“May I help you?” Abbey greeted, her face blushing pink as she noticed her voice squeak.
Both men smiled. She recognized them instantly. The older gentleman, Roy, had been with the fire department since she was a child. The younger of the two, Adam, had been one of her few friends in high school. Both of them were the stereotypical firemen—rugged, handsome, and pin-up gorgeous.
“We’re looking for Mr. O’Riley, ma’am,” Roy addressed.
She turned to find Sloan, discovering him just behind her hanging the painting. “How can I help you?” Sloan asked, his brogue echoing throughout the gallery.
“Sir, we represent the Mount Vernon Fire Department,” Roy began. “We are in desperate need of a new fire truck. We were able to secure two-hundred and fifty thousand dollars from the city. However, it doesn’t come close to the six-hundred thousand we need. We’re going around to our business neighbors to see if they would be able to help us in any way to purchase this asset for our community.”
Abbey shivered as she felt Sloan’s fingers pressed to the curve of her back. “I wouldn’t make a decision like this without my wife. We both own this gallery. Please tell us more.”
Abbey turned back to Roy and Adam. “Have you been able to raise any money so far?”
Adam sighed. “No. Right now, no one has any extra money. And I wish we could say this was a luxury. Our other truck is getting old. It won’t last much longer. It’s been around since we were kids, Abbey. We need this.”
She took a moment to let his words set in. Then she gazed at Sloan, her eyes imploring. He smiled at her warmly.
“Abigail, do you recall what Nathan said to you when you signed all those papers at the penthouse?” Sloan reminded.
Abbey thought for a moment. She remembered the snarky lawyer’s words as he handed her the bank and credit cards. To spend on whatever I want…
“Anything?” she queried.
“Anything.”
“So, if I want to buy a fire truck?”
“I’ll bring you the checkbook.”
Abbey’s face lit up excitedly as Sloan disappeared into the back room again. He returned a moment later, the ledger in his hand. Setting it beside her on the counter, he smiled at her lovingly and wrapped his arm around her.
She opened the book and picked up a pen from the basket on the counter. She scribed out a check for three-hundred fifty thousand dollars and then ripped the check free, handing it to the firemen.
Roy gaped as he read the amount. He handed it to Adam, who held it gingerly in his hands. “Thank you so much for your generosity. This is an incredible gift.”
“You’re welcome,” Abbey chirped brightly.
“We want to give you recognition for your gift. We would like to list the O’Riley Gallery and your names together.”
Abbey looked up at Sloan, beaming, and then turned back to Roy. “That would be nice. Thank you.”
“Do you want us to put Abigail? We all know you as Abbey.”
Abbey glanced questioningly at Sloan. “What do you think?”
“I call you Abigail. But in this case, I think it needs to be Abbey,” he answered.
Abbey nodded, confirming Sloan’s words. Adam folded up the check and carefully slipped it into his pocket. Then he took out a piece of paper and a pen and jotted down the notes for the dedication. With a final few words of thanks, the firemen left the gallery.
Abbey watched them go with a content sigh. It was official. She was no longer the hippie librarian’s daughter.
She was the billionaire’s wife.
Chapter Six
The white stretched on for miles. Michael growled in discontent. It wasn’t the perfect white of Mexican beaches that he had gotten used to, that he needed to survive. No, it was the endless vacancy of the newly harvested fields of Iowa.
The whole situation sucks. Michael fiddled with the radio volume of the crappy rental car he was driving as a devious grin spread across his lips. He’d get the situation fixed soon enough.
Michael and Jenny had rented a little place in Cancún not far from the beach. Living in the resort would have drained the fifty thousand dollars too quickly. It was the perfect dream for a couple of beach bums fueled on drugs and booze. They had slept until noon and then it was alcohol and sex non-stop until the early hours of the next morning. They had even met others from the States and invited their new friends to join their little party. It had truly been the life.
