Doctor Lucky Charms: A Holiday Romance (Kilts and Kisses)

by K. C. Crowne

  I pushed that all aside as I hurried out of the bedroom. Brendan was there waiting for me, a glass of wine in his hands. His jaw slacked open wide as he laid eyes on me.

  “Man, am I good at that,” he said, looking me up and down. “The shirt with the slacks and the shoes – perfect. And hey, the guy wearing them doesn’t look so bad either.”

  “Funny. But I need to get going – finish up that wine so we can get moving.”

  “Now, I was thinking that, while I’m here, I can start the process of going through your clothes and pruning them for what you should never wear again, like that red shirt. I promise I’ll be out of here before you and the lovely American come back.”

  “Hadn’t planned on things going that far,” I said.

  I was speaking the truth – I hadn’t planned on it, but damned if the idea of getting Joann into bed wasn’t about the sexiest thing I could imagine. Brandon gave me a knowing look, one that suggested he knew better.

  “Anyway,” I said. “Sure, that’d be great. Help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge.”

  “Don’t worry.” He held up the wine. “I’m already helping myself. Now, let me just…” he set down the wine glass and stepped over, then reached up and adjusted my collar. “There you go – perfect. Go get ‘em, champ, as the yanks say.”

  I laughed before grabbing my keys and coat and heading out. I was on the top floor of my five-floor flat, the elevator ride taking me down to the small foyer where I exited out into the downtown area of Sandy Cove. The town buzzed with its usual evening activity, a few familiar faces saying their “hellos.”

  I laid eyes on the flower shop on the corner and thought about how my mother would whup my behind if I were to even think about showing up on a first date without bringing a bouquet. I stepped in and bought the prettiest one I could find.

  Then I was in my car and off, arriving at the house around fifteen minutes later, a bit before seven. I grabbed the bouquet and stepped to the front door, giving a knock when I was ready.

  When Joann opened the door, I could’ve sworn she was about the most beautiful creature I’d ever laid eyes on.

  Chapter 17

  JOANN

  “Well, aren’t you about the most stunning thing in all of creation.”

  His choice of words had been majorly ironic – I was the one who was stunned. Not only had his charming-as-hell compliment thrown me for a loop, but Ronan looked so good that I could hardly think straight.

  I blushed. My face went hot along with my neck.

  “Should’ve gotten the roses,” he said with a smile. “They would’ve matched your face.”

  “Oh, you need to stop that right now,” I said with a smile of my own. “I hate that I blush – I’ve always done it.”

  “You hate it?” he asked. “Why’s that?”

  I stepped back, gesturing for him to come inside. “Because it lets the person know exactly how you’re feeling.”

  He moved past me, his natural, musky scent hanging in the air as he entered. The smell of him combined with the sight of the man in his well-fitting, stylish clothes, his collar open and his sleeves rolled up to his thick, ropey forearms…it was enough to soak my panties right on the spot.

  “There something wrong with letting someone know how you feel?” he asked as he entered and turned back toward me. “After all, I wasn’t shy about telling you what I thought.” His eyes moved up and down my body, and I could feel his gaze on me almost as surely as if he were touching me with his fingertips.

  My eyes went the flowers in his hands. In lieu of answering his question, I chose to change the subject rather than let the sexual tension build any more than it already had in the few seconds since he’d shown up.

  “Those are lovely,” I said. “Can’t remember the last time a guy’s brought me flowers.”

  “Happy to break the dry spell,” he said with a charming smile.

  His words got me thinking about another sort of dry spell I wouldn’t mind him breaking.

  Easy, Jo – damn! He’s hot, sure, but at least try to keep your cool!

  “Let me find some place to put those.” I quickly took the flowers out of his hands then hurried to the kitchen. Part of me wanted to splash my face with cold water just to give me a way to get my head together.

  “Sure,” he said, his voice smooth and calm, with a trace of the professionalism that he’d employed when I’d been at his office earlier. “Take your time.”

  I flicked the light on in the kitchen and, flowers in hand, began looking around for some place to put them. As I searched through one of the cupboards, I heard the heavy footfalls of his dress shoes on the kitchen floor.

  “Sorry,” I said. “I’ve been here for a few days, but I still don’t know where everything is.”

  “No rush at all. I’ve got a place in mind, but we don’t have reservations. And they’re open late.”

  I was glad that he’d picked a place out. While I hadn’t been on a ton of dates over the years, I had more than a few memories of some of them being totally mood-killed by the guy and me never being able to agree on a place.

  “So, where are we going?” I pulled open another cupboard and found a lovely vase of blue ceramic. I plucked it out and went over to the sink to fill it up with water.

  “A local distillery,” he said, leaning against the counter and folding his thick arms over his big chest. “My favorite in the area.”

  “Oh, nice? Like beer?”

  “A little beer, but mostly whiskey.”

  “That sounds perfect.” I turned off the sink once the vase was full, then placed it in the middle of the kitchen table. The flowers were fresh and lively. “There’s a huge craft brew scene in Denver – my sister and I love to check out new ones and see what’s on tap.”

