“This better be one hell of a surprise. I’m hoping it doesn’t involve clothes.”
I heard the sound of the engine a minute later, and Anna reached over and patted my leg. “Don’t worry, love,” she said, and I could hear the smile in her voice. “I’ll get us there in one piece.”
“Mm. Hm.”
“It’s a five-minute drive. Relax.”
“Five minutes with you behind the wheel could give me a heart attack. Maybe it’s a good thing I can’t see.”
“I’m not that bad of a driver,” she yelped.
“Not that bad, hm? Maybe you should stick to riding horses, love.”
A playful slap on my chest had me shaking my head, biting back the laughter. “Or just stick to riding me.”
“Adam,” she warned.
I held my hands up in submission. “Okay. Okay.”
I attempted to relax as she drove. Moments later, I fumbled around with the controls for the music. She brushed my hand out of the way.
“Are you serious?” I said as she settled on a station. “Justin Bieber? Now this is officially torture.”
“The fact that you even know this is a Bieber song means you listen to him!”
“You tell anyone, and I’ll—”
“Uh huh. Sure.” She chuckled.
A few minutes (and one Bieber song) later, she stopped the car.
Anna came around and opened the door, helping me out. Not being in control was something I wasn’t quite used to.
“You ready?” she asked, wrapping an arm around mine.
A soft blast of heat greeted my skin. We must’ve been inside. The smell of fresh paint met my nostrils, and I pinched my brows together, trying to figure out where we were.
“Okay. I’m going to untie you now.” Her voice was shaky, but why? What had her so nervous?
I kept my eyes closed as she removed the tie.
“Open your eyes,” she said softly.
It took me a minute to figure out what I was looking at. Several kids from the center were standing before me with smiles on their faces, and so were my brothers, my sister, Ma, and Da . . . and we were standing in a boxing studio. There were mats on the floor, two fighting rings, heavy weight bags, free weights, and other equipment, throughout the large space.
“What’s going on, Anna?” I took a step back in surprise when my eyes landed on the back wall. Painted in red letters were the words: McGregor’s Gym; beneath it, in ancient Gaelic, were the symbols that matched part of my tattoo. Family.
Anna came around in front of me and slid her hands over the sleeve of my jacket, resting on the spot where I had marked myself, long before. “You see? I don’t think you need to choose between family and fighting. I think we had it all wrong. I think you can have both.”
My mouth parted open, prepared to reject her words, but she swept a finger up to my lips. “I’m not saying you should fight competitively.” She shook her head. “But when I saw you training at your home that night, well, you were moving so gracefully. It was actually kind of beautiful. Martial arts doesn’t have to be brutal. It can teach respect and discipline, and I was thinking that maybe you’d enjoy sharing your knowledge with others.” She cleared her throat and took a step back, opening her palms in the air. “After some heavy persuasion, your sister agreed to help me, and we had this studio built for you. It took a couple months, but we thought this could be another haven for the kids.”
A martial arts studio as a haven? I wasn’t so sure about that. But if kids were going to learn to fight, maybe it was better they did it here under the supervision of an adult. They could learn how to assess an opponent, to know when it was appropriate to fight.
I dragged my palms down my face and looked over at my family. “Are you serious, Anna?” I looked back at her. Part of me was excited, but I was also terrified. In the last three months, I hadn’t even gone near a boxing studio. I didn’t need fighting because I had Anna. But . . .
“Why?” I choked out the word, suddenly overwhelmed by my emotions.
She shot me a nervous smile. “Because I love you. And I know you say that you don’t need it, that you’re happy without fighting, but—”
I pulled Anna into my arms and kissed her, pressing my lips hard against hers as my hand cupped the back of her head. I didn’t give a damn who was watching. I loved this woman so damn much that I couldn’t breathe.
After a minute I stepped back and stared at her. Anna was panting a little, her eyes shimmering. “Thank you.”
Those two words could not begin to capture how appreciative I was of her.
“So you’re okay with this? Not mad?” She bit her lip and fidgeted with her hands in front of her.
