“No, fuck you.”
Sinead stood up shakily. “Let’s talk tomorrow when you’re not hungover and irrational.”
“No point. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got work to do.”
“Right.” Sinead was on her way to the door when she abruptly turned around, unable to help herself. “Just think about what I said. Please.”
“Please shut up and get out. We’ve got nothing to say to each other.”
Sinead left the apartment, quietly closing the door behind her. She stood in the hallway a few minutes, breathing deeply until the nausea threatening to overtake her passed. She’d never been good at fighting outside the court-room. In fact, she hated it. But she couldn’t keep her mouth shut any longer. She loved Oliver; he was her best friend. And if he couldn’t bear hearing the truth, then there was nothing she could do about it, which killed her. She got in the elevator, rode down to the lobby, and with a heavy heart, went back to the office.
23
Depressed from her encounter with Oliver earlier in the day, Sinead was glad when she found a minute to call Adam. At least one positive thing had come from visiting her friend, or former friend, or whatever he was: she was now willing to stop worrying about loopholes and splitting hairs, and let herself be with Adam. Even though they’d mended things the night before, he sounded glad to hear from her, as if they hadn’t talked in a long time. Sinead hoped his buoyant mood wasn’t the result of how well the Blades seemed to be playing. Maybe a little of it had to do with her.
When she concluded the call asking Adam if she could stop by later and he affably told her to come on over, she went directly from work to his place. It was late, and she was afraid that if she went home to change first, she might start second-guessing herself and overthink things or let weariness overtake her. The quick cab ride downtown straight from work was the perfect antidote to keep her focused on the decision she’d made.
Nervous anticipation began simmering inside her as she imagined their physical reunion and all that might entail. She couldn’t wait to press her lips against his, hear his ragged breath as he became aroused. In all the years she was with Chip, he’d never made her feel as vibrantly alive as she did the first time she was with Adam. He was as intense in bed as he was on the ice.
She smiled at his doorman, thanking him when he gave her the go-ahead to go up to Adam’s apartment. She knocked twice and then opened the door. Adam grinned at her from the couch, where he sat with a big bowl of popcorn in his lap, watching The Three Stooges.
“Perfect timing,” he said. “The episode is almost over.”
“You could always finish watching it later,” Sinead suggested sweetly.
Adam paused the DVD. “Come sit down next to me,” he said, patting the empty space beside him. “Just two more minutes until it’s done. I swear.”
Sinead capitulated: she kicked off her heels, shed her trench coat, and joined him on the couch. Adam resumed playing the Stooges; within the space of one minute, one of them (Sinead didn’t know one from the other, though she seemed to vaguely remember Quinn calling Liam “Curly”) had tried to poke another’s eyes out with a giant fork, one had slapped another across the head with a two-by-four, and one had hit the third in the butt with a sledgehammer. She turned to Adam with a withering expression.
“This is giving me a migraine.”
Adam looked dismayed. “You don’t think it’s funny at all? Really?”
“I’m going to pretend you didn’t ask that.”
“Albert Einstein loved the Stooges.”
“He did not!”
“Did.” Adam switched off the TV. “Better?”
“Much.” Sinead reached into the bowl of popcorn and popped a few pieces in her mouth. It was deliciously salty, just the way she liked it.
Adam casually snaked his arm along the back of the couch as he angled his body toward her. “To what do I owe this honor?”
“I think you know.”
Adam snapped his fingers. “Oh, right. You’re here to discuss my case.”
“Correct.” Sinead licked some salt off her fingers. Lust flashed across Adam’s face. So, he finds it sexy. She put another finger in her mouth, sucking it slowly while she gazed at Adam with a seductive smile. She was rewarded with a smoldering look in return that made her body flash with instant heat. Sinead slowly took her finger from her mouth. They were holding each other’s gaze, watching, waiting to see who would bridge the gap between looking and touching. It was Adam; he leaned forward, his hand cupping the nape of her neck. “I’m sorry,” he said again, his lips barely brushing hers. “You know, about not understanding how things work for you.”
“Prove it.”
