting his needs met by a variety of women. She wondered how long it really was before Tripp set his sights on Bailey. Of course, Bailey knew that Em had been involved in a long-term relationship with Tripp, so dating him was pretty shitty on Bailey’s part, but hell, Em was pulling away anyway.
Whatever.
“Oi! Em!” called a familiar voice.
Em looked around and saw Rory bustling through the crowd, beaming at her.
“Fancy meeting you here,” she laughed. “I thought you were still putting out fires in Portland.”
“Things got settled down very quickly when I threatened to enforce the PITA upcharge.”
“The PITA upcharge?”
“The Pain in the Arse upcharge—if the client is a pain in the arse, our services cost a lot more. It’s very useful,” he laughed.
Em was getting ready to split off to take the train when Rory stopped her.
“I’ve got my car here. Let me drive you home,” Rory said. “It’s the least I can do to thank you for pulling my balls out of the fire and securing an additional contract to boot.”
Em fussed, but soon relented as she saw a late spring storm erupt in the sky. The last thing she wanted to do was walk home in a downpour. Soon they were traveling from the airport toward the Victorian in Rory’s low sports car.
“Can Mick even fit in this car?” Em asked. Rory barked a laugh.
“He can, but he gripes the whole time. A few times I’ve either had too much to drink or I’ve left with someone and Mick’s taken the car back to the house. He always swears he’s never going to do it again, but guilt gets him every time. He doesn’t want to leave the car out in a parking lot overnight.” Rory grinned and shrugged.
Em chuckled to herself, imagining Mick’s big body and long legs crammed into the low-slung vehicle. Rory was a pretty big guy himself, but he wasn’t nearly as tall as Mick; his was more of a broad, thick-chested build.
Rory turned made his way through Midtown, taking a route that Em didn’t exactly know but recognized. She grinned.
“Hey, Rory, would you turn here? There’s a building that I’ve watched transform for a while and I want to see what’s changed since I’ve been out of town.”
Rory laughed. “Sure. Tell me where to go.”
Em gave directions to the warehouse, and as they neared the building, Rory’s face split into a wide smile. He surprised Em by pulling into the parking lot and turning off the motor.
“What are you doing, Rory?” she asked.
“We’re going in.”
Em balked, but Rory was having none of it. She huffed but finally got out of the car.
“Rory, this is a recording studio. I don’t think we can just walk in here.”
“You’ll see, love. Come on.”
Well, hell. He probably knows the owner of the studio. Rory knows just about everyone.
They walked through the front door and into a secured lobby, but the front desk was unattended. Rory confidently pressed a buzzer a few times in a complicated rhythm and soon the door unlocked with a snick. He winked and led Em down a long hallway. She could hear rapid drumming and singing...in French?
They got to the end of the hall and stood in front of a door lit by a red “In Session” light. After a few moments, the drumming and singing stopped and the light turned off. Rory knocked twice and opened the door.
Em walked in behind Rory and saw Mick sitting in the studio, his back to the door.
“Oi, Rory, didn’t know you’d be back so soon,” he said, messing with some controls on the big soundboard in front of him. “Give me a sec.”
“I’ve brought someone with me to see the studio, Mickeyboy. She’s been watching the renovations and wondering about it for a while.”
Mick ground his teeth in annoyance. He was getting dead tired of his friend’s machinations to get him to date. Leave it to Rory to bring a strange woman into his studio. Mick turned with a scowl and saw Em peeking from behind the big Irishman.
“Hey, Mick,” she said. “I didn’t mean to impose...”
Mick’s scowl quickly turned into a wide grin. “Em! Hello!” He stood and gave her a quick peck on the cheek, then laughed when her eyes got wide.
“This...this is yours?” she asked. She smacked her head with the heel of her palm. “Of course. River Driver Records. That song.”
Mick grinned at her. “Yep, this is me.”
“Was that you playing and singing just a minute ago?”
Mick blushed. “Yeh, it was. I was just fooling around a bit, trying out some levels and things.” He suddenly turned shy.
Rory rolled his eyes. “Mickey has sat in with some huge names. He’s being a bit too humble.”
Mick scowled at Rory. He didn’t want Em to think he was a braggart.
“You told me you had some studio space, Mick. You didn’t tell me you had a studio.” She swatted him. “Silly rabbit.”
Mick and Em continued to grin at each other without saying anything. Rory shook his head. These two just need to get together and stop mucking about.
“Mick, are you almost finished here?” Rory asked, quickly formulating a plan.
“Sure, you guys wan
t to get some lunch?” Mick said, looking directly at Em.
