Wild Irish: Wild Image (KW) (A Charisma series novel, The Connollys Book 1)

by Heather Hiestand

  As she walked down the street in high-heeled hiking boots, she breathed in the sea-scented air wafting from the waterfront. Hopefully the breeze would send Thunder Road their way.

  “Hey!” she called, seeing Dion and Jorge across the street from the pub, where they had staked it out before.

  Dion held up his hand to her. Jorge nodded then looked away.

  She arrived at Dion’s side, kissing him on the cheek. He wore black, too, so she’d made the right choice. “No other paps around?”

  “Not too many of them in Baltimore,” he said, glancing down at her shoes with a quizzical air. “Thunder Road is on a short tour break, so I think their usual followers assumed they would separate for the week.”

  “Why didn’t they?”

  “I heard a rumor that the boys are keeping a close eye on Tyler.”

  “Worried about drugs?”

  He nodded. “You’ve been doing your research.”

  “Trying. I want to be helpful. Maybe it’s the start of a new career.”

  “After I take their photos, you can offer to sell them a house,” Dion joked.

  She winced, but it wasn’t his fault that her career was in such a bad place. Now that she was back on the show she needed to apply to one of the prestigious real estate firms in the area and really get her career going. Regardless of what happened now, she wouldn’t be on the show forever, and she couldn’t get used to that kind of income stream. It could dry up in a heartbeat. She’d proven that. “So is Tyler from around here?”

  “Annapolis.”

  She rubbed her hand down Dion’s bare, muscled forearm. His wrist needed a bracelet. Would he accept one from her? “Okay, so he’s the main one to watch for. He’s got the thick blond streaks in very dark brown hair and a very chiseled face.”

  “He’s really skinny right now,” Dion said. “Heroin will do that.”

  She winced. “Yikes, I’d only read about cocaine.”

  “They go together,” Jorge said, in a rare burst of communication. “He won’t look his age. Look for a group of kids.”

  “Ball caps, hoodies pulled up,” Dion added.

  “Then how do you get decent pictures of them?”

  Dion smiled and waited for a camera man to point directly at him. “You’re going to be bait.”

  Kasee punched his arm. “I’m not dressed to be bait.”

  “What do you have on under that jacket?”

  She began to realize he was being serious. “Just a pink tank.”

  He held his camera with one hand and unzipped her jacket with the other, then pulled it off her shoulders, then he pulled off her cap. Her hair tumbled across her shoulders. “Mmmm.”

  “Find that sexy, do you, big boy?” she purred.

  “I like the shoes, too, but not for street work. Be more practical next time. For tonight, though, I like them for bait. I also appreciate you cut down on the eye makeup. Makes you look younger.”

  “Thanks, I guess.”

  “Why do you always wear false lashes? All of your friends do, too.”

  “We’re a herd of sheep,” she deadpanned.

  “I don’t like them,” Dion said.

  “Fine.” She turned away. Surely she wouldn’t let a real boyfriend treat her like this, but she knew Keith had made demands a million times and she’d always given in. But she’d been a lot younger then, and less sure of herself.

  “Hey,” Dion said. “I don’t want to undo all the relationship-building we had last night, but these are my streets, okay? I know the score.”

  “Sure, Dion,” she said. He put his arm on her shoulder, ready to draw her into a hug, but she stepped away as a big black SUV pulled onto the street. She saw it was a rental, so at the very least, these were wealthy tourists. Could it be Thunder Road?

  “Is that them?” she asked, peering across the street.

  “No, too old,” Jorge said, holding up his camera as people spilled out.

  Dion patted her ass. “Go across the street now. You’re bait, remember?”

  His fingers settled on one cheek. She stiffened instinctively, then reminded herself that she’d supposedly had sex with this guy the night before and intimacy would be expected. “What am I supposed to do?”

  “Talk to them, if you even think it’s them. Chase ballers, or whoever looks interesting. I’ll signal you when we’re done with our shots.”

