“Apparently it’s her specialty,” he said, remembering her particular sales pitch with an amused smile.
Felicity looked at him. “Is it just nonstop like that?”
“I dunno. I’m sort of used to all that. Doesn’t mean I take them up on the offers, you know?”
She slipped her free foot between his legs, her toes finding and rubbing him. “How wild has it gotten?”
He liked the direction she was taking this. It had gone from her seeming to question his loyalty to wanting to get into the naughty details of his previous escapades. But he would have to follow her lead. It wouldn’t do to be more honest than she could handle.
“What do you really want to know?” he asked.
“How many women have you been with?”
“I really don’t know. I don’t keep track.”
“Dozens? Hundreds?”
He hesitated, unsure how to respond. “I’ve been a rock star since I was eighteen years old.”
“Thousands?” she asked with some alarm.
“A not too terribly indecent number. Let’s leave it at that.”
“Ever been with more than one woman at a time?”
“Yes.”
She pushed her foot harder against him, and he grew harder in response. “How do you satisfy them both at once?”
“With a little multi-tasking creativity.” He knew she knew how these things could be done but didn’t think she wanted him to be explicit about it.
“Tell me.”
“Cock, hands, and tongue all do the trick,” he said and saw the heat of desire in her eyes.
“Toys?”
“All kinds.”
“Even that mask with the ball thingy?” she asked, her nose crinkled in distaste.
“No, not that. And I don’t think it’s considered a toy.”
She nodded in agreement. “Anal?”
“Yes.”
“For yourself?”
“I’ve tested the boundaries.”
“Had sex in a public place?”
“Yes.”
“Airplane? Car?”
“Yes. Yes.” He placed his hand over her foot, pressing it to him.
“Ever been tied up? Or tied up a woman?”
“Yes. Yes.”
“Ever been with a man?”
“Only for a blowjob.”
She looked at him with surprise.
“Joking you, honey. No, haven’t been with a man in any way. But I sure have had some offers,” he said and she laughed. “You tell me now. Ever been with more than one man?”
“Not yet. There’s still time.”
He smiled, knowing that would never happen. Now both their cell phones were ringing up in the house. Again, neither acknowledged it.
“Sex in a public place?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“University. A little nook on campus after a party.”
“Naughty girl,” he said with an approving tsk. “Airplane?”
“No.”
“There’s still time. Car?”
“Sadly, no.”
“Any bondage?”
“Just those times when you’ve held my wrists,” she said with an arched eyebrow.
“Toys?”
“Only a small vibrator in the shape of a dolphin.”
He smiled. “I’ll never look at dolphins the same again.”
She laughed and watched him. A warm breeze blew the hair away from her face. It was much longer now than when they had first started becoming familiar with each other again. He liked it. It softened her edges. Those edges could always use some help. She still took refuge in them when her instinct to protect herself took over.
“Please tell me you’ve tasted another woman. Maybe after some party at uni? That is one of the fantasies I use on the road.”
She laughed. “I have kissed a girl, but never really tasted one like you mean.”
“I love the way you taste, Fee.”
That brought a blush to her cheeks. But her response wasn’t as demure. “Ever done it in a hammock?”
He raised his eyebrows. “I’m about to.”
Carefully getting up, he arranged her so she sat leaning against the middle of the netting and he kneeled in front of her. He would taste and tease her until she cried out, then use the hammock as a sort of swing so that he could position and penetrate her in ways she had never experienced. She may worry about his considerable experience and the continuing opportunities other women offered him, but he would be happy to show her she was the only one he wanted.
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
Continuing his recent streak of achieving very little sleep, Shay was awake most of the night—either because he was reacquainting himself with Jessica’s body or because he was thinking about what was going to happen next. Making love to Jessica guaranteed him nothing, he knew that. She was in a relationship with someone else. Sure, he was an abusive asshole, but she was still with him. But the second she had come out onto the patio and wrapped her arms around him, he was snapped back into the realization of how much he wanted her back.
There was also still the question of how his foray into scandal would affect his standing in the band. He had shut off his phone in the middle of the night when the calls from unknown numbers wouldn’t stop. He feared turning it back on, even to check the paparazzi’s spin on the web.
Turning on his side in bed, he watched Jessica sleeping on her belly. The bruise was mostly yellow now but seeing it ignited his anger all over again. He yearned to meet this Anton face to face, despite the fact that he knew that meant he’d risk getting himself into even more trouble over what he might do to him.
Jessica took a deep breath and opened her eyes a fraction. She smiled and snuggled into him. He held her and kissed her forehead.
“I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed you,” he said softly.
“Really?”
“Yes, really. I don’t know that it changes anything, but I love you, Jess. I’ve never stopped.”
“Oh, babe,” she said on a sigh. “How did we get so complicated?”
That wasn’t exactly her saying she still loved him too. He shouldn’t have dared to hope.
“I should see what’s going on with things,” he said and moved to get up.
