Breakaway

by Deirdre Martin

  The evening had gone too quickly. She’d been flying high before she and her mother made up, but afterward, the night was pure bliss. Erin was certain she could never, ever be happier. Surrounded by those she loved, she felt both cherished and invincible. She just wished her brother, Brian, could have come from Liverpool. Rory’s gran was missing, too. “Too tired,” she’d told Rory. “Besides, she knows I’m proud of her.”

  “Feels like sinning, the two of us here in this bed,” said Erin, nestling closer to Rory.

  “I know. But you know how Gran feels about premarital sex.”

  “Same as my parents. If not letting us sleep together under the same roof allows them to maintain their fantasy of chastity, it’s really no big deal.”

  Rory looked amused. “They’ve been maintaining the fantasy for years.” There was awe in Rory’s eyes as they held hers. “It was wonderful to watch you tonight.”

  “What are you on about?”

  “The way your happiness just lit up the room. What’s the word? Incandescent. That’s what you were. Gran would say you were filled with the holy light.”

  “She wouldn’t be saying it right now if she knew the unholy thoughts chargin’ through my head.”

  Rory propped himself up on one elbow. There was arousal in his eyes. “Why don’t you tell me some of them?” He gently nipped her earlobe. “Better yet, why don’t you show me?”

  Erin kissed him with great gentleness, her entire body slowly coming to life even though the kiss was more that of careful courting lovers than two who knew each other intimately, both inside and out.

  Rory kissed her back, but there was nothing chaste about it. His lips pressed against hers were hard, demanding. Erin eagerly succumbed, her tingling body her confessor.

  He drew her as close as he could. The embrace. It was solid and reassuring, yet unmistakably possessive at the same time. She wound her arms around his neck, held on tight. She was all his. He took his mouth from hers, softly pressing his mouth to her throat. She was beginning to get breathless, that old familiar feeling of ease and desire. He knew just where she wanted to be kissed and how. I remember, his body was telling her. I remember everything.

  His kisses became more teasing, more challenging. Erin grabbed his face hungrily, claiming his mouth with hers. Rory drew her to him even closer, no hiding his greed, his cock twitching against her thigh. Reaching down with one hand, Erin wrapped her hand around it and began pumping. He flexed his body against her, his heavy breath begging. He put a hand on hers. Slowed it down. He made her tighten her grip ever so slightly, but slowed the rhythm. Rory’s groans of pleasure were making it harder and harder to ignore what she wanted. She draped a leg over his hip and ground herself against him, knowing he’d be able to feel her wetness there.

  Rory smiled at her wickedly. “Trying to tell me something?”

  Erin smiled seductively and pulled him atop her, drawing her knees up toward her chest. She wanted him deep.

  Rory took her arms, pushing them high over her head. She was prisoner, but just for a moment. When he pushed inside her, her hands broke free. She had to touch him while he moved inside her. Caress him. Spur him on by digging her nails into his back. But he wouldn’t let her. He grabbed her by the wrists and, once again, pulled her arms over her head.

  The thrusting turned rougher. She liked the way he held her down. He asked her if she wanted it hard. She did. Erin began shivering uncontrollably as Rory hammered himself into her, his eyes never moving from her face. She knew he wanted to see the moment when it became too much for her. She succumbed mere seconds later, gasping with pleasure as her body shuddered, the aching inside subsiding.

  Her breath was coming hard and fast as she arched against him. No verbal incentive needed. Rory slammed into her mercilessly, driven by the old need to devour. When he could take no more, he groaned and, with one final thrust of his body, left his senses behind.

  34

  “Ah, screw Crosshaven and Moneygall. The only place to be on a Saturday night is the Oak.”

  Rory’s toast as he touched pint glasses with her, Jake, and Sandra was dead-on, Erin thought. The four of them had gone to a Moneygall pub and a Crosshaven pub the week before, just for a change of pace. Neither came close to the Oak, though. The bar offerings were the same, but both were dominated by a sense of commerce that the Oak lacked. The warmth felt slightly contrived, the bands a little too slick. It was as if both places were created to cater to tourists who imagined that this was what an authentic pub experience might be like. Erin and Rory knew there had to be a true local pub hidden somewhere in those towns, but they couldn’t find it.

