Once Kissed: An O'Brien Family Novel (The O'Brien Family)

by Cecy Robson

  I place my fingertips over my smiling lips. “Swearing aside, that’s probably the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

  “Good,” he says. “Come here.”

  There’s no hesitation. I go to him easily, greeting lips as eager for me as mine are for his. Curran lifts me, carrying me to the couch and placing me on his lap.

  “I shouldn’t be doing this,” he gasps, before quickly returning to attack my mouth.

  My hands link around his neck and my teeth graze his jawline, nibbling their way across and stopping below his ear. “Okay,” I whisper, biting on his lobe.

  He curses. Twice. His grip to my hips tightening. “Scratch that. We can’t do more than this.”

  “Mm-hmm.” So I do more of this.

  “I have to be ready if something happens,” he mumbles.

  He startles when my tongue slips inside his ear.

  “We can’t get naked,” he insists through gritted teeth. Or at least he tries to.

  He pulls me back to his mouth, this time more fiercely, his heart ramming hard against his rib cage and his hand skimming up to knead my breast.

  My phone rings. Curran ignores it. I do, too.

  But I shouldn’t.

  The voicemail feature booms with Spencer’s voice. “Hello, Contessa. It’s Spencer, your date for the evening, but you probably already know that.” He laughs in that rehearsed way of his. “I look forward to seeing you. I’m expected by seven, so kindly be prepared by six-fifteen—oh, and Contessa, be prepared for a long night. I’m sure you have suitable lingerie you can surprise me with.”

  He disconnects then. His call was brief, but the damage is done.

  Curran pulled away at Spencer’s reference to a “long” night. Yet it’s Spencer’s final comment that sparks his fury and deepens his scowl. “What the hell is that about?”

  His sudden anger catches me off guard and adds to the humiliation triggered by Spencer’s call. I slip away from his lap and stand, crossing my arms.

  I try to offer an explanation, but I can’t find any words to justify Spencer’s disgusting remarks. Probably because none exist.

  “Are you sleeping with him?” Curran demands, rising to his feet.

  I raise my chin. “No.”

  “But you plan to. Tonight, I take it?” He scoffs. “Come on, Tess. Don’t look at me that way. You asked for honesty. So I’m telling you the truth when I say I haven’t been with anyone since you. Don’t you think you owe me the same truth back?”

  “I’m not going to sleep with him. I told you, I don’t even want to go to this function.”

  “But you’re going, with some guy you claim is an asshole, knowing he’s expecting a lot more than your company.” He motions to the dress. “Did he pick that out for you?”

  This time, it’s my anger that flares. “What are you accusing me of?” He squares his jaw. “I’m not some hired escort, if that’s what you’re implying.”

  “No, I’m not. But let’s not pretend that any of this makes sense. You’re a grown woman. If you don’t want to attend this thing, don’t. If you don’t want to be with a man, you say no. If he shows, and you don’t want him here, I’ll throw his ass out on the street. And I could give a shit if he becomes the president of the goddamn world.”

  He means well, but he doesn’t understand what could happen if I don’t attend this fundraiser. Five more months, I remind myself. Only five more months. “It’s not that simple, Curran.”

  “Yes it is, Tess.” He closes the distance between us and strokes my chin until I meet his gaze. “Call him back. Tell him you’re not going. And stay with me.”

  I swallow the lump building in my throat, but it does nothing to ease the sting in my eyes. “I can’t. I promised.”

  His hand drops away. “Yes, you can. You just won’t.”

  He marches away from me. I call to him, my voice pleading. “Curran.”

  He stops directly in front of the door. “You don’t owe me an explanation or a commitment. But I don’t need to hear lies. You have a choice. If you’re choosing to be with him, it’s because you want to.”

  I wait for him to shut the door before I allow the first of my tears to fall.

  Chapter 14

  Curran

  The first thing I do when the limo pulls into the lot is run the plates. Turns out Tess’s date didn’t just rent this thing, he fucking owns it. His driver parks directly in front of the rear entrance to Tess’s building, making it easy for his boss to head inside. But instead of escorting Tess down, or sending his damn driver for her, he slips out to smoke.

