Smooth Irish (Book 2 of the Weldon Series)

by Jennifer Saints

  Alexi had mentioned Nan might come tonight. That’s why he’d come. He glanced around at the cozy, well-ordered home his sister-in-law had lovingly fashioned. Its very warmth shouted at him to get the hell out. He didn’t belong there. Outside he could hear the twang of banjos as his uncles plucked out a tune or two. He could hear a few dozen yard apes running around, hear their laughter, hear his brothers Jesse, James, Jared ragging the kids and each other. Every now and then his mother, Emma, would lovingly rope in their teasing play with a firm word or two to keep everyone in line. Having raised four wild Weldon boys, she had an iron hand to go with her gold heart.

  Since leaving Chicago, Jackson had done his best to lay low when it came to family. He didn’t much belong any more. Didn’t deserve it. Didn’t want it.

  “Come on out. We’re putting together a game of rag football.” Jesse, his brother and pregnant Alexi’s husband, stuck his head in the door.

  “Maybe next time.” Jackson stood. “I think I’m going to head on.”

  Jesse’s smile died. He stepped inside and slammed the door.

  “How long are you going to shut us out?”

  “Don’t start dishing out guilt trips, bro. You’ve got a wife and a kid on the way. Go worry about them.”

  Jesse’s hands fisted. Jackson could see frustration, anger, and even a hint of pain waver in his brother’s eyes, but it left Jackson unmoved. Of his three brothers, Jesse had always been the closest, but not anymore. Nothing and nobody seemed to penetrate the numbness he felt. Nothing, except maybe the woman who’d just hung up on him. The same woman who’d walked out in the middle of their date. Just left him sitting in Salty’s Bar all alone to ring the New Year with only a bottle of whiskey to kiss.

  Jesse planted a fist against the door. “What is it with you? You want me to feel guilty because I found Alexi? And you lost…”

  “Amy? No. I just want to be left the hell alone. Got that?” Jackson shouldered his way outside. He found Alexi sitting at the picnic table with his mother.

  “Great BBQ,” he said, grabbing a chicken leg off the platter on the table. He did it to appease his mother. He knew she’d be more apt to leave his departure unchallenged if he had food in his hand. “Nan called, Alexi. Said she wasn’t going to make it tonight.”

  “Don’t tell me she’s working overtime again?”

  “She didn’t say.”

  “I’ll call her tomorrow and read her the riot act.” Alexi narrowed her eyes. “So, um, did you two talk a little?”

  “Nope,” Jackson said nipping any interrogation in the bud. Alexi had been matching him up with Nan since she married Jesse eighteen months ago. Jackson winked at his mother and kissed her cheek. “Later, sweetcakes.”

  She ruffled the ever-present dishtowel she held at him. “Distracting me with smooth talking isn’t going to work, young man. You can leave if you want to, but don’t think you aren’t going to be missed. Some day you’re going to have to get- never mind.” Thankfully, she stopped whatever it was she’d been about to say. Anywhere that sentence could have gone wasn’t something Jackson wanted to hear.

  He nodded good-bye, waved off his father who was motioning him over for the rag football game, and cut around the corner of the house to his motorcycle. Soon he was eating up the road with no destination in mind, just living the moment for the moment a mile at a time.

  * * *

  Nan shut her eyes and relaxed into the steamy tub, sighing as her headache eased when she sank all the way to her chin. Hot water, made silky smooth with bath oil, sluiced over her naked body. The rigors of a day’s work slowly faded, and a sensual heat soaked into her bones. Jackson’s voice came flooding back.

  Ever had phone sex, Nan? A virgin…I’ll be your first… she tingled all over. The image of a lady waiting came to her...a lady who’d waited for so long she could wait no longer…

  The front door opened. She was alone, had planned it that way when she’d written the note. No one could save her; no one would stop her. Her heart sped triple time to the sound of booted feet coming her way. She knew it was him, knew he was coming to her at last. Tonight she’d know all the secrets behind his heated looks across the ballroom. Already she could see his raven hair brushing his shoulders as he walked, his stride, measured and predatory. She could feel the fire of his gaze. His dark eyes were intense and demanding. Tonight she would feel all she’d been denied in her chaste upbringing and in the years of an arranged marriage to an invalid. Tonight on the anniversary of her widowhood, she would have her first lover.

