“Well, you know what they say is the best way to get over a broken heart…”
Liam smiled, a slow languid smile that had heat pulsing low in her stomach.
“What’s that, Fi?”
“A pub crawl with your mates. And seeing as I’m your only mate here at the moment, it’s on me to handle the job. Let’s get you a solid base of food, and then I’m taking you to play pool.” Fi let out a delighted laugh when Liam’s mouth dropped open.
“Pool.”
“Oh yes, pool. Or darts. But first, we need to find a proper pub, and some whiskey. Go on then, let’s get some food in you,” Fi said, gesturing to the steaming plates the waiter had just delivered to their table. “See if you can keep up.”
“Why do I feel like you’re about to drink me under the table?”
“Saddle up, boyo.”
Chapter 3
“The table’s not in the best shape,” Fi groused. They were in the tiniest corner pub she’d ever seen and she was inspecting the pool table, with its cracked and worn felt. In the corner sat one tired barman, chain-smoking and largely ignoring the tourists who peered in the door and then quickly moved on. Liam, fueled by about half a bottle of whiskey that Fi had all but poured down his throat at the last pub they’d been to, grabbed the cue from her hand.
“Looking for excuses already? Sounds liked you’re scared.” he said as he bent to rack the balls. The barman watched, a vague spark of interest flaring in his dull eyes.
“You don’t scare me, Liam. I was just commenting on the condition of the pool table.”
“Spoken like someone who doesn’t trust her pool game. I’ll have you know that I am quite a good shot,” Liam teased, wobbling a little, and narrowed his eyes at her.
“Christ, this’ll be like taking candy from a baby. You’re three sheets to the wind already.”
“Then you shouldn’t be having a problem with playing me.”
Fi rolled her eyes as the barman lazily flicked the switch on an old sound system. A low pulse of music filled the pub, and her skin tingled when Liam brushed past her.
“I just don’t think it’s a fair fight,” Fi warned.
“Noted,” Liam said, lazily chalking the cue. “You to break or me?”
“Have at it, handsome,” Fi smiled and choked down a laugh as he teetered on one foot, righted himself, and then managed to break the balls apart in a messy pattern on the table. What he lacked in finesse he surely made up for in enthusiasm, Fi decided as she studied the table.
“You didn’t get anything in,” she pointed out.
“Sure and you’ve an eye for details, don’t you, sweet Fi?” Liam raised an eyebrow at her.
“I’ll go stripes. Corner pocket,” Fi said, and set to working the table. Liam crowed as her first ball sank into the pocket. By the fifth, he’d gone silent.
“Seems like you may have played this a few times, Fi.”
“Here and there.”
“I’d say more than here and there.”
“Did I tell you I used to be in a league? I earned a lot of pocket money from those games.” Fi walked the table and studied her angles for her last shot. She kicked her foot up so Liam looked dumbly down at her soft leather boots. “Paid for extra purchases like these gorgeous leather boots.”
“Sure, those are some smart boots, Fi.” Liam winced as she bent over the table once more. “Aren’t you going to let me play at all?”
“You had your chance when I let you break.” With that, Fi shot the eight ball into the corner pocket – much to the delight of the barman, who clapped his hands and held up a bottle with a shot glass. “Looks like the winner gets a shot.”
“Damn it. I’ve been hustled by a wee wisp of a lass,” Liam grumbled, but then a wide smile broke across his handsome face and Fi caught her breath. Shaking her head, she hooked her arm through his. “Come on then. Shot’s on me.”
They’d stumbled their way through the windy streets that night, arms wrapped around each other, laughing so hard they cried. When they’d finally reached the door of the small flat Fi was renting, Liam had leaned against it, smiling down at her.
“There. Safely delivered home. I’ve done my duty,” Liam said.
The moment held and Fi looked up at him, the buzz of alcohol and something else holding her there, her gaze on his lips.
“Have you then? Is there anything else you’d like to do?”
“Aye, Fi, you’re testing me limits here,” Liam said, running a hand through his hair.