  He barely glances at her when she walks out—too busy finishing his cigarette and yapping on his phone.

  He half-waves at her, laughing at whoever he’s talking to. She lifts her chin, her eyes briefly meeting mine. There’s no trace of her smile or her glasses. She has her hair up, she must be wearing contacts, and she has my dead Grammie’s dress on beneath her wool coat. What gets me is how pale she seems—no color to her cheeks except for that stuff girls add to make them look less pasty.

  But that doesn’t make her less beautiful.

  For some other guy.

  Who isn’t me.

  Fuck.

  The driver hurries out to open her door, but she’s already wrenched it open, her scowl fixed on her idiot date. Not that he notices or probably even cares. He talks for ten more minutes before finally disconnecting and gracing Tess with his presence.

  I crank the engine of my truck and wait for a count of ten before tailing them. The last thing I need is to think about what he’s saying or doing to her in the backseat as I follow them downtown. But I do, because I’m not pissed enough she’s with another guy.

  She could have walked away and didn’t. But the more I think about how defeated and tired she seemed, the more this whole thing bugs the shit out of me. Something’s wrong with all of it. Yet even though I’m a cop, and despite all our time together, Tess doesn’t trust me enough to tell me why…probably because I haven’t done the same in return, but that’s different. Or at least, that’s what I tell myself.

  It takes a while to reach the hotel. It’s one of those swanky places with columns in the front and walkways so white and clean, I could lick them and refresh my tongue.

  I speed ahead and angle my truck into the lot across the street, snagging a spot at the end where I can catch all the action going down. That asshole, her date for the evening, steps out of the limo from a different door than he went in and waves to the crowd.

  Either they switched seats before he climbed out or something happened on the ride down. I hope it’s the former, because the latter makes me want to cross the street and break him in two.

  I drum on the steering wheel. Jealous much, dipshit?

  He helps Tess out, then presses his hand against her back, only to lower it down to her ass. It riles me more than it should—not just because of what he does, but how he does it: sly, like he owns her and is showing her as much. Despite where his hand wanders, his fake political face greets a group of higher-ups heading his way.

  He leans into Tess and whispers something. She shrugs hard, trying to shake his hold. He laughs. I’m not sure if it’s for show or if he’s laughing at her expense. Either way, he keeps his hand on her when it’s clear she doesn’t want him to.

  She tries to shrug him off again. Instead of giving her space, like he should have in the first place, he secures his grip and squeezes her ass.

  I reach for the door and fling it open. I’m out of line, but so is this prick, and I have every intention of knocking him out. But from one blink to the next, Tess smacks his hand away. “Don’t fucking touch me,” she snaps, loud enough for me, and the advancing group, to hear. They pause as she storms away without him.

  I find myself smiling.

  She said “Don’t touch me.”

  And “fuck.”

  She’s not just annoyed. My girl’s raging.

  “Well, I’ll be damned.”
She was telling the truth when she said she didn’t want to go to this thing. But then my smile fades when I realize she doesn’t have a way out.

  I watch her move in line alone, her chin up. She’s forced a smile more times than I can count, but this time, she can’t seem to manage. This time, she’s done playing happy.

  I mumble a curse, but then climb back in my truck. She doesn’t want to be with this idiot, just as she’d claimed. But it also doesn’t seem like she has any friends to support her.

  The crowd that approached her date surrounds him, laughing and pretending that nothing’s wrong while Tess stands alone. She’ll probably stay that way, whether those other assholes decide to include her or not.

  And I don’t like it.

  I lean back and tap my hand against the armrest, mulling over my choices. I can’t go in without flashing a badge and blowing my cover. And I can’t justify blowing my cover without looking like an ass.

  This thing has head-to-toe security. I’m supposed to sit and wait unless she’s in danger. But she’s not in danger. She’s just with an asshole.

  An asshole who’s gunning to be the next mayor.

