Caught Up In Raine

by L. G. O'Connor

  When the flurry of wait staff is gone, I reach for his hand. “Hey, don’t feel bad for asking, okay? We tried for years, but something with my ovaries just made it difficult.”

  “Were you disappointed . . . not having kids?” he asks.

  I pause and decide how much to sugarcoat my honesty before slowly shaking my head. “No. I wasn’t,” I say softly, and leave it at that. In my heart, I was relieved that it never happened for Robert and me. All those years, I tried out of obligation, not desire. Any desire I had for children died with Drew, I’m not sure why. Then again, a lot of hopes and dreams died inside me that day.”

  I surprise myself and add, “Not that it matters now, but I think it was a blessing in disguise. My sister, Kitty, she always knew she wanted children. Me? Not so much. I was never sure I really wanted them."

  “That’s too bad . . . I think you’d make a great mom.”

  “Thanks.” I smile. Not really sure what else to say, I reach for my wineglass.

  “Wait,” he says and picks up his. His eyes sparkle. “I’d like to make a toast.”

  I raise my glass and my smile widens.

  He draws in a deep breath. “To you, Jillian, for saving me in more ways than you know, and for making every day since then brighter. And to us, together, finally.”

  I clink my glass with his and take a sip. I don’t want to ruin the toast or the night, but I can’t leave our conversation hanging. “Do you want children, Raine?”

  His face takes on a contemplative look, and then he narrows his eyes at me. “No you don’t, Jillian. Stop looking for excuses and trying to convince yourself this is a bad idea.”

  I throw up my hands. “That’s not why I asked.” Okay, maybe it was . . .

  He frowns at me and nods. “Yes, it is. Don’t forget, we’re pretty good at reading each other.”

  I release a breath and roll my eyes. “I don’t want to argue. I was only asking a question.”

  He crosses his arms and gives me a pointed look. “Fine. Yes, I’d like to have kids, but it wouldn’t be the end of the world if I didn’t. Satisfied?”

  I try to hide my grin as my stomach unclenches. “Yes, and don’t get mad that I’m asking you a first date question.”

  “First date, my ass,” he mumbles.

  “Speaking of your ass . . .” I wink at him.

  He blushes, and although I get the feeling he’d like to stay mad, a smile creeps onto his lips. “What about it?”

  “It’s a work of art.”

  He chuckles. “So is yours.”

  “Liar.” I smile.

  “Nope. Do you know the first thought I had when I met you?”

  I shake my head.

  “Nice ass.”

  “You’re such a guy sometimes,” I tease.

  “I thought I was a guy all the time,” he says, flashing a rakish smile.

  “You know what I mean.”

  My salad comes, and I push it to the middle of the table for us to share. “Did you mind being an only child?” I ask before I take a forkful of lettuce.

  He shrugs. “Not really. I always had plenty of kids my age to hang out with.” After a bite of salad, he adds, “I sometimes wonder if that’s why my mom and I were so close. Since my dad traveled a lot for business while I was growing up, most of the time it was just us.”

  “Hmm. I sometimes feel like an only child. Kitty’s always seemed so much older than me; even now she feels less like a sister and more like a mom. I always thought it would be great having another sibling closer to my age.”

  The server delivers our entrees. We manage to avoid any more controversial topics for the remainder of our dinner and find fun and enjoyable things to talk about. Light, uncomplicated things. His favorite color is blue and so is mine. He played varsity soccer in high school; I was a cheerleader.

  We’re studying the dessert menus when I hear, “Jillian Grant?”

  I look up and paste a smile on my face. An older couple approaches our table in a flourish. I recognize them as former clients of Robert’s. We’ve socialized with them in the past, but I haven’t seen them since well over a year before Robert died. What the hell is her name again? Something old-fashioned.

  I ignore Raine’s eyes as they bore into me. While he’s trying to get a read on who these people are, I’m busy trying to remember whether or not they attended Robert’s funeral.

  “How are you, dear?” she asks. “It’s good to see you out and about. I was just telling Frank that I hardly recognized you sitting here with this handsome young man.”