Rory grinned at his friend. At least Mickey was with the program.
“Ach! Look at the time! I have a conference call with the Vegas client, Mick. Why don’t you and Em get some lunch. Em, I’ll get your bags out of the car and Mickey can take you home after, yeah?”
Em started to protest. “I’m the principal on the Vegas project—shouldn’t I be on the call as well?”
Crap. Leave it to Em to be a conscientious worker.
“Oh, no, Em. It’s financial stuff, pounding out the last details of the actual contract and such. We’re not going to be talking about schedules or anything. You two have lunch; I’ll grab your bags.” Rory fled the building before she could protest further.
Mick just laughed. “I’m guessing that Rory doesn’t really have a conference call with Vegas.”
“No, I’ll just bet he doesn’t, the sneak,” Em said, a scowl in her voice but a grin on her lips. “So, Mister Recording Big Shot, where are we going for lunch?”
“Wherever you’d like to go, ma’am,” Mick said. Em hooked her arm through his and they made their way down the hall.
*****
“So you don’t sing at all?” Mick asked as he contemplated how to eat his rib sandwich. Barbeque and beards weren’t the most compatible at times.
“Oh, no. I can’t carry a tune in a bucket. I was actually requested to not sing, only lip sync, one time.”
“So what were you doing at karaoke?” he asked, frowning at the sandwich in his hands.
“Picking up hot Irishmen,” she said with a smirk that turned into a wide grin when Mick aspirated a pickle. And unbelievably hot Canadians.
Em grinned at Mick’s fastidious eating. She never thought about how having a big beard would affect your table manners. And of course, while she was watching Mick struggle with his sandwich, she dropped a big blob of rum-baked beans on her white blouse.
“Dammit, I need a bib,” she groused while she tried to blot the spot on her blouse so it wouldn’t stain. Of course, she only succeeded in smearing it. She huffed.
Mick watched her, his eyes dancing with amusement. “We’re quite a pair for lunch, aren’t we?” he said. He’d given up picking up his sandwich and was just eating it with a fork and knife.
“Well, it’s a danger of being chesty. One plus: I never get anything on my trousers because my boobs catch it all.”
Good lord, Em. You don’t need to talk about your boobs with this man. He already probably thinks you’re a hussy anyway, the way you attacked him on the stairs the day after you met him.
Mick tried as hard as he could to not stare at her bosom, but her chest was right there, encased in a low-cut white blouse that fit her perfectly. He could see some deep cleavage when she leaned over the table to scoop some of the beans on her spoon. Her eyes rolled shut when she ate the last bit of beans, humming her pleasure.
Mick groaned.
“Are you okay, Mick?” she asked, concerned at the look of pain on his face.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” He cleared his throat. “I’m going to get us some dessert.”
Okay. That was weird.
Mick returned with two small cups of banana pudding. Em grinned.
“I love their banana pudding,” she said with a grin, scooping up a spoonful of the sweet dessert. They ate their dessert without any further incidents until the very end, when Em’s last spoonful of pudding plopped directly on her exposed cleavage, not on her shirt.
“Fuck! Now I’m gonna have sticky boobs,” she exclaimed. She scooped the blob of pudding from her chest onto her finger. Mick gave out a strangled moan.
“Sweet Janey Mac, Em, you’re killing me,” he said, laughing, his neck bright red where it was visible under his beard. He buried his face in his hand as he continued chuckling.
Em blotted her cleavage and tried to resume her prissy posture but couldn’t do it. She guffawed and patted Mick’s hand where rested on the table. “Well, that was an adventure. Are you ready to go?”
“Yes, I’m definitely ready to go, Em,” Mick smirked. More than you’ll probably ever know.
Chapter 13
July
“Vegas, baby!”
Em had to pull the phone away from her ear to avoid being deafened by Ashley’s hooting.
“I’m headed your way, Ash. Try to stay out of trouble until I get there,” Em laughed.
Em had to admit, Ashley’s idea of staying through the weekend in Las Vegas was pretty perfect. She could definitely use some fun, rest, and relaxation. Plus, it was Ashley’s birthday weekend, and her friend definitely knew how to celebrate.
Rory had insisted on a suite at the Bellagio, dismissing Em’s quibbles about price, so when Ashley said that she would love to see an MMA fight in Vegas, Em knew just what to do.
Em had no sooner stepped foot in the suite when Ashley buzzed out of her room, demanding that Em change from her work clothes into something more appropriate.