My gaze slid across the room and over at the fifteen or so people around us. No one was saying a word, which was highly unusual for this group.
“I could never be mad at you, Anna.” I smiled at her as I reached for her hand. “But there is one thing.” My heart tapped inside my chest like a hard clenched fist, pounding and pounding. I dropped to one knee, still holding her hand.
I barely heard the gasps from those surrounding us as I looked up at her. All I could focus on was the courageous woman before me. Her hand was trembling, and I brought my other one over it to warm her.
I bowed my head for a moment before looking back up at her with a smile. “I’m completely screwing this up,” I muttered. “I had this whole thing planned for next weekend—I was going to take you to the Ha’Penny Bridge. I got a ring and one of those lover locks . . . of course I left those at home.” I exhaled a deep breath as I noticed Anna’s free hand cover her mouth.
“But I’m a bloody idiot—I can’t wait another week. Or even a day. Marry me, Anna. Marry me. You talk about how I’ve made your dreams come true, love. Please, Anna, make mine come true, too.”
Tears streaked down her cheeks as she nodded. “Yes,” she whispered.
I stood back up, staring into her emerald green eyes. I held her forearms, bracing myself—not sure if I could remain upright.
“Kiss her! Kiss her!” the kids chanted, and I think even Ma was, too.
“Well?” Anna smiled through her tears. “You gonna kiss me or what?”
My throat constricted, and I couldn’t speak.
I was so utterly happy.
Gloves on, gloves off—it didn’t matter anymore. If Anna was by my side, I’d be the luckiest Irishman on God’s green earth.
“Anna McGregor,” I murmured. “I love the sound of that.” She gasped as I swept her off her feet and pulled her tight against me, holding her in my arms. Our lips locked . . . and Anna stole my breath, just as she’d done the first time I laid eyes upon her.
*Continue for a sneak peek of Forever Rome*
Forever Rome
Haven’t read Forever Rome yet? Meet the leading star of the soccer (football) team that Adam McGregor owns—Marco Valenti.
Synopsis:
Maggie Lane, a sports columnist and diehard football fan, is not exactly enthused when her editor-in-chief sends her to Rome, Italy, to write a feature story on Italian soccer star Marco Valenti. The last thing she wants to do is spend three weeks covering soccer right before the American football season begins. But Maggie’s job becomes a lot more appealing after meeting a sexy Italian man on her first night there.
One hot kiss and she is done for . . . but once Maggie discovers her mysterious Italian is Marco Valenti, she’s not sure if she’ll be able to write her story objectively, or if she’ll even have to. Marco stuns the world when he announces his retirement, and without an explanation as to why, rumors fly and the tension mounts. Despite Maggie’s protests, she is forced to stay, but with each passing day, she becomes enchanted with the beautiful city, as well as finds herself breaking her cardinal rule—never fall for a player.
As Maggie learns the truth about Marco, she has to make a decision: protect him or keep her job. Will Marco be able to trust her with his secrets? Can she trust him with her hear
t?
Note: Unlike Forever Dublin, this book is told only in 1st person POV from the female protagonist.
Chapter One
“Drink this. It’ll help.”
My hands clenched the arms of my seat, and my knuckles whitened as the change in altitude created a crackling, high-pitched noise in my ears. The alcohol in Will’s tumbler sloshed; a few drops of the brownish gold liquid spilled onto his mocha skin.
“Turbulence. No big deal, Mags.” Will’s free hand was covering mine, and I captured a lungful of air. With it came a whiff of Mexican winter oranges and Spanish marjoram. Will’s cologne.
I exhaled as my eyes steadied on his.
“I hate flying overseas.” I took the glass. “All that water beneath us. Freaks me out.” I held the tumbler in both hands and brought it to my lips. “Ugh!” My face puckered as my shoulders jerked. “How can you drink this stuff?” I pressed the glass back into Will’s hand and took another deep breath as my chest warmed from the burning liquid.