  “Okay.” She waited for a limousine to drive down the street, then crossed over to the pub, followed by two of her three camera men.

  “Don’t take them,” Dion said. “You’ll give it away.”

  She shrugged at him, then shooed the men back. A group of tall black men came around the corner. Basketball players? She looked at them hopefully and one of them winked at her, but she didn’t recognize any of them, and from the chatter, it sounded like they were a bachelor party. When she glanced at Dion, he made a slicing motion across his neck.

  “I need reaction shots,” the assistant producer called from between the camera men. “If we have to stay out of the way, at least look in our direction from time to time.”

  Kasee had forgotten how artificial this could be, after nearly a year away from the cameras. She made an “okay’ sign with her fingers, then watched as massive vehicle, a Hummer, came up the street. Someone came through the door from the pub and she could hear folk music spilling out, and someone calling, “Play something decent!”

  She glanced through the windows for a second, and when she looked back, a tall, lean youth jumped from the vehicle on to the sidewalk. He had a baseball cap on, but tendrils of brown hair curled around it. She peered at him. Were those the famous eyes?

  She glanced across the street, but the Hummer blocked Dion, so she turned to Lizzie and mouthed, “Bax Connolly?”

  Her crew came forward as she went toward the young man. Another youth jumped down from the Hummer, this one with short dreads. The Japanese-Jamaican kid.

  “Oh my God, it’s Thunder Road!” She pressed her fingers to her mouth, horrified at her girlish exclamation. “I love you guys.”

  Bax, for it was indeed him, gave her a sly smile, and made a lowering motion with his hands. “We’re on vacation, ma’am.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “Did you just ‘ma’am’ me? No, no, no.” How embarrassing.

  She glanced across the street. Dion and Jorge were gone. Hopefully, they were in position to take the shots. She saw another head pop out of the open vehicle door. Sharply carved-in cheeks, hollow eyes, some kind of sore on his chin. This must be Tyler, swaying as he held the edge of the door.

  “Oh, your poor friend,” she breathed. “Are you sure you should be taking him to a pub?”

  “You have somewhere better in mind?” Seth said in a shockingly deep voice. He must sing those beautiful, grounding bass notes she’d heard in their music. “I’d love to hit the clubs later on.”

  Flashes of light went off, temporarily blinding Kasee, as she said, “I meant some kind of in-patient facility.”

  When she could see again, Tyler’s head had vanished back into the Hummer, and Bax was already at the door, his head inside, talking to the others.

  Seth shook his head at her. “For shame, woman.”

  “Tyler needs help, not a night out. He looks terrible.”

  “That’s none of your business. Why are you ruining our night out?”

  “It’s not my fault,” she protested.

  “The hell it isn’t. I know who you are, Kasee Kean. Last week you were bothering Sky Mitchell, and now it’s us. Get a life, lady.” Seth pushed Bax into the vehicle, then climbed in himself. Another hand emerged from the vehicle only long enough to pull the door closed, then the Hummer roared off.

  Kasee shook off her embarrassment, and dashed over to Dion, who was down the street talking to Jorge and comparing shots. Her crew followed. “Did you get anything?”

  “Nothing that doesn’t include you in it,” Dion said. “I can’t have you in the pictures, Kasee. You aren�
�t the story.”

  “We didn’t get Tyler,” Jorge said glumly.

  “We must have,” Dion almost shouted as he pulled his camera back up to his eyes and began clicking through shots. He swore, his finger stilling on the camera. “Every shot of his face was blocked by your arm!”

  “I’m sorry,” Kasee said. “I didn’t know. I was just in the moment.”

  “You knew what we needed. Tyler is the money shot.”

  “I don’t know that I was blocking him. I’m out of practice taking pictures.”

  “He’s the hometown boy,” Jorge said with a shrug. “You’d better learn quickly.”

  Dion ripped his camera strap from around his head, looking ready to throw it.

  “I’m sorry,” Kasee said again, feeling the swell of tears behind her eyes. “Surely you got something.”

