Kelly Jamieson

Irish Sex Fairy

Chapter One

Los Angeles, California

Keara slid her shaking arms around bent knees and hugged them, the marble floor of the bank lobby cold and hard beneath her bottom.

Nervous energy shimmered around her, her employees also crouched on the floor. Soft sniffles from Carla filled the heavy silence.

“Shut up!” The words echoed in the lobby, stone floors and columns reflecting the sound waves. The man in the balaclava glared at Carla. Carla gasped. The tension thickened.

“Please,” Keara said. “Let them go. I’ll stay.” They’d been like this for almost an hour.

“No!”

At that moment an explosion rocked the building, shattering the dense quiet. Screams and crying erupted around Keara, and she grabbed Jessica beside her.

“What the hell!” The robber froze, then lunged for Keara and dragged her to her feet. His fingers dug painfully into her arm.

“Police! Nobody move!” A voice thundered over the chaos from the direction where the explosion had occurred. They’d blasted a hole in the wall between the bank and the office building next door.

Two men dressed in black bulletproof vests, ball caps and carrying what looked like machine guns appeared, weapons pointed in the direction of the people huddled on the floor of the bank.

Oh dear God. Machine guns. Keara’s gaze flickered to the others, back to the police officers, just as terrifying to her as the man who now wrapped an arm around her throat and pointed his own gun at her head with his other hand.

She was going to die. If the police tried to shoot the robber they could kill her too. If they didn’t, the robber would.

Three guns. All pointed at her.

Her whole body shook as the robber started walking backward, dragging her with him. His arm tightened on her esophagus. Her eyes bulged and she gasped for air.

“Put your gun down!” an officer shouted.

“Like hell,” the robber muttered. He dragged Keara into a hallway and then the vault area.

She fought him. She wasn’t going to die without trying. She clawed his arm, twisted and jerked against him. She felt the damp of his clothing, smelled his sweat. Her throat ached. Reaching up, she grabbed hold of the balaclava covering his face, squeezed it tightly, and as they struggled he hauled her into the vault.

He shoved the door shut behind them then released her with a push that sent her to her knees. Her fingers still clutched the soft knit hat and it came with her as she fell. Her knees burned and she stayed on all fours, panting, frozen, waiting for the shot that would end her life from behind her.

She heard the click of the door lock.

She turned around and rose up on her knees to face the robber, every muscle tight and quivering. Oh Jesus.

Gary.

She knew him.

He’d worked as a security guard at this branch for what…twenty years? Until six weeks ago. When she’d fired him.

“Gary,” she whispered, covering her mouth with her fingers. “What are you doing?”

“I told you what I’m doing. I want half a million dollars. And I want it now. Or you are going to die.”

“But—” She began to climb to her feet, but he sprang at her and knocked her back down. The hard floor smacked her butt and her breath whooshed out of her.

Oh God. Frantic thoughts tumbled around in her head. What was he doing here? Why was he doing this? Was he crazy? How could she have never noticed he was psycho?

“You fired me.” Sweat dripped down his face, flushed cheeks grizzled with gray stubble. Thick gray brows lowered over his eyes as he stared at her. Her stomach clenched. The gun still watched her with that steady eye. “You ruined my life. And my family’s life.”

Keara’s mouth quivered and she swallowed painfully. “It was a business decision,” she choked out. “It was nothing against you personally, Gary. I had to make cuts. It came from head office. This branch hasn’t been performing well.”

“That’s why they transferred you here, isn’t it? That’s why they made you manager. A hatchet lady.”

She shook her head, but it was more or less true. She had been charged with turning the branch around when made manager a year ago. She’d spent the last year working her ass off, trying to improve the branch’s performance and minimize the cuts that had to be done. She stared at him.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I had to do it. They wanted twenty positions cut. I got it down to eight. Only eight people had to go.” And Gary had been one of them.

“Great,” he sneered. “That doesn’t help me, does it?”

She licked her lips.

A warbling ring tone came from his pocket and they both froze. Still holding the gun with his right hand, he reached for the phone, slowly brought it out and flipped it open. “Yeah?”

Keara’s stomach churned. She could only hear one side of the conversation.

“I want the money,” he snapped. His eyes shifted to Keara and then he stepped away from her, paced up and down the hall in the back of the bank. “I won’t kill her if I get the money.”

It must be the SWAT team again. They’d talked to him earlier on the bank phone, when he’d given them directions about where to park a car for him to leave with the money. With her.

Her stomach tightened along with every quivering muscle in her body. God. She was going to die. Right here, right now. She was only thirty-one years old.

“How’d you know who I am?” he demanded into the phone.

Keara resisted the urge to look at the security camera up high in the corner of the room. Gary had been a security guard. Did he not remember it was there? The police were probably watching them. She closed her eyes briefly then opened them again as he spoke.

