by Tricia Lynne
I turned to study Declan. He appeared relaxed enough, but it was in his eyes. These people had his guard up—not that I blamed him—but I had more practice with masks than he did.
“They’re not all like that.” I slid a hand around his neck, kissing his lips.
Declan grinned as his arm went around my waist.
“Avery? Hot damn, girl.”
I turned in time to see a friend of mine being smacked in the arm by his wife. “Hey, Jerome.”
“Jerome was a construction manager for a builder in Dallas,” I explained to Declan. “They relocated to New Orleans when his wife, Nisa, got on as an English professor at Loyola.”
“Don’t embarrass her, Jerome. You look beautiful, honey. That dress is killer.” Nisa gave me a warm hug. “Introduce me to the hotness, girl.”
Declan blushed, and I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing.
“Woman, don’t even start with th—”
“Oh, shut up.” She cut him off. “I caught you staring at her behind from halfway across the room. Wasn’t until we headed this way that he even knew who he was looking at.”
I peeked at Declan to find him flashing his signature grin. “This is my friend Declan McGinn. He’s a hard rock musician and owns a club on Frenchman Street.”
“Musician.” Nisa said the word reverent-like, with an exhale on the end that had her husband rolling his eyes.
“I play a little trumpet myself,” Jerome added, shaking Declan’s hand.
“I’m rhythm guitar and lead vocals, screw around with the drums.”
“I feel the callouses.”
“Callouses,” Nisa whispered in that reverent way again.
I couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled out.
“Aww, Jesus, woman, would you stop?” Then to Declan, “Which club is yours? We might have to stop in?”
“Yasssss!” Nisa hissed and grabbed my upper arm in a claw-like grip.
Jerome rolled his eyes closed on an extended blink. “She doesn’t even like hard rock. Just tattoos.”
Declan laughed. “Whiskey Moon. You two stop by anytime. I’ll put you on the house.”
“Sounds good. I’m going to go take my wife and get her a cold shower. Avery, darlin’, you look amazing.” He leaned forward and kissed my cheek.
“It was good to meet you guys. Nisa.” Declan leaned forward and kissed her cheek as Jerome had mine.
“Dammit, man, did you have to do that?” Jerome looked at his wife, who actually swooned, and shook his head. “C’mon. woman.”
“See, I told you they’re not all assholes.” I smiled up at him.
“Not all of them.”
Unfortunately, the next several people were, but we couldn’t avoid it. Declan maintained his air of cool indifference, but with each politely dismissive handshake, or distasteful look—as if his presence was something to be sorted out by security—I felt his tension escalate.
“I owe you an apology, sweetness. These people…I understand why you’ve hid for so long.”
I nodded but couldn’t meet his eyes. “It’s not always like this. It’s my firm. They have a reputation for being the best with certain kinds of clients.”
“White men with money and stone-age ideals.”
I nodded again, still not looking at him. Just being here with these people, I felt myself shrinking and the insecurities beginning to surface.
Declan tilted my chin up. “This isn’t who you are, Avery. It’s what you do for a living. I see you, and I won’t let you disappear on me.” He kissed my forehead.
“Avery?”
A bespectacled young engineer from Dallas interrupted the moment. He worked for a construction company that specialized in design-build projects. Design-build contractors often hired younger, inexperienced engineers known as EITs, or Engineers In Training, right out of college. They packaged both services, undercutting both the engineering firms and construction companies that sold the services separately. But there was a downside. Professional Engineers, or P.E.s, like me, had years more experience in design and project management, were proven field-tested engineers, and had been through a rigorous certification process to receive the qualification…but that experience and expertise came at a higher price.
“Andrew, it’s good to see you.” He was a good kid, a good engineer who had gotten seduced by the higher paycheck design-build offered. “How are the follow-up designs coming on the LEED certified building for the park district?”
“Better, thank you. You really saved my ass on this. I revised my design from your mark-ups, sent them to the printer earlier this week, and messengered the final drawings to you for approval yesterday morning.” He turned to Declan, offering a palm. “Hi, Andrew Fillion.”