She put her arm on his bicep to hold him still. “No, don’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because I think I love you.” There was a smile in her eyes as she watched him.
“Then what do we do about that?” he asked. “Since we’ve become so complicated.”
She shrugged. “Be crazy with me?”
It was the line he'd used on Christmas morning as he urged her to jump with him into the freezing waters off the Forty Foot. The metaphor went beyond that physical leap, of course. It was also him asking her to give up all she had known in the States and become a part of his life in Dublin. But he knew now that hadn't been enough for her to be happy. Maybe it was time for him to take a leap for her.
“I’ll do that for you. Anything for you.”
Her smile was full and free, and he suddenly felt at home in San Francisco.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
The outdoor shower felt amazing and Conor let the water run over his body for longer than he should. Felicity lingered in the claw foot tub nearby. Both lamented that this was their last day on holiday.
Conor didn’t need to thoroughly dry himself. The warm weather would help with that, so he wrapped a towel around his hips and went into the house in search of something to drink. He was wondering whether buying this particular villa was an option when he heard his phone ringing. It had been ringing off and on all morning while he and Felicity occupied themselves with each other. They’d found it easy to ignore the disruption but as he glanced at the readout he saw dozens of missed calls and that the present caller was Gavin.
Ah, fuck. This had to mean some other disaster had struck, and he was certain it had to do wi
th Danny Boy once again. He picked up the phone with resignation.
“What’s up, Gav?”
“Fucking hell. Where have you been?”
“On holiday.”
“Well, it’s over now, isn’t it?”
Conor sighed. “You going to tell me why?”
“Shay is in a mess.”
“What’s Danny Boy done now?”
“Not him. He’s not even a part of this thing. Seems Shay is in San Francisco, hooking up with Jessica.”
“Okay,” Conor said warily. When Gavin relayed the tabloid stories, Conor said, “What utter bullshit. Shay did not hurt anyone.”
“Yeah, you and I know that. But I think we need Felicity’s expertise on this. And maybe yours.”
“Me? Why me?”
“‘Cause if I could, I’d get out front on this and set it all straight with the media.”
“You bastard,” Conor said, grinning.
“What?”
“Are you finally—finally—admitting to how you manipulate the media?” Conor couldn’t believe that after all these years Gavin was copping to being calculating and savvy when it came to working the media. He was highly skilled at it but had always preferred to act as if his efforts were the result of a happy accident.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Gavin replied blithely and Conor laughed. “I’m just saying, I can’t be going off to San Francisco now. Daisy’s only little and this is our time together. Besides, we’re actually set to take her to visit my mother.”
Conor raised his eyebrows at that news. He couldn’t imagine that Gavin was ready for that, but he’d stay out of it.
“All right. Let me speak with Fee and we’ll sort it out.”
“Perfect. Take care of our Seamus, won’t you?”
“I’ll give him your best, ya fucker.”
“Fuck you very much,” Gavin replied with the smacking sound of a kiss before he disconnected.
~
“Two things,” Conor said when Felicity joined him in the kitchen moments later.
She wore a thin gray robe and a relaxed expression as she poured herself a glass of lemon and cucumber infused water from the refrigerated pitcher.
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“One, I’m trying to learn my lesson and speak with you about such things, so—what do you say we buy this place for a getaway?”
She laughed. “You may buy whatever you want. But I do appreciate you mentioning it.”
He pulled her into his arms, holding her to him. “This is how it is, Fee. We have a house in Dublin. We have an Aston Martin. We have a Triumph motorbike. We have a badass collection of guitars. And we have a generous back account as well as some solid investments. Tell me you’re with me.”
“I’m with you. But I won’t claim all that as mine. I didn’t earn it.”
“You earned my heart and that’s the same thing,” he said, making her laugh. This romanticism wasn’t his usual mode, but she had brought it out of him and he’d embraced it because even though she claimed it could be corny, he knew she liked it.
“You,” she said with a smile, “are in a mood.”
“We’ll buy this place, Fee. And we’ll come back and we’ll get married here, yeah?”
She put a hand on his chest. “That isn’t a proposal, CQ.”
“Not a proper one,” he admitted, holding her firmly. “Just putting the idea out there, my skittish girl.”
“Skittish, huh?”
“I’ve never had to work so hard in my life, honey,” he said with a grin. It was true. Women had always pursued him, a nice perk of being both handsome and confident in his own skin, not to mention a hell of a guitar player. His ex-fiancée had played games when they were dating, but that wasn’t exactly the same as making him work to keep a relationship like Felicity did. It was more than worth it—Felicity was the one he’d always work for.
“Well, your efforts are paying off,” she said. Raising herself up onto her toes, she gave him a long, soft kiss.
“I love you, Fee.”
“I love you, Conor.”
They got lost trading kisses for several minutes.
“Oh, fuck,” he said, breaking away. “I have to tell you the other thing.”
