No. More.
She was ready to be happy today.
Pushing at the mess of hair that half-covered her face, Shannon grumbled about the state of her life as she padded barefoot across the old plank wood floor of her new abode. As much as she’d been prepared not to like the stable manager’s studio loft above the barn, she’d taken one look and fallen in love. Against her better judgment, of course. Still, it had been impossible not to when she’d opened the door to a light-filled apartment with a vaulted exposed-beam ceiling, panoramic window that took up the entire far wall and overlooked the most spectacular mountains she’d ever seen, and deep-cushioned furniture in faded denim blue covers.
But her favorite thing of all was the shortened picnic table somebody had painted brick red, and turned into a small, four-seat dining table. A bunch of the white lilacs she’d seen blooming on bushes near the driveway would look gorgeous on it, if she could find a vase. There had to be something she could use to put them in around somewhere. She could already smell their heavenly sweet scent and smiled in anticipation.
Feeling her spirits lift and noting how her earlier anxiety was dissipating, Shannon congratulated herself on being able to move away from her troubling thoughts before they began looping in her brain over and over like a broken record player, driving her crazy.
Without her parents’ knowledge, she’d started seeing a therapist for her anxiety issues about six months ago. They’d spiked hard after she’d failed to place in the Grand Prix finals, and her parents hadn’t held back on letting her know how much she’d disappointed them. Being kind to herself and self-congratulatory when she’d stemmed off an attack might seem the obvious and healthy response, but for someone raised with constant criticism being flung her way, it was often difficult to do. Her “normal” preprogrammed response was to criticize herself and find flaws because her parents had. If they weren’t there to do it, she would—and did.
But all that was changing, one staved-off anxiety attack at a time.
Shannon’s cell phone began ringing on the counter in the small kitchenette where she’d left it.
“Shit!” she exclaimed.
Suddenly apprehensive, she hustled to it and snatched it up off the faded yellow Formica countertop, noting that it was her father on the caller ID. “Hello, Dad,” she said a little breathlessly, her heart beginning to beat faster.
“Why didn’t you call me last night?” he demanded.
No hello back, no asking how she was doing, no sentiment of concern for her well-being whatsoever. So frigging typical. She was beginning to wonder at the futility of her parents ever seeing her for who she was and showing her any warmth and affection. At the rate things were going, she’d be waiting her entire lifetime.
God, at this point, was it even worth it anymore?
She rolled her eyes to the pine-beam ceiling and prayed for her trusty patience. “My apologies. It turned out to be a more tiring day than I expected and I fell asleep early. It’s inexcusable, I know—and I’m sorry.” The only way to pacify her father when he was angry and feeling thwarted was with apologies. And she was so accustomed to that being his expectation that she’d managed to do it twice before she caught herself and stopped.
Wait a minute. What did she have to apologize for? For being exhausted after a rough day and falling asleep?
Screw that.
Right?
It took a whole lot of nerve for her to do it, but she cut him off before he could berate her any further and took control of the conversation by stating, “I have the job and I’m living on the property. Give me a few days to look around and I’ll get back to you.” And now her knees were wobbly, but she kept going. “Aside from looking for evidence of steroid abuse, is there something I should be searching out?”
With his deep, cultured voice, her father huffed into the receiver and replied stiffly, “Scan his ledgers, his books, his horses’ pedigree documents. Go through his home and private effects. You’ll find something. This bastard Irishman is dirty, I know it.”
Something in the tone of his voice didn’t seem right, but she tried to shrug it off. There was a lot at stake. Everyone was tense. “What if I don’t find anything, Dad? What if Muldoon is on the up-and-up?” The first question filled her with dread, but the second had something resembling hope trying to find a place to land inside her. She refused to stop and consider why she had that response. Some things just weren’t going to happen and thinking about it only gave it false traction, so she just wasn’t going to go there.
What did it matter if Sean was legit or not anyway?