  Suddenly the time for waiting had gone. Sir Jackson Weldon strode into her bedroom; the heat of his presence burned more than the gentle fire in the hearth beside her. He didn’t stop until he stood over her. He didn’t speak until his gaze surveyed all that the steamy bath water and candlelight revealed. His dress was casual, just a half-buttoned shirt and breeches. As if her note had caught him undressing, and he’d abandoned all to come to her.

  He cocked one eyebrow. “Lady Miller, your note implied you were in dire straits and needed my immediate assistance.”

  She bit her lip, suddenly unsure. She’d heard whispered wild stories on how many had boldly claimed their lovers, and had dreamed for years of claiming her own. “I am,” she said softly. “I am,” she said again, then she stood and stepped from the bath, the water pooling upon the wooden planks at her feet. She didn’t stand alone long. Without another word he swept her into his arms, his lips claiming hers, his tongue plundering, as his hands possessed. Wet, wicked with need, she braced her hands on the breadth of his shoulders as he lifted her, bringing her breasts to the heat of his tongue. He swung her around and laid her back upon the bed.

  “I seem to find myself in dire straits and also need your immediate assistance,” he said, his voice soft with amusement, husky with desire. He took her hand and placed it over the bulge of his arousal. Throbbing heat filled her hand.

  “Oh, heavens,” she said, blinking with surprise.

  He grinned. “Not yet, but it will be heaven.” He ripped his shirt open and buttons flew about them. His boots and trousers followed so quickly that she barely had time to see all of him before he pulled her to the edge of the bed and drove deeply into the very place she ached for him. She winced with the discomfort and the alien feel of being invaded.

  He froze; his eyes widened with surprise. “A virgin?”

  “No, not anymore.” She grabbed his arms, wanting him. “Show me heaven.”

  “Heaven help me, my Lady. At this point I’ve no other choice.” He strained as if fighting a huge battle then groaned in defeat. After a moment’s hesitation as he stared down into her eyes, burning a way right to her soul, he moved out of her a little, then slid back deep inside her, more gently this time. He did this again and again until the fire inside her flared so hot she had no choice but to meet his thrust with her own. Then his hands roamed over her, touching her everywhere, playing mercilessly with her breasts and nipples. The fire blazed hotter, and just as she thought she couldn’t stand it another moment, she shuddered uncontrollably with more pleasure than imaginable. Sir Weldon’s body jerked against hers the same way and then they lay still together for a while, her heart pounding thrice for every breath he panted. She opened her eyes to see him smiling at her.

  “I think we’ll reach heaven and go beyond, Lady Miller. I’m already dying with pleasure,” he said and began to move again. Her eyes widened and her breath caught. There was more? Surely she’d die.

  Water pooled at her feet and Nan shivered from the cool air caressing her heated skin. She hadn’t taken time to grab a towel when she’d jumped from the tub, and she needed to get back into the hot water or dry off and dress before she took a chill, but she couldn’t. Not until she’d written down every darn word of the Sir Jackson Weldon fantasy still playing in her mind.

  Droplets plunked off her nose and hair, spilling onto the page, but she continued to write. By bringing the man to life on the page, maybe she c
ould exorcise him from her mind. And once she had that battle won, maybe then she could rein her hormones back into their calm, controlled places.

  As she wrote the story, she deliberately gave Sir Weldon blond hair and green eyes instead of black hair and blue eyes, a feeble attempt to direct her subconscious mind toward Brad Swanson. He was the perfect example of the kind of man she needed in her life.

  She finished the last word, snapped her secret black book closed, and stuck it back under her pillow. Ever since she was a little girl, she’d written down her thoughts, her stories, her hopes. It was the secret place where she let the happily ever after dreams of a little girl who’d known nothing but heartache live. The one place where the realities of life could never invade and steal her hopes away.

  Shakespeare, her cat, gave a loud meow, protesting his hunger outside of her bedroom door.

