Embraceable You (Irish Hearts Series)

by Mary Tate Engels

  She held the phone at arm’s length and yelled, "No way in hell!"

  One of the movers peered at her as he walked past with an armload of boxes.

  Okay, she had foolishly gone with a friend to their favorite hang out last night but when she spotted Warren and his short-skirted bimbo, she left immediately. She was sure no one saw her. Almost sure.

  "You weren’t there?"

  Siena responded with a tinny laugh. "Not possible, Warren. I was dining with friends." Another lie just slid right out of her mouth. She hated him. He brought out the worst in her. At this point, it was easy to blame him for everything, even her own stupid behavior.

  "How about if . . . oh hell, I’ll just say it. I want to see you again, Siena."

  Something inside her exploded and words erupted from her evil, revenge-seeking mouth. "You’re way too late, jackass! I’m moving today. Out of Boston and your life forever."

  He paused before asking, "Where are you going, Siena?"

  Her breath caught in her throat. Was he having a moment of regret for losing her? Would he like to patch things up? Should she consider…? No, she wouldn’t go there. He’d been an ass, and there was no reason to believe things had changed. She had hung onto hope far too long.

  "I’ve got my own business now, Warren. I’ll take everything I learned from you and make my own success." In that moment, she believed she could do anything. And be successful. And even have Zach warming her bed at night. Maybe, if she could get rid of the beautiful Monique.

  There was a chuckle in his tone. "What kind of business?"

  With verbal venom she spat, "Lacy, racy things. Fine lace handkerchiefs for women like me with a broken heart. And lacy thongs to help them cover their asses when their world falls apart."

  "Siena darling, you sound a bit angry."

  "Does the word ‘bobbit’ mean anything to you? What I would like to do to you would land me in jail!" She closed the phone, wondering why she had wasted five years of her life with him and another five minutes just now. Oh, what she’d like to do to him right this minute. She shook her head, trying to clear the vengeful mind of a wronged woman. The phone rang again, but she let it go.

  "Excuse me, Lady?"

  She looked up and one of the movers was standing in the middle of the almost-empty room, holding the discarded lace pillow.

  "Did you mean to toss this? It's pretty."

  She glared from him to the lacy thing he held in his hands. "Yes, why?" she muttered, angry to the point of tears. Everything associated with this move was Warren’s fault, and in this moment she hated him and everyone she knew and some she didn’t.

  "Would you mind if I take it to my kid? She’s thirteen and loves this kind of thing."

  Siena crashed back to earth. The man was nice enough to ask and just wanted to do an ordinary thing. She gave him a little smile. "Yes, please take it."

  "You sure you don’t want it?"

  "No, please. I want your daughter to have it. And I hope she enjoys it."

  "Thanks." He tossed the heart lightly in one hand.

  "It’s uh, hand-made. The lace and everything."

  "Yeah?"

  "And my great-aunt thinks it, the lace, has special powers, like good luck… if you believe."

  "Sounds like something my daughter would go all dreamy over. Thanks." He backed away.

  Amazingly, Siena felt better. Freed up. It was over, truly over. Warren, the job, living in Boston. She was headed for a new life where she had the greatest challenge of her career. That was exhilarating. And if it didn’t work, she could always come back to . . . she left that thought unfinished.

  Siena loaded her car with clothes, boots, books, music and cosmetics. All the rest were stored until . . . she needed them. She drove out of town humming.

  Now that she’d given Warren the verbal boot, she felt empowered. She would create a new life for herself and head in a kick-ass, new direction. Most importantly, her self-esteem had been renewed. She wasn’t sure why she felt uplifted because her situation remained dire, one paycheck away from broke. Still, it felt good to establish closure to her old life. She’d keep the sweet zucchini-bread memories of Boston and let the bitter ones go.

  Making Amazing Lace a success would be her next goal and challenge. Lingerie? Might work. Maybe she’d take Zoey up on her offer and they could get something going online.