She watched him, amused by his abrupt change of direction. But her expression soon changed to concern once she heard about Shay and Gavin’s request that they help fix the situation. When she finally looked at her phone, she saw that her voicemail was full and her email inbox was overflowing. Their vacation was officially over.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
Jessica’s start to “being crazy” was to borrow Shay’s skinniest skinny jeans and a Rogue sweatshirt. She cinched the jeans as tight as she could with a belt and wore the sweatshirt inside out and falling off one shoulder along with the black ballet flats she had worn the night before. Then she worked with hotel security to get them out of the hotel without being detected. A laundry service truck took them just a few blocks over to where the Embarcadero met Market Street. They pulled down low the SF Giants baseball caps supplied by the security guys and hopped a ferry heading across the bay to Sausalito along with a large number of summer tourists.
The cloak and dagger feel of it was fun, though it just let them put off all that they should be dealing with in the real world. Getting to the small picturesque town of Sausalito was quick but along the way, Jessica played tour guide and pointed out Alcatraz, the Golden Gate Bridge, Mount Tamalpais, Angel Island State Park, and the other scenic wealthy town of Marin county, Tiburon. All the while, the city that had felt big and bustling while they were in it, receded behind them and appeared almost miniature in the distance.
Jessica took the lead once they docked, taking Shay by the hand to walk down Bridgefront, the pathway along the water. To their left was a stunning view of San Francisco across the white-capped Bay. A high layer of fog hugged the top of the Transamerica Pyramid building and other city skyscrapers, but the sun in Sausalito was unobstructed here, promising a warm day. To their right, the main hub of tourist offerings included upscale boutiques, wine tasting rooms featuring selections from nearby Napa Valley, and art galleries. The quaint Victorian architecture storefronts added to the small town charm.
When the pathway ran out, they reversed course and continued past the ferry dock in the other direction. They walked in comfortable silence, enjoying their anonymity, until they came upon an Italian coffee house near the harbor. Rumbling stomachs steered them inside to purchase coffee and pastries. They settled at an outdoor table so they could feel the heat of the sun on their skin.
"So, you've taken me to a holiday town, have you?" Shay asked.
"It is a tourist destination," she conceded. "Especially here on the main drag, but there's more than this area."
"It's lovely, don't get me wrong. But you know what I've noticed since I met you?"
"What?"
"When I'm surrounded by nothing but white people."
She smirked. "That must get tiresome in Dublin."
He laughed. "At least there I expect it. But in traveling, I'm sensitive to it. I find I miss diversity when it's not there."
"That just means you need to get out of your safe zone more often," she teased.
"Yes, I think it does, Jess."
She watched him for a long moment, and he saw her struggle with whether to follow up on what he meant. In the end, she picked up her coffee. The both abandoned the subject.
~
Jessica next steered them away from the waterfront and onto Caledonia Street. She told him it was the area locals frequented and they lingered in the unique shops, including a handcrafted glass jewelry store and a large gallery that featured Bay Area artists in all types of mediums. They split up as they examined the art on display and found each other again naturally when they had seen enough. The art was good, but not really inspired.
“Not exactly Marrakech, is it?” Shay said with a smile.
“No, not exac
tly. Should we try to find something a little more exotic?”
"What have you in mind?" Exotic wasn't a word he would associate with this affluent seaside town.
"No guarantees, but I've heard about a street artist who puts his work out all over town. Sometimes just to display it, and sometimes he's there with it, selling it."
“That sounds interesting. Lead the way.”
~
The hunt for the mystery artist had them walking for hours all over the city. They spotted artwork in odd spots—one at the base of a "Yield" sign, several colorful pieces gathered together in the corner of a vacant lot, and one leaning against a bike rack. It got to feel like a treasure hunt, and though it was a pleasant distraction from their predicament, just being with Jessica was enough.
It was dusk when they finally came to a restaurant called Seahorse. Out front, the artist they had been hunting was setting up his work against the building's wood railings. The works were mostly abstract depictions of Bay Area cityscapes but there were also some stylized portraits of people. The pieces ranged from crass and childlike to sophisticated hybrids of Picasso’s cubism and Seurat’s pointillism. All were compelling works and Shay asked the artist about them.
Jessica listened as the two men spoke for almost an hour. The artist had lived on the streets for years, and lately in a van by choice and used wood and other random found objects as his canvas. He and Shay talked about the creative process and where the drive came from, agreeing that it was something that needed to be both stoked and cherished. The conversation came to an end when Shay paid him for the piece Jessica indicated she admired. It was a broad strokes portrait of a woman on cardboard, giving the impression that she was dark-skinned.
So far, they had avoided real conversation and survived on their single stop at the coffee house. The Seahorse would have offered a decent meal, but Shay wanted to treat Jessica to something special. He asked what the best spot in town, and she said it was Murray Circle. They had already walked miles, so Shay called for an Uber and they were soon delivered to the restaurant and seated at a table with sweeping views of San Francisco and the Golden Gate Bridge.
Hitting That Sweet Spot Page 23