“That man is crooked as Bonnie and Clyde, I tell you. You will find something.” The subsequent or else was unspoken yet implied, and hung heavily in the air between them.
One of these days she wouldn’t be so worried about his response and possible rejection, and she would stand up to his bullying. Until then, as much as it pained her to admit the truth, she wanted to make her parents proud of her again. Ever since she had tanked at the Grand Prix finals, they’d barely even looked her in the eye—and when they did it was always with censure. They acted like she’d shamed the entire family name.
It was unfair and hurtful.
Yet they were her parents and she loved them. And she wasn’t ready to completely give up hope of a better relationship with them—a more equal one. Because of that tiny thread she still clung to, Shannon fisted a hand in her hair and said quietly into the phone, “I’ll do my best.”
Callum Charlemagne replied matter-of-factly, “I know you will. That’s why I chose you instead of your sister.”
Great. She had the world on her shoulders because she was the good girl. Could that be any more fabulous?
“I remember what a sweet little girl you used to be,” he said suddenly, breaking the awkward silence, and Shannon jerked in surprise. “You were always so eager to please your mother and me, so loving. Your sister was always willful and headstrong. But you, you were such a dutiful girl.”
Was the man sick or something? He was never sentimental.
The last time he’d called her sweet, she’d been ten and had just given him a handmade card she’d worked all day on proclaiming him the best father in the whole big wide world. He’d looked at the pink construction paper with the lopsided Earth and the two figures holding hands that stood on top and said with a genuine smile, “My sweet Shannon. I love it. Thank you.” Then he’d wrapped her up in a tight, heartfelt hug before leaving on a month-long business trip to Ireland.
A pang resonated in her heart, the sudden memory both unexpected and deeply poignant. How could she have forgotten that day? It was the last time she’d seen him genuinely smile. But it reminded her that once upon a time he’d been a good father to her, a kinder one. Whatever had caused him to change? He’d once acted like he loved her. But because she still loved him and deep down held the hope that they could all be happy again, she took a steadying breath, determining to keep trying.
They stiffly said their good-byes, as though neither really knew what to say after his uncharacteristic display of affection, and hung up. Shannon was just setting the phone down when it started ringing again. This time it was Colleen.
As soon as she picked up, her sister exploded. “Oh my God, have you met him yet?”
Shannon assumed she was referring to Sean. “As a matter of fact, I have.”
“He is scrumptious, that man.” Big dreamy sigh.
“I wasn’t prepared,” she had to admit.
“Now do you see why I told you to use the ladies? You need to get him naked.”
Leave it to her sister to cut to the chase and say the one thing she’d spent the majority of her night dreaming about doing. “I’m not interested.”
“Bullshit,” her sister scoffed.
Even she didn’t buy it, but she still gave it another try, “No, really, I’m not. And besides, even if I was, there’s no way I could sleep with him. It’s way too complicated.”
�
��What’s so complicated about sex?” Colleen demanded, sounding genuinely confused. “You have an itch, you scratch an itch. Simple as that.”
For her sister, yes it was. But for Shannon, she’d never been good at casual sex. Emotions always ended up just as tangled as bed sheets. “I don’t work like you, Leenie. You’re so damn rational and practical that I think you got double your share, plus some.”
The line was silent for a heartbeat and then a no-nonsense, “Think about it.”
Like there was even a remote chance that she wouldn’t.
Please.
“I’ll think about it,” she conceded, and was surprised at the butterflies that launched in her belly at the words. “Oh! I almost forgot to tell you, but when I met him he was wearing a flannel shirt.”
Colleen swore once, hard and sharp. “Damn it, why’d you have to go and tell me that? Now he’s ruined for me, Shannon! Simply ruined.”
“I’m going to laugh my butt off when the man who finally wins your heart is a flannel shirt lover.”
“There’s a far better chance of you landing between the sheets with the Irish dreamsicle than there is of any plaid-wearing guy stealing my heart. No doubt.”