He released a throaty laugh, and his hazel eyes flashed to mine. “Like this.” He swallowed a mouthful and raised his glass in the air. “You better drink something, though. I don’t want you panicking every time we hit an air pocket.”
I re-gripped the side arms of my seat and quickly whipped my head around. The flight attendant was serving the guy behind us—yeesh, what a square. Who wears a suit on an overseas trip?
The pretty flight attendant’s eyes shifted to me. “Could I have a vodka and cranberry—” Another bump. Shit. I swallowed, attempting to free my heart from my throat. “Please,” I croaked.
“Sure.” She patted her hand over mine and moved her attention to Will. “Anything else for you, sir?” The beauty pushed fiery auburn locks behind her ear and focused a pair of sharp, forest green eyes on Will. A smile danced across her face the second his lips twitched.
“I’m good. But thank you,” he responded, his Jamaican accent like honey, adding a delicious sweetness to his words.
Miss Auburn stood erect, batting her lashes as though caught up in his spell, before turning on her heel and sashaying into the galley with purposeful, gently undulating hips.
Will’s eyes remained superglued to the woman’s curvy backside until she disappeared. “You can’t help yourself, huh? Making the women swoon.” I fanned my face, grateful that he’d distracted me from thoughts of the plane. Well, for a moment. How could I forget that I was trapped on the flying, metal, death-cage?
It would be heaps of metal bobbing in the Atlantic Ocean. My body would drift down into the depths of the deep blue water.
Okay, so maybe I’m a bit dramatic. But come on, it’s not normal to be in the sky. Gravity is there for a reason.
Will’s teeth flashed my direction. “What can I say?” He placed a hand on his chest and angled his head. “I’m irresistible.”
What were we talking about? Oh. Yes, Will the charmer. Focus on him and not on crashing.
“Relax, Maggie.” He set his drink down and grabbed a magazine from his travel bag: Men’s Health and Sports. Of course.
My attention shifted to the all-American good ol’ boy and NFL quarterback who graced the cover of the magazine for which Will and I both worked. It was the July issue. Jeremy Jensen. He’d been one of my favorite stories.
I half-growled and jabbed my finger at the cover of the magazine. “I shouldn’t be on this plane. I should be in Jersey, at the Giants’ training camp. Even Tampa would be a step up. Anywhere but on this plane.”
“Maybe you need a change.” Will sighed. “You’ve been writing articles about football since you got out of school. Probably before.” He looked me over and scoffed. “You should do something different. Time to shake things up a bit.” Licking his thumb, he peeled back a page of the magazine. He peered at me out of the corner of his eye. “Besides, we’re going to Rome. To watch real football.”
“Real?” I slapped his hard chest. “Soccer’s boring.” I groaned. “They just kick the ball back and forth down a field. Sometimes the game ends with absolutely no one scoring—and they’re actually okay with that.” My voice began to rise. “It’s ridiculous. I don’t understand the world’s obsession with soccer.”
“Football.”
“Ugh.” I leaned back in my leather seat and popped the leg rest in some lame attempt to get comfortable. Like that would happen . . . “I’m pretty sure Travis assigned me to this project as some form of punishment.”
“Punishment for what?”
“He forced me to go on a date with his wife’s younger brother, and it didn’t go well.”
“He forced you? Huh. I find it hard to imagine you being forced to do anything.” He cocked a dark brow.
“Um, where am I right now? I’m on a plane going to Italy, against my will.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “When the editor in chief says jump—” I followed Will’s sudden grin, and my eyes fell upon the flight attendant. “Thank you.” I took the drink from her and took an eager sip. A vast improvement.
Will nodded at Miss Auburn, and her cheeks turned crimson. I waved my pinky at her retreating backside.
“What happened on the date, anyway?” Will’s eyes landed on mine.
I grimaced. “First of all, he didn’t tell me his sister’s brother is Jeff Cruise.”
“What?” His eyes widened. “The Jeff Cruise?”
My lips pursed together as I nodded.
