“You won’t let him?” Sean put down his pen.
“No. I won’t.”
Sean crossed his arms. “Do you love my brother?”
Cara felt her eyes widen. Surely that wasn’t on the list of regular garda questions? She swallowed, and faced the question head on. “Yes.”
Sean grinned. “Thought so. Now, let’s work out how to get you out of this. The last thing I want to do is arrest Ethan’s woman.”
Half an hour later, Cara walked free from the garda station. Apologizing to the journalist was one of the hardest things she’d ever had to do, but there had been no alternative. She was genuinely sorry she’d resorted to violence—but he had deserved it. Luckily, the man had enough brains to know he’d crossed the line, and her apology had been swiftly followed by one of his own.
Her parting conversation with Sean replayed in her head as she climbed into her car to drive home.
“Ethan doesn’t need to know about this, right?” she’d said, eyeing Sean.
He shook his head. “Too late. I spoke to him last night.”
She started the engine. After she’d had a bath, and a grilling from all members of her family, she’d have to call him.
****
Ethan rang the front door bell again. Still no answer. He clenched his hand into a fist and hammered on it instead, feeling the wood shudder.
“Okay!” a shout, followed by the sound of someone rushing down the stairs full pelt. “Ryan, I was in the bath…”
The door jerked open.
Cara stood wrapped in a towel and covered in soapsuds. Her hair was tied in a messy updo, dripping at the ends. Her mouth gaped at the sight of him.
“Step back.” Ethan stepped forward as she obeyed. He tipped her chin up. “What’s this I hear about you getting arrested?” He frowned, playing the part as easily as he played Crash Carrigan.
“How did you—”
“An airplane, sweetheart.” Ethan held back the grin that wanted to escape at the sight of her. He breathed in her familiar scent, itched to pull her into his arms, but not yet…not yet… “You didn’t answer me.”
Her tongue swiped across her lips. “I had an…altercation, in the bar.”
Ethan tsked. “That’s not like you. I thought you had a reputation to uphold in this town.”
Her face scrunched up. She looked awkward, embarrassed. “Someone said something I didn’t like.”
“Violence is never the answer.” Keeping a straight face was too hard, Ethan felt his mouth twitch.
Cara’s gaze was on his mouth. “You know…” she breathed.
“That you hit him for saying something bad about me? Yes.” Ethan reached out and pulled her into his arms. Her wet skin slipped beneath his hands, suds from her arms dampened his jacket, and he didn’t care. “You deserve a kiss for that.”
It had been too long. Too damned long since he’d kissed her. And if the way she sighed and wrapped her arms around him were any indication, too damned long for her too.
When he finally pulled away, they were both breathing fast, and the blue of her eyes was swallowed up by the black lagoons of her irises.
“I’m here…”
She breathed in and held it.
“To post your bail.”
Her body shook. She laughed so hard she almost fell over. “I thought you were going to say something else,” she said, when she finally could. “God, I’ve missed you.” Her hands cupped his face. “I’ve really missed you,” she added in a husky voice.
“I’m also here to fetch you.” Ethan considered teasing her again, maybe something about not being able to leave such a loose cannon alone, but gave up on it as the warmth of her hands and the slow caress of her fingers drove all coherent thought from his head.
“I love you,” he murmured. “I can’t stand being without you any more. When Sean called, I had to come, had to tell you how I feel.”
“I love you too.” The truth shone from her shimmering eyes. “These past weeks have been torture without you.”
“You had things to do… If you need to—”
Cara shook her head. “All I need is you. Nothing else matters. I thought I needed to have a life, rather than just live in yours. Thought I needed a job, something that I’d created, rather than just be another hanger-on girlfriend. But being without you hurt so much, I realize none of that is important.”
“I don’t want you to be another hanger-on girlfriend either. Which is why I tracked down that reporter and gave him an exclusive.” He kissed her soft upper lip, loving her familiar taste. “No doubt it’s trending on twitter as we speak—will she, won’t she?”