  Nope. I have no options…until the next SUV pulls in and I find my opportunity.

  This SUV is specially designed to accommodate someone who uses a wheelchair. A ramp is carefully lowered and the driver, a guy about my age, jumps out and tosses his keys to the valet, smiling. He waits beside a woman in a fur coat, until what appears to be a paraplegic man eases his way down the ramp. The woman in the fur coat dotes on him, while the young guy reaches up to help a striking young woman out of the vehicle.

  The young woman has my attention, but it’s not because of her looks, or because she’s dressed all in red. I know her, and know her well. I scroll through the contacts on my cellphone and hit her number. As I watch, the older man scoots ahead in his high-tech chair with his woman at his side, and the young guy hits a button to withdraw the ramp. The valet speeds away at the same time the hot chick in red digs out her phone from the bottom of her purse.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Lety,” I say, watching her. “It’s Curran.”

  “Hi, Curran,” she says, sounding surprised. Has it been more than a year since we talked?

  Her date slides his arm around her and leads her toward the line of people waiting to get in. “Can I call you back? I’m at an event.”

  “That’s actually what I’m calling about. I need to get into that event.”

  “What?”

  “I said I need to get in. By the way, you look great in red.”

  She freezes, then slowly looks around. “Where are you?”

  “Blue F-150 across the street and to your right.”

  Even from here I can see her smiling. “What are you up to?” she asks through her teeth.

  “Nothing bad.”

  “That’s what you said when we broke into your father’s liquor cabinet,” she whispers tightly.

  “Hey, we wouldn’t have gotten caught if you hadn’t fallen down the steps.”

  “You puked in my hair, Curran,” she mumbles.

  “Yeah, but it was a total accident. Listen, this time I swear I mean it.”

  Her date leans in and whispers something in her ear. She covers the mic and says something I don’t catch. “Curran, I don’t know. This is a private function.”

  “Lety, I promise I won’t get you in trouble. But I’m serious when I say I need to get into that party. Say you’ll help me, kid.”

  “Curran…”

  “Come on,” I press. “You and me, we’re practically family.”

  She edges to the front of the line, where her date passes security two envelopes. “Give me ten,” she says, and then disconnects.

  Yeah. It’s good to have friends.

  —

  Lety walks out a little later, huddling in her red wool coat. She waits until several limos pull up to the curb before she crosses the street and heads to my truck. We exchange those cheek kisses we always do when she slips inside.

  “Hey. You said ten. That was more like sixteen.”

  She stops in the middle of fumbling through her coat. “You want my help or not, copper?”

  “Okay, it was actually fifteen.” She shakes her head, smiling, and passes me a black jacket. “What’s this?”

  “My boyfriend’s suit jacket. You’ll need it to get in. You’ll also need this.” She reaches into her purse and pulls out an invitation to the event. “Your name’s Brody Quaid Moore—unless you get caught. Got it?”

  “Got it.”

  “Okay. Come on, then. I need to get back.”

  “Go ahead without me. I don’t want anyone to see us together, just in case.”

  She tightens her jaw. “Just in case what? Damnit, Curran. I’m here with my boyfriend and his parents. Don’t start any shit that will embarrass me in front of them.”

  “Come on, Lety. When have I ever embarrassed you in front of anyone?” She looks at me. “Okay, okay. But you have to admit, Father Flanagan’s face was classic when he caught us eating all that sacramental bread.”

  She opens the passenger door but doesn’t step out right away. “Brody means everything to me, Curran. If you make him look bad because of something you do, you’ll be wearing your balls like earrings, understand?”

  “Nice one, Lety. I guess you can take the girl out of Philly, but you can’t—”

  “Shut up, Curran. And for Christ’s sake, don’t do anything stupid.”

  She walks away then and crosses the street, joining the crowd of people making their way out of their limos and into the hotel. I hop out, wait another minute or so, and join the last few stuffed coats trailing in.

  It takes a while to get to the front of the line. “This really you?” the security guard asks me.

  “Who else would it be?”