“I’m not telling you that,” he snarled into the phone. “Have you got the car ready? ’Cause Miss Callaghan and I are coming out in a few minutes.” A pause. “Yeah, I said an hour. But now I know I can’t trust you, I’m coming out sooner. With the money.” He looked at her. “Right, Miss Callaghan?”

She stared at him. What was she supposed to do? What?

Gary was listening to the voice at the other end of the phone line. “Of course I can do it. After what she did to me, it won’t be hard to put a bullet in her head.”

Oh. Oh no. She swept a hand over her hair, loosened from its usual low ponytail she wore to work. Would he really do it? She could not believe the man she’d worked with for almost a year, who’d greeted her every day with a cheerful good morning, would actually shoot her. But this man…was not Gary. He was different. Desperate. Tense. Oh Lord.

“What do I care?” he said. “I got nothing to live for.” Another pause. “Yeah. But she doesn’t even know who I am anymore.” His voice cracked. “I just wanna make sure she’s gonna be okay.”

Keara swallowed. Who was he talking about? Clearly it wasn’t her, since he’d just said he’d shoot her in the head. Her brain turned frantically. His wife? Had she heard something about his wife being sick? How bad was it? Why would he do this?

“Just get the car ready. Fifteen minutes.” He snapped the phone shut and shoved it into the pocket of the navy windbreaker he wore.

He gestured with the gun. “Get over there.”

She scuttled into the corner.

He pulled out a shopping bag from another pocket. “Let’s put the money into this.”

“I can’t do that, Gary.”

“Yes, you can.”

She shook her head. “I can’t. I need another person to get into the vault.”

“Bullshit! You’re the manager! You know how to get in.”

She pressed her trembling lips together. He was right. She could.

“Why are you doing this, Gary?”

He stood before her, legs spread, gun pointed at her. “You fired me. I can’t get a job. Who’s gonna hire someone my age? I worked my whole adult life here at the bank, and for what? A measly severance package that didn’t even last six weeks.” He paused, his throat working. “This is my only chance. To look after my wife.”

“What’s wrong with your wife?”

He glared at her, then his gaze drifted away. “She has Alzheimer’s. Doesn’t even know me anymore, sometimes. Doesn’t know our son. She’s in a home. They look after her there, but…it costs money. I got no money.” His voice thickened. “What do you expect me to do?”

Keara’s gaze flicked from the gun back to his face.

“Oh Gary.” The words sighed out of her. “I didn’t know that.”

“What difference does it make? You saying you wouldn’t have fired me, if you’d known? Bullshit! You fired Mike and he has a brand-new baby to support. Born too early. Needs all kind of expensive care. You don’t give a shit about anyone. All you care about is the bottom line. Money. Numbers. That’s all we are to you.”

“That’s not true,” she whispered. She did care about her staff. But she had a job to do.

His cell phone trilled again, an incongruous cheery sound in the echoing room. He opened it. “What?” This time he listened for a while. “Yeah. That’s right.” His shoulder slumped a little. “I know. Yeah. I know.” He paced across the room, but kept Keara in his sights. She sat there, gaze fastened to him, his earlier words buzzing through her head.

This was all her fault. If she hadn’t fired him, he wouldn’t be so desperate as to do this. She was going to die because of it. How could she make this right? She leaned her head back against the wall. Sweat prickled her underarms. Heat suffocated her. She wiped a hand over her mouth.

“Let me talk to her,” Gary said. He looked defeated. “Let me talk to her. Then I’ll come out.” Pause. “Yeah. With Miss Callaghan.”

A moment of silence while Gary paced again across the room. “Rosie? Hi, baby. How are you?” His face changed, his eyes softer, his mouth unsteady as if he might cry.

Keara’s heart squeezed and ached. She put a hand to her mouth and watched him. Listened.

“I love you, Rosie. Just remember that, okay? Always remember I love you.”

Oh God. What was he going to do? It sounded as if he thought he’d never see her again. Panic trickled down her spine in a cold drizzle. Her legs twitched on the floor.

He closed the phone and gestured again with the gun. “Stand up.”

She rose to her feet, legs weak and shaky. He opened the door and stood aside. “Go on.”

She stared at him. “What?

“You can leave. Go.” He motioned with the gun again.

“Just go?” She couldn’t believe it. Would he shoot her in the back as she walked away? And why wasn’t he coming?

He nodded, subdued, an aura of overwhelming loss and defeat surrounding him. Keara stopped. What was he going to do? Oh God. Oh no. She knew why he wasn’t coming. Her stomach heaved.

Now her fear wasn’t for herself. “Gary.” She put out a hand. “Come with me.”

He shook his head. “I can’t. They’ll put me in jail.”

Throat squeezing, chest aching, she shook her head. “We’ll find a way, Gary. A way to help Rosie.”

“Yeah right. I told you. There is no way. Not anymore. This was my last hope. I told you to go!”

“No! The bank can help you. Please, Gary, come with me. We’ll work something out. We’ll look at an early pension payout, maybe a way to continue your benefits, some kind of loan…there are lots of options.”

