“I know the feeling. Holy show, don’t hate me. But when I first moved ta London, I slept with her ta get over me broken engagement. After we finished, she laughed and told me she was me best friend’s wife.”
“You’re kidding me? I bet he did you over and beat ten tons of shit out of you.”
“He doesn’t know. And they were already separated, but—”
“Your secret is safe. How about that Shamrocked or another kiss?”
A brunette burst into the pub with so much force the double doors swung like mad behind her. She looked all kinds of serious, yet sexy, in red heels and gray suit. Not the usual type for a Friday night in Bell’s, that was for sure.
“Can I help you?” Sandra called over the crowd before chucking her book behind the bar and grabbing an empty wine glass. She was known for guessing people’s drinks before they ordered; a natural.
The woman stalked to the bar, all poised and perfect, but the rowdy crowd of Bell’s soon had her ducking and diving from spilling beer and flying darts.
“I’m looking for Shaun Bell. I’m here for the bar manager position. Name’s Elizabeth Winters.”
Devlin snapped his attention to her then muttered, “So that’s Elizabeth Winters. Not bad. But she’s no Liz Grant.”
“Wot are the chances of that?” Liz chuckled. A wicked glint in her eyes told Devlin she knew something he didn’t, and he planned on getting to the bottom of it when they were alone.
“That’s me.” Shaun scrambled to seat her. “We’ll take a booth for the interview. Rachel, could ya bring a coffee over while I see if Ms. Winters is suited to manage Bell’s two nights a week?”
“Seriously? You’re hiring staff so you can take some evenings off? It’s about time,” Rachel squealed.
Pride in seeing his mate grow the hell up and put his woman before his bar sent Devlin grinning. He expected to hear wedding bells in the near future. Maybe even a double wedding? If he played it right with Liz.
“Yes, I’m hiring staff. How about that drink? Would ya like a drink, Ms. Winters?”
“It’s miss, and I’d love one of your infamous Sweet Irish Kisses!”
Threesome Sweetness
Irish Kisses – Book 3
A 1Night Stand Story
By
JoAnne Kenrick
~DEDICATION~
To the dedicated readers of the Irish Kisses series; your words of joy and encouragement brought this series—and Bell’s Irish Pub and its sexy staff—to life! Thank you.
And to all the barmen out there who know how to make a mean Irish Kiss!
Chapter One
“Your bloke still pissed because you blew a fortune for a weekend in Knightsbridge?” Sandra, one of the older barmaids at Bell’s Irish Pub, tackled the tedious job of collecting empties while running her mouth off. She threw out chitchat at lightning speed, changing topics faster than Elizabeth could pour a pint of lager.
“He can’t understand why I’d want ta stay in the part of London we live right ’round the corner from.” Her jaw ached more than her feet did. After the long day she’d had that said a lot.
“Which hotel did you book?”
“Castillo.”
Sandra’s eyes widened. “Fancy schmancy.”
“I deserve some pampering, don’t ya think?” Elizabeth slid around the side of the bar and grabbed a scratched-up wooden tray. She stacked two empties from her first table.
“Yes.” Sandra nodded. “Blimey, you work hard. So do I! If he doesn’t wanna go, I’ll gladly take his place.” She smoothed down her Bell’s issued polo shirt and stood tall, her cockney accent coating each syllable. “I scrub up well, so you won’t be sorry.” Nose wrinkling, she reached for something on a nearby table. “Eww, what is this?” She shoved a glass—half full of stout and what looked like chewed up beer coasters—a millimeter away from Elizabeth’s nose.
Elizabeth pushed at the cup-o-germs, wanting to get the nasty away from her face and in the process dropped the tray. The stash of schooners she’d collected shattered on the floor, joining the gunk from the offending container.
She froze.
Sandra froze.
Exasperated with her klutzy self, she kicked the shards away. Uh-oh. Her friend’s white shoes were soaked in goodness-knows-what. As were her own.
“I’m so sorry. I’ll buy ya a new—”
“Don’t worry, donkey Irish girl, it was my fault!” Sandra threw her head back and laughed.
