“Who do ya want to kiss ya? Devlin? I’m sure he’ll oblige.” The bartender scurried over upon mention of his name and nodded like a crazed loony tune.
“You, Shaun, silly. Now, about that Sweet Irish Kiss?”
“Did ya come here for a drink? Or a date?”
“A date is a good start. So long as it finishes with a kiss, and perhaps a flavored condom further down the line? I never did get to try them.”
“Ya kinda left me with the impression that ya weren’t ready for a relationship.”
“Hell, if you’re turning her down, I’ll take ya place.” Devlin jumped beside Rachel.
“Stand down, Dev. I mean...fuck,” he ushered her to join him behind the bar, “I can’t believe ya here. I’ve been thinking of ya ever since.”
“I’m not ready for just anyone. But I am ready for you.... Promise me something?”
“What’s that?”
“Don’t ever cheat on me. If you’ve had enough, say so, and we can call it quits. Okay?”
“Rachel, that’ll never happen.”
“You never know.”
“I know I’d never do that. Me ex-wife fooled around on me, and it’s not a nice feeling. Not at all.”
“Aww, poor baby.” Rachel entwined her fingers in his. “Can we take it slow?”
“I like the sound of that, so I do.” Shaun smiled, tightened his grip around her hand, and gave her that Sweet Irish Kiss she’d come looking for. But this one didn’t involve a bottle of Irish Cream. It would later, though. Shaun grinned, imagining sliding ice coated in Baileys over Rachel’s curves and watching them melt with her sensational body heat.
Shamrocked
Irish Kisses - Book 2
A 1Night Stand Story
By
JoAnne Kenrick
~DEDICATION~
To all the readers who kept on at me to bring you Devlin's story. This one is for you. And to Kate, my wonderful editor, and the whole team at Decadent Publishing. Thank you for believing in me.
Chapter One
“What does a bloke have ta do ta get a Guinness around here?” Devlin drummed his fingers on the bar of Bell’s Irish Pub and glared at the staff, hoping to guilt them into serving him.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Sandra, the barmaid, had her head buried in a book.
Shaun, his boss and longtime best friend, engaged in a hushed conversation with his girlfriend at the end of the bar. Lots of giggles. Close whispering. Kisses on the cheek. Hand on cock. Arse grabbing. That sort of thing. And all in plain view of anyone who might happen to glance in their direction. Devlin might have offered to join in if he’d been in his usual cheeky state of mind, but their cuteness reminded him of his own romantic failings and his reason for leaving Northern Ireland three months before.
His stomach churned.
He needed that drink.
“Erm, hello? Do I have ta serve meself on me night off?”
Tap. Tap. Tap.
“With you in a minute, treacle.” Sandra, without tearing her glare from her story, waved him to wait. “Just let me finish this page.”
“Holy show.” He sighed then hoisted himself over the counter with ease, his loose, faded jeans and white shirt giving him plenty of room to maneuver his limber body. Each suave movement. Each intense glance. All choreographed. He’d deny it if anyone pulled him up on it, but he’d put a lot of effort into perfecting his smolder. He’d even taken dance lessons so he had full ammo at hand to whisk any woman off her feet and into his bed. He was equally talented at ditching them at the slighted sniff of commitment…of a second date. Irish charm all the way.
Devlin eyed his co-worker, lost in a romance novel. To annoy her, he powered up the TV mounted high above the bar and whizzed it up full volume. Channel flicking followed. He stopped on a toothpaste advert to admire a lass with blonde hair down to her ass.
Sandra glanced over her book. “Isn’t she the actress from…oh…what’s that movie called? The Brit chick flick about the famous actress who falls in love with a coffee shop owner?”
“No idea, but she is a girl I could take home ta meet me ma and pa. What a killer smile.” He put his hand to his forehead and faked a swoon. “Who am I kidding? Could ya see me taking a girl ta meet the folks? I think not. Ta meet me toy box, sure. But not the family. Oh, the things I’d do ta her—”
“Snap your crass tongue back in, Devlin.”
“The cockney calling me crass? Ha! Besides, ya can’t beat a guy up for telling it how it is, so you can’t.”