His eyes, earlier stony and cold, regarded her with cautious hope for a stretched out moment. “Really?”

“Yes. I’m sorry, Gary. I really am. I’ll try to help. To make up for it.” And she would. Her heart ached for the pain she’d seen in him when he talked to his wife. She’d never loved someone like that, but it had to be excruciating, to see someone you loved dying from the inside out, slowly, not even knowing who you were anymore.

He considered it. She waited, legs so shaky she thought she might fall down. So close. Would he do it?

“You know I keep my word,” she said softly. “I may have to make decisions people don’t like, but…I’ve always done what I said I would.”

He still hesitated, stared at her warily.

“Okay.” He bent down and grabbed the balaclava off the floor and pulled it on.

Why was he doing that? They already knew who he was. Her gut tightened again. He took hold of her, this time in a firm but not painful grasp, still holding the gun on her.

Was he being honest? Or was he still going to kill her? Her heart thudded painfully as he gently urged her forward, down the hall and into the lobby of the bank. But the anguish and love she’d seen in this man’s eyes were not the emotions of a cold-blooded killer. As they moved forward, him behind her, his hands on her but this time gentle, she knew he wouldn’t kill her. Probably never had intended to kill her.

“Keep your hands up and in sight,” he told her.

Why? Obediently, she did so as they walked out the front door of the bank.

Oh Jesus. In the sunshine outside the bank, a spinning impression of crowds of people, television cameras, SWAT officers, guns, vans and cars assaulted her. She kept her hands up. Gary held the gun pressed to the side of her head.

His finger could accidentally pull the trigger. Even if he didn’t intend to kill her anymore. One of those SWAT officers could shoot her, aiming for him. They could scare him and his finger could so easily…pull…the…trigger.

Don’t shoot. Don’t shoot. Don’t shoot.

Her eyes flickered around. Distant shouts mingled with Gary’s harsh breathing in her ear. A loud pop split the commotion. Gary’s weight dragged her down, the pavement of the sidewalk meeting her knees in a harsh kiss, and she cried out.

Chapter Two

She never felt more alone than in the middle of the night, when the world was dark and quiet and still, everyone else asleep in their beds.

“Oh, Keara.” A heavy sigh came from the other end of the phone line. “What are you doing up again?”

Keara swallowed and sank down onto her couch. “I just had an idea for what we can do for Monica’s birthday next weekend,” she told her friend Paige.

“What! Why are you calling me about that in the middle of the night? You had another nightmare, didn’t you?”

“No. I haven’t had one for a couple of weeks,” Keara lied. “You know me, I just get thinking about things and I…I can’t get back to sleep.”

“Maybe you need to go back to that shrink…what was his name?”

“I don’t need a shrink,” Keara snapped. “I told you that before.”

“Then why haven’t you gone back to work?”

Keara pressed her lips together. She’d tried to go back to work. She hadn’t even told Paige about that embarrassing incident. She’d really flip out if she knew about that. She’d be picking her up and driving her to the psychiatrist herself. Which. She. Did. Not. Need.

Keara’s throat clogged and her chest tightened. “I’m sorry I bothered you.”

“Keara…”

“’Night, Paige.”

She clicked the phone off and dropped it to the butter-colored upholstery beside her. She tipped her head back and blinked at the ceiling, eyes stinging. Damn.

She could call Monica.

But no. Monica had gone away to San Diego for the weekend with the new guy she’d been seeing. And she couldn’t call Essie. With her new baby, she might be awake in the middle of the night. But if she was asleep and Keara called and woke her up—again—she’d kill her. She’d made that mistake once before. Besides, if her friends all talked about how she kept phoning in the middle of the night, she’d never hear the end of it.

She padded on bare feet out to the kitchen of her condo in the Los Angeles high-rise. She ran some cold water, then held the cool glass to her sweaty forehead. Her eyes fell on the bottle of pills sitting on the counter. She could take those and sleep. She picked up the container.

There was no shame in using medication, the psychiatrist had told her. And yet, she really didn’t want to take drugs to solve her problems. Hell, she didn’t even understand what her problems were. God! She clutched the bottle in her hand and closed her eyes. She was fine. Totally fine. Tell that to her body, though, which betrayed her time and time again, with a speeding heart, tight and trembling muscles and a stomach constricted with nausea. And she’d been doing so well. No dreams, no flashbacks for a couple of weeks. What had triggered that nightmare tonight?

A noise alerted her ears. A scrape against the glass doors leading out onto her balcony. She lived on the third floor of the building, which wasn’t likely to be a target for a break-in, but recently she’d found herself wishing she lived in the penthouse, twenty stories above.

It was nothing. Wind or something.

Then she heard it again.

Her heart, which had been slowing its beat, picked up speed, blood surging through her veins. She stepped out of the kitchen and focused on the curtains drawn over the sliding glass doors—not opaque enough to completely blot out the city lights, nor the shadow moving on the balcony.