Adam laughed, then pressed his mouth to hers, hard. Pure white heat crackled through Sinead’s body as she threw her arms around his neck, returning his ardor. She loved the feeling of him pulling her closer, possessively, as if anyone dared to come near her, they’d have him to answer to.
She pushed against him, trembling but not tentative. She wanted him to know how badly she ached for him. Impatience was clawing away inside her, making her bolder than she usually would be. “I want you,” she said breathily into his ear. She pulled back to look into his eyes, those eyes that were so serious and intent, and saw pure desire there. I’m doing that to him, she thought in amazement. Me.
His mouth was back on hers, bruising and wild, pushing her toward the primal. Sinead tugged up his shirt, pressing her hands against the broad expanse of chest, the perfectly muscled torso. Adam responded; his eyes lazed shut for a moment as Sinead moved her palms up and down his heated skin. Adam slowly opened his eyes, his ragged breath pausing for a moment as he laid her down on the couch. Again, Sinead watched and waited. Slowly, oh so slowly, he lowered his mouth to hers, his kisses alternately soft then savage. Sinead rocked beneath him, pressing into him, wanting him to take her right now. It was as if Adam heard her thoughts: tearing his mouth from hers, his fingers nimbly unbuttoned her blouse, tossing it to the floor. Sinead watched him, entranced by the way his eyes pooled with dark desire as he reached down to roughly push her bra up and out of his way. Sinead gasped as his mouth clamped down on her, sucking hard with a desperate groan that made her weak. Her hands glided up and down his strong shoulders, her nails pressing into the hard skin. She was close, so close. “Don’t torture me,” she begged.
Adam lifted his head, grinning wickedly before returning his mouth to her bare torso, hot kisses making a trail down to her hips. Sinead glanced down at him; it was killing him to wait, she knew it was. Her intuition was confirmed as Adam pushed her skirt up and slid her panties down. She was panting lightly now, the need inside her juddering through her body at a pace her mind couldn’t keep up with. There was a long torturous pause; then Adam plunged his fingers deep inside her. Crying out, Sinead moved against him, silver sparks of desire playing up and down her body until she called out his name and came hard, reveling in the wild joy streaking through her.
She was just coming back to herself when she felt him lift his body from hers enough to free himself from his jeans. She held her breath, and there he was, slipping inside her, a perfect fit.
She was going to explode again. Swallowing her gasps, Sinead drew her knees up, wrapping her legs around the strong hips pumping against her. She began to quiver as his strokes became more pronounced, pushing deeper, his panting breath the sexiest sound in the world. Clamping herself tighter around him was her own undoing; she was hurled into a place of blinding, all-consuming release. Tears of joy pricked at the corners of her eyes. Happiness, abandon. She felt her inner self float up lazily like a balloon into a clear blue sky. Adam was setting her free from herself, from all the rules and pressure that had been the self-chosen parameters of her life for so long.
“You okay?” Adam rasped. He had noticed the glistening in her eyes, mistook it for pain.
“I’m wonderful,” Sinead sniffled. She trailed her nails up and down his back, feeling a thrill as he closed hi
s eyes, threw his head back, and pushed himself ever faster toward his own abandon, groaning low as he emptied himself into her and collapsed onto her, panting. Sinead ran her hands up and down his sides, the heat of his body still pulsing. She kissed the side of his face, running her hand through his sandy brown hair. When he lifted his head to look at her, she saw her own sense of freedom reflected back at her in his gaze. She slowly broke into a smile, then a delighted laugh. Adam looked at her quizzically for a moment, and then he, too, began to laugh.
“That was wonderful!” Sinead exclaimed. “That was so, so wonderful!”
Adam looked questioning, but happy. “You sound giddy.”
“I feel giddy.”
“Good.” He pushed himself up on his elbows, cradled her face in his hands, planting gentle kisses all over her face. “You’re the best attorney in town. Did you know that?”
“Why, thank you.”
“I’d like to discuss the case a little longer, if you don’t mind.” Adam shifted and sat up. “How about we shower and order in some Chinese?”
“That would be great.” Tell them no MSG, she almost said, but refrained. Nothing could give her a headache tonight. Nothing.