  And then, there was Zach. To her mind, he embodied forbidden passion, a fantasy affaire. She tried to shrug off thoughts of him, but he was hard to dismiss.

  Siena took a deep breath and silently vowed to do the right thing with Amazing Lace. Whether that meant to sell it or turn it into something that would make Aunt Addie – and herself – proud, time would tell. She needed that ever-lovin’ passion Goldie talked about. Did financial desperation count as passion? If so, she was there.

  If she were truly honest, Zach was probably the deep-down reason she wanted to return to Haven’s Point. She savored his kisses, all warm and wet and luscious. She stopped at a red light and closed her eyes. She imagined swaying into his embrace, feeling the power of his arms around her, the tender touch of his lips on hers, the drum-pounding of her own heart against his. She arched her back, thrusting her breasts, opening her heart eagerly. Whether it was passion, love or plain old lust, she was ready for him.

  She could feel his hands moving down her body, exploring, pressing her tightly to him. She thrilled as his hands followed her shape from breasts to waist to thighs. He knew just what to do, where to touch. And when his hand caressed her there, she gasped audibly and squeezed her knees together.

  A loud horn blasted behind her. The light was green. Siena switched on the radio and drove away from her old life.

  Chapter Six

  "Was it good for you?"

  "What?"

  "The sex we didn’t have, you jerk!"

  Zach frowned. "What do you mean? We just – "

  She shook her head. "Hey, your body’s here, but not you. Where are you tonight, Zach? Where's your head?"

  "Sorry, Monique. I’m . . . preoccupied, I guess."

  "Hmm, I can tell."

  "Look honey, I – "

  "I’ll forgive everything, if you just tell me you love me." She folded her arms under bare breasts and glared at him.

  He ran his hand over his face. "I do, of course."

  "No, say it like you mean it. Look at me and say it. Like you want me more than anyone in the world. Like you see me in your future."

  "What is this? What's going on with you? Of course I care for you," he said. There was a long minute of deadly silence. Deadly. In that minute, Zach knew that their relationship and maybe his future in Haven’s Point had died.

  "I said ‘love me,’ not ‘care for me.’ There’s a huge distinction."

  He tried to revive it. "Let’s give this a little time, Monique. Obviously you're having a bad night."

  "More time? It’s been almost a year. If you don’t know by now, that you love me and only me and want to marry me, it’s not so."

  "Don’t push me. We haven’t discussed marriage at all."

  "Then let’s discuss it. Now." Monique sat on a nearby chair, beautiful and sexy in her nudity. He must be out of his effen' mind. She wanted him and he wanted… someone else.

  He started, cleared his throat, and then tried again. "Now isn’t a good time for me. I have complications at work. Too many things on my mind." He knew that a breakup with Monique wouldn’t help his political standing in town, especially with the ones in power who shared Monique’s family name. He wanted to prove the name Cassidy was as important – and powerful - as Fairchild, but now was not the time for a showdown.

  Monique stood, hands on her slim hips. "No time for a discussion about marriage to someone you supposedly love? Frankly Zach, work shouldn’t have a thing to do with us. Unless you’re using me and my family influence."

  "Damn it woman! You know that’s not true!" Zach glared at her, all flushed and gorgeous in her
anger. And he felt like the biggest fraud in the world. He’d made a large mistake getting involved with her after the rescue, but it had been so natural. Of course, he cared for her and she was absolutely beautiful. He looked away from her intense stare. He was yet another man who had succumbed to a beautiful woman. Fool that he was.

  He understood that Monique was grateful to him and didn’t even try to hide her love for the man who saved her life. He should have resisted because she was the vulnerable one. Then. But he hadn’t been able to resist her seductive little body. Actually, until now, he hadn’t even tried.

  He placed one muscled arm on the wall beside the window and looked out. Subconsciously his gaze went to the highway. When would she return?

  The only person he couldn’t get out of his mind, even with Monique standing before him, nude and enticing, was Siena. She’d left town a week ago without a word. Left the key and the cats in George’s care. He said she’d be back, but would she? And when?