Cara frowned. “What?”
“Ethan Quinn can’t live without Cara Byrne – will she accept his proposal of marriage?”
Her smile was like the sun breaking through the clouds. Her entire body seemed to glow as her arms tightened around his neck. “She will. She does.”
And as she went up on tiptoe to kiss his lips, the world had its answer.
THE END
Be sure to check out these other great romances also by Sally Clements.
New Beginnings – Short stories
Catch Me a Catch
Marrying Cade
Bound to Love
To contact Sally Clements, or to be placed on a mailing list to receive updates about new releases, click the ‘contact me’ link on my blog. http://www.sallyclements.blogspot.com
I love twitter, even when I should be doing other things like writing, so do follow and say hi! I’m @sallywriter
If you enjoyed The Morning After, here’s the first chapter of Bound to Love…
Chapter One
The lift doors slid shut. Tempest MacKenzie rooted for her cell phone.
‘I got it, Skye.’ She grinned at her sister’s whoops of joy. ‘I know. I’m so relieved.’ She traced the edge of the stiff plastic folder, happiness within soaring like a bird.
‘You were lucky.’
Skye had a flair for understatement.
‘I know.’
Without the contract, Tempest’s mother would have had a field day, citing it as yet another example of her foolish, impetuous nature. And her usually friendly bank manager would be demanding a meeting when her loan expired.
‘It was risky, making the bracelets before I got the contract. But I knew it would all work out.’
It wasn’t the first time she’d let her intuition be her guide, and it wouldn’t be the last. Thank goodness everything had turned out all right. The alternative was too ghastly to contemplate. She’d be broke, with a couple of very expensive bracelets all she had to show for it. Tempest pulled in a breath as the elevator counted down to G, and glanced at her watch.
‘I’ll be home soon. I’m heading for the six o’clock train.’
Tempest stowed the phone safely in her bag and gazed at her reflection in the lift’s mirrored wall. She smoothed a hand over the rippling wave of red hair falling to just below her shoulders. She had spent ages taming it and the results were well worth it. The short-sleeved white shirt teamed with the grey pencil skirt looked professional too.
Tempest had always wanted to be a jewellery designer, and her fascination with Egypt had fuelled her direction of specialization. With this latest job, she’d achieved the high profile commission which would launch her as one of the world’s foremost master jewellers; what’s more, the museum had offered a ten percent bonus to complete the bracelets to a tight schedule. She hadn’t done the sums yet, but she’d soon be out of the red and into the black with money to spare.
The doors slid open and Tempest stepped out into a concourse that swarmed with bustling people. They followed invisible trails across the huge open space, and the air hummed with voices and hurrying feet. Light streamed through the patchwork of glass triangles that studded the British Museum’s dome, flooding the space with light and painting patterns on the marble floor.
She barely registered a fast moving blur to her left, and
then gasped as a body slammed into hers. Hard.
In slow motion, the file slipped and tumbled to the ground through her nerveless grasp, its contents fanning out onto the cream marble. Firm fingers gripped her upper arm, shooting a bolt of electricity through her. Tempest wobbled, and instinctively bent down for the folder.
‘Leave it, I’ll get it,’ a deep voice commanded. ‘Are you all right?’
Emerald-green eyes blazed from beneath black brows, frowning in concern. A strong, straight nose, killer cheekbones and a gorgeous mouth completed the package. Black hair curled over the neckline of his T-shirt, and he pushed an errant lock back roughly with a lean hand. The man’s fingers still grasped her arm, and her skin buzzed from the point of contact on her bare skin. She was only five foot two, but the stranger topped her by a good foot. He must be six foot three, maybe six four.
‘I’m sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going.’ The hand disappeared and he bent to retrieve her folder. ‘There you go.’
Warm fingers brushed hers as he handed it over, and the warmth of his smile melted her insides like ice cream left out in the sun. She blinked rapidly, fighting for breath as her heart slammed in her chest.
