Smooth Irish (Book 2 of the Weldon Series)

by Jennifer Saints

  Smooth Irish

  JenniLeigh Grizzle

  Copyright JenniLeigh Grizzle 2009

  Published by Between Your Sheets Publishing, LLC at Smashwords

  ISBN-13: 978-0-9824863-3-7

  ISBN-10: 0-9824863-3-2

  Edited by Dayna Linton

  Cover by Dayna Linton

  Photography by Annette Batista

  Cover Models Charles Paz, Mr. Romance 2009 and opera singer Linda Hines

  All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any way without written permission.

  First Between Your Sheets Publishing, LLC. electronic publication: December 2009

  www.betweenyoursheets.com

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  This book is copyright protected. It cannot be sold to another party, shared with others, or given away as those acts would infringe upon the copyright of this work and deprive the author and publisher of compensation for their hard work.

  Smooth Irish

  The Weldon Series: Book 2

  Jennifer Saints

  Dedication

  I dedicate this book to all of those who devote their lives toward the rescue and healing of others. Thank you for all that you do to reach out to the hurting hearts, bodies, and souls of your brothers and sisters in this vast world of pain.

  Acknowledgments

  There is an eternity of stories to tell and thousands of ways to tell them, some simple, some complex, some soothing, some adrenaline pumping and I love writing them all. I love story and I love romance, the weaving of two hearts together to create a fabric of love that will help protect from the world and its painful realities. Love heals and I know one day my heart too will heal. First, I want to thank readers everywhere, for without you the world of a writer would be a very lonely place. I hope you enjoy Smooth Irish where love shapes and heals the hearts of Nan Miller and Jackson Weldon. Secondly, I want to thank all of the hardworking people who put their hearts and time to make Smooth Irish a romance graphic e-book possible. Annette Batista! Kudos to your amazing talent and golden heart. Thank you for being my friend, for loving my stories, and for believing in me despite the odds. Dayna, my friend and collaborator in many projects that we hope will help and heal women around the world, thank you for staying the course when it cost you so very much, and for having the fortitude to make things happen when they should. Much love and thanks for always being there. To my sister Tracy Clark, whose love and spirit have given me so much throughout my life. You’ve been there through the thick and thin and have always given me your heart and your belief. Love you! To PJ Ausdenmore, thank you for loving Smooth Irish and for your quick help! You are a heroine. And lastly, I want to thank opera singer Linda Hines and personal trainer Charles Paz for their amazing talents and personalities. You brought Nan and Jackson to life and made them sizzle on the page. I hope your hearts find and embrace true love in your lives.

  “Eventually you will come to understand that love heals everything, and love is all there is.”

  Gary Zukav, author

  SMOOTH IRISH

  CHAPTER ONE

  Nan Miller smiled back at the baby blues staring her way and winked. “So, hot stuff, how about a date?”

  “You’ll have to take a number,” Dr. Schwartz said then laughed. “Candy and Sarah have already asked.”

  “Just my luck. I’ll probably have to stand in line behind every single woman in Savannah, Georgia, once word of his arrival gets out.” Nan shook her head and lovingly brushed the infant boy’s tiny fist with her gloved hand, feeling a knot of tender emotions squeeze her heart.

  Someday, after she had her career established, she hoped to be holding her own child. So many people didn’t know how blessed they were to have family--a mother, a father, a sister, or brother, just someone to belong with in this vast universe.

  Provided that Mr. Right made an appearance, she thought. Nan already knew she was better off alone than being with a Mr. Wrong. Her mother had made that mistake.

  You’re going to have to wipe Mr. Wrong from your mind to find Mr. Right, the conscience angel on her shoulder whispered.

  Nan winced. So far every plan she had for doing just that had failed. Lately, a lobotomy wasn’t out of the question.

