Smooth Irish (Book 2 of the Weldon Series)

by Jennifer Saints

  Shakespeare had found them. He lay curled up on her dresser with the glasses pinned beneath his paws. Nan quickly snatched them and hurried back. The moment she stepped outside, the world sort of faded before her eyes, and she had to grab the wall to steady herself. A wave of dizziness swept through her. When her vision cleared, she saw Jackson watching her, a serious expression on his face.

  “What’s wrong?” He took the sunglasses from her and placed a steadying hand on her arm. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”

  “It’s nothing. I just got dizzy there for a moment.”

  “Like at the benefit?” His thumb brushed the inside of her arm.

  Nan brought her hand up to her head, escaping his touch before he short-circuited her thought processes again. “Not really. I have a headache. I shouldn’t have run.”

  “Did you eat today?” He brushed her hair back from her face. There was no way she could hide from his direct gaze. “When was the last time you had a checkup? Do you have frequent headaches?”

  “Yes, I ate lunch. I’m not sure when my last checkup was. And I suffered migraines as a teenager, but not since. I probably need to relax and get a little fresh air.” She looked over Jackson’s shoulder. “Where’s Brad?”

  “Lover boy left for the hospital to the tune of his cell phone.” Jackson placed a hand on each of her shoulders and ushered her back inside her apartment, gently squeezing the muscles at the base of her neck. “You’re tight as a banjo.”

  He worked miracles on her neck for a few minutes, then guided her to the big easy chair in her living room and pushed her softly down into its pillowy depths. He stood in front of her and resumed rubbing her shoulders, letting her head rest against his stomach. Her plan to tell him they couldn’t see each other wavered like a mirage before her eyes. She couldn’t quite grab hold of it right then. His moves were so smooth it turned her blood to liquid honey. He felt like heaven, and he smelled even better.

  “So, did you have a date with Swanson?”

  “Not really. He took me to see a house he’s buying.”

  Jackson’s hands on her neck stilled. “House?”

  “Yes, in Garden Hills. He wanted me to see it.”

  “Bet it’s just what you were looking for.”

  Nan shrugged off his hands and stood. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing,” Jackson muttered.

  “For your information, the house was perfect, but I’d never buy it for myself. A house is something that should be a home, a place for family to grow and a reflection of their lives. When I buy a house, it won’t be a showplace. What about you?”

  “I’m a renting man. No hassles.”

  No commitment, Nan thought. He slid on his mirrored sunglasses before she could read his expression. A big scratch slashed across one lens and a tuft of cat fur was caught in the nosepiece. Jackson sneezed.

  He removed the glasses and glared at them for a long moment, picking off the cat hair. “Sticky buns and sunglasses. Is there anything your cat doesn’t eat?”

  “Mice. I think the Tom and Jerry reruns he watched as a kitten ruined him.”

  Jackson shook his head. The next thing Nan would probably say was that she had the cat in therapy. “Come on, let’s get you some fresh air.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her up.

  He should be marching his booted feet out the door without her, but for some damned reason he couldn’t seem to walk away from her. Seeing her with Brad grated against Jackson’s bad side. He wanted his kiss to be the last thing Nan thought about before she went to sleep. He wanted his touch to be the one lingering on her lush body. And what was Brad showing Nan a damned house for? Garden Hills, no freaking less.

  Nan slowed her step. “Where are we going?”

  “Wherever the bike can take us. You can’t beat a good ride for clearing your head.”

  “But I’m wearing a skirt.”

  Jackson turned and ran his gaze over her. She was back to wearing her below the knee skirts and her preppy-crisp shirts. The short, skin hugging dress she’d had on at the benefit had been an aberration, but what about the black satin underwear? The thought that she might just have it on started blood pooling south of his belt.

  Damn, the woman was driving him crazy. He knelt and ran his hand up the smooth skin of her leg, taking the hem of her skirt up too. He forced himself to stop before he reached the object of his thoughts.

  Nan gasped, but didn’t pull away and Jackson took that as a good sign.