Elizabeth tsked, ready to slam her co-worker for belittling her. But when she saw the bright grin, she broke out in fits of giggles. Hard to stay mad at the sister she never had—love her, hate her—she was a part of Elizabeth Winters’ extended family now.
A new, part-time manager at Bell’s Irish Pub, she already treated the place like a second home. She went to university during the day, worked two nights a week, and often spent her nights off unwinding with some of the best Irish cream cocktails she’d ever devoured. Chatting with staff and regulars in front of the stone hearth appealed to her way more than hunching over a computer screen studying market trends and advertising campaigns. But she only visited the pub on the evenings her husband worked late, because he insisted she spend every spare hour revising and typing business course assignments. He was the sensible one in their partnership, never spending a penny without budgeting for it. Elizabeth preferred to blow hard cash on life’s luxuries…like their mini getaway for her thirtieth birthday.
It surprised her more than anyone when she applied for the business management degree some two years ago, even more so when she got accepted into London Metro University. She always wanted to own her own business, be her own boss, but her brain wasn’t wired that way. Or so all her high school teachers had told her. Her darling husband had encouraged her to re-sit her A Level exams, which she aced. Now here she was, a business student in a well-respected, hard-to-get-into university.
“I can’t believe your hubs doesn’t want to go to the Castillo…for a naughty weekend.”
She sighed. “Me either.”
“He doesn’t know how good he’s got it.”
“That’s the truth, so it is.” Elizabeth glanced down at her ruined footwear. She’d have to go shopping in the morning. New shoes! Warm fuzzies hit her tummy, and heavenly visions of the very expensive heels she’d had her eye on for weeks graced her imagination. Princess Kate herself wore them everywhere. They were classy. Now she had the perfect excuse to purchase a pair. “He reckons he can’t escape ta some exotic location because he believes his divorce cases would fall apart without him around, so I sort us out something close, and it’s still wrong.” She shimmied out of the shards, glided toward the back of the bar where the empties were collected, and wiped her trainers down with kitchen roll and floor cleaner. She scrubbed, rubbed, and swore several times. None of which helped.
“Men.” Her female co-worker placed her tray on the table nearest the storeroom door then grabbed a brush.
“Husbands!” Elizabeth agreed. Giving up her quest for clean shoes, she catapulted the sodden sheets of kitchen roll into the trash.
“Talking of men…oh, my you missed one hell of a specimen yesterday. Some American dude swung by to convince Shaun he needed to expand Bell’s into the States, can you believe that?” She brushed up the mess then discarded it in the waste bin.
“I hope he said yes.” Elizabeth mopped up the remaining spill with one of those wet-wipes-on-a-stick thingamabobs, dreaming of the day she’d be full manager of a place like Bell’s and could delegate such duties.
“Did he heck as like. You know Shaun, content with his little pub and fiancée, Rachel. You should have heard the man go on about how tasty our cocktails were, though. I thought he was going to wrestle me for the recipes. Well, hoped.”
A customer flung the door open then darted to the bar, blowing his breath on his hands.
Elizabeth dragged the mop back to the washroom then kicked off her ruined shoes. She shuffled to the se
rving side, her socks slippery on the polished old wood floor. “Hi, Stan. What can I get ya?”
The shivering middle-aged man ordered a whiskey shot. He downed it then headed back into the street. More regulars would no doubt leap into Bell’s for a quick warmer-upper on such a blustery evening.
“No one wants to make a night of drinking midweek when it’s bleedin’ freezing out.” Sandra—voted Bell’s most loved barmaid by the patrons two years on the run—slumped against the wall of spirits behind the bar. She yawned, opening a curled-at-the-corners paperback. “If anyone needs me, I’m here with my head stuck in a book. K? Give me a poke when it’s closing time.”
“I’ll give ya a poke right now, if ya want, in the storeroom.” Devlin—Bell’s very own rock star/comedian—winked. What a looker. An Irish charmer through and through. If she’d had met him before her husband, well….
“I’m sure your girlfriend will be thrilled to hear you go ’round poking forty-something barmaids.” Sandra rolled her eyes at him, a smirk breaking free. Devlin lifted his gaze and caught her sass.
