Mister Romance (Masters of Love #1)

by Leisa Rayven

  What is it about these sleazy assholes I find irresistible? Is it because I’ve screwed so many of them, whenever they’re in my presence, my body expects sex? A horny Pavlovian response? What’s more, they seem to home in on me like I have a giant neon sign over my head that flashes, Strong, independent woman looking for a night of mediocre sex. No strings attached. Orgasms optional. Inquire below.

  I give him a slow and thorough examination, from the shine of his outlet shoes to his carefully cultivated designer stubble.

  “Okay,” I say. “Let’s play a game. I’m going to tell you three things about yourself. If I’m wrong, you can buy me a drink and we’ll see what happens. If I’m right, you go elsewhere. Deal?”

  He chuckles. “Sounds good. Although I’m not going to lie – I really hope you’re wrong.”

  Part of me is with him. I could certainly use the stress relief, even if I don’t need the distraction.

  “Okay,” I say, “how’s this? You go to a different bar every Friday night, and you usually go home with someone, even though you already have three girls on a constant rotation for booty calls when necessary. Your parents are divorced, and part of you blames your mother for not putting in enough effort into keep your dad interested. In high school you had a girlfriend you loved, but she dumped you, and now you avoid anything serious in favor of the classic come and dump.” I tilt my head. “How was that?”

  He stares, dumbstruck for a second then adjusts his tie. “Uh ... how did you do that? Are you psychic?”

  “No, I just know men.” Specifically, men like him. “So, thanks for the offer, but as I said, no thanks.”

  He gives me one more disbelieving look before heading off in the direction of his lookalike friends at the other end of the bar.

  As soon as he’s gone, Asha slides onto the stool beside me. “Am I imaging things, or did you just brush off a guy?”

  “You’re not imagining things.”

  She gestures to Joe the bartender for her usual. He nods and pulls out a tall glass before grabbing some bottles. “Wow. I want to remember this moment forever. It will go down in history as the day my big sister finally learned how to say no.”

  “Don’t be a smartass. I say no all the time.”

  “Not to guys who look like that. Sleazy finance douches are your Kryptonite. Even more so than unemployed pot-head musicians. Could it be you’re finally starting to think with your brain instead of your vagina?”

  “Hey, Regina objects to your insinuation that she makes bad decisions.”

  Asha stifles a laugh. “You know very well Regina Vagina rules your life like the evil queen out of Alice in Wonderland. ‘Off with their pants!’ and all that.”

  “Yeah, well, if you listened to your honey pot more often, you’d be less uptight.”

  My sister blushes so fiercely and fast, I have to laugh.

  “You said you wouldn’t tease me about that name.”

  “Pfft. That was years ago. I figure the statute of limitations has run out on pet names your high school boyfriend called your pussy.”

  “You were never supposed to see those texts Jeremy sent me.”

  “Then you shouldn’t have left your phone out where I could find it. Did you expect me to just ignore it when he started sexting you?”

  “Yes. That’s exactly what I expected.”

  I shake my head. “Sometimes, Ash, it’s like you don’t even know me.”

  Joe delivers Asha’s drink, and she takes a sip. I think it’s ironic that despite my sister’s lackluster sex life, her favorite drink is a vodka cocktail called One Night Stand. If she had more of the real deal, she might stop hassling me about my track record.

  “So,” she says, as she swirls the ice cubes with her swizzle stick. “What’s the story with you tonight? You seem to be in a mood.”

  I sip my drink. “I don’t know. I guess I just have stuff on my mind.”

  “Such as ...?”

  I down the rest of my drink and gesture to Joe to bring us another round.

  “Well, for a start,” I say. “I spoke with Mister Romance earlier.”

  She almost falls off her stool in shock. “You’re kidding. You tracked him down? How? What was he like? Was he gorgeous? What was he wearing? What did he say?”

  “Okay, cool it with the questions, Lois Lane. I didn’t see him. We spoke on the phone.”

  I went on to explain my P.O. box stakeout, as well as my experience at the warehouse. She listens with rapt fascination.