Her stomach lurched. Oh dear God. There was someone on her balcony. Her living room shifted around her and adrenaline flashed through her body. She lifted a hand to her throat. Stared at the window. She had to be imagining it. Nobody could climb up three stories. Nobody would climb up three stories.

But another scraping noise outside the window, like someone was working at the lock, had her reaching for the telephone. Crap, she’d left it on the couch. She scurried over and grabbed it off the sofa, then fled to her bedroom on trembling legs. She shut the door and leaned against it. Fingers shaking so hard she couldn’t hit the right buttons, she finally managed to punch in 9-1-1.

“Nine one one, what is your emergency?”

“Someone’s breaking into my condo!” she hissed into the phone, fingers gripping it so tightly they hurt. “Please, send the police, quickly!”

The operator asked her questions and kept her on the line while she leaned against the door, shaking inside and out.

“The police will be there soon,” the voice on the phone assured her. “Stay calm, ma’am.”

Calm. Calm? Shivering in her sleep shorts and tank top, Keara kept the phone pressed to her ear. She moved silently to the far side of the armoire, slid down onto the floor where she couldn’t be seen from the door. She dropped the phone to the gray Berber carpet beside her, bent her knees, wrapped her arms around them.

The marble floor of the bank lobby was cold and hard beneath her bottom as she slid her shaking arms around bent knees and hugged them …

No! She wasn’t in the bank. She was at home in her apartment. She focused on her bedroom. The bed skirt was crooked. She’d tucked it up under the mattress on one corner when she was making the bed. She’d have to fix that. Hell, what was she thinking?

With knees pressed to chest, her heart thumped painfully and her lungs expanded and contracted against them with every shallow breath. In. Out. In. Out.

Please, please let them get here quickly. She laid her forehead on her knees, shoulders hunched up around her ears. And waited.

She pictured someone on the balcony trying to get in, her ears attuned to the sound of breaking glass or the familiar scrape of the door opening.

The security buzzer sent her nerves on another blastoff. The police. Please let it be the police.

She scrabbled for the phone. The operator was still there. “Is that the police?” she demanded.

“Yes, that’s the police. They’re at the entrance to your building.”

“Thank God, thank God.” It seemed like an hour since she’d called them. She climbed to her feet on unsteady legs and stumbled to the security system, but as she went to buzz them in, she paused. How did she know it was the police? What if it was someone else trying to get in?

She knew in her head that was crazy, but…she pressed the intercom button. “Who is it?”

“LAPD.”

She hit the button and let them in. Moments later they pounded on her door.

She peered through the security peephole on her door and saw two uniformed officers. Fingers still shaking, she unlocked the door and let them in.

“Someone’s on the balcony!”

The female officer stayed close to Keara while the male officer walked straight to the doors and yanked the curtain aside. He peered outside, then flicked open the lock of the door and slid it open.

Keara gasped and tensed. He didn’t even have his gun drawn. Who knew what kind of nutjob could be out there?

He stepped out onto the balcony, turned his head from side to side, walked to the railing and looked over. Then he turned back into the condo.

“There’s nothing here,” he said.

Keara blinked at him. “Yes there is.” She looked down at the phone she was still holding. Was the 9-1-1 operator still there? She shook her head, dropped the phone. Whatever. “There was someone out there.”

“No, ma’am, there’s nothing. Come look for yourself.”

She followed him hesitantly out onto her balcony and peered around. The dark wind whipped her hair around her head, and she shivered.

He was right. There was nobody out there.

She peered over the railing, holding the cold metal tightly with both hands, and stared at the ground three stories below.

“What if he’s on the balcony underneath?” She turned to the officers. They exchanged a glance. Keara pressed her lips together. “Well, he could be. He could have dropped down to the balcony on the next floor.”

“I don’t think so,” the male officer said. “That would be pretty tricky.”

“I’m telling you, there was someone on my balcony!” Keara pressed her fingers to her mouth. God. She sounded hysterical.

“Come back inside,” the female officer said, her voice gentle. She put a hand on Keara’s back as she stepped inside, then slid the door closed.

“Why would someone climb up three stories to break in?” the male officer asked. “Unless it’s you they were after. Is someone stalking you?”

Keara shook her head. “No. Of course not. My life is boring.”

“Not that boring,” he replied. “Weren’t you just involved in a hostage taking a few weeks ago?”

Her stomach tightened. They’d checked her out. They knew about the robbery. They probably knew she’d been seeing a shrink. No wonder they thought she was nuts.

She answered a few more questions but she led such a vanilla life there was no reason for what happened. Which only made her feel even more stupid.

“It’s pretty windy tonight,” the woman officer said. “Maybe something blew around on your balcony.”

“Yeah.” Keara sucked in a long, restoring breath. “That must be it.” She’d been nervous because of the bad dream she’d had. Maybe her nerves and imagination were hypersensitive. Okay, that wasn’t a maybe, it was a definite, oh hell yeah. Plus she still felt shaky from that weird episode she’d had the other day. The doctor said it was a panic attack, but Keara wasn’t convinced of that. It had felt too physical—spinning head, dizziness, nausea—it was more likely low blood sugar or something, but whatever it was, she still felt the effects and it didn’t take much for her to get all agitated.