“Whatever. Hey, you’re not on shift today. Get back to the bleedin’ customer side of the bar.” She shoved him away and turned the TV off.
He leapt in front of her to switch it back on.
“Oh, it’s on.” Sandra winked.
An all-out, play-spank war broke out for a minute, packed with giggles. He got a kick out of her touchy-feely-ness and a bit of pub banter never hurt anyone. Besides, wasn’t like they were attracted to each other.
“Oh, crap.” A foul odor of kippers skimmed Devlin’s nose. He glanced at his boss, whose face twisted as if he’d downed a tequila slammer.
They both snapped their stares toward the double entrance doors.
Charlotte Black made her grand entrance, full of airs and graces and Eau De Fish.
“Rachel, why don’t ya go ta the apartment?” As Shaun ushered his girlfriend toward the door behind the bar that led to his living quarters, she eyed him suspiciously.
“Anything to do with the redhead in a fur coat coming this way?” She wrinkled her nose and cringed. “Something’s fishy around here. In more ways than one. It’s your ex, isn’t it? The one who ran away with the fishmonger?”
“Red. Bloody hell.” Devlin ran a hand through his thick hair and tried to hatch a plan to get out of there. He had to avoid being in the same room as Shaun and Red together. It was never pretty. “That woman puts Jackie Collin’s Bitch ta shame, so she does.”
“She’s a piece of work, all right. Come, we’ll make a sharp exit.” Shaun gave her a little push, but she stood firm.
Her fucking funeral.
“Hello, darling. I’m so glad I bumped into you.” Charlotte ran her fingers over Shaun’s face—super long nails polished up in cherry red, and her grin so evil it dripped malice.
He winced. “Bumped into me? It is me bar, ya know. It’s not like I wouldn’t be here.”
“Yeah, fat chance of that.” Rachel snorted. “Wait, you didn’t tell me your ex is the Charlotte Black from The EastEnd.” She hooked her arm through Shaun’s, as if to mark her territory. “Not that I watch the show. It’s drivel.”
“This must be your new slut I’ve been hearing all about. How do you do? I’m Charlotte, the woman whose shoes you’ve got to fill.” Charlotte looked her up and down then tsked.
Devlin dragged the unwelcome guest to one side. “Let’s leave them ta it, shall we? Ya done enough damage ta this guy ta last a lifetime.”
She yanked free from his grip, turned to Shaun, and fluttered her eyelashes. “I’m getting married, and I want my reception here, in Bell’s. You owe me at least that much after kicking me out of my own home.”
“Owe? Ya took me ta the cleaners! I’ve got nothing left ta give ya. Try the knocking shop around the corner if ya need ta make some extra cash to hire a place. I’ve heard the fur coat and no knickers package does well in the brothel on a Friday night.” He pushed Rachel behind him and backed away to the other side of the bar.
Red started toward them, but Devlin held her back.
“Devlin, do something, or I’ll tell him about our time together,” she whispered, smoothing out invisible crinkles in his shirt and stopping to play with his top button. Her touch made him squirm. How his friend had ever loved something like this was beyond him. Or how he’d had sex with her himself. Desperation had a grasp of him back then, though. He’d have tried anything to get over breaking off his engagement to Aoife.
“Ya not that cruel, ar
e ya?” He grabbed her arm, the thick fur of her coat giving him the chills when he thought of the poor little foxes that died just so she could flaunt herself about like Lady Muck. He pulled free from Cruella DeVille. “The best I can do is get Shamrocked ta perform at the event for drinks.”
“It’s a start. Go on.” Charlotte’s top lip tilted up, almost making a genuine smile.
“Just a few boys from the bar. We’ve been together for a few months now. Irish rock, and I reckon yar wedding guests will love us. I’m not playing, though. The rest can do it without me, so they can.”
“Oh, come on, baby, you’ve played for me before.” She rocked her hips toward him, blew him a kiss, then winked. “I’m just kidding, Devlin. I’m not after shagging you in that filthy rat hole you call your apartment again,” she cackled. “Keep your four-leaf clover on. But I insist you get up on that stage, too. Or I’m marching right up to Shaun and telling him about our little indiscretion. We got a deal, big boy?”