Her friends had steered away from topic, which she’d come to expect from Sandra. “We could do a karaoke night next Wednesday? That could liven up the place,” Elizabeth suggested.
“Bell’s don’t feel right empty.” Devlin sighed. “Maybe I could be the karaoke host.”
“Are you kidding? All we’d get is you belting out ‘Danny Boy’ over again. It wouldn’t be pretty.” Sandra poked her head up from the sexy-sex book she was reading. Another cowboy-falls-for-city-girl story by the looks of the cover. She’d borrowed one or two of them from the storeroom where they were hidden so Sandra’s grandkids couldn’t find them when they visited her home.
Through those books, Elizabeth lived out her fantasy of a threesome without actually doing it. The only way she got her kicks these days.
“Must be something we could do. Quiz nights?” The last thing she wanted was to put her new boss in the minus. Responsibility for Bell’s fell heavy on her shoulders.
“Let’s talk about this next shift. I’m too exhausted ta think business right now. How about I teach ya how ta make another cocktail the Bell’s way? Threesome Sweetness?” Devlin hopped around the bar then pulled out three bottles and a shot glass. He poured, his movements slow, exaggerated. Such a show-off.
“First the Irish cream for a touch of smooth sweetness, then tart from the tequila liqueur infused with a blast of coffee. Divine as those are together, it needs something extra ta give it that oomph Bell’s cocktails are known for.” He swirled the container while adding the last ingredient. “A rich, decadent hit of brandy brings it all together. There, perfecto.”
Elizabeth’s husband burst through the doors, his dirty blond hair clinging to his face, cheeks rosy. He smiled and gave a little wave hello. Warm familiarity snuggled around her, yet she longed for the excitement they’d shared before he put a ring on her finger.
Chapter Two
Todd slid out of his little black car, braced for the bitter, late September chill. Weaving through parked vehicles in the three-story lot, he pulled up the collar of his thick winter coat then tucked his hands into the warmth of his pockets. Early, as usual, he had time to stroll to Bell’s Irish Pub. But he wouldn’t. Not tonight. It was way too cold for slow walks.
He strode the streets of Soho, London, tucking his head down to protect his exposed face from icy winds that sprinkled him with the beginnings of rain. Finally, he rounded the corner. His destination lit up like Blackpool lights in stark contrast to the closed-for-the-night shops and wine bars. Bell’s dark green velvet curtains and the orange glow from the windows flooding the pavement out front wrapped him in promises of a well-earned stout. Grasping the brass handle, he swung the pub door open.
His wife, with her delicate features and thick brunette hair, shifted her gaze to him and smiled. Everything seemed brighter—warmer, somehow—in her presence. He twirled his wedding ring and sighed, blessed to have such a beauty to love after a shitty day at the office.
She poured cocktails while chattering with her co-workers. Hair pinned back haphazardly, she looked dog tired. She’d no doubt been running from one class to another all day as she had the day before and, well, the whole week. Full time student and bar manager wasn’t her best idea. He hated seeing her overworked like this. Tonight, he’d rustle up an Irish stew for her, rub her feet, and then pour her a bubble bath.
“Ah, hello, Todd. We’re indulging in some Threesome Sweetness, so we are. Care ta join us?” Devlin threw a towel over his shoulder and reached for the Irish cream.
“Nah, I’ll take the usual, thanks.” Todd parked on a stool and leaned on the aged bar, steering clear of several sticky patches. The staff neglected their duties toward closing so they could socialize with customers instead, pausing only to serve drinks. Devlin was the worst for that, flirting with anything in a skirt, including Elizabeth. It didn’t worry him. He felt secure in their relationship.
The Irish charmer slid a pint of Beamish across the bar to where Todd sat, the puddles of spilled drinks turning its journey into a slip and slide. “On the house ta keep ya occupied.”
The stout zoomed right past him and toppled into his lap. Splash. “More like on me.” He stood, wiping himself down before the liquid soaked into his designer pants and made him smell like a brewery.
