Irish Kisses Boxed Set

by JoAnne Kenrick

  “I wouldn’t do that”

  “I know that now. Look, you don’t get it. I’ve had a run-in with a hidden camera before. That’s why I like the control in a partnership. You see, I’m not looking for love. Just a front-page news kind of relationship. Brangelina so to speak. Or in our case, Devliz. Every move followed by the press. Really, I just want to act. That’s it. Not be famous. But I learned that you can’t have one without the other, exposure leads to work. I was just trying to deal with that as best I can and in doing so, made some pretty bad dating choices.”

  “Trust me, Liz, it makes no difference to me if ya famous or not. I’d still like ta do this again sometime. I like ya. Ya trust me. Not many women do. Aoife never did.”

  “Who?”

  “I guess it’s time ta make Devlin an open book. And I’m happy ta share the reason why Charlotte mentioned second dates are hard ta come by with me. I do what I can ta avoid getting caught up in another disaster of a relationship. My head can’t take that crap. I like ta know where I am. Anything after a one-nighter and I stress about where I stand, or don’t. And we have Aoife ta thank for that. My ex-fiancé. But ya…ya I want ta see again.”

  She cuddled against him.

  ***

  Peaceful slumber had come over them. Exhaustion, perhaps. But more because she felt safe with him. And she suspected he felt the same about her.

  She glanced at the digital bedside clock.

  Eight in the morning.

  He stirred, and a moan escaped his lips. Never had she known a more inviting image. Devlin. Yup. She could see them making a go of things. Long term. Away from the paparazzi. But for now, she was more interested in discovering what other tricks he had up his sleeve. A sex swing? Ha!

  That would be fun, but what she needed was to feel close to him. Some simple, up close, and personal lovemaking. She leaned in to kiss him and stopped herself. Morning breath. She lifted his arm from her and slipped out of bed. Maybe the hotel had left some of those cute little mouthwash bottles. I’d be quicker than digging into her badly packed overnight bag to find a toothbrush and paste.

  Tiptoeing so she wouldn’t wake him, she made her way to the bathroom. Sights set on her destination, she missed the pile of clothes on the floor and tripped over Devlin’s jacket.

  Crap.

  When she picked it up, an envelope fell out. The one Charlotte Black had tucked in there last night. A raging debate played in her mind for a few seconds. If she ignored it and asked him about it when he woke, it would prove she trusted him. On the other hand, the flap hung free and he’d never know she’d taken a look. But they were from Charlotte. Could be something she needed to know about that very second.

  She opened it and flicked through the photographs inside. A sickness stirred in her; last night’s Shamrocked threatened to reappear. After all they’d shared, all they’d said, the last thing she’d expected to find was lewd photos of him with Charlotte Black. Christ, they were having an affair? And that woman had the audacity to taunt her about sleeping with him? Heat surged through her and went straight to her head. Heart pounding, she tore the distressing images into tiny pieces, flushed them down the toilet, and collapsed on the cold tile floor. Unbelievable. Sickened she’d let herself believe she could have been with him all the way through life, blue rinse and all, she wanted to wash him from her memory and get the hell out of there…fast.

  Chapter Five

  He woke. Naked. Alone. He scanned the room, fear she’d already left him slamming into his heart. But she stood bent at the waist picking her clothes up from the floor. He propped himself against a pillow to watch her.

  What he’d said to Sandra about Liz and taking her to meet his fetish but never the parents disgusted him. The introduction to the toy box had gone well…but more importantly, he would love to take this woman home to meet his parents and his sister. Maybe she would shake the Aoife disaster from his heart.

  But with his track record, he’d ruin it weeks in. He’d break it off, or she’d break it off. Maybe she’d also pull the whole engagement thing on him, or fake a pregnancy and kill the trust between them.

  He couldn’t go through that again. Better to stick with the one-night plan.

  He’d fulfilled his deal with Shaun. He could go back to his life without being nagged to settle down. He could continue to work on getting his band larger gigs outside of London. Get a following. Maybe even a demo.