  “He is beautiful, isn’t he? But then I’m a little biased,” said the new mother, who managed to look completely glowing despite her exhaustion. But even she didn’t compare to her husband. The proud father looked as if he would either keel over from the stress of labor or burst with joy at the end product-his son. The mothers always faired better than the fathers during labor.

  “All bias aside, he’s gorgeous,” Nan assured the woman. “He’ll be a real heart stopper.” Of that, Nan had no doubt. The infant’s blue eyes and shock of black hair reminded her too much of a grown up version she was trying—without much success--to forget. Every morning, she woke and cursed the day she’d met Jackson Weldon. And every night she…

  No! Absolutely not. She was not going to think about him.

  Stifling her errant thoughts, she focused on finishing the tasks before her as she readied the baby to go to the newborn nursery while Dr. Schwartz talked with the baby’s mother.

  At twenty-nine, Nan was farther down the road from the nowhere place she’d spent years flipping burgers, but she was not far enough for comfort. Not yet. A sense of incompleteness worried at her despite her nursing degree. She needed more. If she could manage to be awarded Memorial Hospital’s continuing education scholarship this year, that more would be a lot easier to grasp onto. Besides, a new plan just might help her strike Mr. Wrong from her mind.

  Is that what you want?

  Of course! Nan shoved the conscience angel off her shoulder. A new plan for her life is just what she needed. The board would choose a deserving employee at the end of this year and Nan planned to be the best candidate.

  Having whipped her thoughts into shape, she read over the notes that would go to the nursery with the baby, checking to make sure the details of the difficult delivery were accurately recorded and the doctor’s orders were clear.

  Her shift had ended two hours ago, but when her patients reached the final stages of labor, Nan always stayed to see her patient through. During that delicate time, having the same nurse eased the laboring mother’s anxiety, especially if there were complications.

  Candy, a fellow obstetric nurse, returned to the delivery room which was made to look like a cozy bedroom in a house complete with blue ruffled curtains and homespun quilts.

  “I’ll finish up here. Head Nurse Litton wants you to go home before you end up on a stretcher.” Candy lowered her voice so that only Nan could hear. “You work too hard. How you can do double shifts without a complaint is beyond me.” The working conditions at Memorial Hospital were not ideal and many of the nurses felt the pressure of having to juggle too many patients with minimal help.

  Nan bit her lip as a tinge of guilt heated her cheeks. She wasn’t as noble as Candy made her sound, at least, not since Jackson invaded Nan’s dreams. Now she not only worked diligently to reach her goals, but she also worked with exhaustion in mind. Too tired plus too tired equaled zero dreams, which meant no Jackson invasions...

  Nan blinked, realizing Candy had spoken to her. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

  Taking the baby’s chart, Candy shooed Nan toward the door. “You better go home before you fall down. I said that major hunk Dr. Swanson came
by the nurses’ station earlier asking for you and you didn’t even react.”

  “Me?” Nan blinked with surprise.

  “Yes, you. Don’t look so innocent. I saw him eating lunch with you yesterday.”

  “That’s only because the lunch room was full and he was kind enough to invite me to his table when I walked by.”

  “Uh, huh,” Candy said with a bright gleam in her eyes that said she wasn’t about to be fooled. “Out of all the people passing his table, he just happened to invite you to sit.”

  “Yes,” Nan said. She was far too pragmatic to see Dr. Swanson’s invitation as anything but a simple kindness on his part. Brad Swanson was the most renowned neurosurgeon in the Southeast, a medical giant. If Nan had had an “A-list” for Mr. Right, Dr. Swanson’s dedication and determination would put him at the top of it.

  Sure Candy was making too much of Dr. Swanson’s visit, Nan said goodbye to the new mother and baby and left the delivery room. Dr. Schwartz followed her out.

  “Nan, congratulations on receiving the Lois Emerson Merit Award again. You deserved to be honored twice in a row.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Schwartz. I was completely surprised. Once was wonderful. Twice left me speechless.” The award was given to honor excellence in nursing care. To Nan it meant she was one step closer to being chosen for the scholarship. That Dr. Schwartz recommended Nan, doubled the honor. Nan greatly admired the woman who balanced a career and a family.