  “It hikes up good so you shouldn’t have a problem. Come on. You need to loosen up a bit.” He tugged her hand a little more urgently this time. He had to get out of the apartment quick. He wanted Nan to loosen up all right. He wanted her to be coming apart in his hands several times over and that was just to start with. Seeing her with Brad again had added urgency to his desire to get naked and naughty with her.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Winding down the highway with Nan’s bare thighs hugging his, the feel of her breasts smashed against his back, and her arms wrapped tightly about his chest did little to ease Jackson’s urgent need to bed her. From the way she clung to him and the tentative way she leaned into a curve, he could tell this was her virgin ride. He could also tell that she liked it a lot.

  Deciding to enjoy the moment, he put his nagging thoughts aside and savored the feel of the bike and the woman. Over the past few years he’d gotten better at letting everything go and just feeling the moment. It’d been the only way he could survive.

  An hour later he pulled to a stop beneath the shady arms of a gnarled oak tree skirting an empty stretch of beach. With the moonlight and the waves to serenade them, the evening was prime for seduction and he was more than read for a little sex on the beach. Easing down the kick stand, he flexed his shoulders to rub against Nan’s breasts and heard a soft gasp of excitement. Seven minutes, he gauged. They’d be well on their way to heaven in seven minutes.

  Oh hell, Nan thought as her beach fantasy from earlier came flooding back. Just sex. Grab the moment. She wasn’t naked and oiled at the moment, but she was definitely hot and bothered. Every part of her thrummed from the ride and the feel of Jackson’s back rubbing her breasts. No, she told herself as she sucked in the salty air. Forget that. It was just a fantasy.

  She forced herself the concentrate of the beautiful tableau before her. Night had fallen and a cool spring breeze blew lightly in from the ocean. A chorus of crickets and frogs joined the luring music of the sea sweeping to the shore and moonbeams danced upon the silver crests of waves.

  The ride had been exhilarating and erotic. Her hair had escaped its neat chignon to hand in a wild mass about her shoulders and her breasts and body ached for more, as if the ride had vibrated something loose inside her.

  Sliding from the bike, Jackson helped her off then leaned back against the seat to look out at the sea. "You like the ocean?”

  “Love it, though I can’t remember the last I stopped to see it at night.” Nan turned to the ocean, welcoming the taste of salt in the air and the cool breeze. She burned for his touch and needed to get her mind on something besides having sex on the beach. Beating back her hormones, she searched for some functioning brain cells. “Uh, when did you start working construction?”

  “I’ve done it on and off for a while. Last month, the band decided to just do occasional performances, so I started working for Jared and James more often.” Jackson put his hands on her shoulders and started to softly massage them.

  Another electric jolt sizzled through her. “Like it?” she asked, only capable of forming two syllables.

  “Hadn’t thought about it. It’s money for a while. You like nursing?” He pulled her back, and she leaned against his hard body, feeling the heat of him to her core.

  “Um, yeah. Being able to uh, help people is great, but, um, the staffing problems, uh, make the job needlessly difficult.” She sounded as if her mind had gone kaput. Thankfully, he stopped the sensual, rhythmic caresses on
her shoulders and she breathed with relief. But that only lasted a second before he spun her around to face him.

  The wind ruffled his dark hair like the hand of a lover and the moonlight caressed the strong planes of his face, playing shadows over the full curve of his lips and the cleft in his chin. She tumbled headlong into her desire for him.

  He brushed his lips over hers. “You should work less and do a few things like this.”

  She tried to save herself by talking. “I have a list of fun things. I just haven’t gotten to them yet.”

  “Nan, throw the damned list away and just do it.”

  Before she could respond, Jackson pulled her up against him and started kissing her with the hottest need she’d ever felt from a man. Every part of her that wasn’t already throbbing from the ride tingled. She met him kiss for kiss.

  The man was so smooth he slid inside a woman and invaded her every pore. By the time they came up for air, she was plastered against his side and his right hand cupped her left breast, teasing her aroused nipple with the pad of his thumb.