“I wonder just how far I can push them.” Fi leaned in and nipped at his lip, brushing hers lightly over his, before turning to unlock her door and push it open. “Will you be joining me then?”
Liam paused in the doorway, his head swinging between the street outside and the staircase up to her flat.
“I suppose it would be ungentlemanly of me not to see you all the way to your door,” Liam said, following her in.
Fi bit back a smile as they climbed the stairs in silence, the heat and nearness of him burning through her. Once at her door, she quickly unlocked it, then pushed it open and stepped inside, leaving him to decide. When she heard the door click behind her, she turned and smiled.
“Is this a bad idea?” Liam asked, looking huge in the tiny living room of her apartment.
“Likely,” Fi said, unzipping her coat and tossing it to the chair.
“I should go.”
“Probably.” She crossed to him and ran a hand up his chest.
“I like you, Fi.”
“I like you too, Liam.” Reaching up, she stood on her tiptoes to brush a kiss over his lips once more. Testing him.
“I don’t want you to stop liking me.”
“Then don’t do something that would make me stop liking you.” She reached for his hand, tugging him to her miniscule bedroom. A single bed lay tucked under a small window, and Fi flicked on the pretty beaded lamp on the dresser, making light dance across the ceiling like stars.
“Then I promise you’ll like this,” Liam said, his voice husky as he picked her up. Her breath rushed from her lungs in one excited gasp as he laid her on the bed. His mouth trailed down her neck, nuzzling into her collarbone, as he began to explore. Fi gasped, arching her neck backward, as his hands found her shirt and unbuttoned it. He pulled her wrists over her head, leaving them tangled in their sleeves. Prisoned there, unable to move or touch him, Fi arched once again as his mouth found her breast, naked beneath her shirt, and began a languid exploration.
Heat speared through her as he took his time at her breasts – an area many men bypassed, as she wasn’t particularly blessed in that department – and shivered as his teeth scraped a sensitive nipple. The man had a mouth dreams were made of, she decided. Wanting to touch him, she pushed against the hand that held her pinned. Instead, he moved further down her body, flicking the button of her pants open with one hand and tugging them down her hips.
“Liam, I…” Fi began.
He looked up from her waist, his gaze searing hers with its intensity, his breath ragged.
“Let me give you pleasure,” Liam whispered.
“But I want to… you…” Fi groaned as he slipped a hand inside her panties and found her, already aching for him.
“Shhh, my spitfire… let me taste you,” Liam said, and then Fi could think no more as he found her sweetest spot with his mouth. He sampled her like a fine wine, taking his time with her and bringing her sharply and deliciously to the edge before she careened off, arching against him and gasping out his name.
When he pulled back, Fi smiled at him.
“That was… you do that well,” Fi said.
“Giving brings me pleasure. Women are meant to be cherished,” Liam said.
Fi reached up to him, her hands at his belt.
“No, not like this,” Liam said, and Fi looked at him in confusion. His eyes drooped and in an instant she could read the drink and the pain and the confusion flashing through his mind. “You’re… you�
�re special, Fi. Not like this.”
“But…” Fi looked down at her naked body and up to him.
“I… can I just hold you? Just like this? I want you to always remember pleasure from this night.” Liam looked dead on his feet, and if she’d ever seen a man about to hit the deck, it was now. “I don’t want to be alone.”
Sighing, Fi stood and kicked her clothes to a corner. Pulling a t-shirt from the drawer, she dropped it over her head.
“Off with your boots then.”
Liam gratefully undressed, and as much as Fi wanted to lick her way down his muscular body, she took pity on the exhausted and emotionally drained man. He climbed into bed and pulled her to him so she fit snugly against his chest, and drifted to sleep in a matter of seconds.
In the morning, he was gone.
Chapter 4
He’d left a note. Not that it had mattered, as Fi didn’t intend to call him. She’d lain awake much of the night fighting the sense of absolute rightness that had crept over her while nestled in his arms. It was as if her heart was telling her she’d found her home – yet Fi’s mind urged her to run. Settling down, whether with one man, one town, or one job, was not something that was currently on her agenda.