  “You’ve earned it. And I’ll be putting my recommendation in for you next year as well. This delivery might not have had as happy an ending, if you hadn’t have had the instinct to call me when you did.”

  “I’m only thankful that both mother and baby are all right.”

  “Thanks to you. Go home and get some rest.”

  “You, too.”

  “No such luck. I left my husband with six five-year-old girls coming over for my daughter’s birthday party that should have started an hour ago. Even though he’s a flexible kind of guy and completely supportive of my career, I’m sure he’s snatched himself bald by now. So I’d better hurry.”

  Nan laughed as Dr. Schwartz hustled away. Careers didn’t necessarily make for a smooth family life. Nan made a mental note to add flexible to her Mr. Right list.

  In the nurses’ station, Nan keyed a few quick notes into the computer and then logged off for the day. She settled back in her chair and breathed a sigh of relief that was short lived. When her gaze focused on the clock, she suddenly remembered that she was supposed to be at her friend Alexi’s house for a potluck BBQ. In ten minutes. She was too tired to rush and too tired to go, which was just as well. Since Alexi was Jackson’s sister-in-law, odds were he’d be at the BBQ and she didn’t need any more fuel to fodder her nightly fantasies of him.

  She hadn’t seen him in months, but she could clearly picture every nuance of his bad boy persona. He was the devil who promised heaven in his every move, but offered nothing for the future. She’d grown up under a futureless cloud and she wasn’t ever going back there.

  Digging her cell phone out of her purse, Nan dialed Alexi’s number, braced to face the riot act Alexi was sure to deliver.

  “I’ve got your number, Sugar.”

  There was no mistaking the deep sensual voice. Nan’s heart jumped and an oh-so-hot, sweat broke all over her body. Her voice, caught sideways in her windpipe, squeaked. “Jackson?”

  “My name on your lips is a good start. Please Jackson is even better. Ever had phone sex, Nan?”

  Air flew from her lungs. An army of hormones attacked her sensibilities and everything else she had too. Liquid fire, pooled, flowed, and stroked.

  Oh, my! A quick glance around the nurses’ station told her no one had even noticed her. She should disconnect; pretend she hadn’t even called. That would be the smart thing…

  Instead she griped her cell phone tighter, swiveled her chair to face the wall, and shut her eyes. His voice did things for which she was starved. A moment she told herself. Just a moment to relay her message to Alexi. Then she’d hang up.

  “Afraid sugar?” Like smooth Irish cream, his voice glided and curled into a warm knot right where his deep tones stroked the most.

  “No.” Since she’d forgotten to breathe, she sounded wispy instead of practical.

  “Is that a no to sex via a live wire, or no to the fear.”

  “Both,” she gasped, planning to ask to speak to Alexi just as soon as she caught her breath.

  “Virgin ears. Mmm, that means I’ll be your first. Can’t you feel me? I’m right up against you. Feel the heat? My hands on you… my mouth. I can still taste your honeysuckle lips. I keep wondering if the rest of you is as sweet. Do you wonder too, Nan? Wonder how all that explosive attraction would play out between us if we let it loose? Remember the kiss outside the bar against the wall that day? We almost made love right then and there.”

  Nan gulped for air, she was drowning. Drowning in him again. She popped her eyes open, hoping that the images he evoked would evaporate. They didn’t.

  “No,” she said desperately. “No, I don’t remember. I don’t wonder. Tell Alexi I can’t make it tonight. We’re all wrong for each other Jackson, sorry.” Nan cut off the call before she heard anything else to tempt her otherwise. She stared at the wall, stunned by how much her need for him had grown since she’d stopped seeing him.

  “Nan?” A firm finger tapped her on the shoulder. “Anything wrong?”