“Declan McGinn.”
“Andrew ran into some trouble when the heating coils on the building’s HVAC system ashed during testing and blew through the ventilation system causing them to fail their LEED inspection.”
“What’s LEED?”
“Leadership in Energy and Environmental Design—green buildings—I’m certified to design them. Andrew’s construction firm won a contract to design and build a green building that failed to meet the minimum requirements for certification.”
“Avery saved my job. I’ve learned more from her on this project than in all my time with this contractor. I’d keep my eye on her, my man. Some young engineer might just walk up and steal her away.” Andrew winked.
“Get in line,” Declan fired back, eyes narrowing to meet Andrew’s in a less-than-friendly way.
“Uh, y’all enjoy the evening,” Andrew muttered, turning on his heels.
I slapped Declan’s arm. “Was that necessary? He’s a good kid and I’d like to hire him away from that fucked-up contractor.”
“Hitting on you right in front of me? Totally necessary.” He smirked.
I rolled my eyes. “I’m going to freshen up. We’ll find Jenson and then sneak out, okay?”
He nodded, but held on to my hand while he stared at the floor. “Between Matt and that kid…Well, I’m afraid to turn my back.”
My eyes softened as I cupped his jaw.
As I came out of the restroom, I heard men’s voices in the dark hall, one of which I recognized as John.
“—heard they hired her because of discrimination claims.”
“—sleeping her way up?”
“Not with a body like that.”
Then a female voice. “That dress makes her look like Miss Piggy.”
“Nobody with an ass that wide should wear a dress like that.”
Right. That was it. Something inside me clicked into place. The size of my ass and my dress had nothing to do with my ability to do my job. I was smart, good at what I did, and that scared the hell out of them. They needed to tear me down because they felt threatened by me. These narrow-minded assholes would never get to me again. Declan said he wouldn’t let me disappear, but the truth was, I was the only one who could to do that.
I cleared my throat. Stepped out of the shadows and into the light, watching their eyes widen. Without a word, I met each gaze.
“Gentlemen, intimidated is not a good look on you.” I leaned in to John’s wife’s face. “But it’s you who disappoints me. I expect this kind of shit from them, but tearing another female down? Yeah, that makes you the worst kind of woman.”
She shifted to look at her feet and Declan appeared at the end of the hall.
“Everything okay, sweetness?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.” Maybe for the first time of my life.
Arm circling my waist, he led me away and we sought out the party’s host.
“You must be Ms. Barrows.” Jenson Robichaud put his hand out and I took it with a smile. “Can’t say I wasn’t disappointed when Davis said he was sendi
ng someone else.”
Declan stiffened beside me. The implication was clear, but something I’d dealt with before. I knew how to handle this man.
“Well now, would you rather talk to Davis, who hasn’t done any real design in years, or do you want the one who does the work? Because that’d be me.”
Jensen’s grin was more adverse leer than smile, but when it shifted to Declan, it wasn’t even thinly veiled repugnance.
“This is my friend, Declan McGinn. He lives here in New Orleans.”
Declan stuck his hand out.
Jenson stared, making no move to take it. “They’ve been whispering about you.” He gestured with his drink hand to people milling about, and I wondered how much he’d imbibed. “Hard rock and bars. Not to my taste.”
Declan let his hand fall. His expression turned cold and smooth. “Hey, you’re not hiring me. You’re hiring her.”
“No, I’m not hiring her either. I’m hiring her firm, and I’d think Davis would be smart enough not to send me some girl who’s all window dressing.” He waved at my appearance. “He says you’ve got brains, though. That true, honey?”
God, this guy pushed dickhead to a new level.
“Of course, I’m not sure I believe him now, seeing how you weren’t even smart enough to bring a proper date.”
