by Abby Green
I put the brakes on. Screeching. Thank God I hadn’t made a complete ass of myself and shown him how susceptible I was. I slid off the stool, brisk. “Yeah, sure I know Caitlin. She’s going out with my brother. She lives upstairs with him.”
I came around behind the bar and started to tidy up, not looking at him. But when he spoke and he sounded almost...hesitant, I had to look.
“Is she—are they...here? Now?”
I steeled myself against those huge eyes and the desire to know why he looked and sounded tortured all of a sudden.
“No, they’re on holiday for two weeks in Mexico. That’s why I’m here, covering for Liam.”
I frowned at him and folded my arms. “She never mentioned having a brother in New York.”
Something in his expression was bitter for a second. “Yeah, well, she does. I’ve been living here for a few years.”
Instantly interest spiked when a wealth of questions begged to be asked. Why hadn’t he seen her before now? Why was he so nervous? I pushed down the urge to know. Questions would lead to answers and answers would lead to confidences and confidences would lead to feelings of empathy and ultimately believing I could trust—I stopped my whirling brain and took a breath.
I felt dizzy. I would never let anyone suck me in again the way Steve had. No matter how hot.
But Jesus Christ... Steve had been undeniably gorgeous, but with Johnny in front of me, I don’t think I could have picked that cheating rat out of a lineup. And I hated to admit it, but there was something very satisfying about that. Although I had no interest in this guy.
Liar.
I turned around and picked up the jar of tips, holding it out to him. “Caitlin won’t be back for two weeks. Thanks for tonight. You should take these and I’ll settle up with you for the shift if you give me your bank details. I’ll do a transfer.”
I was avoiding his eye but had to look up when he didn’t take the jar. His arms were crossed, muscles bulging and seriously distracting. Now he sounded disgusted when he said, “I’m not taking your tips and I don’t want payment.”
More than exasperated at how he’d exposed all of my lofty resolutions for being weak at the seams, I said, “Well, what do you want then?”
He just looked at me for a long moment and then unfolded his arms and came close, putting two hands on the back bar either side of me. I clutched the jar to me like a shield. My pussy tightened. Just like that.
“You, Ashling. I want you and I wanted you the moment I saw you. I wanted you so bad I couldn’t even remember why I’d come in last night.”
* * *
The palpable relief Johnny felt to know that he had a reprieve from seeing Caitlin for another couple of weeks still lingered, even as he called himself a fucking coward for it.
But, if that was a license to push the past aside for a moment, he did. He kicked it right over the edge of a cliff to deal with later.
Because he felt wild and desperate as he looked down into Ashling’s upturned face. And right now he was all about the present and those mesmerizing blue eyes. For a second they looked hot enough to burn him alive. The pink tip of her tongue came out as if to moisten her lips, and immediately he was rewarded with an image of her on her knees, that pink tongue exploring him, slipping along the slit at the head of his dick, tasting his pre-come.
He almost groaned and was about to press closer when she scooted out from under his arms and put the jar down. She stood a few feet away, arms crossed tightly across her chest. It pushed up the enticing swells of her modest but plump cleavage. Not helping. Ice in her eyes now. Not heat. Not helping either.
“Yeah? Well, I’m afraid I’m not interested.”
Johnny curbed the urge to point out that it hadn’t looked like that a few moments ago when she’d been on the other side of the bar and looking as if she was about to climb over it to get to him. He’d had to bloody focus enough to remember why he was here. Again.
I’m not interested. The words hung between them, and something dark pierced him. “Are you going out with someone?”
Ashling’s expression became hard. “No. Not that it’s any of your business.”
Tightness eased inside Johnny, and he didn’t like it. He wasn’t an angel by any means, but he’d never felt as if he couldn’t walk away if a woman was taken—drawing the line at seducing attached lovers. Which was about as noble as he got.
Except here, now, with Ashling, he wasn’t so sure he would have found it so easy. And that had never happened before.