“No deal. Ya go tell him, Red. Doubt he’d believe ya.”
“He will, once I show him some rather choice photos—”
Devlin gawked then interrupted her. “Ya took photos of us?”
“My husband thinks I’m loaded, that I’m rich as well as famous. I gotta pull this off until the ‘I do’ exchange, and arranging the venue and entertainment should keep him in the dark until the honeymoon. After that, he’ll find out the truth fast enough. I’m flat broke and about to be ditched from the only acting job I ever had. And you have no idea how much up keeping my image costs. So, help a lady out, won’t you?”
“Got ya. A spot of gold digging then? Okay. Leave it with me; I’ll see if I can pull some strings over at Murphy’s in Notting Hill. He owes me. Ya just gotta provide the boys drinks for music. But this is the last time ya use that one fucked up drunken shag ta blackmail me.”
“Relax, big boy. If you can get me Murphy’s and fix those strapping friends of yours to play, I’ll gift you some rather raunchy photographs you can use as keepsakes of our precious time together.”
“The only thing precious about our two second wonder was that I was so drunk I can’t remember it. The last thing I want is photographs ta jump start me memory. I’d never sleep again.”
“Meh, so burn them. What do I care?” She turned to Shaun and called out, “Toodle-pip.” Pivoting, she clicked her six-inch heels and sashayed out of the bar.
“Don’t think I didn’t notice ya leaning forward ta hear all the juicy bits, Sandra. It goes no further, ya hear me? Shaun finds out I slept with Red, well, he’ll be gutted and our friendship will be ruined.”
Sandra nodded and raised an eyebrow. “Devlin, when are you going to quit the whole bachelor act and settle down?”
“When I’m dead.”
“Behind every good man is an even better woman. Just look at how happy Shaun is.”
He glanced toward the couple, grimacing as their voices rose in a heated discussion. Probably about Red.
“I’m gonna make them a drink, so I am. Can’t have them bickering in the pub like that. Bad for business. ” He hoisted himself up onto the bar then slid to the other side and reached for the hard liquor.
“Go ahead, big boy. Fill your boots. But what he needs is to take the night off and romance that girl.”
“I can help with that, so I can.” Devlin poured an Irish cream concoction delicious enough to make most spin in delight. “What about ya? Seeing any action besides in those books of yours?”
She shook her head.
“Which sexy beasts are filling yar head with fancy notions of sunsets and romance this time? Shifters? Vampires?” Devlin flicked two straws into the finished drinks. “How us men are supposed ta live up ta those kinds of fantasies, I don’t know.”
“This one’s all about some Irish nutbag who thinks he’s God’s gift. It’s not very good. The heroine’s already got his number. Guess what? I can’t see a happy-ever-after in the future for this smooth bastard.”
Devlin leapt to her side and planted a smacker of a kiss on her cheek. “Ya love me, really.”
“Yeah, yeah. I love you, treacle.” Sandra tsked and buried her head back in her book.
Devlin sauntered across the empty bar to deliver the cocktails to his boss/best friend Shaun and his new woman. He plopped himself down at the booth with the bickering couple and slammed two Irish Kisses on the table. “This is all the couples’ counseling ya need.”
Rachel sneered. “I just want to spend more time with my man. Will you beat some sense into him for me, Devlin? One night a week is not too much to ask for, is it?” She clasped the drink in both hands and took long, desperate gulps while passing Shaun an evil glance.
“Take the night off, and go whisk the girl off her feet.”
“I can’t. I’ve got a new supplier coming. I need ta hang around ta make sure he doesn’t screw us over.”
“Fine!” Rachel stormed out into the street, glared back in through the frosted glass for a second, and hailed a taxi. Shaun watched her every step and let out a sigh as she hopped in and the car pulled out.
“This is exactly why I don’t date.” Devlin leaned back and shook his head.
Shaun leaned over the table, and whispered, “She’s hard work, but worth it. So what ya end up agreeing ta do for kipper knickers?”