Declan’s low chuckle was evil through and through. His hands went loose at his sides. “Hey, man, insult me all you want. I’m not somebody you have to worry about her taking to your ribbon cuttings and shit. I’m just the wild story she’ll tell her girlfriends when she leaves. But don’t insult her intelligence. Ever. Because she’s the smartest person I know.” With that, he turned to me. “If you’re good here, I’m gonna wait outside before I do something we both regret.”
I nodded, knowing he’d had all he could take. Hell, so had I.
He sent an icy look to Robichaud. “If I were you, I wouldn’t insult her again.” With the warning in the air, Declan left.
And I turned my ire on the man in front of me. About to do the thing Declan didn’t want to regret. “Too many people, not enough voodoo dolls,” I mumbled, and then let fly. “Jenson, I’ve met some serious dicks doing this job, but you take the trophy. Tell me, does your ass ever get jealous of the shit that comes out of your mouth? Because, honestly, I could eat a bowl of alphabet soup and shit out smarter stuff than you just said.” I turned to leave.
“Just wait a minute, girl—”
Whipping back, I leveled my eyes at him. “No. You, sir, are not worth a second of my time, let alone a minute. I’ve discovered over the course of my life that some of the nicest people you’ll ever meet are covered in tattoos, and some of the most judgmental assholes to ever exist go to church every Sunday. Go on and build your damn megachurch in Orleans Parish. It won’t be with this engineer, and that’s a damn shame, because you won’t find a better one than me.” With that, I left.
I found Declan out front, leaning against a wall. His jacket was slung over his shoulder and his sleeves rolled up as if he’d been contemplating a fight. His eyes drew up to me and a cool mask fell over his face.
“The guy was a dick,” I said.
Declan held both his hands out to the sides, looked down the front of his clothes before turning a slow circle back to me. “Just being who they want me to be, baby. What you see is what you get. I’m just a tattooed thug who uses his fists rather than his brain.”
My eyes softened as I saw through the act. “Since when do you care what other people think?”
“I don’t.” Declan looked like there was more he wanted to say, but he fought it, slipped his hands into his pockets, and shrugged without meeting my eyes.
The way he was trying to blow it off—like the party hadn’t bothered him—it wasn’t sitting right. And that distance from the night before on The Moonwalk. He was trying to draw it again, to act as though my opinion didn’t matter any more than the people I worked with. What my colleagues thought didn’t bother Declan, but he was afraid that I saw him as they did.
He came to me and cupped my arms in his calloused palms. “I hope I didn’t cost you the job.”
“Thank you for defending me.” I wrapped my arms around his waist. “Don’t worry. You didn’t cost us the job.” That would be me. I didn’t think it prudent to tell him it was because I’d been defending him. That would’ve went over about as well as well as a pregnant pole-vaulter.
Chapter 23
Declan held my hand as we drove back, stroking my palm across the seat, and I felt the tug of that invisible thread between us. He was so handsome to me, and yes, he was eye candy for anybody who swung that way, but it was the imperfections….The scar that spoke volumes about the boy he’d been and the man he’d become. The lines at the corners of his eyes when he smiled that lent a playfulness and hinted at his softer side. The scarred knuckles. The calloused fingers. The tattoos visible beyond the edges of his clothes that meant he never desired a nine-to-five. The flaws spoke volumes more about the man than the dangerous good looks. He was so much more than that.
A thought hit me that sent my stomach into a tailspin. Yes, we were lovers, but Declan was also my friend. And I would miss that more than everything else combined. The way we talked and laughed and joked. The way we shared the darkest parts of our souls and never judged each other. The way he’d defended me at the party, but also knew I needed to fight my own battles and pushed me to stand up for the woman I was. This man had shown me how to embrace my essential self and gave me a safety net in case I got lost again, but he still understood why I’d felt the need to hide.
Clouds had rolled in. With a bone-shaking clap of thunder, the sky lit with lightning and I jolted as the sky opened up.
“C’mere, sweetness.” Declan’s raw bass was a balm for my racing heart.
“It’s just a thunderstorm,” I mumbled as I slid across the bench seat and under his arm.