Shannon had a sudden thought as she crossed the great room to peruse the view outside. The early morning light that bathed the Rockies took her breath away. “Hey, why are you so keen on me and Muldoon knocking boots when he’s the reason our family is in so much trouble anyway?”
Colleen’s sigh was deep and long-suffering. “Be-cause, it doesn’t change the fact that you deserve to let down your hair and have some fun for once in your life. And, because you’re crazy about Irishmen—”
“I’m not!”
But her sister kept right on talking without breaking stride. “I know you are because I read your diary when you were home for winter break your sophomore year of college and you went on and on about the Irish boy in your American History class. The one with the punk mohawk.”
Stuck briefly between being horribly offended at the invasion of privacy and amused at the reminder of the monster crush she’d had on that kid, Shannon decided to let it go and ended up chuckling at the memories. So maybe she did have a soft spot for those Irish bad boys. Didn’t every woman?
A knock sounded at the front door, and Shannon spun around, surprised. Quickly scanning the room for the time, she found a plain round wall clock in the kitchen. Almost seven in the morning. She couldn’t possibly be late for work, could she? She could swear she remembered Sean saying eight.
“I’ve got to go,” she said into the phone. “Love you, talk soon.”
She hung up and brushed her hands down her body, trying in vain to make herself presentable. Which was pretty hard to do when she was wearing an enormous gray T-shirt with a picture of Li’l Sebastian from her favorite TV show Parks and Recreation on the front. Though she adored last year’s birthday gift from Colleen, at that moment she’d have given just about anything to be wearing something that wasn’t three sizes too big and hung halfway to her knees, leaving her legs bare and exposed.
The knock came again as she reached the door. Wishing desperately for her comfy and modest chenille robe that was back in Saratoga Springs, Shannon swallowed hard and swung the door open.
And came eye-to-chin with one very sexy Irishman.
Shannon blinked hard, twice, trying to clear her vision. Nope, he was still there—and still gorgeous. Tall, dark, and handsome didn’t even come close to describing Sean Muldoon framed in the morning light, wearing worn jeans, a faded smoky blue pocket T-shirt, and work boots.
And there she was in nothing but an oversized T-shirt with a miniature pony printed on the front of it and hair that resembled Cousin It tangled around her face. It would have been humiliating if she hadn’t scrambled to remind herself why she was there in the first place and that her appearance was the last thing she should be worrying about.
It was working too, until he had to go and smile all crooked and sexy. Then her brain started to get foggy and she lost track of what she’d been thinking. What wasn’t she supposed to be worried about again?
“Hello, Shannon. That’s a lovely outfit you’re wearing there.”
Ah, right. There it was. Her appearance.
And she was wrong—knowing that she was there under false pretenses and that Sean might be a bad guy didn’t change anything.
It was still humiliating.
Chapter Six
SEAN BIT THE inside of his cheek to keep from laughing, but the look on Shannon’s face was priceless and he almost couldn’t stop. He’d known it would be a bit of a gamble to knock on her door so early considering she’d been so tired last night, that there was a chance he’d wake her up. Especially since he’d told her not to worry about showing until near eight. But he was in a bind this morning and needed her help.
As he watched Shannon’s face change from varying shades of red and pink, he tried hard not to think about the glimpse he’d caught of her very shapely bare legs mere seconds ago. If his memory was correct, her toenails were painted a rosy color. And for some reason, that was really sexy to him.
Oh, for feck’s sake. It had been a while since his last partner, but he wasn’t that hard up, was he? What was the deal? Why was everything about Shannon sexy to him? Shite, he didn’t even know her last name!
Frustration spiked in his chest. He wasn’t sure why exactly, but he didn’t like realizing how little he knew about her. “What’s your last name?” he blurted out, even though she was standing in front of him in a baggy nightshirt and messy hair, with big brown eyes still foggy from sleep. Maybe it was because she was standing there all warm and rumpled and groggy that he needed to know something personal about her. The moment felt intimate and close. And it had something, some feeling, stirring in his chest around the vicinity of his heart.