For a brief moment that morning, she’d allowed herself to feel sad that he was gone. But it was for the best, as she hadn’t wanted to form any unnecessary attachments.
I’d like to see you again. I’m sorry for leaving so early, but I have a meeting. I didn’t want to wake you. Call me.
She’d crumpled the note up and tossed it in the bin so she wouldn’t be tempted to call him. Two weeks later she’d left Croatia, having accepted a new position at a university in France that was translating some Celtic mythology books.
And so her life had continued. There’d been many men after Liam, though Fi was selective about whom she took to her bed. More than one man had lingered, providing her with companionship and meeting her needs until she tired of them or accepted a new job in another location. It wasn’t that she was careless with men, for she enjoyed their company – it was that Fi never let herself take the long slow slide into love. She’d done that – once. And had learned her lesson.
His name had been Brian. They’d met their first year at university. Blinded by the big-city lights of Dublin and Brian’s sharp American accent, Fi had fallen in love – and into his bed – with a speed that had astonished her.
Gracie had come down to visit for a weekend and had left worried, with a warning on her lips for Fi to protect herself. But blinded by Brian’s smooth words and edgy taste in music, Fi hadn’t listened.
She still remembered the day she’d told him about her gift, opening herself to show him the shadows of her soul – things she never shared with anyone. At first, he’d laughed it off. Then he’d been entranced, peppering her with questions for hours. She’d performed for him, hadn’t she? All these years later, the memory still rankled. He’d tested her over and over on her ability to read minds and she’d gone right along, thinking it was because he was fascinated with her.
It was only when she met him at his mate’s party the next night that she’d realized how wrong she’d been. Walking in, Fi knew immediately something was off. Somebody flipped the switch on the music, and like a bad teen movie, all eyes had landed on her.
“That’s the psychic!”
“She’s a witch.”
“Maybe she’ll help me cheat on my exam…”
“Does she know what I’d like to do in bed with her?”
“Think she can read me the lotto numbers?”
The whispers hit her like shards of glass in a hurricane, cutting her from every direction, as her eyes sought Brian. Finally, they landed on him, tucked on a sofa next to a curvy blonde, a smirk on his face.
Fi had walked right over to him, hands on her hips, and stared down at him until he had no choice but to meet her eyes.
“What have you done?” Fi demanded, her heart hammering in her chest as the room fell silent once again. Not that it mattered – she could hear people’s thoughts pinging around her head like a manic pinball machine.
“What’s the big deal? I thought it was cool,” Brian said, shrugging a shoulder and looking away.
“This isn’t how you treat people you love,” Fi said, blinking back tears, her voice low with fury. “You don’t do something like this. It’s not right.”
“Ah, what’s the big deal, Fi?” Brian scoffed, glancing back up at her. In that moment, Fi read in his eyes what she should have allowed herself to read from his thoughts all along. The only person Brian loved was Brian.
“You should be ashamed of yourself,” Fi whispered, and then turned to the room. “This man said he loved me. Is this how a man in love should treat someone?”
“How could I love you after you told me about… that?” Brian waved a hand at her head.
“Yeah. Couldn’t you just read his mind and see how he felt?” His mate, Luke, set the room laughing. Fi drew a shaky breath, willing the panic back. A tear escaped, dripping down her cheek as she stared Brian down.
“Aww, the freak is crying.”
Brian laughed at that, high-fiving his mate, and Fi’s sadness turned to rage. It took everything in her power not to lay Brian’s secrets bare to the room, but she couldn’t resist sharing just one.
“Just like Brian cries after sex.”
The room exploded in laughter. Fi caught Brian’s horrified look before she turned on her heel, running from the house and their laughter with her heart shattered in her chest.
She’d vowed then and there to keep men at a distance. Being vulnerable just wasn’t worth the risk.
The rule had served her well – right up until she’d met Liam. The night she’d lain in his arms, feeling the rightness of him, was still embedded deep in her brain.