The police thought she was crazy. Cheeks burning, she locked the door behind them, but when she turned back to her empty apartment, fear wrapped around her in such a ferocious grip she couldn’t move.

She couldn’t stay there alone.

She had to stay there alone.

She’d already annoyed Paige, Monica was away and Essie had a new baby. So Keara sat up all night watching television with every light in the condo on, and a heavy trunk in front of the balcony door.

All she wanted was to get better. She didn’t want to be like this—the nervous tightness in her stomach, the feeling of impending doom. What was wrong with her?

She had to think. What could she do? Her friends weren’t an option for her right now. She had no family—her parents had died almost eight years ago. No siblings. The only family she had was Great-aunt Maeve in Kilkenny.

Crazy Maeve. Seventy years old, never married, she owned a sex shop in the quaint tourist town just north of Santa Barbara. Keara used to spend part of her summer vacations there with her great-aunt. She liked Maeve, although as a teenager she’d been embarrassed by Maeve’s brilliant red hair, eccentric dress, and oh yeah, most of all about the way she earned her living. But everyone in the town loved Maeve.

Maeve had called her, after the incident at the bank, to make sure she was okay. Keara had reassured her aunt that she was fine. Promised to keep in touch. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do,” Maeve had said.

Well, maybe there was.

Maybe she just needed to get away for a bit. A little vacation. Lord knew she never used all her vacation time, workaholic that she was. Maybe that was the problem.

So as the sky lightened and the sound of morning traffic on the streets began to build, she picked up the phone and dialed her aunt’s number.

Chapter Three

Kilkenny, California

“Keara! What are you doing here?”

Keara stood in the middle of Maeve’s small shop, and stared back at her great-aunt Maeve, trying to be casual and unconcerned about the variety of sex toys and other accessories surrounding them.

“What do you mean, what am I doing here?” She’d just talked to Maeve yesterday. “You said it was okay if I came to stay with you for a while.”

Maeve’s green eyes filled with confusion and her slender auburn brows drew down over her nose. “That was next weekend. Wasn’t it?”

Keara shook her head. “No, it was this weekend. Remember? I said I’d drive up tomorrow? Which is today.”

What was going on? Had she screwed up the days when she was talking to Maeve?

“Well, it doesn’t matter,” Maeve said briskly, throwing her arms around Keara. “You’re here, that’s what matters. I just…oh, never mind.” She gave her a tight hug and Keara hugged her back, her aunt’s bones frail beneath the sweater she wore. “How are you, muirnín? I’m so glad you decided to come and visit me. It’s been too long.”

Despite having lived most of her seventy years in America, Maeve’s voice still held a faint Irish lilt.

“I hope I’m not putting you out,” Keara murmured, breathing in the spicy, exotic scent of Shalimar. It had been a long time since she’d seen her aunt. At that realization a twinge of guilt snapped inside her like an elastic band.

“Of course not!” Maeve smiled at her as they drew apart. “I told you on the phone, I’m thrilled to have you! It’s been far too long.”

Keara studied Maeve. A few more lines framed her bright eyes. Her auburn hair—completely unnatural, Keara knew, but hey, it was the color she’d been born with nearly seventy years ago—stood up in short spikes around her head. Maeve still took the time to apply makeup, and still dressed like the fashionable eccentric she’d always been—slim black pants, a black turtleneck and, draped around her neck, a shimmery gold and orange scarf.

Keara smiled back. “Thank you. I needed a vacation.”

“A vacation, hmmm? Well. That is fine,” Maeve clucked, and tucked Keara’s arm through hers to lead her to the back of the store. “Come on upstairs. Jayla will watch the store for a few minutes, won’t you, a rún?”

Jayla, standing behind the counter, nodded her purple-spiked head. “Of course.” Maeve quickly introduced them.

“You actually have someone helping you now?” Keara said as they walked through the Staff Only door at the back, then climbed the stairs to the second floor where Maeve lived.

“Yes. Jayla’s been working here for a few months now, part-time. It’s wonderful to have someone so I can take things a little easier.”

Most people didn’t keep working into their seventies, but her aunt wasn’t like most people. She had more energy than Keara’d ever had, even when not drained by depression and stress, although Maeve took the stairs just a little slower than Keara recalled.

Maeve’s apartment above the store reflected her eclectic style, with walls painted a deep green and mismatched furniture slip-covered in spicy shades of saffron, cinnamon and sage.

“Are you hungry?” she asked. “I can make lunch for you…”

“No. I’m not hungry. I grabbed something in Santa Barbara a little while ago.”

The drive from LA had gone quicker than she’d expected with light Sunday traffic on the Ventura freeway. When she’d arrived in Santa Barbara she’d stopped for coffee and a muffin before continuing on the last hour of her trip, north and inland to Kilkenny on that crazy winding road through San Marcos Pass.