  “Then I’m happy to show you one of our locals.”

  I glanced down at my dress and heels, suddenly feeling a bit silly. He must’ve sensed it, as he came over to me, closing the distance between the two of us.

  “Something wrong?” he asked.

  “No. I mean, I’m just suddenly feeling like I picked the wrong outfit.”

  I glanced up at him and he smiled warmly. Then he chuckled.

  “What’s so funny?” I asked.

  “Nothing. Just thinking how ridiculous it is that you think you in that dress could be anything close to a mistake.”

  I blushed once more, of course, and he gazed down at me with a smoldering expression that made me wonder if he wanted something much more than he was saying.

  Then he spoke, his words a lilting cadence that sounded musical and most definitely not English.

  “What was that?”

  “Gaelic,” he said. “Something that my grandmother taught me.”

  “And what did your grandmother teach you?”

  “A few words that you say to a woman when she’s so damn gorgeous that nothing in English could hope to convey it.”

  My heart beat faster and faster. I was getting so turned on that I could hardly think straight. While I wasn’t sure exactly what he’d said, the intention in his eyes was crystal clear.

  He wanted to kiss me, and though we were less than ten minutes into our date, it was what I wanted too.

  I tilted my chin up and moved my body closer to his. Ronan didn’t need any more guiding to understand he was on the same page as me. He stepped forward and our bodies pressed against one another’s.

  Then he leaned in and put his lips onto mine.

  His kiss was electric, his taste divine, and his touch like nothing I’d ever experienced. Ronan opened his mouth, and I did the same, his tongue gliding over my lips and meeting my own. He placed one of his huge hands on the small of my back, bringing me closer to him, making whatever resistance I might’ve had to what was happening melt away.

  His body was solid and strong and huge against mine. I was so wet down below, my pussy clenching and my nipples hardening and everything inside of me screaming out for him to get
right to it, to scoop me off my feet like he easily could and carry me to the bedroom to ravish me in the way I was craving like mad.

  Ronan didn’t do that. Instead, he took his lips from mine and smiled down at me. There was lust in his eyes, lust that burned like two little stars among the green, but he didn’t kiss me again.

  I had to take the chance to move away. I cleared my throat and stepped back, going over to the flowers and arranging them – more out of having something to do with my hands than anything else.

  “Glad one of us has a decent head on our shoulders,” he said, his voice low and deep and smooth as silk.

  I chuckled. “Well, if you hadn’t been the one to stop, I’m not sure I would’ve been able to. So, it looks like you’re the cooler head.”

  Ronan came over to me and placed his hand on mine, my hand looking so small in comparison.

  “Actually…” he stepped away from me, moving to the other side of the table as he kept my hand in his. “If I’m going to touch you, I’m going to need a little barrier between us.”

  I laughed, finding it impossible to resist his charm.

  “Maybe we should just get going,” I said. “Before we end up making some last-minute plans.”

  “Good call. We’ve got plenty of time, after all.”

  He let go of my hand and as soon as he did, I wanted it back.

  “Come on,” he said. “We’ve got a night to get started.”

  Together we left the house and went out to his car.

  As we drove down the darkened road, the headlights of his convertible cutting through the black, something occurred to me.

  The feeling of home, of belonging, that I’d been experiencing over and over since coming back had returned even stronger.

  And it’d started when Ronan had kissed me.

  Chapter 18

  JOANN

  The drive was perfect. We took the long, winding road west toward Sandy Cove, but instead of keeping on and heading into the city itself, Ronan pulled a left that brought us along the water. The moon was a glowing fingernail above the ink-dark water, the silver light shimming on the surface.

  “This is so gorgeous,” I said, unable to take my eyes off the ocean. “First time seeing it since I’ve gotten here, too.”

  “Get out of here with that, then,” he said. “You’ve been in town for, what, three days, and you haven’t seen the ocean yet?”

  “I know, I know – I’ve been bad. But once I got here it hit me how much I needed to just relax. Even just bumming around the house sorting through my grandma’s old things has been more than enough work for me.”

  “Fair enough,” he said. “And I’m sure you’ll get to it in time. You need to get there during the day – living near the ocean is one of the best parts of life here in Sandy Cove. I’ll tell you there’s nothing finer than going for a walk on the shore during a chilly, cloudy day, a nice, big sweater keeping you warm as you watch the water, the air thick with sea salt.”

  I closed my eyes and savored his description. When I opened them back up, I remembered that we already had big plans for tonight.

  “So, tell me about this place we’re going for dinner?”

  Ronan flashed me a grin as he kept his eyes on the road.

  “Like I said, it’s one of my favorite places in town. The food’s amazing, the drinks are sublime, and wait until you check out the view.”

  “Sounds perfect.”

  “It is. Just one thing about it that I should probably let you know in advance.”

  “Yeah? What’s that?”

  “It’s a family-run institution. My family, to be specific.”

  “Is that right?”