  “Brody?” Lety calls. She waves to me from inside the lobby. She didn’t go far, probably just far enough to check her coat. She wants to make sure I make it through. She’s a good kid, that Lety.

  “Brody!” she calls again, this time louder. “You’re late—your father’s waiting, babe.”

  “Okay, honey.” I grin. “I’m coming.” The guard isn’t completely convinced. “Come on, pal,” I say. “My girl’s waiting and so is my dad.”

  Another security guard leans in to examine the invitation. I think there’s going to be trouble until he blows out a breath. “That there’s Brody Quaid Moore. You better let him in.”

  And right on cue, Lety calls out again. “Brody!”

  The guard motions me through. “Coming, sweet cheeks!” I yell.

  I walk through the revolving doors. Lety wraps her arm around mine and leads me into a grand ballroom, speaking through her white sparkling teeth. “ ‘Sweet cheeks’? Nice, Curran. You could have said anything, but you had to go there.”

  I grin. “You can’t tell me that boyfriend of yours never told you you have a nice ass.”

  She tries to hide her smile, her real one, and fails. “That’s none of your business, butthead. Show some class for once and I won’t have to kill you.”

  She weaves us around the crowd. She doesn’t seem to know anyone, but she also doesn’t seem to care. Instead she tries to look over and around people until she spots who she’s searching for. And holy shit, doesn’t she light up then.

  Her date is down to a shirt and tie. Good thing security doesn’t know what he looks like, ’cause we sure look nothing alike. Although muscular, and about my height, he’s not as brawny as me. And instead of short hair, his falls past his chin.

  He polishes off the shrimp on toast he’s munching on and straightens when he sees Lety’s arm around mine. She holds on to her smile but lets me go, hurrying to his side. “Sorry, babe,” she says, standing on her toes to kiss his lips. “This is my boyfriend, Brody,” she tells me.

  “Who’s this?” Brody asks, securing his arm around her waist.

  Lety smooths her hand over his
chest. “Oh, sorry. This is Killian’s brother, Curran.”

  Brody nods, appearing to relax. “Oh, the DA.”

  “That’s Declan,” she explains.

  “That’s right, you’re the carpenter.”

  Lety laughs. “No, that’s Seamus. Curran’s a Philly cop.”

  “Then who’s the contractor?”

  “Angus,” I clarify. “And Finnie’s the baby and probably up to no good.” I shrug out of his jacket and hand it to him. “Thanks for the coat, man.” I motion to Lety. “And sorry about keeping you from your girl. I didn’t mean any disrespect.”

  He slips into his coat and shakes my hand, grinning like he means it and showing me he’s a good guy. Lety leans into him like she’s known him forever, or at least plans to.

  Brody’s arm returns to her waist as he considers me. “There are six of you, and you have a sister, too, right?”

  “That’s right.”

  He nods. “Yeah, Lety’s probably going to pop out at least seven for us, too. Right, pequeña?”

  She pinches the bridge of her nose. “Brody,” she mutters.

  I laugh. “Oh, shit, are you blushing?” She narrows her eyes. “Aw, hell, you are. You got it bad, kid.”

  “Don’t you have something you’re supposed to be doing?” she snaps. “Or are you only here for the free food?”

  “Oh, I’m already doing it with my super-spy skills. I’m just so stealth—that’s spy talk for sneaky—that you didn’t notice.” I’ve already scanned the bar area and the other serving station. Still no Tess. “Hey, Brody. You know any of these people?”

  He makes a face like he wishes he didn’t. “Yeah. Most of my life.”

  “Where’s the asshole up for mayor?”

  “Curran,” Lety warns, when my compliment makes an older couple passing us pause.

  Brody laughs, not caring what people think any more than I do. “He’s over on the other side, trying to squeeze money out of a bunch of executives. Come on, I’ll get you close.”

  “Thanks, man.”

  We edge around the perimeter of the dance floor until I catch sight of Tess. Lety stops Brody when she realizes I’m not following them, her eyes widening at the sight of my pissed-off face. “Brody, wait,” she urges.