“Coffee, then,” Maeve said briskly, moving into her small kitchen attached to the living room. “Or maybe…you’d rather a wee bit of Jameson’s.”

Keara laughed and shook her head. “It’s too early for whiskey, Maeve.” She’d never called her great-aunt by the title “aunt”, had always called her only by her first name.

“It’s never too early for whiskey,” Maeve declared, but she began filling a coffee pot with water. “Later, we’ll be celebrating your arrival here with a little toast.”

With amusement, Keara recalled how her very Irish aunt liked her Irish whiskey. “All right,” she agreed. “Coffee’s fine for now.”

Maeve spooned coffee grounds into a filter. “I’m so glad you’re okay, after what happened to you. You’ll be telling me all about it.” She looked up at Keara, hands pausing.

Keara’s body tightened. “There’s not much to talk about.” She hitched a shoulder and pasted on a smile. “It wasn’t that big a deal. I’m fine.”

“All right. I just want you to know, you can talk about it anytime you want.”

“Sure. Okay.” She nodded mendaciously.

“So, what do you want to do while you’re here? It’s been a long time since you visited Kilkenny.”

“I know.” Keara’s smile softened. “You don’t have to plan things for me, I’ll just keep myself busy. Maybe I can help you in the store.”

“Ach, that’s not necessary.”

“I have to do something.”

“I thought you wanted a wee vacation.” Maeve’s eyes narrowed.

“I…uh…do. But…you know. I can’t just lie around all day.”

“Well, if you want to help, of course you can, muirnín.”

“Thank you.”

“You’ll find Kilkenny hasn’t changed much,” Maeve said. “Of course that’s because of all those laws. The town wants to stay as Irish as possible for the tourists.”

“It looks exactly the same. As if I flew across the ocean to Ireland rather than just driving up the coast. Is the store is still doing well?”

“The store is doing fine,” Maeve said, but she frowned as she leaned against the counter while the rich scent of coffee filled the air around them.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Well. Business is still good. Not only do the tourists get a kick out of The Irish Sex Fairy Shop, the locals make good use of my products also.”

“It amazes me that they’re not embarrassed to shop here,” Keara said. “Kilkenny is not that big, after all.”

“Why would they be embarrassed?” Maeve demanded. “Sex is natural and healthy. Most people do it. And most people like to spice things up now and then.”

Keara grinned. Her aunt’s refreshing openness and energy was just what she needed right now. “I guess that’s true.”

Maeve shrugged, a smile playing over her mouth. “Of course it’s true. Nothing to be embarrassed about. But there’s this big new sex super-shop opened up down the coast near Santa Barbara. Right next to the Home Depot. Lots of people are going to check it out.”

“A sex super-shop?” Wow.

Maeve shrugged. “It’s huge, but very impersonal. I doubt if it will have a lasting impact on my business.”

Maybe some people preferred impersonal anonymity when shopping for romance products. “Well. I hope not.”

“But I keep busy. I’m still involved with the Chamber of Commerce and the committee for Irish Days.”

“That’s great.” Keara shook her head in admiration, remembering how much fun the Irish Days festival had been. “You put us all to shame, Maeve.”

“Bah.” She waved a hand, then straightened and reached for two mugs. “You’ll be just like me when you’re seventy. You’ll see. Everyone always said we were alike.”

Really. Keara supposed they did share a certain drive, but Maeve had managed to follow her own path without caring what people thought of her, and people still liked her. Keara, on the other hand…ah, she didn’t want to think about that just now.

She accepted a cup of coffee from her aunt and they sat down on her couch. “Tell me about your love life,” Maeve invited, and Keara choked on a mouthful of coffee.

“Oh dear,” Maeve said. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay, Maeve. I don’t have much of a love life lately. For a while I was dating a nice guy but it just wasn’t…right. You know?”

“Hmm.” Shrewd emerald eyes, just like her own, assessed her. “Yes, I do know. So he was a nice boy. How was the sex?”

Again, Keara’s breath stalled. She shook her head. “It was okay. That’s what I meant…he was nice but not…you know.”

“Ah. No good in bed.” Maeve shook her head sadly. “That’s too bad, but that’ll kill a relationship every time. So you’re not seeing anyone right now?”

“No.” Keara sighed. “I work long hours. I have my girlfriends, and we go out together. Some dates, but…” She hitched a shoulder. “I guess I’ve been too focused on my work.”

“Being a bank manager is an important job,” Maeve said. “Your parents would be proud of what you’ve accomplished.”

“I hope so.” Regret that her parents hadn’t lived to see her success sent an ache through her. They’d been killed in a car accident just after she’d started her career at the bank.

“But you’re young. You should be having fun.”

“I do have fun.”

Maeve smiled slowly. “With a man.”

“You’re one to talk.” Keara clasped her hands around the warmth of the cup. “You never got married. You must not think it’s that important.”