  “Not one usable shot. There was a bounty for a picture of Tyler. Twenty K, Kasee.” He pointed at her, murder in his eyes. “You cost me twenty thousand dollars.”

  “Oh come on, it’s always a crap-shoot with paparazzi shots. They probably practice the drill so shots aren’t possible from most angles. And you can’t see that well here, either, but when you check your camera, you might have something.”

  “No,” Jorge said. “I’m heading to that new nightclub by the stadiums. Maybe they’ll go there next.” He stepped off the curb and headed back across the street.

  “I can give you a ride,” Kasee said to Dion. “In the production van.”

  He gave her a murderous stare. “That’s a good twenty-five thousand dollars you’ve cost me so far.”

  “I got you that shot with Sky Mitchell.”

  “I would have had one without you mauling him either way.”

  She crossed her arms. “I suppose you’re right. I’m sorry. I won’t interfere with your work anymore.”

  “This isn’t going to work,” he growled. “Lizzie wanted to warn me off and I wouldn’t talk to her.”

  “How can you say that? And how can she? After last night?” She didn’t know what she was pleading for, the bubble bath that didn’t actually happen because the cameras got everything they needed, or for those few moments of actual camaraderie they’d managed despite all the chaos.

  One of the camera men pressed closer. Dion stared at the man with disgust. “Last night,” he muttered. His hand went to his hair. “Kasee.”

  She pressed her hands to her heart. “I won’t interfere again. I promise. Let’s take your money out of the equation, okay? I won’t come near you when you’re working.” She forced a smile. “After all, I want you to be able to afford me. If I cost you twenty-five Gs in one week, I think you’re doing really well.”

  “’Tis the season to make money,” he muttered. “It isn’t always this good. And there aren’t that many celebrities from around here.”

  “Well, is Jorge right? Will Thunder Road go to a club next? You could chase them.”

  His phone beeped. He pulled it out and took a look. “No, they went to a strip club, but the bouncers there are really aggressive. Can’t go there.”

  “You could follow them when they leave,” she suggested. “Stake out the strip club.”

  He scratched his chin then typed a few words into his phone. “I can’t discuss it with you.”

  She knew he meant in front of the camera crew. “I understand. I’m staying out of your money.” She nodded emphatically. “I think I’ll just stop into Pat’s and hang out at the bar for a bit.”

  “Great,” he said. “Let me know if anyone interesting pops in.”

  “Sure,” she said, turning away. Then, mindful of the cameras, she turned back. “Can I have a hug?”

  He looked at her like she was a cockroach, but then he held out on arm. She went to him for his half-hearted hug, already planning her interview in front of the cameras, talking about how men are about their money. But Dion smelled so good when her nose grazed his neck that her thoughts stuttered to a halt, and despite the camera being in the way, they managed a close embrace. She could have stayed, curled against him, but his phone beeped again, so she stepped back.

  “Off to work?”

  He nodded. “See ya.”

  ~

  Kasee hung out at the pub for a couple of hours, nursing a glass of white wine and chatting with the bartender. Pop was at his stool for a while, and she listened to the old guys talk about the Sixties and how good the music was back then. The camera crew gave up and shut down production for the evening. Eventually she found her car and drove home, but restless, she couldn’t relax.

  An hour after that, she’d redone her makeup and pulled on a pair of jeans and a low-cut silk blouse, then added a pair of ballet flats. Without allowing herself to think too much about it, she drove to Dion’s apartment. She decided it was meant to be when she found a parking spot only a block away.

  When she glanced at the front of the building and counted up, she saw his lights were on. Was he home? Leaving things between them that tense didn’t feel right. Feeling resolute, she marched up the front steps and called his unit.

  “Hello?”

  “It’s Kasee. Can we talk?”

  “At midnight?”

  “Must be normal work hours for you.”

  She heard a yawn. “Not really.”

  She heard a buzz and pulled open the front door. When she went in, she smelled something spicy, Korean food, maybe, and saw pizza flyers drifting across the foyer under the mailboxes. Quickly, she found the elevators and rode up the fifth floor.