  Even though the Oak was getting its fair share of tourists these days, Jack and Bettina had always had a take-it-or-leave-it attitude. It was that no-nonsense approach that helped make the Oak, the Oak. No one gave a toss that Chuck Clayton really couldn’t carry a tune for his life, or that the Holy Trinity would die on their stools, bodies slumped over the bar, or that all the tables in the place wobbled, and had for years. The Oak belonged to them, the people of Ballycraig.

  Erin looked around sentimentally and sighed deeply. “I’ve not even gone and already I’m dreamin’ about when I’ll be comin’ back to visit.”

  “And when will that be?” Rory asked, sounding slightly irritated. They’d been going round and round on the issue.

  “You tell me,” said Erin. “I mean, you’ve got to be back in training camp in September, and I have to look for a job…”

  Sandra’s face fell. “Will you not be home for Christmas, at least?”

  “’Course we will,” Erin said.

  Rory looked at her a bit crossly.

  “We’ll try our best,” she corrected.

  Erin and Rory had at least worked this much out: they’d try to spend Thanksgiving with his parents in the States, then come back to Ballycraig for Christmas, if they could work around the Blades’ schedule. Her uncle Charlie and aunt Kathleen were thinking of coming over for the holidays as well, which would send her da and Liam over the moon.

  “Maybe when you’re back, we could go up to Dublin one day and look at wedding dresses,” Sandra suggested eagerly.

  “I think that’s the best idea I’ve heard in a while,” Erin declared. She and San shopping in Dublin…it would be brilliant.

  Rory sipped his lager. “Who’s on babysitting duty tonight?” he asked Sandra.

  “Lucy, if you can believe it. Something must’ve happened to shake that girl up, because she’s been as good as gold.”

  “Maturing, I’d say.” Erin cast a surreptitious glance at Jake. Rory had told her what Jake had done.

  “She’s broken up with that weasel as well.”

  “Thank Christ.”

  They were having a good-natured argument over the singer Adele (Rory and San hated her, Erin and Jake thought she was pretty damn good) when a tall, thin, well-dressed woman entered the Oak. Her wavy bobbed hair was shining, and she carried herself with sophistication. At the bar, she seemed to fall quickly into conversation with Liam, who was jawing away with her like he’d known her for years.

  “I wonder who that is,” Sandra said, giving her a thorough once-over. “Dead classy. Really put together. So what’s she doin’ here?” she joked.

  They all laughed.

  A few minutes later, the woman appeared at their table. “Hi. I just wanted to introduce myself: my name is Wendy Dann. I’m a literary agent here from New York to talk to PJ Leary. I know Quinn O’Brien pretty well, which is why I thought I’d stop by the table.” She smiled shyly at Rory. “He told me there was a player for the New York Blades in Ballycraig as well.”

  Rory grinned. “That’d be me.” He held out his hand. “Rory Brady.”

  Wendy gave Rory the once-over, which annoyed Erin. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “Big fan, are you?”

  Wendy blushed. “I’m new to it, actually. My boyfriend—ex-boyfriend, actually—was a big Blades fan. We spli
t up and here I am, hooked on hockey.”

  “My heart’s breakin’ for ya, love,” said Sandra, drinking down more of her Black Velvet. “Truly.”

  Erin gave her a dirty look. She didn’t want this Wendy thinking that Rory’s people were coarse and snide. As if Rory seemed to care; his attention was still focused on Wendy.

  “I can’t believe you know Quinn. I’ve never seen you two bendin’ the elbow at the Wild Hart.”

  Wendy smiled discreetly. “We usually tip elbows at literary parties.” She leaned in closer to Rory. “He hates those parties, but he’s shopping a book around.”

  “Now that is a prime piece of blackmail,” said Rory. “Thanks for the tidbit.”

  “You’re very welcome.”

  Sandra jerked a thumb in Erin’s direction. “Hey, since we’re talking about Quinn and Liam, it might be nice, Rory, if you point out that Erin here is their cousin.”

  Wendy smiled at Erin. “Are you? That’s lovely.”

