We both thanked Armando as he gathered the empty wine glasses and menus, assuring us he would return with our salads shortly. Once he’d gone, Sean reached across the table and took my fingers in his hand, his eyes monitoring his movements as he circled my fingertips with his.
“I missed you today,” he told me suddenly, his eyes boring into mine. I tried not to read anything into what he was saying, but it was difficult when my heart started fluttering as it did. My response was to smile shyly and avert my eyes.
“I’m sorry, Claire.” He shook his head. “I’ve made you uncomfortable, and that was not my intent.”
Pulling his attention back to mine, I took his hand and squeezed it until he looked at me. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable, quite the opposite actually.”
Sean leaned back in his chair and the moment passed as he began to discuss a restaurant much like this one in Belfast. He explained that his mother was very strict on decorum when she took them out to dinner. He attributed any manners he managed to learn from the places she took them.
Just as he moved on to his younger brother’s first attempt at pouring a beer from a tap, I noticed Dean Morgan walk by. The last time I saw him was at the funeral. It had been a brief encounter, as I didn’t want to keep him from his other guests. Dean noticed me and turned back on his heels, motioning for someone to join him. “Ms. Stuart, correct?”
Dean was a handsome, middle-aged man, who wore his age well. His dark hair was almost black with a slight dusting of silver at his temples, rays of light creating streaks of deep blue. His muscular form made it clear he worked out regularly and the tan of his skin reflected his enjoyment a few outdoor activities. I knew from his wife’s admission, Dylan and his brothers were all adopted. Although, it was difficult to believe as his son shared the same strong jaw line.
“Yes, Sir.” I smiled, placing my napkin on the table as his hand came out to shake mine. “It’s good to see you again, albeit under better circumstances.” Miss Priscilla rounded the corner, her hair and clothing as perfect as the first time I met her. “Yes, it is,” he agreed. “Thank you again for coming to Forrest’s funeral, he would have loved to know you’d come.”
“Dean?” Her voice was kind and welcoming and her smile, always genuine, never false. She was an honest, caring person; a trait you simply could not fabricate.
“Oh, sorry, my love.” He reached back and pulled her in close to him. The love was radiating from them both, a love that clearly connected on a spiritual level, all consuming and encompassing. The kind of love we all dreamed of yet only a select few were lucky enough to find.
“This is Claire Stuart.” He gestured toward me. “She and her uncle were clients of mine and your daddy’s.” Priscilla watched with earnest interest at every word he spoke, her smile widening as she took it all in.
“I’m sorry, Sir, I haven’t had the pleasure,” Dean addressed Sean.
“Dr. Sean O’Leary.” Sean rose from his chair, his hand gripping Dean’s in a firm handshake. “I’m a friend of Claire’s, from the hospital.”
Oddly, it didn’t bother me when Sean called me his friend. I wasn’t certain my smile would have remained if he had given me a label before we had discussed it in private.
“Pleasure to meet you, Doctor O’Leary,” Dean returned and Priscilla smiled. The two of them were like well-oiled machines.
Priscilla ran her hand up and down Dean’s sport coat. The pair were speaking with Sean about a trip they took to Ireland last year; Sean’s accent directing the conversation. As I observed them, it became clear she had no idea she was touching him. It was natural, comforting and an ingrained habit as necessary as breathing,
“I’m sorry to interrupt.”
I was startled by the deep voice coming from my left. By the look on Priscilla’s face, she was excited by the arrival of the newcomer. “Oh, Dylan! I’m so glad you could make it.” She leaned in to hug her son, barely coming to mid-chest. They pulled back and he bent down to kiss her cheek. I watched her eyes close and a gentle smile graced her face.
Dylan, with his coal dark hair, muscles to spare and attitude to boot, stood with his arms wrapped around his mother, his normal rugged looks taking on a more boyish charm. Such a contrast to the solemn look he had the last time I saw them together.