  She moaned with pleasure, and swore she heard him growl before his mouth came down hard on hers. At the end of his second kiss she was ready to drag him into the sand. Never in her life had she been this needy, not even when all of her teenage hormones had raged. She was a woman over ready for a man and it seemed the only man her body wanted was Jackson. In her book the mind was supposed to dominate the body, but Jackson was rewriting the pages. Right that minute, enough hot, heavy sex to get him out of her system sounded really good.

  “I want you.” She pulled up his shirt, caressing his bare skin.

  He groaned, going after the buttons of her shirt. Pushing the cups of her bra to the side, he exposed her breasts, and leaned over to gently nip her aroused peaks, then eased her nipples with the brush of his tongue. Nan’s knees buckled from the intense pleasure. He caught her with his left arm and shoulder and slid his right hand up her skirt to cup her sex over her underwear. It was hard to tell which was hotter, his hand or her. He started to rub her lightly, an easy, but insistent back and forth motion over her sex. Her hips rocked with him, pressing against his and the hard, jean clad muscle of his thigh. Lost in her need, she arched to him, wanting more. He gave her more. Sliding his hand beneath her panties, he eased his finger into her sensitive groove. A cry of excitement escaped her; her heart pounded so hard she thought she would faint from the pleasure.

  “Let’s go for a ride, sugar,” he said gruffly. Cupping her bottom, he pressed her sex tighter against his fingers and rubbed. At the same time, he teased her lips and the tips of her breasts with light sucking kisses. Nan shook with the release rocking her soul. She continued to moan, and Jackson buried his face in her neck.

  “Damn, woman. I can’t seem to stop myself around you.” He took her hand and pressed it to his erection. He was as hot as the midday sun. “There’s a whole lot more to come.”

  A blush heated her cheeks, but she didn’t move her hand. Instead, she cupped him, and he pressed himself harder against her. Already she wanted more from him, more of him. She moved her fingers to the snap of his fly.

  Jackson tried to suck some air into his lungs so he could think. Nan in no way resembled the woman he’d put on his Harley earlier. Her neat bun had become a wild mane. Her prim skirt was hiked up to her hips and her modest shirt hung open, letting the moonlight bathe her full breasts. She’d never been more beautiful. He wanted her. Wanted to lay her back into the soft sand and bury himself deep inside of her again and again. He could still hear the pant of her breath and the cry of her release echo in his mind.

  Three months ago, two days ago, hell even two minutes ago, he would have done just that. But having had a taste of her, he wanted more than just one roll in the sand. Seeing her in Brad’s Mercedes and watching the man walk behind her with a proprietary air irked Jackson. She didn’t belong with Brad.

  He threaded his fingers through hers, and pressed her hand against his throbbing erection. He couldn’t ever remember needing a woman as much as he needed her. In the three months since she’d left him behind in Salty’s Bar, he’d had plenty of time and opportunity to find out that it was Nan he craved and no other. A good month or two in the sack should work her out of his system. He rubbed her hand against his fly, then lifted her fingers to his lips. Her skin was soft and silky and the musk-like fragrance of her sex clung to his hand. He breathed deeply of her, wanted to taste her, and almost lost hold of his new resolve. He started buttoning her blouse.

  “If I go any further, sugar, you’ll hate me in the morning. I want you choosing me when you’re thinking straight and not when I’ve bulldozed you into my bed. Forever isn't in the cards, but I want more than just one night. Come to Jesse’s birthday party Friday night, and spend the weekend with me working out this craziness in our blood.”

  “But—”

  He touched his finger to her lips, stilling her protest. “Wear that black underwear you had on the other night. Now hop on. I need to get you home before I change my mind.”

  She didn’t argue, and he made fast time getting her home. The ride wasn’t the same, though. She held herself stiffly from him and didn’t say anything as he walked her to the door, helping her unlock it. He didn’t mean to hurt her feelings. She had to know how much he wanted her.

  Nan opened her door, turning to him, and he leaned over to kiss her, whispering softly, “Tonight was incred—“

  “A mistake.” She planted a finger in the center of his chest and pushed him back.