“It’s an excuse for me to touch you.”
A shiver raced over my damp skin as we made it inside his hotel room just before the rain started to pour buckets. I was on my way to the bathroom to get a towel when Declan caught my arm. I turned, took the couple of steps as he wound his hands around my waist and leaned his forehead against mine. It was a soft kiss—just a brush of lips really—that was as thick with emotion and meaning as the clouds were with moisture.
“I have a surprise for you,” I whispered, allowing a grin to play along my lips.
He looked a bit wary. “What’s that?”
Instead of answering, I led him to the couch and retrieved my phone. Finding the right playlist, I put it on the dock.
Ariana Grande’s “Dangerous Woman” floated through the room in sultry tones as I turned my back to Declan and unzipped my dress. Moving my hips to the music, I let the dress puddle at my feet. I took my time moving my body, swaying and winding, feeling sexy as hell. I turned to face him, sliding his knees between mine as I rolled my torso and ran my hands over my fancy undies. Over the flare of my hips, up my ribs, and around the curve of my breasts, over my collarbones and into my own hair as I swayed to the sensual notes.
My sweet chiffon and tulle had been hiding a raw silk corset the color of a moonless sky. Small silver hooks trailed up the front and the cups, trimmed in eyelash lace, mounded my breasts in lush masses. I had forgone my hipsters in lieu of a pair of sheer black cheekies covered in tiny ruffles. I was pinup couture—old world burlesque with a touch of Spaghetti Western madam. Was I comfortable? No fucking way. Was it worth it? Looking at Declan’s face?
Yep.
The lust and heat in his eyes, the parted lips, the kick of his pulse at the base of his neck as his Adam’s apple made a slow slide up and down.
I felt craved.
I turned in seductive circles—first the front, then giving him my back and bending at the waist. His hands slid up t
he backs of my thighs, skimming over the sensitive skin. Over my rounded cheeks to brush the cleft between.
On fire with need, I straddled his hips, rolling my body against his. Hard to soft, his chest to mine. Then my soft stomach against his cut-from-marble abs. Using my hips and thighs to slide the length of him, hard as steel against my delicate, wet flesh over and over, as I cupped his nape and met his eyes with all the heat and need and love that I felt.
Because I did love him. As much as I’d tried to deny it, I was completely gone for Declan McGinn.
He cupped my neck and brought my mouth to his, sucking on my lip, then moving his tongue with mine in time with the movements of my hips against his. “Jesus, sweetness. So fucking pretty. The way you move, this amazing body. Your beautiful eyes and luscious mouth.” He pulled at a corset cup with one hand. Dug his other into the forgiving flesh of my thigh as I popped the little silver hooks one by one.
“Baby, you should consider writing romance novels,” I said with a sultry chuckle as I let the corset fall.
Hand moving to cup my breast, he grinned that wicked grin.
I worked open the buttons of his shirt one at a time, pushed it off. Running my hands over his biceps, scraping his piercing with my nails just to hear his hiss as I nipped at his shoulder. He slipped his arms free of the shirt while I explored each ridge of his stomach, ran my tongue the length of his neck while he let a soft, low moan escape. God, he tasted good—spicy and dark with that hint of sweet. When I closed my lips over his Adam’s apple, he squeezed my ass tight against him and his head fell back with a sigh.
Declan fisted my hair, tugging my head back. His mouth made a long, wet slide over my neck before he tasted every inch of my mouth. Crushing me to his chest, he lifted us both with ease and laid me on the bed. He stripped me of my panties, running a finger along my slit, eliciting a shudder from my body.
Stripping off his pants, he was on me as thunder clapped loud enough to shake the room and the sky flashed outside. Declan’s lips moved over my skin with hungry abandon, his thick length gliding against my wet crease as I arched against him. Rolling us to our sides, he pulled my thigh over his hip. Nudging apart my folds with the head of his cock, he entered me in a slow glide while our eyes met and our lips brushed together in a gasp.