  Erin just nodded, like some kind of tongueless fool. She felt like a lower life-form compared to this Wendy, who was dressed so simply yet so stylishly, while here she was in nothing but faded jeans and an old concert T-shirt, not a lick of makeup on her face. Then there was Wendy’s voice, so confident and low. Were all Manhattan women like this, so smooth and charming? If so, she was royally screwed. The worst part was, she could see how taken Rory was by her.

  He grabbed an empty chair from a nearby table. “C’mon, Wendy, join us.”

  Wendy looked put on the spot. “No, really, I couldn’t.”

  “Don’t be daft. Sit down.”

  Sandra shot Erin a distinct look of displeasure. It wasn’t hard to figure out why: Jake’s eyes were glued to Wendy’s breasts.

  Sandra smiled at Rory sweetly. “Might be nice if you introduce us all.”

  “Well, Sandra here is the impatient one,” Rory said pointedly.

  Wendy smiled. “Nice to meet you.”

  Sandra said nothing.

  “Don’t be like this,” Erin whispered. “Just be polite. Play along. Hopefully she’ll go away soon.”

  “I feckin’ hope so.”

  “This bruiser over here is my best mate, Jake,” Rory continued with pride.

  “Are you a hockey player, too?”

  Everyone looked at one another.

  “God, I’m sorry, I’ve obviously made some kind of mistake,” said Wendy, looking embarrassed. “It’s just—you’re so big like, like Rory—I assumed—”

  “I was an athlete?” Jake finished for her smoothly. “Don’t be embarrassed. A lot of people make the same mistake.”

  “Christ on a bike,” Sandra marveled. “I’ve heard some whoppers in my day, but that about takes the cake, Jake Fry.” She looked at Wendy. “He’s a sheep farmer.”

  Wendy looked impressed. “I’ve never met one before.”

  Jake turned to Sandra smugly. “You hear that?”

  “Would you all button up for a minute so I can introduce my lovely fiancée to Wendy?” Rory put his arm around Erin. “This is Erin, who is, as previously mentioned, related by blood to both Liam and Quinn O’Brien, as well as a host of other O’Briens both foreign and domestic. For some reason, she wants to marry me.”

  Wendy smiled at Erin. “Congratulations! When’s the big date?”

  “We’re not sure yet.”

  “Well, let me know. I know some fabulous wedding planners in New York.”

  Sandra stared her down. “She’s got a wedding planner: me.”

  Wendy looked surprised. “You’re getting married here?” she said to Erin. “Well, if you change your plans, let me know. There are so many amazing places to hold a wedding in New York.”

  Rory looked mildly sentimental. “Yeah.”

  “A friend of mine just got married at The Lighthouse at Chelsea Piers,” Wendy went on, as if Erin would know, or should know, where the hell that was. “It was really beautiful.”

  “I’ll bet.”

  Erin could feel herself beginning to sink into a mild panic.

  “One of the blokes on my team got married at, uh, now let me think…” Rory snapped his fingers. “Central Park Boathouse. That’s it!”

  Wendy put her hand to her chest with a small swoon. “That place is so romantic.”

  Erin shot a look of warning at Sandra, who she knew was gearing up to say something.

  Sandra scowled at her, but at least she got the message. And maybe Rory did, too: he changed the subject from places to tie the knot to hockey.

  “I’d never peg you for a hockey fan,” he said to Wendy.

  “Nice choice o’ words,” Sandra said under her breath.

  Wendy ignored her. “I’m glad we returned to the subject of hockey.” She touched Rory’s shoulder. “I wanted to ask you something.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Do you think you could comp me for the season opener? My nephew will be in town, and I haven’t been able to get us tickets.”

  Rory shrugged. “Sure, no problem.”

  “Thank you so much,” Wendy said gratefully. She paused, biting her lower lip. “One more thing. If it’s not too much.”

  “Here comes the part where she asks Rory to be the father of her child,” Sandra said in a stage whisper.

  Wendy again pretended not to hear.

  “Would you be open to being interviewed for a book? One of my clients is putting together a proposal about foreign players in the NHL, and I thought you’d be perfect for it.”

  “Sure.” It was obvious Rory was eating up the attention.