  “What the hell?” He rubbed his chest, thoroughly confused.

  “I’m not sixteen, I’m not drunk. I’m a thirty-year-old woman who isn’t a pushover. I don’t need you deciding how I’m going to feel in the morning. Thank you for the ride.” She slammed the door in his face.

  He stood there for a minute stunned. How in the hell had he become the bad guy when he’d tried to do the right thing? He muttered and cursed as he stomped back to his bike.

  Sitting on his seat like he was king of the road was Shakespeare.

  Jackson glared at the beast, swearing horns sprouted from the cat’s head as he watched. The cat dug his claws into the bike’s leather seat and hissed when Jackson moved to take him off. “Damn! Go easy on the seat, will ya? Let’s have a man to cat talk here. You crossed the line when you licked my buns, and it pissed me off that you scratched my glasses, but unless you want to be strung up as shark bait stay off the bike.”

  Jackson heard Nan gasp. She’d come back outside. She ran over and snatched up her cat. “Don’t threaten Shakespeare.”

  He was a fool. He should have taken Nan when he had the chance. If he’d had a damn lick of sense they would still be at the beach going hot and heavy. “I didn’t threaten the damn cat, I just laid out some ground rules.”

  “His name is Shakespeare. Why don’t you like him?”

  “I didn’t say I didn’t like him.” How in the hell had she come to that conclusion? He rubbed his hands over his face. “I don’t even know the cat.”

  “Shakespeare.”

  “Shakespeare then. I don’t know what has you so mad. I don’t think you’re a push over. But I do want you in my bed for longer than just the spur of the moment. I want to make love until we’re both in a mindless oblivion. So you think about that before you write me off that approved list of yours and maybe I’ll see you Friday.” He mounted his motorcycle and roared off. Hell, women weren’t from Venus. Their damn reasoning was so far out there, they had to be from Pluto at the very least.

  Nan hugged Shakespeare to her breast. Considering Shakespeare had probably gouged a hole or two in Jackson’s seat, the man had shown remarkable restraint. But it irked her he was making her choose to have an affair with him rather than just sweep her off her feet. And what in the world possessed him to tell her that she had an approved list?

  He’d probably done her a big favor tonight. Had probably saved her from making a mistake. Maybe she’d be more gr
ateful after a cold shower. So what if he would have been right about her regretting things in the morning. At least she wouldn’t have this unfulfilled ache inside.

  * * *

  Two days and numerous cold showers later, Nan wasn’t any better off and she wasn’t in any better a mood. She pulled up to Alexi and Jesse’s house and told herself she was relieved that Jackson’s truck and his damned bike were nowhere in sight. Every day outside the nurses’ station she saw him working, caught the gleam of sunshine on his tanned muscles and had to listen to the ohhs and ahhs of her co-workers as they ate him alive with their hungry gazes. Nan was loath to admit that deep inside she was eating him up with the best of them. In the space of seventy-two hours she’d mentally made love to Jackson no less than a dozen times, and they’d been on his motorcycle to boot.

  Even writing all of the fantasies in her book had done little to purge him from her mind. Friday kept looming larger and larger on the horizon and her heart kept beating faster and faster with anticipation. Would she spend the weekend with him? Could she? How did one throw caution to the wind and just do it?

  When she’d returned from her wild ride with Jackson Monday night, she’d found that Brad had left a message on her answering machine. He’d said he would call while he was out of town and had reminded her about the yachting party in two weeks. He ended his call telling her they needed to talk as soon as he found the time.

  Be it Jackson’s influence, or Brad’s recent behavior, she was seeing Brad with different eyes. He wasn’t just a man absorbed with his career as she’d first thought. He planned life to the point that it bordered on obsessive. And she had to wonder if she was anything more than a calculated decision on his part. Had he asked her out because he liked her, or because she’d achieved the distinct honor of being the first person to earn the Lois Emerson Merit Award twice? Was Brad even aware of her on a physical or a personal level? At least physically Jackson left her no doubt that he was very aware of her.