  “All right, I’m coming,” she called and went after a towel. As she passed, she pulled the plug on her bath. She didn’t think she could take anymore of what the hot silky water had induced. She’d go feed Shakespeare and keep her mind on what was important, not what her body clamored to have.

  She also ruthlessly ignored any guilt she had over telling Jackson that she had no interest in where the attraction between them could lead. She might play it out, over and over again in her foolish writing, but she’d never let him know that.

  The ringing of the doorbell stopped her in her tracks. With her fantasy of Jackson fresh in her mind, every fiber of her foolish body was hoping the devil was on her doorstep.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Nan’s pulse leapt with anticipation. Mouth dry, she tiptoed up to the peephole, careful to not make any noise. Centering her eye on the viewer, she felt her stomach clench and sink with disappointment.

  She opened the door to her neighbor, resigned to hear over a cup of tea the woman’s account of Shakespeare’s misdeeds in the neighborhood.

  An hour later, Nan came to the dismal realization that she envied her cat’s sex life. He was neutered, but that didn’t seem to stop him from wooing every female cat in the neighborhood. Cats didn’t have to live by a plan or be disciplined. They just let the good times roll and then landed on their feet.

  To make matters worse, her disappointment that Jackson had not been on her doorstep rankled even more than her cat envy. She hated to think that there was any truth to the absence-makes-the-heart-grow-fonder adage. She’d already learned that the out-of-sight-out-of-mind thing was a joke.

  By the next morning, she’d made a twenty-item list of what comprised the perfect man in a attempt to give her left brain the opportunity to show her right brain how messed up it was for fantasizing over Jackson Weldon, and felt pretty good about the exercise.

  Puttering around in pajamas that had more frayed edges than an Egyptian mummy, she watered her colorful zoo of indoor plants that served as her family. She discussed with them the idea of buying another book on gourmet cooking. She needed a distraction and some tricky recipes just might be the ticket.

  “Well, Goldie, what do you think? Shall we try Italian?” The Golden Trumpet didn’t shout back an answer, so she moved on to her Blue African Lilies. She’d heard some old wives tale that they brought happiness to the home that they grew in. Whether it was true or not, Nan had bought herself some and took extra care to keep them healthy and thriving.

  She enjoyed coaxing miniature roses to bloom, drinking in the vibrant summer colors of the gloxinia, and smelling the fresh rosemary and basil from the planter in her kitchen window. Being surrounded by the lush plants kept memories of her childhood at bay.

  For her mother, flowers had been a sign that good times were ahead. But nothing she’d planted or bought had lived. Either she’d had a black thumb or the stresses of her life had proved too distracting to care for the plants except intermittently. To Nan, flowers were the symbols of hope her mother could never seem to hold on to.

  The ringing of the phone pulled her back from the past.

  “You stood me up last night and the only way you can make amends is to take me to lunch and then shopping. There has to be something out there to make a beached whale sexy.”

  Nan laughed at Alexi’s complaint. “If you’re a beached whale then I’d hate to see what the rest of us women look like eight months pregnant. You’re a glowing Madonna and you know it.”

  “Tell me a thousand more times and I might hear you. Seriously, let’s hit the mall.”

  “Okay. Let me finish watering my jungle and I’ll be by to get you.”

  “Good.”

  Hanging up, Nan misted the rest of her plants with water, put a little spoonful of fertilizer into her button fern, and then readied herself. She pulled into the unpretentious drive of Alexi and Jesse’s beachside bungalow on Tybee Island less than forty minutes after Alexi’s call.

  Alexi must have been sitting on go. She was out the door before Nan could exit the car. Waddling around and opening the passenger’s door, her friend practically rolled into the car.

  “I thank my lucky stars that you were home and not working on your day off again. I need a break from chaos.”

  Nan grinned. It wasn’t often that Alexi became frazzled. “What is it? Still having problems with getting help at the art gallery?” Nan backed out and headed to the mall.

  “No. Karin has Southern Lights running smoothly, despite Lucy’s ‘help.’ Lucy has decided that she is going to be an artist as well as a prima ballerina.”