  “Great.” Wendy dug into the pocket of her blazer and handed Rory one of her cards. “Call me when you’re back in New York. We’ll meet for a drink.”

  Erin tried to ignore her heartbeat’s madly increasing tempo. She was trying to think of something witty to say to Wendy. Something that would show her why Rory had picked her above every other woman on earth to marry. All she was coming up with was a big fat blank.

  Rory looked around the bar. “Has PJ stood you up?”

  “Not exactly. I’m here to poach him.”

  “Poach him?” Jake asked, his gaze still locked on her chest.

  “I’m hoping to steal him away from his current agent. I think I can make him a lot more money than he’s currently making. A lot more. I want to talk to him about that.”

  “He’ll shoot you if you just show up unannounced,” said Jake.

  “No, Aislinn will shoot her,” said Erin.

  “We’ve already talked over the phone; he knows I’m a friend of Quinn’s. He told me to stop by anytime, so I think I’m going to head over there in a bit.”

  “You’re golden if Liam has put in a word for you as well,” said Rory.

  “Do you need a lift?” Jake offered solicitously. “It’s on my way home. It’d be no problem.”

  “Thanks, but I’ve already got a lift.”

  Erin raised an eyebrow. “It’s not Liam, is it?”

  “Dear God, no. You couldn’t pay me to get on the back of a motorcycle. Especially on these unlit country roads.” She twisted in her seat, pointing to Old Jack. “No, he said he’d help me out.”

  There was a split second of silence, and then everyone round the table collapsed into fits of laughter.

  Wendy looked irked at not being in on the joke. “What’s so funny?”

  “First off,” said Rory, “he drives a jalopy. If you hit a bump, the doors might well fall off. Second, he owns the bar. You’d have to wait until after closing time for him to take you.”

  “And third, his wife would kill you,” said Jake. “I’ll gladly take you,” he repeated, trying to look and sound gallant. “It’s no problem.”

  “Are you sure?” asked Wendy. “I really don’t want to be any trouble.”

  “Yeah, but see, here’s the thing, Miss Wendy,” said Sandra, tilting her head back as she finished her Black Velvet. “You’re already trouble. You’re flirtin’ with my man, Jake, who’s one second awa
y from drooling on himself because he finds your boobs so magnificent, and you’re flirtin’ with Rory here, who’s engaged. Not once have you asked me or Erin what we do for a living. Suppose it doesn’t matter, ay? We’re not big and handsome. We can’t further your career, and we’re not powerful enough to get you freebies. We’re invisible to you, two simple Irish country girls.” She looked at Wendy with unconcealed loathing. “Why don’t you just take your bony arse back to the Big Apple, because I, for one, am tired of looking at it. You’ve taken what started out as a great night, and you’ve turned it into total shite.”

  Stunned silence crashed down all around them. It was impossible to move, or speak. Finally, Wendy rose. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “The last thing I wanted to do was cause any trouble for anyone.” She looked around the table. “It was very nice to meet you all.” She smiled at Erin. “Congratulations on your engagement.”

  “Thank you.”

  Wendy walked slowly back to the bar.

  35

  Sandra drained the dregs of Erin’s drink. “I can’t believe the nerve of that one.”

  “I can’t believe your nerve,” said Jake, looking mildly embarrassed.

  “What’re you on about?”

  “Sandra, you tore the woman to pieces!”

  Shocked, Sandra turned to Erin. “Did I?”

  “A little bit.”

  “A lot,” Jake countered.

  “Well, she deserved it! There she is, flirtin’ up a storm, and what do you and your mate here do? Lap it up like two schoolboys! ‘Oh, I’ll drive you home, Wendy!’ ‘Oh, yes, Wendy, I can get you free tickets!’ The woman thinks she’s the end-all and be-all!”

  “You’re just jealous,” Rory countered.

  Erin turned to him. “Not jealous. Insulted. What do you think it was like for me, the two of you chatting away about places to have our wedding?”

  “She acted like Erin and I were below her!” said Sandra.

  “That’s not true,” Jake mumbled. “But answer me this: why were you allowed to flirt right under my nose with Esa, and I can’t flirt in front of you?”