  Frank stands politely behind her wearing a cordial smile. Gladys. That’s her name, I remember, filling with relief.

  My stomach drops when I glance at Raine. He’s looking at me, waiting to be introduced.

  I push down my discomfort, and tip my hand in his direction. “Gladys, Frank, this is Raine.”

  Gladys looks at him with a wrinkled brow. “I don’t recall Robert mentioning you had a son.”

  Raine clears his throat, and says politely, “I’m not her son.” The faint red on his neck tells me he’s angry, and he’s doing everything in his power not to snap. But telling her he’s my “boyfriend” feels wrong. Instead, I pray for a rock to crawl under and say, “He’s a friend who is staying with me.”

  When I glance at Raine again, he looks like he wants to lunge across the table and throttle me.

  Gladys turns to him and eyes him like a piece of fresh meat. “Oh, really? What is it that you do, Raine? My daughter is about your age. She’s a very nice girl.”

  He’s right about one thing. We can read each other well, and from what I can tell from the look in his eyes, he wants blood. Mine.

  He manages to give her a nice smile before he reaches across the table and squeezes my hand, hard. Then he looks directly at me with an icy glare. “I’m a paid escort, and I like my women a little older.” His words slap me in the face, and my blood pressure vaults.

  Gladys gasps and backs away. “We were sorry to hear of your loss, Jillian. It was so nice to see you again.” They make a hasty exit. When they’re out of view, Raine gets up and stalks out the back door. I bolt after him, catching him outside in the courtyard between the buildings and the parking deck.

  I grab his arm, yank him to a stop, and scream, “What the hell was that all about?”

  He rounds on me, and his eyes are blazing. “A friend, Jillian? I’m a friend who’s staying with you? What the hell’s wrong with ‘he’s my date’? Are you ashamed to be seen with me? Is that it?” His cheeks flush red as he paces and runs his fingers through his hair.

  “No, of course, I’m not ashamed of you! How could you even say something like that?” I sigh. “I’m sorry if I didn’t want to advertise our relationship to people who I wasn’t even sure knew my husband was dead. I didn’t do it to slight you or to marginalize my feelings for you. And thanks for embarrassing the crap out of me—and yourself.” The heat rises in my face as the words pour out of me.

  He stops. “I’m sick of giving up things I want. I don’t want to do it anymore. I want you, Jillian, but if you don’t want me, just tell me!”

  I recognize the broken place he’s coming from, and I hate that he can’t see what’s right in front of him. I take his face in my hands and pull him into a hungry kiss. At first he resists, but slowly he gives in until I’m enveloped in his arms and he takes control. His kiss marries his anger with fiery passion, and he buries his fingers into my lower back as he presses me so tightly against him, I can feel every separate ripple of muscle covering the front of his body. His groin hardens between us, pressing against my belly. My core tightens in response.

  When he breaks the kiss, we both stand breathless in his embrace.

  “I could never be ashamed of you, Raine. Never. And don’t ever undervalue yourself like that again. Do you hear me?”

  He kisses the side of my head and hugs me tight. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

  My head rests against his chest. �
�I want you more than I want to breathe, don’t you know that?” I whisper back.

  “Me, too. I want you that way, too,” he says and just holds me there against his beating heart. Finally, he loosens his grip on me and says, “Let’s go back inside so the waiter doesn’t think I ran out on our check.”

  I nod, and then remember I left my purse on the chair. “Good idea.”

  “Will you come with me somewhere before we go home?” he asks.

  “Where do you want to go?”

  “The Grasshopper for a drink. If you meant what you said, it would mean a lot to me. I’d like you to meet some of my friends.” His request takes me by surprise . . . in a good way.

  Chapter 26

  Raine

  I LEAD JILLIAN toward the front of The Grasshopper. I’m still shaken and a little pissed off from our fight outside of Roots. I don’t think she even realizes how shitty it made me feel when she introduced me to those people. Like all those things Vanessa and her niece Jenny said to me were true. Good enough for only one thing, but not worthy of respect or acknowledgment.