  Nan laughed, her heart warmed. Lucy, a little girl who’d spent more of her life in the hospital than out was very dear to Nan, but even dearer to Alexi. It still amazed Nan how much Alexi cared for others despite her silver spoon heritage. If Alexi hadn’t taken Lucy under her wing and Jesse hadn’t helped find Lucy’s father, Lucy might not be alive today.

  “What has me going nuts is the orchestral band that I had scheduled to play at the hospital’s fundraising banquet has cancelled. I’ve been scrambling to find a substitute all morning and I refuse to give it another thought until tomorrow. We’re going to go have fun instead. A new lingerie store called Sinfully Silky has opened, and we’re both going to buy something decadent.”

  A lingerie store? Nan frowned at the road. To date, her worst extravagance had been to spend a day at a spa being pampered just before Alexi had almost married Mr. Wrong and escaped with Jesse in a mad dash from the altar.

  “You know, Lexi. I don’t think I’ve ever bought fancy lingerie before.” It used to be that she didn’t have the funds for such luxuries, but now…

  “You’ve had your nose to the grindstone since the day we met.”

  “Habit I guess,” Nan said, thinking back. At twenty-two, when most people were starting their careers, Nan began working her way through nursing school. She’d made a plan and had stuck to it no matter how tough, graduated by twenty-six, and in the three years she’d been working at Memorial Hospital, she’d made excellent strides in establishing a stellar career.

  During that time, everything else like travel, gourmet cooking classes—instead of learning from books, and having a family had been put on hold, and it would have to stay on hold. But she could now afford a few luxuries—like silky lingerie instead of frayed cotton.

  Nan pulled into a parking slot and looked up to find Alexi studying her seriously.

  “I’m worried about you,” she said.

  “I’m fine.” Nan gave Lexi a reassuring smile.

  “When are you going to give yourself permission to live? Have a little fun in your life. Are you afraid to let yourself have fun? Are you afraid to let go and live?”

  “I’m not afraid to live. I’ve battled my way up from nothing and still have more to achieve. And I do too have fun,” Nan said, opening the door, hoping Alexi would abandon the conversation.

  “When?” Alexi challenged, grabbing Nan’s hand.

  “Why, uh…I have a date to the benefit with Mr. Perfect.”

  Alexi’s eyes widened. “Who?”

 
“Dr. Brad Swanson.”

  Alexi blinked. “As in the neurosurgeon?”

  “The one and only. The man’s a genius. The most dedicated doctor on staff.”

  “Nan, I don’t know the man, but I know of the man. I can already tell you’re headed for trouble. His career is going to be a cold bed partner.”

  “Who said anything about sex?”

  “If he doesn’t spark that kind of interest at a distance, believe me, there’s big trouble ahead.”

  “A date to the benefit does not a wedding make. Besides, anything serious is on hold until I get my masters.”

  “You know, I can’t help but think your decision to continue your education is related to your break-up with Jackson. The timing is too coincidental, so much so that I almost hope you don’t get the continuing education scholarship.”

  Nan blinked, completely shocked. Alexi had been her greatest supporter as Nan had battled to get her degree. Alexi went on before Nan found the words to respond.

  “And the reason why isn’t because I don’t want great things for you, but because I do want great things for you. I don’t think the happiness you want lies in another degree.”

  “Jackson has nothing to do with my decision.” For some odd reason, tears pricked Nan’s eyes and she blinked them quickly away. Alexi had struck something deep that Nan just didn’t want to acknowledge. She forced a smile. “Ready for some wild shopping fun? I hear a number of women spell happiness M A L L.”

  Alexi laughed, but the worry didn’t fade from her eyes. “Nope those women only use the mall as a substitute for what they really want.”

  Nan got the feeling that Alexi wasn’t just speaking about compulsive shoppers, but about her and her decision to keep climbing the educational ladder. She was greatly relieved that Alexi let the subject drop.

  With Alexi egging her on, Sinfully Silky’s lingerie proved to be more temptation than Nan could resist. She bought several decadent things that included a leopard print bra and panty set that looked positively animal on her and a black lace set that was the newest thing in women’s underwear. Alexi bought a couple of things that looked great despite her pregnant state, and then bought a barely there satin and lace teddy to wear when she “got” her figure back. Between them, they left the store with a mound.