“How’d he manage to keep that a secret from us? The guy has one of the best batting averages in the country. He won the World Series two years in a row.” His lips parted to expose his pearly whites. “Don’t tell me that you weren’t interested in him because he plays baseball? I mean . . . I don’t swing that way, but the guy’s good-looking. Right?” He smoothed a hand over his clean-shaven jaw. “Well, I mean—it takes one to know one.”
“I don’t date players. Football, baseball—it doesn’t matter.”
“And why is that?” He closed the magazine and slipped it back into his bag.
I unbuckled and attempted to get comfortable in my seat. “I’m only twenty-six, and I work at a men’s magazine. I’m a woman in a man’s world—yes, things are slowly changing, but still, I feel like I need to work twice as hard to be accepted in this industry. To be taken seriously.” I pulled my long blonde hair up off my back and tied it into a ponytail. “Dating a player could tank my career.”
“Mags, you don’t need to prove yourself—everyone in football knows your name. You’re an amazing sports writer.” He touched my shoulder. “You’re allowed to have a life, too.”
A life? “Work is my life, Will. You know that.” I cringed.
“At some point, baby girl, you need to slow down and enjoy a sunset or two.” His smirk was infectious, and I returned it before taking another sip of my drink. “Like I said, maybe this trip to Rome will do you some good. We just have to follow this Valenti guy around for a couple weeks. Get a good story, take a few photos . . . and once his first game kicks off, we can leave. You’ll be back in time for the start of the football season.”
I dragged both hands down my face and moaned. “Why did Travis pick me for this article! It makes no sense. He wouldn’t even listen to me. Craig and Kevin are the soccer experts.” I sucked in a breath and tried to calm my nerves as the plane shook a little from turbulence.
“I remember—I could hear them shouting about it from all the way down the hall.”
“I haven’t even looked into the file Travis gave me on Valenti.” I held my palms up. “See, this is why I shouldn’t be writing the story.” I pressed my forefinger to my thumb making an O shape. “Zero interest. Zilch. Or whatever the Italian word is for zero.” The little bit of Italian I knew was escaping me at the moment.
“You haven’t done your research? Maggie, that’s a first.”
“We’ll be meeting him and his agent after the press conference tomorrow. I don’t even know what he looks like. Hopefully he’s not a jerk.”
Will laug
hed. “You’re kidding, right? They’re all jerks.”
***
It was one a.m., and I couldn’t sleep. I’d made the mistake of falling asleep on the flight over, even though I never slept on planes, and now I was trapped awake.
After pacing my room for a few minutes, I found myself wandering around the elegant hotel lobby, studying the burnished copper on the ceiling, threaded with silver leaves and flowers.
The hotel was grand in its architecture. Columns. Replica statues and a massive fountain adorned the center of the room.
I caught sight of the bar at the other side of the lobby. Since the doors were still open, I decided to poke inside.
The bar was empty, offering me silence. I supposed it was a Monday. And late, too. I stood in front of a window near the door, which offered a view of a massive park.
“Would you like a drink?”
I spun around to face the bartender. He was well built and probably in his late forties, with thick dark hair that was peppered with gray. His lips rocked up into a smile as his brown eyes met mine. “How’d you know—?”
“You’re American, yes?” He rubbed the counter in front of him with a wet rag. “Your light eyes and blonde hair give you away.”
My lips quirked as I closed the gap between the window and the sleek, black bar top. “I live in New York.” Well, I did. But to me, home would always be Alabama—a state where football was the religion on Sunday.
“Let me make you something special.” The word “you” sounded more like “you-uh.” And the “h” went mysteriously missing from “something.” I had to admit, English sounded pretty damn cool from a native Italian tongue.
I wanted to say yes to the bartender’s offer as much as I knew I should say no. I’d already had a few drinks on the plane, which is how I’d managed to sleep. But what the hell—when in Rome . . .
That was the saying, right? Who’d coined that phrase?
I tried to shrug off the inconvenience of my brain’s constant demand for answers.
Forever Dublin (Forever #2) Page 29