“Relax, yar mate’s got this under control.” He slapped his friend on the forehead and pushed him back into his seat. “Promised her a location and me band for her wedding. Free drinks. What can I say?”
“The thought of all those bridesmaids fighting ta fuck ya lured ya in, more like it. Ya don’t know what ya missing out on, not having one special woman ta fall asleep next ta every night.”
“Yeah, yeah. Give me twenty bridesmaids over this fighting-over-silly-things business ya have going on with Rachel.”
Shaun reached into his pants and pulled out his wallet. He thumbed through his cards then slid one across the table. “Bickering is only a quarter of the fun. The rest is all about the making up and having someone there ta support ya at every turn. I dare ya ta focus all yar energy on one woman for this wedding. Just one. For the whole night. Arrange a date through this exclusive agency, 1Night Stand. Me treat. I want ya ta get a taste of what being close ta a woman feels like. But if ya lose, ya paying the bill for this and playing the bar every night ya off for the next, oh, three months?”
“Thanks, but no thanks.”
“Ya know how accurate this agency is for matches? I found Rachel through them, and I’m telling ya, Devlin, she’s the one.”
“How could I forget? I enjoyed shopping for yar little date. The lady in the sex shop was ever so helpful.”
Shaun tsked. “If ya carry on being Soho’s hottest, fastest bachelor, yar dick will fall off from overuse.”
“More likely ta fall off from under use. I’ve had all of two women the whole time I’ve been in London.” And one of ’em was your missus. Ah, crap. Even though they were already separated when I did the deed, they were still married. What kind of friend am I?
“Jeez, just agree already. Not all women are like Aoife, ya know?”
“If ya let me take yar shift tonight, and go make up with Rachel, ya got a deal.”
Chapter Two
Liz rocked from ass-cheek to ass-cheek, her fingers intertwined in her lap and her focus set on the woman she hoped to replace on the popular soap opera, The EastEnd. Well, not so much replace. More like eclipse her. With her natural, thick cockney accent, she’d be a perfect choice for the part.
The tall redhead with Stephanie Becham type features, all styled up from way back when Heart to Heart still played on the box, had passed her peak and the producers had their eyes out for younger talent. All hearsay, of course. She got it from a friend whose friend worked in the offices at British Broadcasting Television. It was how she’d cottoned on to most of her auditions, because all her agent had ever managed to get her was a toothpaste advert. Her real acting jobs, the few sh
e’d managed to get, were due to her own efforts. Right time. Right place.
Here she was on another whim, attending a stranger’s wedding reception in a bar in a part of London she only ever visited for expensive shopping days with her mum. Why? To get some inside tips from the woman herself. Likes and dislikes and where the producers and writers drank coffee. A nice chance meeting could be set up.
If she’d learned anything from her day trips to Notting Hill, it was to play down her outfit and hide her best-known feature. Her hair. She loved the press and all, but only when she was “on the job.” On her own time, she’d rather be a nobody than have every move she made analyzed by the public. But she regretted coming dressed in jeans with her blonde locks hidden beneath a dark wig tonight, because she stood out like a movie star anyway—everyone else had blinged themselves up to the nines.
A swarm of admiring men surrounded Charlotte Black. She lapped up their attention and preened under their lustful gazes. Liz had no idea which was the groom, because each wore a red rose in his cravat and the bride didn’t seem to linger longer around one or another. More like flitted between them all.
Take risks. Put yourself out there. Make it happen.
Clearing her throat, she straightened her hair then glued on her confidence smile. Liz wove her way through the crowd, making a beeline for Charlotte. The jukebox kicked up Oops Upside Your Head by The Gap Band. What should have been a two-second walk turned into a ten minute obstacle course—jazz hands in her face, elbows in her side, and God only knew what on her arse.
She’d lost sight of the fading star.
As she pivoted to catch site of her target again, her agent stepped into her personal space and tapped her on the bottom.
“You’re here to press Charlotte for details, aren’t you?” He moved to her side and leered down her top. “You amaze me. How on earth did you get in here looking like that?”
Irish Kisses Boxed Set Page 4