“Hurry, I want to get a good seat!” Ashley was practically vibrating with excitement. She hugged her friend tightly. “Thank you, thank you, thank you for this!”
“Let me go and change so we’re not late, Ashley,” Em laughed.
By the time they got to the other casino, Em was almost as excited as Ashley. Her friend’s enthusiasm was infectious.
“Okay, so what exactly is happening here?” Em asked as two women made their way to the front of the seating.
“This is the weigh-in. All the fighters on the card come and get weighed, and then they do a face-off.” At Em’s confused look, Ashley clarified. “They make mean faces and fists at each other.”
“Oh, okay.”
Two by two, the fighters approached the stage, weighed in, and faced off. It tickled Em how happy this made Ashley.
“Oh, oh, here’s my favorite guy. His fight is the main event tomorrow night,” Ashley said, repeatedly elbowing Em, who was certain that she was going to be bruised.
“Whoa. That guy is really...big,” Em gasped. Ashley laughed.
“Well, he’s a heavyweight. He’s the contender right now. A lot of people don’t think he has a chance, but I believe in him,” Ashley said earnestly.
Em shook her head. “Ashley Richards: pageant queen and MMA fangirl. What would your mother say?”
“She’d tell that boy up there to not listen to any of the bullshit and go kick some ass, is what she’d say.” Em laughed out loud at that. Yes, that’s exactly what Claudia would have said.
The two heavyweights faced off. One of the fighters, the one that Ashley didn’t like, said something to Ashley’s favorite that made the man scowl. He was obviously taunting him.
“Do fights ever break out at these things?” Em murmured.
“Nah, not really. Most of these guys are actually pretty friendly with each other. With these two, though, I don’t think that’s the case. Pierce has a big mouth and he’s always running it, and he’s a hothead. Carmichael is made of ice–he never loses his cool.”
“And Carmichael is the one you like, right?” Ashley nodded, her eyes still glued to the stage.
All of a sudden, Pierce shoved Carmichael and men scrambled on stage to separate the two fighters. After a few tense moments, each went off the stage in the opposite direction.
“The meet and greet is going to be interesting,” Ashley said, her eyes bright, as she and Em made their way to the exit of one ballroom and headed to the meet and greet location.
“And I suppose we’re doing that next, correct?”
“Correct!”
Em stood with Ashley in Carmichael’s line, listening to Ashley recite statistics and other trivia about the fighter in her ear. Giant posters of the fighters decorated the ballroom.
“How old is Carmichael?” Em asked.
“He’s probably in his mid-thirties. Why? Do you think he’s cute?” Ashley wiggled her eyebrows and jabbed Em with her elbow again.
“Keep that elbo
w to yourself, Ash,” Em laughed. “No, I don’t know. He is attractive, but there’s something about him that seems very familiar.”
Ashley shrugged. “Maybe when we get up to the table, you’ll figure it out. Some people look pretty different in photographs.”
Em looked around at the crowd. Most of the women were scantily clad or wore dresses of the short, tight, and shiny variety. Ashley was one of the few in jeans and a t-shirt. Yes, a tight low-cut t-shirt and painted-on jeans, but a still a t-shirt and jeans.
One of the flashier women stood behind Carmichael, a smug look on her face. Em immediately disliked her. When the woman noticed Em looking at her, she placed a hand possessively on the fighter’s shoulder. Carmichael gave her an irritated look and shrugged her off, obviously annoyed with the woman. She stepped back and glared at the big fighter.
A muscular Latino man stepped up the woman and whispered something in her ear that angered her further. The man looked like he was giving the woman a choice. She soon stormed out, leaving the Latino guy and Carmichael shaking their heads.
“I wonder what that was about,” Em mused.
Ashley absently shrugged because she was next in line. She tried to calm herself down, because this really was pretty embarrassing, but she couldn’t help it. She was excited!
“This reminds me of when we got to do the Duran Duran fan meet. You’re about that excited, Ash.”
“I think I’m actually more excited, Em, which is absolutely ridiculous,” Ashley shook her head at her own silliness.
“Happy birthday to you?”
“Happy birthday to me!”
“It’s your birthday?” rumbled a deep voice.
Ashley’s eyes and mouth opened wide.
“Yes, it’s her birthday. Well, tomorrow is,” Em answered, snickering to herself because Ashley was very rarely, if ever, struck speechless.
“Well, happy birthday to you...” Carmichael said, waiting for Ashley to tell him her name.
“Her name is Ashley,” Em said. Carmichael winked at Em, and that’s when she figured it out: his eyes were the exact shade of silvery blue as Mick’s.