  “Oh, my God. He’s so mysterious. Like some hot secret agent.” She gets a wistful expression, and I can tell she’s imagining him in one of her romance-novel scenarios. I just hope it involves her and not me.

  “What if he says no to the interview?” she asks.

  “Then I keep investigating.”

  “But would you really expose him and his clients?”

  I give Joe a nod as he places our drinks in front of us. “It would be more beneficial to me if I did. Naming and shaming would be a national scandal. I could really hit it big if I can find out who they are.”

  Asha sips her drink. “Hmmm. That’s true. But the karma wouldn’t be good.”

  As usual with most of my conversations with Asha, I roll my eyes at her idealism. “Ash, you don’t get to be a well-respected journalist by being afraid to name names. If I want to create a career-making omelet, I’m going to have to break some eggs.”

  “Yes, but in this case, the eggs are people’s lives. Do you really want that on your conscience?”

  “May I remind you that you’re the one who told me to pursue this story in the first place?”

  She sighs. “As if you ever listen to me.” She stands before putting her purse on her seat. “Just be careful, okay? If you decide to light the fuse on this, you’d better be prepared for it to blow up in your face. Now, I gotta go to the bathroom. Try not to sext people on my behalf while I’m gone.”

  I salute as she leaves, and I don’t miss the way the men sitting at the bar turn to stare as she passes. There’s no denying my sister is gorgeous. Part of it is her style, sure, but she’s also beautiful inside and out. A lot of women who look like her would be egotistical, but not Ash. If anything, I have to keep reminding her how attractive she is.

  The only thing more frustrating than my sister’s extreme beauty is her failure to capitalize on it. I mean, I get that she doesn’t want to waste her time with guys who aren’t right, but it’s like she needs every box ticked before she even gets to know them, and that’s not realistic. At the rate she’s going, I’ll get married before she does, and I don’t even believe in marriage.

  When Asha returns, she’s wearing an expression that’s a mix between excitement and embarrassment.

  “You okay?” I ask.

  “Mostly. I just ran into the most gorgeous guy on my way back from the bathroom. Man, he was sexy.”

  “Ran into him? As in ...?”

  “Smashed into his chest as I was exiting the bathroom.” Not surprisingly, clumsiness runs in our family. “He smelled so good, I wanted to lick his neck. I don’t think I’ve ever met a man who smelled as good as he did.”

  “You get his name?”

  “Of course not. I mumbled an apology and scampered away. But seriously, Eden, he was divine.”

  “Wait, you’re attracted to a guy before you give him a thorough interrogation about his life history? He must be something special.” When she flips me the bird, I laugh. “Where is he now?”

  “Not sure. I think he went out the back to the games room.”

  “Then why are we still sitting here? Let’s go.”

  She waves me off. “Nah. It’s fine. He’s probably not even single.”

  “Well, you’ll never find out if you don’t talk to him, right?”

  She goes to sit down, but I grab her drink and purse before linking my arm through hers. “Come on. At least say hello. He could be your mythical Prince Charming.”

  Reluctantly, she allows
me to drag her to the back of the bar where there are three pool tables set up near a jukebox and small dance floor. Since we moved into our apartment around the corner two years ago, we’ve spent our fair share of time back here. It’s been the setting for more than a few epic pool battles.

  As we set up shop at one of the tables to the side, I scan the area for her mystery man. There’s a small group of guys on the far side of the room, but none of them strike me as Asha’s type. Way too beardy.

  “Do you see him?” I ask.

  Ash looks around then points to a large blond guy racking balls on the table nearest us. “He was with that dude, but God knows where he is now.” She looks around. “Wait until you see him, Edie. You’re going to freak.”

  He must be amazing to get my sister excited. I can count on one hand the number of times she’s gotten giddy like this.

  After a couple of minutes, she nudges my foot under the table. “There he is. Be subtle.”

  I glance over to where a dark-haired hottie is walking out of the back hallway.

  The lighting isn’t great in this part of the bar, but even in the shadows I recognize the strong jaw and sensuous mouth. And there’s no mistaking those delicious arms, either.