Maeve’s face softened and her eyes focused on something behind Keara for a moment. “Yes, I never married,” she finally said. “But that doesn’t mean I was never in love. And,” she snapped her gaze back to Keara, “it doesn’t mean I don’t have men in my life.”

Good God, she was seventy years old! Keara didn’t know whether to cringe or be impressed. She decided to go with impressed. “So, who are you seeing, then?” she asked mischievously.

“Well, Glen O’Donnell and I have been out a few times.” Maeve’s eyes twinkled. “He’s a widower, and quite a hottie, too.”

Keara laughed. “A hottie? Oh, my goodness, I have to meet him.” Then she had a thought. “I won’t be cramping your style if I stay here, will I?”

Maeve waved a hand. “No, no. We can just as easily go to his place. Don’t worry about it at all.”

Okay. Keara swallowed her amusement. Not only did seventy-year-old Maeve have more energy than Keara, she had a better sex life too. Damn.

Maeve glanced at her watch. “I should get back down and let Jayla take a break. Why don’t you go get your things and unpack? You can stay in the spare bedroom, as usual of course.” She stood and led the way toward it, shaking her head. “Although it does seem like a very long time since you’ve been here and done that.”

Thirteen years. When she put a number to it, it was an embarrassingly long time ago. How had she let time get away from her like that? She’d gone to college, started her career. Her life was busy…she rolled her bottom lip in and sucked on it as she followed Maeve, guilt weighing heavy on her shoulders. God. As if she didn’t have enough guilt wearing her down right now.

“Here you go,” Maeve said. “I’ve redecorated the room. I hope you like it.”

“It’s fine.” Keara’s gaze moved over the Limerick lace curtains at the window, the lace cushions on the bed. She walked over to the dresser and stroked a hand across the polished golden oak, then smoothed the woven cotton throw on the bed with its intricate Celtic knots pattern. “It’s so pretty, Maeve.”

“Thank you.”

Keara followed her back down the stairs but she went out to her car parked on the street just down from the shop. The stone and beamed style of the buildings lining the street, the hanging wooden signs in front of the shops, and the curvy wrought iron street lamps made her feel like she was in Europe. As a teenager, she’d thought it a little cheesy, embarrassing even, for someone of Irish roots who didn’t really think much about her heritage.

She hefted her suitcase out of the trunk of her little BMW convertible, purchased as a reward when she’d been promoted to manager at Palladium Bank. The March sun warmed her face and the cool breeze held fresh green hints of spring. Saturday traffic clogged the street, and throngs of tourists wandered in and out of the small shops and pubs.

She carried the suitcase through the store and back upstairs, with a wave for Maeve, who was showing some customers a selection of lubricants. “This one is water based,” Keara overheard as she passed by. She pursed her lips against the smile tugging them. Lubricants. Jesus.

She spent a while unpacking her things, arranging her toiletries on the dresser, hanging some clothes in the small closet. Compared to the huge walk-in closet in her condo, it was miniscule, but then, she hadn’t brought her extensive wardrobe with her. Probably even the bank managers in Kilkenny didn’t dress in Donna Karan suits and Stuart Weitzman pumps.

Keara shut the closet door and sighed. She loved clothes and shoes, and shopping was a major pastime for her and her girlfriends. But what did it matter here if she wore ragged jeans and T-shirts every day? Nobody would mind, and clothes didn’t seem worth worrying about.

The quiet apartment sent her back down the stairs seeking some human contact. Maeve and Jayla stood behind the counter, Jayla ringing up a purchase for a customer while Maeve slipped a large box of condoms into a small, bright green plastic bag. Discretion must be the reason for the plain bag with no logo.

Keara lifted her eyes from the purchase to the customer. The man laughed at something Maeve had said, and two deep dimples creased his tanned cheeks. Something fluttered low inside Keara and she stopped just inside the doorway.

Sapphire eyes sparkled beneath dark, thick brows. Black hair cropped short on his perfectly shaped head, neat sideburns and a shadow of dark beard made him look just like an Abercrombie and Fitch model.

Shane.

Heat and memories swept over her as she stood there in the doorway. The last summer she’d been to Kilkenny she and Shane Dunstan had…connected. Combusted. They’d spent every minute they could together before Keara went back to LA to start college.

He seemed taller. Did boys grow even after they were eighteen? He seemed broader, too, with powerful shoulders and arms stretching a black T-shirt. She swallowed, and just as she started to turn and leave, Maeve spotted her.

“Keara, come here, muirnín. Come and say hello to Shane.”

Keara felt her eyes grow wide and she swallowed through a dry throat. She forced her feet to move forward.

“Shane, you remember Keara, surely?”

Those gem-like eyes fastened on her. His brows lifted, then drew down into a frown. He didn’t smile. “Keara. Long time no see. Nice of you to finally visit your aunt.”

Keara blinked. Had he just been snotty to her?

“Shane is now the deputy police chief here in Kilkenny,” Maeve continued cheerily.