  Dion was waiting, his front door open, when she came off the elevator. “Hey.”

  “Hi.” Suddenly breathless, she paused in front of him.

  He must have just left the shower. Droplets were visible on his neck and his flattened hair glistened with moisture. Blue plaid pajama pants were slung low over his hips, and his entire golden torso was blissfully naked. The night before, she’d been too busy acting for the cameras to really look at him in his full glory.

  “Where is the camera crew?” he asked, his tone sour.

  “No cameras.”

  “Then what is this again? More apologies? I’ve got your credit card number already.”

  “Do we have to do this in the hall?”

  He put his hands on his hips. “I thought you liked to hang it all out in public.”

  “Not in that sense. It’s a job. I have time off too, you know.”

  He gestured her inside, swiping at his neck to wipe off the water drops. But when he turned, she saw the droplets across his shoulders. She groaned, fighting her instinct to lick him.

  “What?” he turned around.

  She pressed the door closed, her back against it. “Sorry, didn’t mean for you to hear that.”

  “What’s going on? This feels like a booty call, and it isn’t like that between us.”

  Sexual frustration irritated her. She’d been without for more than a year, and tonight that mattered a lot. A whole hell of a lot, what with her breasts aching, and juices flowing between her thighs. "Come on, Dion, it's not just for the cameras. You know I'm attracted to you, right?"

  “Not really.”

  “I’d never have asked you to date me if I wasn’t.”

  “You thought I’d be controversial. You were attracted to me being half black, not my looks.”

  She spoke slowly. “You are so wrong about that.”

  “I don’t want booty calls on camera. I’m not cheap like that. I never thought it was cool. I like sex in relationships. I like to feel good about it when I wake up. And I like my girl to still be there.”

  “Really?” Her voice came out husky. Her hand went to her cleavage, her fingers clutching the gold chain she wore, that looped between her breasts.

  “Yeah.” He stared at her, pupils dilated.

  “Maybe I could be your girlfriend on and off camera.”

  “Ummm.” He glanced away. “You’re kind of nuts, and my life is complicated.”

  “I know, Dion, and
I don’t want to interfere. The reality is, this show only tapes for a couple of months a year. It will all be over before summer. We just have to get through this part.”

  “And you think going to bed will help?”

  Moisture soaked the scrap of silk between her flesh and her jeans. “I’ll sure feel better tomorrow.” She moved forward and put her hand on his chest. “I know you know how attractive you are. I’m not the only girl who wants you right now. I’m sure of that. But you let me in. That’s got to mean something. You trust me to have your back, right?”

  “I trust you to keep the balance on your credit card low, so I can get money for Johan’s care.”

  Her emotions were too close to the surface. Tearing up, she let her hand drop. “I’m sorry. I thought maybe you were attracted to me too, but I guess I’m just making a fool of myself. I’ll get out of here.”

  “Hey.” He put his arms around her waist and pulled her hips against his.

  Her eyes widened as she felt the long, hot length of him pressing against her mons. While he was taller than her, he had a long torso and their legs were almost the same. She knew what that meant: perfect shower sex. “Hey, yourself.”

  “I want you too,” he crooned into her ear.

  She sniffed. “Will you respect yourself in the morning? I don’t want you to give in to the situation and then be angry after.”

  He nuzzled her hair. “Maybe I like crazy, girl. Yeah, my defenses are down, but it’s not like we aren’t gonna see each other tomorrow. Why not turn a fake relationship into something real? Who are we hurting?”

  As she tilted her mouth up to his, she thought, Only ourselves.

  Before he even had kissed her properly, he had her shirt over her head. The fabric wiped the tears from her face as it came off. He unbuckled her belt without looking at it, had her jeans tugged down over her hips and used his feet to pull them completely off her. His pajama bottoms almost fell off him and in seconds they were standing in a puddle of clothes. She couldn’t keep her smile hidden as she caressed his warm, damp flesh.