  She swung her chair around. “Dr. Swanson?” she said, trying to blink his golden blonde image into focus, but a blue-eyed raven-haired devil kept imposing himself onto her retina.

  He waved his hand in front of her face. “The one and only, but please, call me Brad. You look tired.”

  “I am a little,” she said, blinking again. This time her vision blessedly cleared and she latched onto Brad's GQ, Armani draped bod with both eyes like he was the last lifeboat before the flood. She gave him her brightest smile. “What can I do for you?”

  His eyes widened. “You should smile like that more often. It’s quite breath taking.”

  Nan’s jaw loosened with surprise at the personal compliment.

  Brad shook his head as if bouncing out of a trance. “Ahem, well, I stopped by to ask you if you’d like to be my date for the charity banquet next Saturday. It’s not normally my sort of thing, but I thought if you’d like, we could, uh, go together.”

  Had Mr. Famous Neurosurgeon just asked her out on a date in the middle of a colleague filled hospital? Nan shook her head to clear out the Jackson oriented cobwebs and saw Brad frown.

  “Is that a no because you are working?” he asked.

  “No. I mean that wasn’t a no to you. That was a no to…never mind. Yes, I would like to go with you to the benefit.”

  “Excellent,” Brad said, giving her the full force of his charismatic smile.

  Nan prepared herself for a jolt of excitement, something along the lines of the lightning bolt Jackson had sent shooting through her with his “ever had phone sex” line. To her dismay, nothing happened.

  She had thought she wouldn’t date until she’d erased Jackson from her mind. But that was something all of her disciplined determination had failed to do--a real first for her.

  “Just so you know how to dress, we’ll be sitting with some of the hospital’s board of directors and they tend be on the conservative side.” He frowned again and then shook his head. “Sorry, I’m sure you’ll be fine. I’m heading for a cup of coffee before going home. Care to join me?”

  Nan wasn’t sure she’d heard everything Brad had just said. Had the man actually been worried that she’d embarrass him? Perhaps, she looked more of a mess after a day’s work than she thought.

  “Coffee sounds good. I’ll meet you in the cafeteria in about five minutes, okay?” She’d go powder her nose, tidy her unruly hair, and freshen up a bit before meeting him over coffee.

  “Perfect. See you shortly then.” Brad turned and left the nurses’
station, his stride every bit as efficient as his manner. Nan stared hard at his broad shoulders and trim waist, doing her best to drum up a spark of the fire that even just one lick of Jackson’s voice set ablaze.

  Brad had asked her. The most professionally perfect man available had singled her out to have dinner with him, where she’d be personally introduced to some of the board members who would be choosing the recipient for the scholarship she’d applied for, and all her body could do was vibrate like a tuning fork for Jackson’s sensuality? She definitely needed a lobotomy.

  Over the years, she’d worked hard and played little, but she wasn’t a virgin. So, why out of the few men she’d known, why did Jackson, a man she hadn’t slept with, had only passionately kissed, loom so much larger than any other?

  Was it the pull of the tragedy that she knew was buried beneath his “I don’t care” air? Not that Jackson himself had ever spoken of it, but Nan knew from Alexi that Jackson’s first wife had died a few years back.

  It’d been three months since she’d last seen him, a total of seventy-one days from New Year’s Eve to April Fool’s Day. She knew because she’d like a fool had counted. You dated him for less than two months. Odds are you aren’t ever going to forget him.

  Not true. I can and I will, Nan told herself and the sooner she reached the coffee shop the better off she’d be.

  * * *

  Jackson let the receiver rest against his ear until it hurt. Good, he knew pain. He could deal with that. It was this damnable attraction he had for Nan Miller that didn’t fit the comfortable rut he’d dug for himself.

  He liked messing up her quick mind with a soft suggestion, liked watching her blue eyes go liquid and dark with desire. Hell, maybe his whole problem is he wanted her and she walked before he could have her.