  Being out on a date with Jillian makes me proud; it would never occur to me to hide the fact that she’s my date or someone I want to be in a relationship with. I have my arm around her as we approach the bar. I glance at her walking next to me. She looks amazing tonight. The skirt is hot, but her legs are even hotter.

  “Hey, buddy,” I say to my friend Sean who is manning the door. Big and burly, Sean has a baby face and a mop of red hair. From the neck up, he barely looks old enough to drink legally.

  “How ya keepin’, Mac?” he replies and fist-bumps me.

  “Sean, this is Jillian.” I smile down at her and pull her closer into my side.

  Sean extends his hand to her. “Nice to meetcha, Jillian. If you decide to dump old Mac, I’ll be waiting right out here.” He winks at me.

  “Go find your own woman, man, and stay away from mine.” I give him a good-natured tap on the shoulder. “Who’s working the bar tonight?”

  “Dekkie, Ryan, and Fi have it,” he says, and gives me a pointed look. “You may be better off takin’ a booth.” I read between the lines. Probably better for me to avoid Fiona. I don’t disagree. No reason for her to be less than civil, but then again, it depends on which side of the bed she woke up on.

  I nod. “Good idea.” I open the door and shuffle Jillian into the air-conditioned darkness of the bar. I lean in and speak into her ear over the noise. “I want to introduce you to Declan, he’s one of the owners, and then we can have a drink downstairs where it’s quieter.”

  She nods vigorously, and we weave our way through the crowd. Every seat is taken. I edge my way up and put Jillian between me and the bar to protect her from the crush around us.

  Declan spots me and smiles. It takes less than a moment for his eyes to focus on Jillian, and his smile grows. I quickly scan behind the bar. I see Ryan, but Fi doesn’t appear to be around.

  Declan leans in halfway to meet us. “Mac, what can I get for ye and yer lovely lady?”

  My lips touch Jillian’s ear. “What would you like?”

  We alternate, and her breath warms my cheek. “I’ll stick with Shiraz.”

  I’m driving, so I order a Guinness, which will do less to damage my sobriety than another glass of wine.

  When Declan puts the drinks in front of me, I wave a twenty at him which he blatantly ignores. He leans back over the bar and speaks to Jillian. “So, you must be the special lady Mac was hoping would come by last Saturday night.”

  Heat rises in my face. “Thanks a lot, Declan. Remind me not to trust you with any of my secrets.”

  Jillian turns and looks into my eyes. She smiles and kisses my cheek and then returns her attention to Declan. “Tell me more.”

  “Not fair. You’re not allowed to gang up on me,” I say.

  “Yer much better than the last one,” Declan says to Jillian and spins his finger next to his head in the universal sign for “crazy.” “From what I hear, she made extra money as the stand-in for the Loch Ness Monster. You know, he tends to like all things Scottish. Me, on the other hand, I gravitate to all things Irish. By the way, did you know you have a lovely Irish name?”

  I roll my eyes and I wonder if this was a mistake. “Stop talking about me like I’m not here,” I shout over the din, but Declan is too far gone having fun at my expense. That’s nothing new. He’s more than kissed the Blarney Stone, he’s screwed it. He can talk more shit than a septic tank, but he’s good people and has taken good care of me over the last few years.

  Finally, he looks up and winks at me. That’s his seal of approval. “Jillian, let me give you back to yer date before he asks me to step outside. It’s been a pleasure. Let me know if there’s anything I can do for ye.”

  I take her back into my arms and lead her downstairs with our drinks. “He can talk your ear off,” I tell her and find a booth in a darker, quieter section of the bar.

  “He’s lovely, Raine.” She touches her fingers to my face. “And he cares about you. I enjoyed meeting him.”

  Rather than getting into the booth, Jillian puts her drink down and sidesteps me. “Where’s the ladies’ room?” she asks. I point her in the right direction and slip into the booth.

  I’m holding my glass of Guinness, gazing off into space, when another beer glass slams down in front of me. My butt flinches a quarter of an inch off the seat.

  Fiona’s wild red hair is practically standing on end. “So, is that the one you were waiting for on Sat’rday?” she asks. Her eyes are blazing.