It was funny, when you thought about it; how we presented ourselves when around our friends and family was a stark contrast to who we were in professional arenas. I would venture to guess, if Priscilla weren’t standing in the room, he would have walked right by me, not giving me a second look. However, due to her warm character, he was the little boy she remembered from the children’s home.
“Dylan…” Priscilla’s eyes brightened further, if that was even possible. “This is a dear friend of your daddy’s, Miss Claire and her date, Dr. O’Leary.”
Living in the South, it was commonplace for you address others with an air of respect. Mr. and Miss had become as common as wishing someone good morning. After a while, you found it odd if “Miss” didn’t precede your name. In this instance, her emphasis on the prefix had me squirming in my chair.
According to Shayla, she and Dylan were happy in the honeymoon stage of their relationship. Apparently, he had finally come to realize what he was missing. Yet it would seem, by Priscilla’s address, the relationship wasn’t shared with his parents. Not that it meant much; the relationship, while new, wasn’t a marriage—not yet anyway.
“Ms. Stuart and I have been introduced, recently as a matter of fact,” Dylan explained. He wore a smile that had dazzled the strongest of women out of their panties. To some poor desperate soul, his charm would leave them in a puddle. I knew who Dylan Morgan was away from his Momma; the man who preferred the darker side of relationships, went after what he wanted and had no regard for the damage he left behind.
“Good to see you again, Detective.” Two could play at the pleasantries game. My smile might not dazzle, but it was still a welcomed addition.
“Aw, Miss Claire, I believe we are acquainted enough for first names, don’t you think?” He glanced quickly at Sean, tossing a polite nod in his direction. “It’s Dylan.”
Had this been another time and had he not saved my dear friend from an attacker, I would have stood my ground and insisted on formality.
“Dylan, I don’t believe you’ve formally met Dr. O’Leary.” I motioned my hand in Sean’s direction, who stood like a proper gentleman and extended his hand to Dylan. They exchanged the customary greetings and head gestures. Soon we all engaged in small talk about the hospital and a charity auction Priscilla was chairing.
“We’ve been fortunate to receive several donations from area businesses,” she says to an interested Sean. I’d heard through several people at work about the auction, but at a thousand dollars per plate, it wouldn’t be on my social calendar.
Sean laughed in all the right places and added just enough to the conversation as to not seem domineering. He was charming in a way which was completely different from Dylan.
As I took in both men, I noticed they were each handsome in their own way. Dylan was a player, no doubt he would be moving on from Shayla soon, finding the next girl to add to his collection. Sean, however, was exactly the kind of guy I needed. He was honest, dependable, and, from the lack of first kiss attempt on our last date, not in a hurry to bed me. Not that I suspected I would ever be on Dylan’s radar. Now I was slightly aggravated at myself for comparing the two men before me. There was, honestly, no comparison to be had.
“Well, we have intruded on your date long enough,” Dean chimed in as he began pulling his wife away from our table.
“You’ll have to forgive me, Claire. Dean says I would talk to a brick wall if I thought it would have a decent conversation with me.”
I chuckled. “Not at all. It was a pleasure. I’m glad you stopped by.” I smiled at all three of them. “Have a nice evening,” I said, and Dylan left without saying another word, while Dean and Priscilla said a pleasant
goodnight.
“Can I ask you a question?” Sean asked as he took my hand in his, a serious look about him.
“Of course.” My brows furrowed as I shook my head.
“Did you and Dylan ever…” He rolled his hand in lieu of the actual word.
“Hook up?” I confirmed, tilting my head, my tone inquisitive.
Sean smiled sheepishly and bowed his head, embarrassed I assumed. “Yes, hook up.”
“Hell no,” I responded with a firm scowl on my face. The mere thought of being one of his groupies was enough to decrease my appetite.
“I’m sorry, Claire.” His eyes pleaded for my acceptance of his apology, another trait he had over Dylan. “It’s just…he wasn’t able to keep his eyes off you.” He paused and looked around. “It was as if he was having a fond memory of you two together.”