‘Are you sure you’re all right?’
Her face was hot. Damn it, she was blushing again. She swallowed, and forced out a breathless reply. ‘I’m fine, I wasn’t paying attention either.’
He reached down to pick up his briefcase, and her heart thumped in an erratic bongo rhythm as she scanned every gorgeous inch. She’d given up men as a bad idea after her last foray into love, but this man was challenging her decision. Big time.
‘Well, if there’s no harm done.’ He glanced towards the exit.
‘None.’
Tempest smoothed a hand over her pencil skirt, wishing she could smooth her shredded nerves as easily. The clouds of fog in her brain started to dissipate. The train. She had to get going. Her feet, however, stayed glued to the spot.
‘Goodbye.’
Years of training in the art of polite conversation kicked in, and she automatically stuck out her hand. He grasped it, and stared into her eyes. Tempest’s heart thudded as his irises expanded and a slow grin transformed his features.
Gosh, this guy flirted as if born to it.
Her hand prickled, and the hairs on her forearm stood to attention. The tantalizing scent of sandalwood and citrus wafted from him, disturbingly male. Like a slow motion scene in a movie, the bustle around them faded away and the moment expanded. She should break eye contact, or at least pull her hand away, but couldn’t, mesmerized like a mouse before a cobra.
Jake raised her hand, and brushed his lips over it. She smelled of lemons, and for one wild moment, he wondered what her lips would taste like. He heard her quick intake of breath, and his gaze flickered up to hers instantly registering the flicker of arousal in her blue eyes.
‘I enjoyed bumping into you.’
The tip of her tongue swiped quickly over her lips.
‘Likewise.’
He should let her go. Holding on to her hand and staring into her eyes was crazily impulsive, and Jake didn’t do impulsive. Instead, he ran his thumb over the back of her hand and watched fascinated as her eyes darkened. He was in London for a few days; maybe he could take her to dinner. This feeling of enchantment was new, and if he let her go now, he’d never see her again.
He breathed in deep and squared his shoulders.
‘Would you…’
A sudden ringing shattered the mood, and he dropped her hand like a hot potato, grabbing for the phone holster clipped in his belt.
He frowned at the display. ‘I’m sorry, I have to take this.’
She held her hand close to her chest, and blinked rapidly.
‘Goodbye.’ Her voice was deep and husky. She glanced away, and the moment was broken. It was probably for the best, anyway.
Pushing down the lingering feeling of regret, Jake turned away and strode towards the exit.
‘Paul, what’s up?’
Jake forced himself to sound reasonable and laid back. It wasn’t Paul’s fault that he’d broken up the first real flirtation he’d had going on for months. He glanced back, but the concourse was busy with bustling people and he couldn’t spot the redhead.
‘Are you on your way out? I’ve just finished up a meeting near you, I thought we could meet for coffee and a debrief.’
Jake paused for a moment, his brow creasing. ‘Who were you meeting?’
‘I’ll tell you when you get here.’
Paul gave him directions. He’d know soon enough. Like a shark weaving through minnows, Jake strode towards the café. A five minute brush against the stunning redhead had been all it had taken to wipe all thoughts of the job from his mind, and even now the memory of her face made him wish he’d thrown caution to the wind and asked her out. He glanced up at the darkening sky. The smell of rain was in the air. He turned up the collar of his jacket and dipped his head down. It had been a brief encounter between two strangers in the middle of London. Nothing more.
****
Damn mobile phones anyway.
If things had been allowed to run their course, Tempest was sure the tall, dark and positively gorgeous stranger would have stayed and flirted some more. Maybe even asked her out. She had no illusions about her response; she’d have jumped at the chance to know him better.
She glanced at her watch, sped down the wide steps at the museum’s entrance and dashed into the lattice of streets leading to the tube station. Businesses had closed for the day, and the streets swelled with tired Londoners making their way home.