  In a rash of unreasonableness he wanted to go after her, assuming she was in Boston. But he couldn’t assume anything – where she was, why she left, how long she’d be gone, and oh God, if she’d return. He only knew one thing, and that’s how he felt when he kissed her and lay next to her. Just holding her in his arms linked them to some long-lost, deep connection. Then, suddenly, Siena was busy and gone, with no warning. And now he wanted her back.

  "I’m done. Finished. It’s over."

  Zach snapped back into the room.

  Monique fastened her sheer, lacy bra. "No, don’t try to stop me." She held out her hand mockingly to Zach as if he were trying to hold her.

  He stood beside the bed of rumpled sheets, the bed where they'd just made love. Or rather, just had sex.

  Void of feelings, he watched Monique get dressed. He knew she would leave, but he didn’t try to stop her at all. He really didn’t care. Didn't even care about the political ramifications.

  She turned her back to him and eased up her thong, making sure he had a good view of her rear. "I know you’re full of regrets, but this is for the best, Zach. For both of us." She bent over and tugged on leggings and a short skirt. Last, she pulled her hand-knit fisherman’s sweater over her head, hiding those small, perky breasts that he had tongue-teased many times. "Don’t bother to call. I won’t be available." She grabbed her coat and slammed the door.

  He stood there in a stupor, watching his relationship and maybe his career, whisk out the door. And he didn’t do one damn thing to stop it. Over and done.

  He cared, and he didn’t. He loved Monique in a certain way. After all he’d saved her life. But he really wasn’t passionate about her any more. Which she knew. He felt like the ass that he was, but he simply didn’t care.

  Where the hell was Siena? She’d been gone all week and nobody knew anything about where she was or how she was doing.

  Zach walked naked around the room. He was unable to concentrate and didn’t feel at all proud of what he’d done, or not done. He decided to work out, pump some iron, punch a bag, let out some steam. If she didn’t return soon, by tomorrow, he’d try to find her. Logically, he’d start in Boston. He’d go after her, damn it, and prove . . . what? That he wanted her? Yes, he wanted every inch of her.

  It was near dark when Siena drove into town. He could see her moving about the shop. She’d returned but hadn’t bothered to call, to say Howdy or Kiss My Ass. 'Course she hadn't called to say she was leaving, either. She owed him… nothing.

  He stood across the street at the Buff Body Shoppe’s windows, eyes straining to follow her image. She looked up and his heart pounded in his ears. Could she see him? No, too far away.

  He could tell her hair was slightly messy. His fingers itched to dig into it. She cradled a bag against her breasts, just where he wanted to be. She went back out to the car for more bags. Her slim legs moved fast as she crossed the icy walk. He longed to feel those long legs around him. Again.

  If he approached her tonight, would her violet eyes give him the invitation he wanted? Would she receive his signals? And respond with the desire he felt for her?

  He unconsciously knotted his fists. Then, feeling the tension, he released them, pumped them again, trying to relax. He had to go. Just to talk. And see if she had any response.

  He walked out into the cold night, toward her, deliberately and with purpose.

  Chapter Seven

  Siena dumped a large bag containing her sweaters by the stairs and turned to go get more things from the car. She heard a noise at the door followed by that damned old-fashioned bell - taa-ding. And there he was.

  Zach.

  A sprinkling of snow framed his shoulders, emphasizing their breadth. She hadn’t expected to see him so soon after arriving. He looked so mature, so masculine. Interesting how her memory of Zach the rebel came up first. She felt like jelly inside. But her little voice said, Hel-lo Hottie.

  He came in, moving smoothly like a large cat, bringing with him the smell of fresh, cold air and masculine desire. But his eyes couldn’t hide a smoldering heat that threatened to engulf her. He was an enigma, familiar yet a stranger. He was a man, someone others looked up to, but there was a trace of the young rebel she once knew and loved. He stood in strength, with eyes, body, hands.

  "Siena. I -- missed you. Where have you been?"

  "Zach," she breathed his name and took a step toward him. "Come on in. Good to see you. Again."