  “That’s right. It’s been around for decades, opened by my aunt Ciara and my Uncle Luke right after they got married forty or so years ago. Over the course of their marriage, they had four boys – all of them choosing to go into the family business.”

  My eyes flashed with surprise at what I was hearing. “You’re telling me that six of your family members work at this place? Might be a little intense for a first date, huh?”

  “Don’t worry,” he said, waving his hand through the air. “They’re all professionals. Besides, if you’re going to live in a place like Sandy Cove, you’re going to have to get used to everyone knowing everyone.”

  “This is more like getting thrown into the deep end.”

  He winked as he drove. “Something like that. But I’ve got no doubt in my mind that you’ll be swimming just fine.”

  I had to admit, I felt a touch overwhelmed by the idea of going out for a first date where the guy was related to the entire staff. The more I thought about it, though, the more I realized he was right – that was the kind of place Sandy Cove was, and if I wanted to live there, even if only temporarily, I was going to have to learn to roll with it.

  We took the road up, driving a winding path up to a cliff that overlooked the water. It wasn’t long before lights appeared on the horizon, followed by the sight of a two-story brick building. A dozen or so cars were parked out front, and music carried over the breeze.

  We weren’t even there yet and already the energy of the place was infectious, a smile spreading across my face as we drove close enough that I could read the sign of “The Marylebone” written in gorgeous cursive handwriting out front. Ronan pulled the car into one of the open spots and got out to open the door for me. Like a true gentleman, he extended his hand to help me out of the car.

  “Shall we?” he asked, a warm smile on his face.

  “We shall,” I replied.

  His enthusiasm was infectious and the commotion and music coming from inside promised a good time. My hand in his, we made our way to the big wooden front doors and stepped inside.

  The inside was like a classic Irish pub turned up to a million, all brick and warm lighting, a big fire roaring in a huge fireplace. Dozens and dozens of people were there, all drinking and talking and laughing and carrying on. Classic Irish music played; the din punctuated by bartenders calling out orders. The place was large enough for three big, sliver stills to be seen behind the bar.

  I loved it, but it was a little noisy.

  As if sensing my concern, Ronan leaned in and spoke into my ear.

  “Don’t worry about the ruckus,” he said, speaking over the chaos. “We’re going up top.” He nodded toward the bar. “How about I grab us some good stuff to drink, and you pick us out a table?”

  I smiled. “Sounds good!”

  With that, we broke apart. I sidled my way through the crowd, and I seemed to catch the attention of more than a few men. Not that I cared about anything like that, but I couldn’t help but smile at how open Irishmen were about showing their interest in women. They’d go bug-eyed or clasp their hands to their chests or let their mouths hang open. There was only one man on my mind that night, but it was flattering to watch all the same.

  I made my way up the stairs, and stepped out onto the roof of the bar, the quiet of the evening hitting me right away. I was glad that I’d brought a wrap, as the wind was chilly, and the breeze gently lifted the hem of my dress.

  It was perfect. While the interior was a loud, high-energy party, the roof was totally different. A dozen or so tables were up top, all packed with couples and groups that talked quietly. The artificial lighting was low, the silver of the moon providing most of the illumination. A few fires crackled in circular, brick fireplaces, the area toasty and warm despite the chill of the evening.

  I was instantly in love with it all.

  “Be needing a table, are yeh?”

  The heavily accent voice spoke to me from behind. I turned to see a tall, red-haired kid who looked to be a little older than college age – twenty-five or so. He was handsome, with a thick shock of red hair long enough to be tucked behind his ears. Even in the low light of the evening I could make out how brilliant and green his eyes were.

  He reminded me of Ronan. His features were different, but similar enough to make it cle
ar they were family.

  “Yes,” I said with a smile. “A table for two.”

  He flashed me a smile that was very Ronan-like, charming and a little cocky all at once.

  There was something to this guy.

  “That’s most certainly possible,” he said, sweeping his arm toward the far end of the roof, toward the ocean. “In fact, I can get you the best table in the house. Right this way, lass.” He followed up his words with another wink that reminded me unmistakably of Roman.

  “Thank you very much,” I said. I couldn’t tell what it was, exactly, but I had a strong feeling that something was up.

  The red-haired kid led me toward a small table in the corner of the roof, the spot near enough to the rest of the guests that the pleasant din of conversation flowed in our direction, but far enough that it was private. The table was close to the water, the gentle hush of the waves blending with the din and the low music from down below.

  “How’s this?” he asked, setting a pair of menus down on the table and stepping back.

  “This is perfect,” I replied. Between the warmth from the nearby fire and the moon and the ocean I couldn’t have imagined a nicer place to have a meal. I sat down with a smile, and he pushed the chair in for me.

  “That’s right, it is,” he said. Then he did something that surprised me.

  He sat down in the open seat.

  “Um, excuse me?” I asked, too stunned to say anything else.

  He grinned, then leaned in toward me. “Now, I know you’re here with me cousin Ro. But come on – is a gorgeous woman like you really going to spend her evening with a crusty old bloke like him?”