  I’m in no mood for Fiona. I scowl at her. “What if it is, Fi? I thought I made it clear my love life is none of your business. Can you please leave?” I search the crowd for Jillian. The last thing I need is any more controversy for one evening, especially when my intention is to take our relationship to the next level before the night is over.

  She crosses her milky white arms over her chest. “I thought you weren’t ready for something new.”

  I let out an exasperated breath. “I wasn’t, but now I am.”

  Jillian arrives back at the table and smiles at Fiona before she slides in across from me. She offers her hand, and I tense. “Fi, I presume? I’m Jillian.”

  Fi takes it and smiles back. “You came across a good one here, Jillian. Treat him well.” She casts a glance at me and then melts back into the crowd. My lips part in surprise, and I’m thankful to escape without a scene.

  Jillian props her elbow on the table and rests her head on her hand, wearing a mild smile. “Old girlfriend?”

  “How did you know?” I ask, stunned.

  “Body language. I’m a writer. I notice these kinds of things.”

  “You’re not upset?” I hold my breath.

  She shakes her head. “No. It would be silly to be jealous of your past, and it’s obvious you don’t return her feelings.”

  I release the air pent up in my lungs. “Thanks.”

  She pats the cushion next to her. “Come sit with me.”

  My mouth turns into a smile, and I shift to the other side of the booth to join her.

  “Now hold out your hand. I have something for you.”

  I hold it out, and she pulls it under the table. She places a small ball of cloth in my palm.

  My eyes widen and my heart beats faster. “What is it?”

  She leans in, pushes my hair aside, and takes my earlobe between her teeth and whispers, “My thong.”

  Thank God I wasn’t drinking, or I would’ve spit out my beer.

  My blood rushes south, and my groin fills and tightens. I pocket the thong and pull her close. My fingers travel up her bare leg, and I plant my lips on her hair near her ear. “I’m so turned on right now.”

  She touches her lips to my neck, sending a shiver along my arms. “Let’s go home after this drink,” she says.

  “Mmm. Absolutely.” I can’t get the thought of her naked under her skirt out of my mind. I rearrange myself and then lightly danc
e my fingers up along her inner thigh until my fingertips hit delicate, moist skin. I draw in a sharp breath, and I feel my balls contract in my pants. How the hell am I going to make it home without exploding?

  For a second, the fact that she’s hairless down there puzzles me. Then it clicks. Vanessa had gotten a Brazilian bikini wax once. It was the hottest thing I’d ever seen, besides Jillian’s ass. My fingers trail so lightly between her legs that I’m barely touching her.

  She closes her eyes and moans next to me. To touch her so intimately in public makes my breath hitch and my cock swell to capacity. I feel her open her legs a little wider. I run my finger along her plump, delicate skin. She’s so wet for me. That’s when I do it. Slowly, I sink my finger into her heat, and she sucks me inside. My heart hammers and my groin pulses as I work my finger in and out of the slick contours of her body.

  I’m tempted to add another finger when she leans in and says, breathlessly next to my ear, “We need to go.” I leave her wet warmth and tease her soft, swollen clit with my thumb. She moans again and digs her fingers into my shoulder as I shelter her from view.

  As much as I want to run for the door and take her straight to bed, I’m not sure I can stand without alerting everyone in the room that I’m rock hard.

  “Jillian, I need you to walk in front of me.” I feel my cheeks redden.

  “Okay,” she says and licks her lips.

  I slide over and back out of the booth. When she gets out, I step in behind her and we head for the back exit. I’m tempted to push her up against the side of the brick building, drop trou, and bury myself inside her right here. But my saner half sticks to pursuing something more refined . . . like keeping the rest of our clothes on until we’re someplace private.

  I open the door for her and then slip into the driver’s side and start the car. I think back to our conversation over dinner. If she can’t get pregnant, I wonder if I’ll need the box of condoms in my nightstand after all. The thought of having sex without latex for the first time since I was fifteen makes me giddy. I can guarantee my own health, and after her eighteen-year marriage, I’m certainly not worried about hers.