Johnny’s voice lowered. It was very much game on now. “I’d say it’s my business when I know you want me as much as I want you.”
Her eyes flashed momentarily, as if with panic, but then she hitched her chin up belligerently. “Haven’t you ever heard the expression ‘I’m just not that into you’?”
Man, she was cute. Johnny’s libido surged. He stepped closer and saw how the pulse at the base of her neck jumped. She was into him, all right.
“Where I come from,” he drawled, “that’s called fighting talk. And if it eases your mind any, I’m not with anyone either.”
He crossed his arms and saw the way her eyes dropped for a moment before coming back up. Some of the ice was melting, he could see it. Lust kicked hard in his solar plexus.
Ashling rolled her eyes. “Whatever, Johnny. The fact is that whether you’re single or a cheating bastard, I’ve had my fill. So when I say I’m not interested, I mean it.”
Had her fill of what? Johnny pushed the question aside. Since when did he want to know more than satisfying a mutual itch?
He looked down at her and had to curb an animalistic urge to press her back against the bar and tip her head up and devour her until she couldn’t speak or see straight. He wanted to kiss that lush mouth until it was swollen and put a hand between her legs so he could feel her soft flesh throbbing into his hand and make her admit that she did want this. And him.
But seeing her obduracy and the tense lines of her body, Johnny curbed the instinct to prove otherwise right now.
In truth, the strength of how much he wanted her made him take a step back, and he saw something flash in her eyes. Disappointment? He was still close enough to touch her, though, and he lifted his hand and cupped her jaw. It was unbearably slight and delicate under his fingers. Reminding him of the delicious differences in their makeup.
Her breathing got quicker, her breasts rising and falling rapidly. Good. Not half as reluctant as she was pretending to be.
Slowly and deliberately he rubbed a thumb across her bottom lip, exploring that cushiony, springy firmness. And then because he couldn’t stop himself, he slipped it inside and felt the dart of her tongue tip against him as if she couldn’t help that minute taste. His dick jerked in his pants, blood rushing south to harden the shaft of flesh. Jesus.
The heat haze on his vision cleared slightly when he saw comprehension dawn in those blue eyes, and he took his thumb out before she could bite down on him. He couldn’t resist putting it into his own mouth to taste her. Sweet and hot. Wet.
Sounding far less confident now, she stepped back and said, “I didn’t come back to New York for a hookup, Johnny. You should just go.”
Back from where? He ignored that question, too. It was harder than he liked to admit to step away and walk around her and go to the door, but he wasn’t going to push this now. The prospect of getting Ashling Sullivan to acquiesce to him was more erotic than anything he could remember in a long time.
He unlocked the front door, opened it and then looked back. She was framed by the huge bar, and for a second he could have sworn he saw something vulnerable, and his conscience kicked. But it was gone when she crossed her arms and arched a dark blond brow.
Resolve and lust tightened his gut as he said softly but with a definite hint of steel, “Lock up
as soon as I leave. I didn’t like the look of those guys who were in earlier. I’ll be back tomorrow, Ashling. You need my help so you’d better find me a T-shirt that fits.”
Chapter Four
Johnny had gone before I could react to that arrogant pronouncement. And his lock up as soon as I leave hit me somewhere ridiculously feminine. For long minutes after I’d locked up again and Johnny had left, pulling away from the curb in a low-slung vintage Buick, I was still trembling from an overload of emotion and sensations.
And I could still taste his finger in my mouth. I’d almost bitten down on it, and not in anger. In lust.
I went back to the bar and poured myself a generous shot of whiskey, cursing him for his unique and intoxicating brand of confidence and raw sexual charisma. When he’d disappeared out the door I’d had to restrain an urge to run after him.
I’d felt so exposed when he’d asked about Caitlin because I’d been all but ready to climb over the bar; it had reminded me a little too forcibly of how exposed I’d felt after Steve. Guilt pierced me again to know I’d even unwittingly been the other woman. That was why I was done letting anyone else close enough to scramble my brain. Clearly my judgment faculties were severely faulty at the moment.