  As I’m inwardly freaking out, Asha leans over and whispers, “If his looks aren’t hot enough for you, be warned. He also has an Irish accent.”

  “Uh huh.” Oh, I know the effect of his accent only too well, and I have no doubt it would do even more intense things to me in this environment, because as delicious as Kieran looked in a tank and shorts at the gym, he’s even more delectable in a tight Led Zeppelin T-shirt and well-worn jeans.

  Asha turns to see my reaction, and I’m quick to stop staring in slack-jawed awe.

  “What do you think?” she asks. “Gorgeous, right?”

  I give her an encouraging smile. “I think he’s perfect for you. Go say hello.” My stomach does a weird tightening thing. It’s not pleasant.

  She’s running a hand over her hair when Kieran turns and sees me. He does a little double-take before smiling and walking over.

  “Oh, my God,” whispers Asha. “He’s coming over to talk to me. What do I do?”

  “Just stay calm.” As he approaches, I shake my head slightly, trying to tell him not to let on that we know each other. A small frown forms between his brows, and for a second, his smile falters, but by the time he stops in front of us, he seems relaxed and friendly.

  “Ladies,” he says, as Asha beams at him. “I don’t suppose I could interest you in joining our game of pool? A couple of our mates haven’t shown up, so we’re short.”

  Asha practically catapults out of her chair. “We’d love to. Right, Eden?”

  “Uh, sure.”

  I get to my feet as Asha gazes up at him and holds out her hand. “I’m Asha by the way.”

  He takes her hand. “It’s a pleasure, Asha. I’m Kieran.”

  Ash looks like she wants to spread him on toast and eat him for dinner. It’s only when I clear my throat that she comes back to reality and gestures to me. “Oh, and this is my sister, Eden.”

  Kieran takes my hand, and dammit, his effect on me hasn’t diminished in the hours since we last saw each other. I half expect him to give away that we’ve met before, but he doesn’t. Instead, he brushes his thumb over the back of my hand and murmurs, “Very nice to meet you, Eden.”

  I pull my hand away and give him a wan smile. “Hey.”

  Jesus, my arm feels like it’s filled with bath salts. I move around to Asha’s other side, so she’s between me and Kieran. Let her bear the brunt of his ridiculous sexual magnetism.

  Looking even more confused, he leads us over to the pool table where his burly friend is waiting. “Ladies, this is Patrick, but you can call him Pat. Or Paddy.”

  The larger guy screws up his face. “Please don’t call me Paddy. That’s what me ma calls me, and it makes me feel like I’m six-years-old.” He sticks out his enormous hand. “Nice to meet you both.”

  As big as Kieran is, Pat is bigger. His broad shoulders are barely contained in a rugby shirt. He pushes shaggy strawberry-blond hair out of his eyes. Asha and I shake his hand in turn as he whispers, “Thank the Lord you ladies are joining us. It would have been a very boring evening with just me and Kieran playing. I’ve beaten him so many times, he holds no challenge for me anymore.”

  Kieran coughs in disbelief. “That’s a damn lie. He’s just tired of me whupping his ass.”

  “Sure, sure. Dream on, Flanagan.”

  God, between the two of them I’m overdosing on the sweet tone of their Irish lilts. Pat’s accent is slightly stronger than Kieran’s, but Kieran’s voice is deeper. Dark and smooth, like good Irish whiskey.

  “Now,” Kieran says as he turns to me and Ash. “Who wants to join me on the winning team?”

  He looks directly at me as he says it, but there’s no way I’d take that pleasure away from my sister. After all, she seems far more his type than I am.

  “Well, I’d like to be on Pat’s team,” I say, “if Asha’s okay playing with you.” My wording makes my sister blush bright crimson. Kieran raises his eyebrows but doesn’t protest. Hiding that we know each other feels like an exciting, clandestine secret, and that’s not helping me feel less attracted to him. Neither is the way he’s holding my gaze. I look away from him and back to my sister. “That okay with you, Ash?”

  She nods and tucks some hair behind her ear as she glances at Kieran. “Sure. That works for me.”