Her steps faltered. The man was just a few yards ahead. If he turns around, he might think I’m following him. She discarded the thought instantly. He wouldn’t notice her in this teeming throng, it was just a coincidence they’d taken the same shortcut.
Running footsteps tapped behind her, and she jumped out of the path of a tall, thin man in a beige raincoat, sprinting like an Olympian.
Suddenly, a white van turned into the lane and accelerated towards her gorgeous stranger. It pulled up with a screech and the side door slammed open. At the same moment, a huge man ran out from behind a pile of boxes haphazardly stacked in the lane, and shoved her stranger brutally towards the open door of the van.
Blood rushed into her ears, and her heart pounded fit to burst.
It was a mugging!
Tempest’s throat worked in panic. ‘Help!’
Her shout came out as a watery shriek. She swallowed hard and gave it another shot.
‘Help!’
The word whipped away in the wind as she began to run. The ridiculously high heels clicked on the sidewalk and the pencil skirt shortened her stride, so Tempest pushed it higher, not caring that it revealed far more than she’d normally consider decent.
Tempest’s chest burned with the effort of dragging in air. Pain ricocheted up her legs as they pumped faster. The scene that met her gaze was terrifying. Two men circled the stranger, as if preparing to attack.
Why wasn’t anyone coming to help him?
The men moved in for the kill, and her stranger landed a punch before one of the men grabbed at him, causing him to stumble.
‘Leave him alone!’
She dropped everything to jump onto the attacker’s back. Air whooshed out of her body in a painful rush. Their bodies slammed together and she clung to him, high heels swinging in the air. The self-defence course hadn’t covered this; it had all been about blocking an attacker, running away – not hanging on for dear life. And where were the good Samaritans? Despite the crowds, people hurried past with eyes averted as though from a family row.
The scrawny body twisted and turned in Tempest’s grasp, then the attacker bent suddenly. Her triumph morphed into dismay when she tumbled over his shoulder and the hard ground pounded her back.
Bony fingers dug into her upper arms. She wrinkled up her nose in disgust at the fetid smell of sweat. The man jerked her up, clamping a w
et cloth over her mouth and nose. Then a fruity smell filled her nostrils instead. Tempest held her breath, and struggled in his iron grip. Her legs kicked convulsively, searching for a target. Surely someone would intervene and help her.
A fist thumped into her stomach. She groaned in agony, inhaling a lungful of sickly fumes. He tossed her into the back of the van like a bag of cement. Her hip jarred against the metal floor and fireworks exploded behind her eyes. The van shuddered at the weight of a heavier body, then the door slammed shut.
Her head was so heavy, she could barely move it. She traced her swollen lip with the tip of her tongue, tasting blood. Dizziness gripped, and her vision blurred. The engine gunned loudly, slamming her against the side of the van like a rag-doll. The tyres screamed, the van sped away, and everything went black.
****
Jake’s head was pounding like a jackhammer. His shoulders ached, and his hands were bound behind his back. He tugged, and the cold, hard metal of handcuffs cut into his wrists. Well, at least I’m still alive. It was small consolation as a blinding pain arrowed through his temples, but better than the alternative.
It was black as a moonless night. He breathed in the stink of damp, salty air. The only sound in the blackness was his own tortured breathing. A rotten, chemical sweet taste filled his mouth. They’d used a sedative on him. Probably chloroform.
‘Damn it.’
As well as the handcuffs constraining his wrists, his feet were bound together. He was trussed-up like a turkey, lying on his side on what felt like a narrow bed. The hard metal, without the luxury of a mattress, cut painfully into his ribs and hipbones. He grimaced, taking painful stock of his situation. Two days in London, hardly enough time to get into trouble – yet already someone had grabbed him off a London street.
His English team had done a fantastic job installing his groundbreaking alarm system in the museum. Someone must have snatched him in order to jeopardize it.
Jake groaned.
The Morning After Page 13