His admission left me swallowing my laughter. “When I was younger, we had this family who lived about a mile up the road.” I looked at the stem of my wine glass as the memory came back to me. “They had five children, all in a short time span.”
The restaurant faded away as I looked into Sean’s eyes and the anticipation I found there.
“My mother once said they needed to quit sitting in the same church pew and maybe they wouldn’t have as many children.” Confusion pushed the anticipation away. “What she meant was, they needed to stay away from one another longer than a single Sunday service.” Recognition and humor joined the party, his smile slowly formed, as he understood the backwater thinking I was trying to impart. “Dylan and I don’t even attend the same church.”
In a move, which startled me, Sean let out a resounding laugh. “And by attend the same church, you mean you don’t share the same beliefs?”
My smile was enough of an affirmative answer, but I nodded my head in agreement anyway and said, “Hardly.”
With the subject of Dylan and his practices put to rest, the remainder of our dinner was spent talking about our coworkers, places we wanted to visit, and what we missed most about our hometowns. My side of the conversation remained generic—all I missed was the best milkshake from the only diner in town.
A few hours later, Sean paid the check and opened the door for me as we left the restaurant. The sun had long since set, the hues of deep purples and soft pinks gracing the horizon. Sean reached across the console and grasped my hand as the soft music from the radio created the perfect moment.
No words were exchanged, only soft glances we gave to each other. When we passed the intersection to my apartment, I looked questioningly at him. Sean’s eyes, however, remained on the road as he pulled my hand with his, resting them on his upper thigh.
He pulled up to a large metal gate, rolled down his window, and then entered a series of numbers onto the extended metal keypad. As the gates opened, he rolled the window back up, shutting out the world once again, all the while never letting go of my hand.
We had entered Windermere towers, as in, if you had to ask you couldn’t afford one of their condominiums. This place was so upscale, even the garage floors were laid in marble. Sean parked his car, a gold nameplate indicating his reserved spot among all the other cars from other countries. He didn’t bother with clicking his key fob, as something came out of the floor, wrapped around his tire like one of those boot things they use for excessive parking tickets.
We entered the elevator and Sean pulled a white card from his pocket, sliding it into a horizontal slot. He didn’t look at me, instead he slid his hands around my waist, placing himself behind me. I could feel his breath against my neck and his nose as he trailed a line across the outer shell of my ear. I watched his actions in the reflection on the brass plate of the doors. I closed my eyes and leaned back into his embrace, allowing myself to simply feel.
A soft ding alerted us that we had reached the penthouse. The elevator doors opened and Sean nudged me into his home. My glimpse of his foyer was brief as the second the elevator closed, I was pushed up against the wall beside it and Sean’s lips were covering mine. “I’ve pictured you against this very wall every time I pass by.” His breathing was labored from his kiss. “If this is too much, too soon.” He was looking for permission to continue. I knew I was far from ready to sleep with him, yet not opposed to some base rounding,
I’d fantasized about being in this position; back pressed to the wall, captured between a hard wooden surface and an even harder man. Sean knew how to kiss, his tongue slowly tapping my bottom lip. His hands in my hair and behind my left knee caused me to ignore the fact this was only our second date. He was grinding his erection into my heated center, conjuring up a moan, which rivaled any porn star.
My feet left the floor, as his lips hit that spot at the juncture of my neck and shoulder. He left me unable to do anything more than move my head to the side, granting him permission to move forward.
We traded the hard surface of the wall for what I could assume was his bed by the way I sank into the softness. There wasn’t a centimeter of space between us as his hands roam under my bra, taking my nipple between his fingers. Tongues looping and teasing as he rolled my sensitive peak methodically between his index and thumb. His hardness was keeping time against my core with the rhythm he developed with his fingers.
The combination of his tongue, fingers, and aroma was enough to bring me dangerously close to orgasm. His hip thrusts paused momentarily and he pulled back, away from me. His dark eyes were full of want, need and half-closed with the same desire I felt in my core. Sitting back on his heels, he took his cell phone out of his pocket, his eyes apologetic.