Then the signs started to show. Jenny had been in charge of the money since she had worked at the bank. She had started to look worried. She nagged Michael to party less and spend more time on the beach. They started to fight. They never fought before. What was the point of arguing with someone who you were only interested in having sex with?
Michael had gone to the bar one night. Jenny stayed at the apartment. When he staggered in drunk at four o’clock in the morning, he found one very large thing missing. Jenny.
All that was left of her was a note saying they were broke. She had taken some of the money to fly back to the United States. She wasn’t going home. She’d be a pariah there. She was going somewhere to start over. With a handwritten “LOL,” she wrote that she might just try New York City.
So Michael was left with an empty apartment and one hundred dollars. It took twenty-four hours to drain that amount of cash. He had looked for work. He was hired as a bellhop at the resort. But he wasn’t content with the minimum wage he was paid. As he delivered the guests’ luggage to their rooms, he rummaged for loose cash and jewelry. He pocketed the cash and sold the jewelry to a pawnshop in town.
It wasn’t long before the thefts were reported. Michael took one last hit. With the cash, he bought a plane ticket for Iowa to begin “Plan B.”
He wasn’t a big fan of Plan B. He wanted to go back to Cancún to party, drink, and have a lot of sex with a lot of random women. Plan B would put a kink in that idea. But Plan B was also the only source of unlimited cash he knew. And she loves me despite what I have done.
Michael pulled into the first set of apartments lining Highway 30. He parked in a space, turned off the rental, and stepped out into the late fall chill. He violently shivered. He could never get used to these Iowa autumns, not after the balmy warmth of Mexico.
He strode into the apartment building and walked down the dark hallway, knocking loudly on the last door on the right. After several moments of silence, it opened.
A man, the same age and height as he, stood in the entryway. He gaped, running his hand through his short-cropped, brown hair when he saw Michael. “Michael, dude! You’re back!”
“Yeah, Joe. But not for long. Just need to tie up some loose ends.”
Joe invited him into the apartment with a slap on the back. Michael stepped inside, finding Joe’s roommate, Matt, lounging on the couch. Matt pushed his bushy red hair from his eyes while he stared at the television.
“Hey, Matt! Guess what the cat drug in!” Joe announced. Matt looked up and waved.
Michael glanced around the room. It was trashed with pizza boxes piled in the corner, some with lifted lids revealing half-eaten pieces that had obviously been there for weeks. Dirty clothes were scattered all over the floor. Everywhere he looked, he saw an empty beer bottle. Yet almost every weekend, he knew there were at least two naked women gracing the place, dump or no dump.
He turned to Joe. Matt, with his glazed, bloodshot eyes focused on the television, wasn’t going to be much use. “So, Joe. Have you seen Abbey recently?”
“Yeah. She moved back to Mount Vernon a few months ago.”
Michael chuckled. “I knew she would.”
“Why do you care?”
The glimmer in Michael’s green eyes was pure evil. “I ran out of money in Mexico. I’m sure as hell not staying here in Iowa. Abbey will take me back. It doesn’t matter what I did. She figures no other guy will ever want her. I will take her back to Mexico with me. True, she’ll put a cramp in my style. But I figure with a little
manipulation, I’ll be back to non-stop drinking and sex in no time.”
Joe looked at Michael with a dumbfounded expression. “Dude, I don’t think Abbey will go with you to Mexico.”
Michael shook his head. “You don’t know Abbey. She’ll do anything I ask. She thinks I love her.”
“That’s not it, Michael. She’s pregnant.”
Michael’s eyes flew wide in amazement. “Pregnant?” He felt his blood begin to boil. Abbey was his. She was his only way back to Cancún. He took a deep breath. “So? I guess she can raise the kid in Mexico. I can work with it.”
“I suppose you could,” Joe replied. “I’m guessing her husband won’t be too keen on that idea, though.”
“Husband?” Michael shouted.
“Yeah, she came back from New York with some guy. He opened an art gallery downtown.”