  There was something special in his expression, the intensity of his eyes, dark and sexy. She could almost hear him say, let’s get it on. That’s what she wanted to hear from him because that’s what she feeling, too.

  She reached out to him, not knowing exactly why.

  He took her right hand in his left, lacing their fingers. She felt his touch throughout her body and all reasonable thoughts flew out the door. Admittedly she had been doubtful at the thoughts of returning. Now she felt wildly happy to be here in this moment. She was only capable right now of feeling, of being in the moment with Zach.

  She moved closer. He brought their hands to his mouth and kissed hers with gentle, moist lips. "Didn’t know where you were or if you’d return. I… was worried about you."

  "You’re probably the main reason I’m here." She smiled faintly. "I can’t really explain it because there’s nothing here that I really need. Except you."

  "I wanted you to come back. I even considered going after you."

  She shrugged. "I had to close my apartment."

  "If I were honest, I’d say good."

  "I’m not sure if this is right, Zach. You and me . . ."

  "What’s not right is that we waited so long. All those years, apart."

  "But what about Monique? No matter what you say, I’m hearing her name linked to yours."

  He gave a resigned response. "She’s history. It’s over. I swear."

  She looked down. "I think I must be the other woman."

  "You’re the only woman." He put his lips lightly on hers and whispered, "I want you, Siena. Only you. More than ever."

  She loved the taste of him, loved his fragrance, loved the way he touched her. When he pressed his words against her skin, she could feel herself slipping, completely and willingly, into his spell.

  He kissed her knuckles. "I’d like to continue what we started so many years ago. Pick it up and run with it."

  "It’s just a fantasy, Zach, a dream held over for all these years. Too much has happened. To both of us."

  He slipped his hands under her coat and around her ribs. "Siena, let’s see why it’s lasted, why I still want you. I know you feel it, too."

  She didn’t answer. Couldn’t. She felt hot all over and her mouth was dry.

  "It’s always been just us Siena . . ." His words simmered softly against her lips.

  She knew he was right. No one else understood them. That’s what they used to say. They couldn't trust anyone else. She smiled. That’s what all teens say to verify what they do. It’s us against the world. True or not
, that was their mantra. They believed it then. Maybe it was still true.

  Slowly she scooted away from Zach. She held up one finger, indicating for him to wait. Her eyes remained on his, taunting and questioning at the same time. She backed to the shop door and with one hand, locked it and switched off the light. They stood in the dark for a moment.

  "Siena, say yes – "

  "Zach . . . I don't know. It might ruin everything – "

  His voice was soft and flowing. "It might make everything right."

  "We’re just old friends. After a dream."

  "Siena." He moved toward her. "Shut. Up."

  There was no sound but breathing. As one.

  The anticipation between them was strong as an electric current. Siena could make out his broad-shouldered shape. She walked slowly to him. When they were breathlessly close, she put both hands on his shoulders and kissed him boldly, strongly.

  That should answer any lingering questions about her desires for him. Certainly, when she touched him, smelled him, felt his lips on hers, she melted against him, knowing exactly what that would mean . . . and not thinking or caring about anything or anyone else.

  He returned the kiss and murmured something against her lips, but she couldn’t hear it. Her heart was pounding like a bass drum in her ears, blocking other sounds. She wanted to ride him to the rhythm of her heartbeat. Hard and fast.

  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. He smelled of sweet cold air and the sensation assured her he was real this time, not a fantasy occupying her imagination at a stoplight. Not a misty, half-exhausted memory of one passionate night. Zach was here, now, embracing her, kissing her deeply, his tongue seeking more. And more was what she wanted, too.

  While they kissed, they feverishly dropped their jackets to the floor. They moved deeper into the shop, kissing, groping, playfully dancing. She raised her arms, allowing her breasts to press teasingly against his chest. She leaned her head back and laughed as he kissed her neck, his tongue making a moist trail to the pulsing apex of her throat. Then he moved to tickle her earlobe with his tongue. God, she was tingling all over.