  “You’re awake?” She let out a monstrous yawn.

  “Come back ta bed?” he pleaded, throwing the covers open in invitation.

  “Sorry, I need food. Phew, you exhausted me. There’s a bakery a few doors down. Okay if I grab the shower first?” No sooner had she asked than she ducked out of sight and locked the bathroom door behind her.

  Ouch. Had he done something? He couldn’t recall any blunders. Last he remembered, they’d fallen asleep cuddled up together.

  He listened to the water flowing, imagining it sliding down her curves, falling to her perfect feet. Her blonde hair clinging to her back, and how she’d massage soap over her tits and pussy. God, he wished he could go in there and help her get clean.

  He bit his tongue and wrapped his left hand around his needy cock with steady up and down motions, prepping it to be inside her tight pussy.

  “Need me help?” he called, reluctant to believe she was doing her best to be polite in a sharp exit.

  “I’m in a rush, Devlin. I’ve got an audition in a few hours, so I need to get a change of clothes and learn lines.” The sound of her harmonic voice calling out made him think of when she called out as she came, which sped up his action. Pumping fast, he pretended to fuck her hard. Imagined her lips on his. Out shot thick cum in long, fast spurts. He threw his head back into the soft pillow, pretending to cuddle with her.

  “I had fun.” She opened the door, dressed and wearing an awkward smile. Gawking at his spent cock and sticky mess beside him, she tsked. “Hmm, had fun without me I see.”

  Talk about being caught out. There was no getting around this one. Any excuse would sound lame, and he knew it. So he spilled the truth. “The sound of ya showering did this ta me, so it did. I couldn’t wait for ya ta join me…all wet and eager ta play.”

  “I’d come lick you clean, but I’ve got to run. Like I said, it’s been fun.”

  “Fun? That’s all?” He shouldn’t have been hurt at that declaration. He should be buzzing with satisfaction. But he wasn’t anywhere near happy about the thought of never seeing her again.

  “Well, this is awkward. Look, Devlin. You’re cute, but last night. Ah, crap. Wot do you want me to say? You’re not good for my career, and we both want different things.”

  She threw on her jacket, slapped her wig on, and raced out.

  He had to do something. He couldn’t just lie there and let her walk out of his life. If he didn’t chase after her, he’d be sulking around Bell’s for months. He’d have Shaun on his case to find someone else. He knew he’d never be able to find anyone like Liz.

  Her looks. Her insatiable desire for cock. Her bluntness.

  Plain and simple. He wanted her. So much for the one-night plan. But he had to respect her decision. He had never been one to chase a woman. Never mind one he’d just met. He wanted to, though. With every bone in his body.

  Thanks, Shaun.

  Chapter Six

  Liz slid her oversized sunglasses so they pinned back her blonde hair. She strolled into her agent’s office and slumped on the saggy couch to the right of his desk. Black and white photos of her were blown up into posters, framed, and pinned all around the spacious office with views of the London Eye. Her images stared her down and screamed out all her insecurities as she waited for him. What the fuck? Was she Steve’s only client? Anyone would think that if they saw his office.

  What a creep. Bet he switches them out before every client meeting.

  She drummed her fingers on the glass coffee table. Waiting. What a waste of time.

  Tap.
Tap. Tap.

  “So, how did the date go?” Steve flung the door open and stormed to his desk, making no eye contact with her.

  His sudden entrance and demand for date details threw her for a second. She hummed and harred about whether to answer his question. “The new star for East End? Turns out I couldn’t find him.” She sighed, irritated at the lecture from Mr. Sleezeball.

  “Looked to me like you found him when he took you for a spin on the dance floor.” He pivoted on his Prada loafers and parked his bottom on the edge of the desk while flicking through index cards.

  “Fine. You want me to admit it, I will. I got the wrong chuffin’ guy, okay?” She crossed her arms and slouched farther into the seat, embarrassment eating her up.

  “Or did you get the right guy?” Steve glanced up and winked, his smile all too confident, as he pulled out a business card. If only he knew. If it wasn’t for her discovery about his connection to Charlotte Black, she would be all loved up. Thank God she’d found out before he took her for one major bad ride.