“Dr. O’Leary.” His husky voice as he answered. He was silent for several seconds before he scrambled off the bed and across the room. Turning to me, he held one finger in the air as he left the bedroom.
The moment was ruined and I rushed to place my tit back into the pad of my bra. I could hear his muffled voice, but it was in Gaelic and I couldn’t understand what he was saying. Finally I heard, “Goodnight,” and seconds later he reentered the room, an apologetic look about his face, much like back in the restaurant.
“I’m sorry about that, Claire.” His voice was back to normal, as well as his eyes and demeanor. “Unfortunately, it’s something I need to handle.” He pointed behind him, his eyes looking anywhere but in my direction.
“Is everything okay?” I asked.
“Oh, yes.” He crossed the room and took his place between my legs again, placing three kisses to my lips. “Sadly, I have to cut our night short, though.” His lips headed in the direction of my neck again, but I dodged his advances, as there was only so much teasing a girl could take without combusting.
His words were telling me one thing, but his eyes were like windows to his soul. His were reflecting longing, yet reservation, battling between what he wanted to do and what he had to do. “I can take a taxi if it’s the hospital that needs you.”
He pulled away from me, bringing my body with him back into a standing position. His hand once again clasped with mine. “You’re on my way. Besides…” He grasped my face in his free hand. “I want to kiss you a few more times on the drive over.”
Lainie was already asleep when I walked into my apartment. Kitty was sitting on the floor, the soft glow of the television reflecting in her eyes.
“Hey, girl. What are you doing here?” I tossed my keys on the entry table.
Switching off the television, Kitty rose to sit on the couch. “Lainie got freaked out, so she called me to come hang with her until you got home.”
Lainie had been seeing a counselor because, understandably, she was still shaken up from her attack. Kitty being the kindhearted lady she was, told us if we ever needed her to give her a call. It was good to see she meant what she’d said.
“She didn’t want to interrupt your date, said you seemed excited about it.” She shrugged and tried hard not to smile. She had been thrilled when she learned Sean and I were seeing each other outside of work. As she stood from the couch and grabbed her Hell
o Kitty backpack, she giggled. “Besides, you have better cable than I do.”
Kitty and I hugged and said goodnight. I thanked her profusely for being there for Lainie. After turning out all the lights, I walked down the hall to my bedroom. There, lying in the center of my bed was Lainie fast asleep. After changing my clothes and washing my face, I kissed her cheek and headed back out to make my bed on the couch.
“The price of anything is the amount of life you exchange for it.”
~Henry David Thoreau
“Captain, there is a young lady here to see you.”
Celia stood inside my doorframe; glasses perched on the end of her nose, a look of annoyance on her face. Her posture alone told me it wasn’t someone I wanted to see. I leaned back in my chair, my head bouncing on the soft leather, and exhaled a deep breath, preparing myself for what awaited me in the other room.
“Send her in, Celia.”
Turning without another word, Celia told my visitor to “go on in.” I glanced out the window to my left, gray sky and marginal winds were moving the rain-filled clouds across the horizon. The clicking sound of my office door being locked harnessed my attention and shifted my head in the direction of my visitor.
“Hey, baby.”
Shayla stood, leaning her back against the door, her left leg bent at the knee with her high-heeled shoe propped against the wood. A tan trench coat covered most of her body and fishnet stockings covered her slender legs.
“Miss me?” She purred, her index finger was running erotically from her bottom lip to her chest. Her nails were painted that god-awful bright pink color and her perfume was sprayed on so heavy, my eyes were watering.
“Shayla, what are you doing here?” I asked, annoyed.
She pushed away from the closed door and swayed her hips as she inched her way closer to me. She pulled at the belt, which was tied around her tiny waist, and her eyes, seductive and smoky, never left mine. Capturing her bottom lip between her front teeth, she peered at me through those glued on eyelashes she insisted on wearing. I’d long since forgotten what was real and fake on her.
Absolute Power (Southern Justice #1 Page 11