“Spend the night,” he murmured, lifting a strand of her hair and kissing it.
Sinead’s heart dipped. “I can’t. I don’t have a change of clothing. It’s probably a risky thing to do, anyway.”
“Who would know?”
“I would.” She kissed the tip of his nose. “When’s your next free weekend?”
“A few weeks, I think.”
“Let’s go up to my house in Bearsville.”
Adam’s face lit up. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. But no guns.”
“How about a fishing pole?” he asked, flashing a sly grin.
“Fine,” she said, pretending to be exasperated before breaking into a broad smile. “This can work, right?” Sinead suddenly blurted. God, why did she have to ruin the moment?
Adam kissed her fingertips. “Yes. Just let yourself be as happy as you were a few seconds ago, okay?”
“Okay.”
Of course it would work. This was a relationship between two conscientious, intelligent people. They would make it work.
24
“Don’t look so scared.”
Sinead gave a faltering smile as Maggie reeled off the instructions for watching Charlie. She’d arrived at her sister’s early so she could tell her about reuniting with Adam. Maggie seemed genuinely happy for her, but Sinead’s joy in sharing the news was slightly diminished because Maggie was distracted, frantically running around the house trying to get her things together before she left.
“Did I go over everything?” Maggie asked as she grabbed her keys. She was balancing Charlie on her hip. He was already in his pajamas, clutching a small, battered stuffed bear that Sinead remembered from their childhood.
“Yes.”
Maggie walked Sinead through the Charlie drill. “He can stay up for another half hour. He likes to watch Sesame Street; I already have the DVD set up. When you put him down, just sit by his crib for a few minutes and rub his belly while you hum to him.”
“You already told me that, Mags.”
Maggie was oblivious. “He should drop off within ten minutes. If he doesn’t, kiss him, tell him good night, and leave. If he starts to howl, try to ignore it. If you can’t deal with it, then take him out of the crib and hang out on the couch with him; that should calm him down. At any rate, I should be home shortly after that.” She patted Sinead’s shoulder. “You’ll be fine.” She smiled slyly. “You should have brought Adam with you.”
Sinead laughed. “Oh, right. I’m sure this would be his idea of fun. Plus I don’t want to get in trouble with Charlie’s parents,” she ribbed. Her mind flashed back to baby-sitting when she was a teenager; the one time she let her boyfriend come over after the parents left, they’d come home early and she’d gotten into a world of trouble.
Maggie seemed breathless. “You’ve got my cell number, right? And Brendan’s?”
“Yes and yes.” Sinead shooed her toward the door. “Go. You’re going to be late.”
“Okay.” Maggie hesitated, looking mildly guilty as she kissed her son on the forehead. “You be good for Aunt Neenee, okay? Mommy will be back soon.”
She handed him off to Sinead, quickly heading out the back door. Charlie was in Sinead’s arms all of five seconds before he began to howl.
“Oh, shit,” she whispered as he tried to wriggle out of her arms, his arms stretched toward the back door, screaming “Mommyyyyyyy!” Sinead panicked; should she let him go? Could he even walk yet? She should have asked Maggie. What if she put him down and he tried to walk and he couldn’t and got hurt? God, she was an idiot.
She kept him in her arms, murmuring to him soothingly as she hustled him into the living room. “Hey, big guy, c’mon. Want to watch some Ernie and Bert? Mmm?”
Charlie seemed not to hear her as he continued to cry. Sinead carefully sat down with him on her lap, fumbling desperately with the remote, pointing it at the TV as if it were a ray gun.
“Okay, we’ll watch Ernie and Bert,” she trilled. She hit the DVD, and the Muppets appeared on the screen. Charlie sucked in his lower lip and stopped crying. Sinead loosened her grip a bit; he crawled off her lap and sat down beside her, mesmerized by the brightly colored puppets and their silly voices.
Thank God, she thought. If he’d kept on crying, she might have burst into tears herself. She always seemed to make him cry. There had to be something about her, some maternal warmth she lacked, that he was tuning in to. It pained her. She wanted a relationship with her nephew, she really did. But something was getting in the way of it.