  God, she has it so bad. Could Kieran be the guy who breaks her cast-iron ban on sleeping with a guy on the first date? Judging from the way she’s looking at him, there’s a strong chance she’s going to throw him onto the pool table and straddle him in front of everyone.

  It’s bizarre that we’re both drawn to the same man. I don’t think this has ever happened before. Usually our taste in men is completely different, which works out well, because sisters should never compete for the same guy. But I guess we’ve finally found that rare creature that bridges the gap between men I want to bang and princes she wants to date. I don’t think this is a good thing.

  I know I have no reason to be jealous of her crush, considering Kieran and I have only shared one brief conversation, but I can’t help feeling disappointed about this turn of events. A low, bitter hum is prickling my blood, and a small childish voice inside me whispers that I saw him first. Asha was clueless to his very existence while he was asking me out.

  I shake my head to clear it. How petty can I be? I already made the decision that he’s not my type, but even if he was, it wouldn’t make a difference now. I’m sure that as soon as he clapped eyes on my sister, he regretted even talking to me. By the time he spends half an hour in her incandescent presence, I’ll have well and truly faded into the background.

  “Well, alright then,” Pat says as he passes pool cues around. “Since Asha is working with a Kieran-shaped handicap, she can break. Not that it will help when Eden and I kick your asses.”

  Asha flashes Kieran a flirty smile as she walks to the end of the table and waits for Pat to finish racking the balls. When he pulls away the plastic triangle, Asha shrugs and says, “Here goes nothing,” before bending over and taking a wild shot.

  I roll my eyes. My sister knows her way around a pool table. We both do. And yet whenever we play with guys, she pulls the clueless-girl card. It’s kind of ridiculous.

  Pat goes next and sinks a solid ball.

  “Guess you guys are on stripes,” he says to Kieran as he lines up for another shot. “Let the slaughter commence.”

  Over the next half hour, we take turns trying to sink balls. Well, three of us do. Asha flirts with Kieran and does her best to appear non-threatening by missing most of her shots. At one stage, she even pulls out the old clichéd, “Am I even holding this right?”

  If Kieran recognizes her shameless ploy, he doesn’t let on. He adjusts her stance and grip as best he can without being all over her, but it still m
akes me flush with jealousy. I’m slightly placated when he moves away just as she leans back against him.

  As for me, I make up for my sister’s incompetence by sinking the lion’s share of the balls, and even though both Pat and Kieran are good, I dominate the table.

  “I’m beginning to think we have a hustler on our hands,” Kieran says as I sink another one, and I don’t miss how he looks at me when he says it.

  “Not at all,” I say and give him a smile. “A hustler pretends to suck at first to lull you into a false sense of security. I was happy to let you know how kickass I was from the start.”

  His stare intensifies, and the heat of it shoots sparks from my head down to my toes. “I guess you were.”

  It’s no surprise to anyone when I sink the winning ball. Pat does a ridiculous victory dance that makes us all laugh. He moves well for a big guy.

  “Winners buy drinks?” I say to Kieran and Ash. “What can I get you guys?”

  Kieran walks over to me. “I know what Pat wants. I’ll give you a hand. Be back in a sec, guys.”

  He steers me toward the bar, and even though it’s starting to get crowded, we find an empty spot down at the end and wait to be noticed.

  Kieran stands behind me, gripping the bar with one hand. The heat of his chest seeps into my back, lighting up my skin, and I have to admit Asha was right. He does smell divine.

  “So,” he says, his mouth close enough to my ear to make me shiver. “What an unexpected surprise to see you here tonight. Don’t take this as the corny line it seems to be, but do you come here often?”

  I laugh. “Actually, yes. This is our local bar. Ash and I come here a few times a week.”

  “Oh? So, you live nearby?”

  “Just around the corner. What about you? I’ve never seen you here before.”

  In my peripheral vision, I see him staring at me. “I’ve only been in the states for a week. Pat’s been here for nearly six months and lives nearby. I’m crashing on his couch, until I can find a place of my own. He’s the one who told me about the gym.”