“My last name?”
“Yes,” he demanded, much more gruffly than he’d intended. He didn’t want any damn feelings buzzing around inside him. They made him uneasy. Feelings lead to desire—and desire led to wanting things he couldn’t have and just causing him misery.
“It’s, umm—” she started to say and crossed her arms, inadvertently jiggling her breasts with the movement. “Char . . . Charles.”
His body reacted swiftly and decisively to the view of her erect nipples pushing against the gray cotton fabric with a hard-on that was almost as sudden as it was unexpected. Before he forgot himself and kissed her senseless like he’d wanted to do since the minute she’d opened the door in her pajamas, Sean coughed to cover the sound of surprise that slipped out. “Why don’t you get dressed and meet me at the stallion barn?”
Okay, he’d wanted to kiss her since the minute he’d seen her in his office yesterday. There, he admitted it. Bleedin’ fool that he was. Something about Shannon called to him on a primitive level and had him feeling emotions like he hadn’t in years. Not since he’d run off to America with a promise of retribution hanging over his head and had given up any and all hope of ever having a normal life filled with everyday simple things like a woman to love. He’d known back then that those things wouldn’t be in the cards for him, and he’d accepted that fate.
But ever since that realization, his emotions had simply shut down production, in a lot of ways. Life had stopped having the power to sway him into feeling one way or another and had simply just become, well, life. Nothing spectacular, nothing to make him feel a surge of emotion, good or bad. Just an uneventful ride that he made the best of every day.
Until her.
He scanned her face, taking in her delicate features and pretty skin, until he met her gaze and their eyes locked. For moments neither one spoke, the energy around them shifting and becoming charged in the silence. All he wanted to do was bend down and taste her lips, to discover if they were as full and soft as they looked.
Like she’d read his mind, her lips parted, almost as if she was giving him an unspoken invitation, and she breathed in, the sound
airy and trembling. Transfixed, Sean didn’t realize he’d lowered his head until he bumped her forehead with his hard enough to hurt.
She jerked away, startled, and Sean muttered an apologetic, “Shite, I’m sorry.” His head stung and he stepped back, lifting a hand to rub at it.
She took a step back too as she rubbed hers and laughed, though it sounded a bit forced to his ears. “No worries. I’ll just, umm . . . ” she gestured over her shoulder toward the rest of her apartment, “You know, get dressed and be down in a few minutes.”
Way to be cool, arsehole, Sean thought, embarrassed. “Sure, yes. Good,” he muttered, feeling like an idiot. Turning to leave, he remembered his manners and spun back around to ask, “How are you finding the flat. Is it of any use?”
The look she gave him was a mixture of confusion and bemusement. “I’m not exactly sure what you mean, but yes, the apartment is great if that’s what you’re asking.”
He made the mistake of looking into her eyes again. Jesus, they were pretty. “Excellent. Well, I’ll meet you down there. It’s the smaller red barn to the right of here. That’s where I keep my racers. This one is for the mares and foals.”
She nodded. “Got it.”
Stepping back onto the landing, Sean couldn’t help himself and stole one last glance at her lovely legs as she began to turn around. And the desire to feel them wrapped around his waist while he plunged deep into her was so instant and visceral it jarred him. It twisted his gut into a hot ball of need like he’d never experienced before, and had him swearing under his breath, “Feck me.” He was responding to her like a horny teenager.
“What was that?” she called out from behind him, the feminine tenor of her voice carrying across the room and feeling like a physical caress to his ears.
Knowing he shouldn’t, he shifted subtly and tormented himself with one last glimpse of her shapely legs. He wasn’t prepared for lust to kick him square in the gut, nearly buckling his knees when she leaned over the table and the back of her shirt rode up, exposing a good expanse of milky white thigh and a hint of curvy, juicy backside.
Getting Lucky Page 5