But then I thought about Johnny hemming me in against the bar. I’d almost melted on the spot, completely forgetting everything. He had that cocky, confident arrogance that drove me in equal parts crazy and crazy with lust.
I scowled. The man was a lobotomist.
I forced my mind away from the very sexual promise in those dark blue eyes. Promising the seduction of oblivion and nirvana. It scared me because Steve had offered all those things, and yet, even though I’d let him in closer than anyone else, I realized now that he hadn’t actually made me lose myself entirely.
The subsequent painful fallout had been more hurtful for my pride than my heart.
The fact that meeting Johnny Ryan was precipitating this revelation was not welcome. Because it pointed to the fact that he’d effortlessly managed to sneak under my skin already.
I took another slug of whiskey, relishing the burn, as if that could sear away this intense lingering desire. No way would I give in to Johnny Ryan, for myriad reasons, and not just because my best friend and I were embracing celibacy so we could focus on our business and because we’d both just been royally screwed over.
No, I had come home for me, and not to service my very indiscriminating libido. I scowled at my reflection in the big mirror behind the bar and ignored my overly flushed cheeks. So Johnny Ryan could go and take a fucking flying leap if he thought I’d be waiting with open legs for him tomorrow. I could resist him. I could.
* * *
“Christ on a bike, who is that? I do believe my one straight cell just pulsed to life.”
I blatantly ignored Candy’s question and looked at her. “Christ on a what?”
But Candy, with her funky asymmetrical bobbed blond hair, numerous piercings, tattoos and generally fierce air was staring with obvious lust at Johnny Ryan where he was unloading bottles of whiskey out of a box. And she was one hundred percent out and proud gay.
She said now absently, “It’s one of Caitlin’s cute sayings. Like bollix and fecking eejit.”
I followed Candy’s gaze, as if it hadn’t been hard enough not to look. I mean, who was I kidding? Johnny was now putting bottles high on a shelf over the back bar, and every time he stretched up, his gray Sullivan’s T-shirt rode up and gave a tantalizing glimpse of flat abs and that dark trail of hair.
The healthy bulge in the front of his jeans made me break out in a hot sweat every time I saw it. His back was broad, tapering down to those slim hips.
“That ass...is assmazing.”
I couldn’t help but agree. It was only when that ass disappeared and a provocative bulge filled our eye-lines that I looked up, cheeks flaming. Fecking eejit, indeed. How old was I again? And how easily had I capitulated when Johnny had shown up today and come straight behind the bar and asked where his T-shirt was?
I’d put up the most pathetic of fights, asking him with what I’d hoped was derision, “How come you’re so available? Unemployed?”
He’d looked at me, totally unfazed by my implicit insult. “I work for myself, so I can take some time off. And I’m not accepting payment. Where else are you going to get experienced, pro bono bar staff at short notice?”
To my disgust, when he’d said bono all I could think about was one thing. Boner. I’d been telling him where the T-shirts were before my brain had caught up with my head.
I’d assured myself I wouldn’t be waiting for him with legs open. Ha! I might as well have lain down naked and covered myself with sushi and handed him some chopsticks.
Johnny prowled toward us now, a smirking smile playing around that gorgeous mouth. I glared at him, but he was looking at Candy and holding out a hand, oozing dark and sexy Irish charm.
“Hey, I’m Johnny, Caitlin’s brother. I’m helping Ashling out for a few days.”
“Hey, Johnny, Caitlin’s brother,” purred the fickle traitor. “I’m Candy, the day manager. If there’s anything you need, anything at all, do let me know.”
To my absolute horror and chagrin, I had to stop myself from physically tearing Candy’s hand out of Johnny’s. I was not liking the way his eyes were resting on her. At all.