  “Back to today’s agenda. Work. And quit waving that bloody card about like it’s a surrender flag, would you?”

  He threw the cardboard at her, but it landed on the coffee table, face side up. 1Night Stand? Her mouth dropped. Did he know about Devlin? Fuck, no. She stood. “I’m outta here.”

  “For fucks sake, Liz, sit back down. I’m dying to know how your evening went. Did I do well, or are you ready to kill me?” He gave her a gentle nudge and joined her on the couch. Patted her knee, his eyes alight with a mischievous glint.

  “You set the whole thing up?”

  “I set it up through Madame Eve. I’ve got so many clients who’ve found love through her service, and I thought you deserved some of that.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “Because you’re my girl and you deserve happiness and a guy who loves you instead of uses you. You’ve been with me for years, Liz, and I think we know each other pretty well, and don’t get creeped out, but…” Liz gulped. Was he about to fess up to being a pimp or something? “…I kind of think of you as my daughter. I just want to see you happy. Is that so wrong of me?”

  “I thought you were a creep, putting down my boyfriends so you could get to me yourself. I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say….except, who the hell is Elizabeth Winters? And how on earth did you know I’d even go to the wedding reception?”

  “I couldn’t very well give out your real name, could I? And you almost ruined it when you didn’t wear the green dress you sent your assistant out to get dry-cleaned that day. Jeans? I could’ve died when I saw your outfit. Your cleavage hanging out and your midriff showing. But thank goodness you fell for my false rumors about Charlotte getting axed from The EastEnd. Heck, she even fell for it herself. Bless her.”

  “And I saw your oh so strategically placed wedding invite. Nicely played, Steve. So, she’s not getting the boot? You do know that bloke 1Night Stand set me up with is one of Charlotte Black’s exes? Sorry you wasted all that bread and honey on li’l old me. I hope it wasn’t too expensive?”

  “No way!”

  “I’d pay you back but…I haven’t worked in a while.”

  “Mrs. Soap Queen herself, eh? Small world.”

  “Now she thinks I’m a complete bitch and there’s no way she’s going to help me get a head start with the network. No way.”

  “Want to bet, darling?” Charlotte appeared at the doorway, wearing a gaudy red fur coat and a smirk. “You went to a lot of lengths to get this part. Made me think my career was over, crashed my wedding, and stole the entertainment. I’d say that kind of determination deserves a reward.”

  Chapter Seven

  Two weeks later.

  Friday night shift went super slow. Devlin didn’t think he could hack another two hours of Bell’s jovial punters spilling drinks and leaving empties everywhere. He had no patience for it. Not when his mind kept going to a certain blonde. He hated to admit it, but Shaun was right. Life was better when you had someone special to share it with.

  He might have forgotten about her, moved on, if it hadn’t been for the front-page news stories when she landed a role on the biggest soap opera in Britain. Seeing her face again made him smile, and he decided there and then that he’d see her again.

  He’d tried to hunt down her agent, even went so far as trying to convince British Broadcasting Television studios he had a pizza delivery to make so he could search the building for her. He didn’t even get past the front gate.

  After that failed attempt, he gave up and tried to remember the adage that people come and go from your life when you need them most. Twisting his own sense into it didn’t change his feelings for her, though. They could have had something worth hanging onto. But, time to move on.

  Or at least try to.

  Some song about being lovesick played on the jukebox to the side of the dartboard. Yeah, Shaun should think about moving the target, because Devlin wanted to throw a dart and miss the board…on purpose. Anything to shut the soppy tunes up. Everyone knew he’d slept with Liz Grant. Sandra had told them all. But he guessed none of them knew he’d hoped to make it work with her. Or they wouldn’t be this mean, surely? Torturing him with music that reminded him of her.

  “How come every song picked tonight seems ta be in the soundtrack from Liz Grant’s movie? I’m telling ya, this is not good for me soul. I’m like a whiney sick puppy. Sandra, hows about ya read me some smut from a book?”