Michael fumed, the hate rolling off him in waves. That son of a bitch. Did he steal Abbey away, marry her, sleep with her…
“This guy doesn’t by chance have an accent, does he?” Michael asked quietly, his voice resonating with danger.
“Yeah,” Matt piped up. “British, I think. Maybe not quite British.”
“Irish?” Michael supplied coldly.
“Yeah. Irish.”
Michael shook in rage as he felt the warm, silky beaches of Cancún fade away from his grasp. That son of a bitch. Without a word, he stormed from the apartment, slamming the door behind him.
»»•««
Closing time for the gallery came quicker than Abbey expected. The stars peeked out one by one against a black sky. She looked up and sighed contentedly at the beautiful scene above her as her breath puffed out in white, frozen clouds. Then she dropped her gaze to the far more beautiful scene before her—her sinfully sexy husband locking up the store.
Abbey watched as Sloan twisted the key in the gallery door. The dim lights from inside cast a caramel glow on the sidewalk outside. He slipped his keys into his jeans pocket and then took her tiny hand in his. She snuggled close to him for a moment before they started walking toward home.
Main street Mount Vernon was lit up for a Saturday night on the town. Families filtered in and out of the diner for supper. College students from Cornell filled the sidewalks heading for either the movie theater or the coffee shop. Laughter and the sound of the Hawkeye game on the big screen television could be heard through the propped open door of the tavern. Despite the chill of the upcoming winter, people seemed to be out of the warmth of their homes for a little fun.
Sloan and Abbey laughed and whispered as they journeyed the short distance home. At the first street corner, they waited for a car to pass. Sloan wrapped his powerful arms around his wife, his hands palming Abbey’s rounded stomach. He trailed a soft line of kisses along her neck. She let go a shudder at his touch.
At the next street corner, Sloan’s hands and lips were far more possessive. He was no longer the proud father. He was the lover who had embedded the baby in her womb. She clung to him. Why can’t we live closer to the gallery?
At the third street corner, Abbey found herself pressed flush against the street lamp. Sloan’s hands slid down her butt to her inner thighs. She felt his arms tense to lift.
“Sloan, what are you doing?” Abbey asked breathlessly.
Sloan’s eyes locked with hers. “I told you I wouldn’t be stopping tonight, didn’t I?”
Abbey gasped softly as Sloan’s lips pried hers apart, his tongue diving deep to tangle with hers. She held tightly to his black wool trench coat as she tore free from the kiss. “Sloan, not here.”
A shiver ran through her when she heard the sound of clattering metal as his belt buckle fell free. She had to stop this. She was a whisper away from letting him strip her naked and take her right there against the light pole.
“Why not here?” he demanded.
“We’re outside!”
He cocked his head to the side, a playful pout on his sweet, sexy lips. “How sad. You’ve lost your adventure.”
“I haven’t lost anything. Winter’s about to start. I don’t want to freeze to this pole.”
Sloan pinned his body to Abbey’s, pressing her against the light pole with his sculpted, muscular frame. She felt him hard and ready against her swollen belly. “Oh, luv. I will warm your skin. You won’t freeze.”
“We can see our breath…”
Abbey’s words trailed off as Sloan’s hands caressed her breasts while his lips roamed the curve of her neck. She whimpered in need as she clung to his shoulders, her fingers buried in his wavy, ebony hair. She felt her resolve slip away. She needed skin on skin. She needed Sloan inside her.
“Home,” she moaned, forcing one more stand from her lips. “One block, please.”
Sloan gazed down at her, a wicked twinkle in his eyes. It promised a night of fiery passion that set loose butterflies in her stomach. He took her hand in his as they quickly crossed the street and trotted for home.
Sloan tossed off his coat as he and Abbey stepped inside the house. She listened to him bolt the lock on the door as she discarded her coat on the sofa. She hopped up the steps and then turned around, meeting her husband’s hungry stare. She scrunched her finger to send him a come-hither message. He needed no encouragement.