Candy was saying wonderingly, “You know, I’ve heard about guys like you, who can turn a good gay woman bi-curious, but I never really believed it.”
I rolled my eyes and muttered caustically, “That’s all he needs, an even bigger head.”
They both turned to look at me. Candy far too assessingly and Johnny with an even bigger smirk. He let Candy’s hand go and leaned close and said in a thick Irish brogue, “Darlin’, you have no idea how big my head can get.”
And then he sauntered away, after winking at Candy, to finish putting the bottles away.
I could feel Candy’s eyes on me and I refused to look at her. She knew me far too well. And as if reading my mind, she said lightly, “So. How about that then? Caitlin’s prodigal brother is temptation incarnate... Are you going to let Jenna know your self-imposed man-free hiatus has just gone up in flames?”
“Stop it,” I hissed, my cheeks heating. I glanced at Johnny’s back and then at Candy. I cursed telling her about our pact. She’d just looked at me when I’d told her and said with a sigh, “Girlfriend, life is too fricking short to do without sex.”
The problem was, right now my body was shamelessly agreeing with her.
Candy arched a brow and remarked innocently, “What is it they say? The best way to get over someone is to get under another someone as soon as possible?”
That was way too close to the bone, and I cursed myself for telling her every bloody thing. Candy was an expert at getting people drunk and making them spill. I dragged her away from the bar and into the office. Out of temptation’s earshot.
I crossed my arms, not even knowing why I was feeling so defensive in front of someone who left a trail of broken hearts in her wake on a regular basis.
She’d done half a psychology degree and had regularly used me and Liam as very reluctant case studies over the years. I did not need her pyschobabble now on top of my own babbling voices.
“Look, he came in the other night looking for Caitlin. I had no idea she even had a brother. I was under pressure and he helped me out.”
Thankfully Candy didn’t give me her best Sigmund Freud impersonation—a party piece of hers. She just looked at me consideringly and then said, “He hasn’t seen Caitlin since he left home a few years back. Some big fight happened between him and their older sister, Mary. Liam got a PI to look for him, and apparently he’s found him.”
I waved a hand, even though my interest was piqued. “I don’t care about that.”
/> “Liar, liar pants on fire,” Candy said cheerfully. And then she sat on the desk and crossed her legs and winked at me. “And I bet they’re not just on fire because you’re lying.” She shook her head. “Man, I’d do him.”
I pushed two hands through my hair in agitation. “Dammit, Candy, I told you I haven’t come back here to jump straight into a hookup. I’m here for starting over. New job, new me. I do not want to get distracted by some guy, no matter how gorgeous.”
Candy stood up and gave me a dry look. “I don’t think it’s me you need to be protesting to. It’s yourself and that lean hunk of muscle outside. He doesn’t look like the type to back off easily.”
She walked to the door and turned back. “What’s the big deal, Ash? He’s practically got no strings attached tattooed to his forehead. And when it’s over, walk away. Do all the stuff you want to do with a nice little afterglow humming in your pants. One thing is sure—a fling with him will eclipse any memory of your last experience.”
I tried to hide the jolt of illicit adrenaline running through my veins to think that I could indulge in Johnny before focusing on work and rebooting my life. Timing-wise it was perfect...too perfect. Too tempting.
Candy left the office, presumably to get changed, and I paced back and forth, trying to ignore the excitement that swirled in my belly at the thought of giving in to temptation.
Maybe she was right...maybe this was just what I needed to move on and get over the bad taste left in my mouth after Steve. After all, Johnny had assured me he was single, and I didn’t need Candy to tell me that he was commitment-phobic—he probably wore it engraved on a medical tag like people who were allergic to penicillin or other drugs.
I could feel resistance start to crumble and break apart inside me, and an image of Jenna popped into my head. I imagined her sipping Virgin Mary cocktails in Miami ignoring a parade of surfer dudes, and the guilt lanced me. I couldn’t be the weak one. I’d never live it down.