Why was Liam on her mind today? Fi wondered as she picked up her paper and her cup and wandered to the kitchen sink. Of all the men she’d been involved with through the years, her time with him had been the shortest. And yet he seemed to have left a lasting impression on her.
“Enough,” Fi said out loud, rinsing her cup and placing it in the drying rack. In the bathroom, she squeezed into the shower, lingering under the miniscule shower head and letting the warm water clear the rest of the cobwebs from her mind. Getting out, Fi studied her face in the mirror. Shadows ringed her large eyes, making her look like she’d had a wild night out instead of a listless night of sleep, and her tangle of hair was already beginning to dry.
A moody face, her mother always said. Her father had called her an indignant pixie.
Either way, Fi’s emotions always rang out across her face, and today she looked wounded. Sighing, she applied some concealer under her eyes, smudged a smoky liner along her lids, and patted a rosy hue on her lips with her fingers. Considering herself ready for the day, Fi pulled on a trim grey jumper and slim black pants, and slid her feet into the soft leather boots the Italians were such geniuses at creating. Tossing a checkered scarf around her neck, she hitched her leather tote over her shoulder and left her flat, clattering down the six flights of stairs to the busy street below. The stairs had put her off at first, but now, after routinely indulging in the delicious food Italy had to offer, Fi was grateful for the exercise she was forced to endure when returning to her home each day after work.
“Ciao, bella,” called Fernando, the man who ran the coffee shop just below her flat, as she breezed by. “You never come see me anymore.”
“I like to keep my men guessing.” Fi blew him a kiss as he laughed after her. Smiling, she swung past the tables lining the sidewalk and sauntered down the cobblestone street, endlessly charmed by the juxtaposition of old and new on the winding streets of this town. Today she just had to help finalize the last contract in a negotiation for a large tour company she was working with and then she was rewarding herself with a holiday. Which meant Fi could take the afternoon to shop and plan for Grace’s upcoming hen party.
&
nbsp; She was happy for her friend, Fi mused as she turned and pushed open a door to a small building at the end of the street. In fact, she could pat herself on the back for bringing Dylan and Grace back together. If not for Fi, her stubborn cousin would have refused to see Dylan forever and ever, and they’d have missed out on something amazing.
They were good together. It was something that Fi craved – no, demanded; since she had yet to find it, she hadn’t made the plunge into love. Pushing such thoughts away as she walked into the reception area, Fi beamed at the trim woman who greeted her, and followed her through to the boardroom, which was done up in deep mahogany and emerald green tones. Fi appreciated the Italians’ flair for design; even in corporate workspaces, color was used to add panache. She moved to the stack of documents that waited for her at the end of the table and barely looked up for the rest of the morning, engrossing herself single-mindedly in the task at hand.
It was a trait that had both pleased and frustrated her mother – as a child, Fi had often become so focused on whatever task she was involved in that she missed hearing her mother call her. Her father always said that someone could set the room on fire around Fi and she wouldn’t notice until the book she was reading went up in flames. It was like that with her work as well, but now the trait was well-applauded as she always finished her translations on time, and usually earlier than the agreed-upon deadline.
Today was another such day. After she’d finished typing up her report on the slim laptop she’d brought with her in her tote, Fi let out a breath and leaned back in the chair, rolling her neck to ease the tension from her shoulders. Now for the fun stuff – she could plan Gracie’s hen party and pack for going home to see her family, who would undoubtedly welcome her like she was the long-lost child who’d forgotten about them.
It had only been six months since she’d last been home, but a lot had changed in that time. Grace had found love, something which still surprised Fi. Not because she didn’t think Grace was worthy of love; oh no – she deserved the best man in the world. But Fi had been convinced that hunkering down at her little cottage by the cove was a guaranteed ticket to spinsterhood for Grace. Nevertheless, love had coming knocking – well, bulldozing, if she were to be precise. Still, Dylan and Grace had found their way into love and now Fi wondered if there was something to be said after all for settling in one spot.
Wild Irish Dreamer (The Mystic Cove Series Book 8) Page 2