“Don’t make a fuss, I’ll get it cleaned up for ya. Devlin, got something for me ta use?” The barman flicked his wife’s bottom with a bar towel and asked if she was ready for a poke in the back room. He was sure the joke was just that, a joke, but he couldn’t help scowling at his competition for Elizabeth’s time.
“Down boy, this lass has only got eyes for ya.” Elizabeth snatched the towel from Devlin before leaning between the beer pumps set on the bar and handing the already used cloth to him.
“So you did notice I was here. I wondered.” He chuckled.
“Because I’m so besotted with Devlin? Ha, bloody ha. Have ya met Liz?” She pointed to a blonde nursing a cocktail—Irish cream maybe—and gazing at Devlin like he was God’s gift. “I don’t think he’ll be straying anytime soon, do ya?”
“I didn’t mean anything by it, love. I was kidding around.”
What would it take before she got this silly notion out of her head? He trusted her, but doubt would surely creep in if she kept up the idea he would cheat on her. Could she betray him? Was that why she often accused him of mistrust? He rubbed at his pounding temples. “Hun, how many times do I have to tell you that I trust you?” His gaze settled on the blonde. There was something about this Liz; he recognized her…smile. “Where do I know her from?”
“The EastEnd’s newest soap star, she’s hot ta boot, no? Should I be worried?”
“Elizabeth, darling, I love you, you know that. It’s why I married you. But how’d he land so lucky?”
“Some exclusive agency set them up. 1Night Stand or something. Sounds crass, but it must be doing something right because that’s how Shaun met Rachel.”
“Hmm, really?” 1Night Stand, interesting.
“Not so much. Me shift is almost over, so get dried up while I wipe this place down.”
“I don’t know why you insist on managing an Irish pub two evenings a week when you could be at home studying for your finals. You’re nuts. Last year of school, you should be focused. There’s time to meet with friends at the weekend, ya know?”
“Should I be at home practicing me number skills on ya monthly budget instead of spending time here with me new friends?”
“Damned straight. It’s not like we need the money, but it’d be nice to have something saved up.” His muscles tensed. Because I want us to have a baby when you finish your studies.
Elizabeth grabbed a cleaning cloth. “I wish ya’d get excited over something other than numbers.”
“I’ve upset you?”
“Ya think? I love this job, and the managerial experience will help when I’m job hunting…if I ever gra
duate.”
“I’m a well paid solicitor for fuck’s sake.”
“After five years of marriage, ya should know it’s not about the money. Ugh, whatever.” She focused on making the bar gleam, going at warp speed with her lips pursed.
“I’m going to the loo to see if I can dry this up. Back in a sec.” He didn’t fancy walking in the cold evening with a sodden crotch; the wind would pass right through and freeze his nuts off.
“Use the ladies’. Some dude smashed into the men’s blower. It’s been broken all day, but Devlin keeps putting off fixin’ it.”
Todd stalked toward the restrooms, slowing when he reached Devlin chatting up his new girlfriend, Liz. 1Night Stand sparked an idea. He’d been searching for something special to give his wife for her thirtieth. Maybe now was the perfect time for what she often mentioned she’d dreamed of: a threesome. That would sure surprise her. Probably the only gift he could get her that would. He loved her and would do long after the blue rinse days came. If she wanted him to get excited about something other than numbers…well, this ought to do it. He’d show her he trusted her around other men.
“Do you have the details for this 1Night Stand place? I have a friend who could use it.”
Chapter Three
Four weeks later
Glad to see the back of the most excruciating day of his life, Cade slumped at the hotel bar. He waved to grab the tender’s attention. Hitting London restaurateurs with an American franchise offer? Was he crazy? Anyone would think he asked them to front the money and gamble away their life’s savings from the way the month’s meetings had gone. If these Brits didn’t know a good deal when it smacked them in the face, it was time to head back to New York to rustle up a new plan for a mall eatery franchise. Their loss. His father could go to hell with his “nobody says no to a Cain” attitude. Christ, if he’d come to that realization sooner, he could have saved himself weeks of trudging around rainy London in search of the right opportunity.
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