He seemed oblivious to her presence now, which was good. She studied him the way you might an exotic, beautiful little animal to whom you were attracted but were afraid to get close to, because you didn’t know how they might react. She swallowed, realizing what an awful mistake it would have been if she and Chip had had a child. Even if she’d won the battle of staying home part-time, it would have been a disaster, because she was clearly not cut out for this.
Charlie abruptly turned to look at her, and Sinead felt her heart lurch, fearful the mere sight of her might set him off. She smiled. “Hey, Charlie,” she said gently. “I’m Aunt Neenee. Remember?”
His lower lip quivered a minute, then he went back to watching TV. She knew from the DVD Susie had shown her that Adam was wonderful with kids; maybe next time she watched Charlie, if there was a next time, she would bring Adam with her.
Adam. She hated having to go home after making love with him. Next time, she’d bring a change of clothing and spend the night. Oliver was right: there was something furtive about what they were doing, and that was kind of exciting. But it bothered her that they really couldn’t do much beyond going out to dinner without arousing suspicion. She could watch him play hockey, she supposed, as long as she was with Quinn. But the movies or a picnic in the park or just holding hands together as they walked along the street? That was out for now. She hoped there was some movement on his case soon; she couldn’t imagine having to maintain a facade of being purely professional for months on end.
Time raced by. Before she knew it, half an hour had passed, and it was time to put Charlie to bed. God, please, don’t let him begin crying again. She turned off the TV and took a deep breath. “Bedtime, big guy,” she said softly. Charlie began crawling away from her, and Sinead gingerly picked him up. He began flailing in her arms, howling for Maggie and Brendan. Sinead carefully carried him upstairs, afraid of dropping him. She was surprised to find herself on the verge of tears. Incompetent. Please stop crying, you’re scaring me. I don’t know what to do.
In Charlie’s room, she turned on the night-light and carefully placed him in his crib. He pulled himself up and stood, clutching the bars of the crib as if he were in a prison cell, screaming. Should she leave him like that? Should she keep trying to put him
on his back? Shit.
“Oh, don’t cry, Charlie,” she cooed, picking up yet another teddy bear. She hummed and made him dance along the crib railing. Charlie’s tears sniffled to a halt, and he reached for the bear. Sinead handed it to him. He looked at it a minute, then tossed it, resuming his crying.
Sinead closed her eyes, trying to rub away the tension in her forehead. She knew babies weren’t like this all the time, but still. Was Charlie a “handful,” as her mother might say? She thought of the sacrifice she would have had to have made to have a child and told herself she was relieved things hadn’t worked out with Chip. But if that were true, then why did she feel so sad?
“Hey.”
Adam, deep in thought as he walked toward Met Gar, turned around to see Teddy Rawson, Commissioner Welsh’s henchman, hustling toward him. Adam frowned. He needed Teddy’s “You better change your game” bullshit like he needed a hole in the head.
“What’s up?” Adam asked curtly.
“You got a minute?”
“Depends.”
Rawson looked around. They were standing in the middle of the sidewalk, irked pedestrians parting to go around them. “C’mon. Let’s have a drink in the bar outside the players’ entrance into Met Gar.”
“Is this the hockey commissioner’s new approach?” Adam asked acidly. “Threats don’t work, so now you’re going to try to befriend me?”
“It’s not that at all,” Rawson swore. “Five minutes of your time.”
“Whatever.”
Adam shrugged, walking with the stocky man through the concrete plaza that surrounded Met Gar. Rawson had been a helluva player in his day, tough as nails, his willingness to drop his gloves legendary. He’d broken his nose more times than Adam could count, and the scars on his face bore testament to a player who gave it his all. He’d always respected Rawson, until he retired and became Welsh’s henchman—or “Welsh’s bitch,” as Michael preferred to call him.
The bar was largely empty save for a few suits. Adam went to sit at the bar, but Rawson motioned him toward a table instead. “This’ll be better.” Interesting, Adam thought. Whatever Rawson was going to throw at him, he didn’t want the bartender to hear it.
Icebreaker Page 17