  He strutted to the bar, three empties gathered in his hand. He arranged them for Sandra to wash then slumped on a stool next to one of the regulars chatting to Shaun and Rachel about the price of fish. Or whatever. He didn’t care. Could have been taking about the end of the world; in one ear, out the other.

  “We’ve a bar full of customers, treacle. So not a good idea.”

  “Fine, pass it here. I’ll read it meself. Gotta do something ta believe in happy ever afters again.”

  The song faded to an end.

  Familiar sounds of a coin being dropped into the jukebox gritted Devlin. He rounded his shoulders and his hands fisted, ready to punch the next dude to play a soppy song. The metal clanking of a coin hitting the bank sent him shuddering. The clunk click of the disk changing made him clench his teeth. He sucked in a breath and waited….

  The Irish rock vibes of Never Met a Girl Like You Before by Flogging Molly played. No sooner had he turned around to see who to punch than the bar broke out in foot tapping and whistles. It could have been any one of them. Then the oddest thing happened. He noticed they weren’t just tapping along to the music, they were in sync; rhythmic claps, pulsating stomps. They seemed to be dispersing away from the jukebox.

  There, by the God awful machine Devlin hated seconds ago, stood Liz, dressed in a green dress with her long hair in a loose braid. Casual twists of hair framing her perfect face, her gaze settled on him and him alone. She tilted her mouth in a coy smile and the crowd picked up their stampede to an almighty roar.

  He knew the folks who drank at Bell’s were big drinkers and loud talkers, but he’d had no idea they could be so…supportive. The slight curve of her mouth widened, and her excitement beamed through the shimmer in her eyes. Holy show. Fucking gorgeous. More beautiful than he remembered. And she was here. For him? Hope streamed into every bone in his body.

  “Go to her, you fool. This is the moment you sweep her off her feet,” Sandra whispered, prodding his back then shoving him forward. Chewing at his bottom lip, Devlin fought the urge to be his usual Irish self and do a jig, and he battled to keep the slew of pickup lines that popped into his head from spilling out his mouth. Steps away from her, he couldn’t think of what to say. All those thoughts, all those suave moments, had flitted from him. He shrugged.

  “So this is Bell’s, where the drinks are cold and the service is hawt? Took me ages to find it. Did you know, there are seven other Bell’s Irish Pubs in London, and Madame Eve won’t share her clients’ details?” She threw
hands to hips and tittered. Her edginess and rambling put him at ease and he grinned. “Now, wot to have first? I think I’ll get Shamrocked. Can you help me out with that?” And there was the Liz he’d met at Murphy’s. She slunk toward him, a smile to complement her snark. That was the woman he could take home to his parents. He would, one day.

  “Fancy getting Shamrocked into next week?”

  “Too right. But first, I guess I should explain—”

  “Shush.” Devlin put his finger to her lips, took her hand then twirled her into a dip. Sandra cheered in approval, clapping like he’d just put on the performance of a lifetime. One by one, everyone in the bar joined in until the sound became deafening.

  “Kiss the lass,” they heckled.

  And so he did. Everything that had sat on his shoulders for the past three months drifted away. Yes. This woman he’d be taking home to meet Ma and Pa.

  “Devlin, I found your photographs then flushed them down the toilet. That’s why I left—”

  “You saw those God awful things? Crap, so that’s where they went. I just assumed they’d fallen out me pocket at the park or something. Bricking it, so I was. Ya have no idea how glad I am ta hear it was only ya who saw them.”

  “Only me?”

  “Me and me big gob. Ya know what I mean. That it didn’t get into the hands of the Daily Mail or The Soap Weekly. We weren’t having a torrid affair, so we weren’t.”

  She nodded. “I know that…now. I hope you don’t mind, but I asked Charlotte about them.”

  He was now grateful for the god-awful music drowning out their conversation to the rest of the bar. Devlin glanced at Shaun then back to Liz and whispered, “And she said?”

  “That it was a long time ago, and at a time in her life when nothing seemed enough. Except sex.”