With a shriek of giggles, Abbey fled up the stairs. Sloan was quick on her heels, leaping the steps two at a time. He took her captive in their bedroom, wrapping her tightly in his arms. She lost her breath as he kissed her ferociously, his lips demanding complete surrender.
“You are mine,” her growled.
“Always,” she whispered as she sank into his kiss again. His tongue tangled with hers, leaving the taste of expensive whiskey behind. She moaned. It drove her crazy. She broke away to tug her shirt over her head and drop it to the floor. She trailed her fingers up her back to make quick work of her bra.
Sloan scraped his bottom lip with his teeth as he caressed her naked breasts in his palms. “Eager, luv?”
“You have no idea.”
“Then lose the pants. And your panties also.”
Abbey smiled as she hooked her fingers around the waistband of her jeans and underwear. She pulled them down together and then kicked them away. Backing toward the bed, she laid across it, her eyes never leaving his.
He slowly approached her as he unlatched his watch. He pulled his T-shirt over his head and tossed it on the chair. He cocked a grin at her.
“You’re torturing me,” Abbey moaned.
“I know. That’s my plan. You’re lying there anticipating me. I’ll let you enjoy the sweet burn.” Sloan popped the button of his fly open.
Abbey rose to her knees on the mattress and grabbed the waist of his jeans. She undid his zipper and then pulled his pants and briefs down to his thighs. Taking him in her hand, she pressed a kiss to the tip of his cock.
“Lass,” he warned as he drew in a sharp breath. She looked up at him as she ran her tongue along the length of him before wrapping her lips around him.
He breathed a few curse words as he weaved his fingers through her hair. Abbey pulled free from him. “Lose the jeans.”
Sloan shoved them to the floor and climbed into bed beside her. He cupped her breast in his hand, leading it to his lips. He gently sucked. The sensation set her on fire. She squirmed beneath him as he feasted on her other breast.
He laid back against the pillows and pulled her to him. Grasping her thighs, he lifted her to straddle his hips. She lowered herself on his cock until he was buried deep inside her.
He dug his fingers deep into her hips as she rocked gently. His lips roamed across her bare breasts, his teeth latching onto her nipple and drawing it into his mouth. The sheet that had covered them lay pooled on the floor with their discarded clothes.
Her eyes fluttered shut as soft, urgent mews whimpered from her lips. Her rocking grew faster, and her breathing grew harsh. She clenched her fingers in Sloan’s hair as she cried out, her body trembling. She gazed at him with sleepy, smok
y eyes.
“Wrap your arms around my shoulders, Abigail,” Sloan’s deep, rich brogue ordered. He caressed her thighs as he slid her legs past his hips. “Hold onto me tight.”
In one fluid motion, he lifted her and rolled her to her back, never leaving her body as he did so. He drove deeper into her as he dug his knees into the mattress. She arched her back, breathlessly begging for more. She clung to him as she cried out again, quaking violently. Her cries turned to whimpers as Sloan stiffened, his groans buried in the curve of her neck.
Sloan brushed a damp lock of brown hair from Abbey’s forehead and then softly kissed her. She smiled at him. As he hovered over her, he kicked a pillow at the head of the bed until he could reach it. He gently tucked it beneath her head.
“I’m getting fat,” she teased.
“You’re not fat,” Sloan chided. He carefully pulled free and then lay beside her, propping his head on his hand. “You’re pregnant.”
“Still…”
He tilted her face to his to look in her eyes. “Abigail, you are the most beautiful woman in the world. You are more so now. When I was young and establishing my place in the Irish Republican Army, I wanted a family like the one my parents had. I wanted a wife and children. After what happened with London, I had to let that dream go. I would put them forever in danger. I was repeatedly reminded of that all the while I was growing up. I forced myself to come to terms with it.
“Now, here I lay with my beautiful wife who is carrying my child. My life couldn’t be more perfect.”
Abbey beamed happily. Sloan continued, “Which reminds me, due to our less than conventional wedding, we never discussed some important items such as how many children we wanted.”
“How many do you want?” she queried mischievously.
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