“And a customer,” Keara added, eyeing the bag Maeve handed him.

His lips twitched. “That’s right. Is that a problem?”

She shrugged. “Not a problem at all. Nice to see the police shopping in a sex shop.”

His brows snapped together. “What the…”

“Keara,” Maeve said. “Shane is off-duty, and even police officers have sex lives.”

And you don’t, Keara finished for her. Fine. She didn’t need sex. It was way overrated.

Kayla’s cheeks heated and she lifted one foot and set it atop the other as she stood behind the counter. “Quite an active one from the size of that box,” she said, nodding.

Shane grinned. “I’m hoping.”

Oh lord. Who was the lucky girl he was going to be having sex with tonight? Keara’s cheeks burned at scorching memories of her and Shane together.

He lifted the bag in a wave. “Thanks, Maeve. I’ll see you next weekend. Mom says you’re coming for dinner.” The smile disappeared. “Nice seeing you again, Keara.”

Well. He apparently didn’t treasure those memories the same way she did. It was as if he didn’t even remember that summer. In fact, he’d seemed downright…cool toward her.

“Have fun tonight!” Maeve called as he strode out of the store.

“Shane has a hot date tonight with a woman from Santa Barbara,” Maeve said. “And it’s about time he started dating again. That bitseach he was engaged to broke his heart.”

“Maeve!” Keara still remembered the Gaelic curses Maeve was fond of using.

“She was a bitch,” Maeve replied unapologetically.

Shane had been engaged? But apparently wasn’t married now. Keara rolled her lips in. Why was she even thinking about that? What had been between them was a long, long time ago.

“And what was that rudeness about, may I ask, young lady?”

Keara licked her lips. “He was rude to me first.”

Maeve arched a brow. “He was?”

“Never mind.” God, what was wrong with her? She’d never in her life been deliberately rude to someone. But that jab about finally visiting her aunt had struck a nerve she didn’t even know was there.

“You and Shane were friends at one time,” Maeve said, tapping her lips with one finger.

Ha. Friends. Had Maeve not realized what was going on between them?

“Did you two have a fight or something that summer?”

“No.” Keara looked at the floor.

“Well, you just need to get reacquainted. Everyone loves Shane. Not only is he delicious-looking, but he could charm the moss off a tree. He’s so charming he can tell someone to go to hell and have him look forward to the trip.”

Keara couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her at that.

“And…” Maeve winked. “You should see him in his uniform. Jesus and Mary, he looks hot.”

More customers entered the store and Jayla and Maeve became occupied helping them. Keara retreated upstairs to the apartment, head full of thoughts and images of Shane. She hadn’t thought about him in years. And there was no reason to think about him now.

* * *

Keara woke with a gasp. Her cotton tank clung damply to her skin. She stared at the ceiling, her heart thudding, taking in big lungs full of oxygen through her nose. She pressed a hand to her stomach.

For a few heartbeats she didn’t know where she was. Moonlight peeked between the edge of the blind on the window and created a strip of lacy light through the curtain.

Maeve’s. She was at Maeve’s. She was okay.

But damn, she’d had the nightmare again.

She took a few more deep breaths, her heart slowing. Then she sat up in the bed, shoving the pretty coverlet down her legs. She sat cross-legged in the dark for long moments, trying to forget the gruesome dream.

She knew from experience she would not get right back to sleep. The doctor had told her not to lie there and dwell on things, but to get up and have a cup of herbal tea, read a good book, do some knitting.

She didn’t know how to knit.

Maybe Maeve knew how to knit. Or crochet. Maybe she could teach her.

But that was no help tonight. She swung her legs out of bed, reached for the lamp and flicked it on. Shadows shrank back into the corners of the room. She stood on the soft cotton rug, straightened her tank top and ran her thumbs under the low waistband of the little shorts she wore. She’d brought a couple of books with her, so she retrieved one from the shelf she’d set it on, and looked back at the bed. Maybe she’d go sit in the living room and read for a while.

Television was supposedly bad. It played with your brain waves or something, and interfered with sleep, rather than induce it, but after Keara found herself rereading the same page three times, she tossed her book aside and picked up the remote for the TV. Then she glanced down the hall at Maeve’s room. She didn’t want to disturb her aunt.

She leaned her head back against the couch. The television provided voices almost like human company and she probably relied on it too much to soothe her agitated nerves.

Herbal tea. Did Maeve actually have any of that?

Keara padded into the kitchen and opened and closed cupboards, feeling a little like she was snooping. When she opened a cupboard and spotted the bottle of Jameson’s, she paused. With a little huff of laughter she recalled her aunt’s earlier insistence that they have a drink and toast Keara’s being there. “Sláinte chugat,” Maeve had said, lifting her glass.

Another shot of whiskey might be the answer. Why not? It didn’t look like Maeve had any chamomile tea. So she poured amber liquid into a glass and wandered back to the living room. She peered out the window overlooking the street, now quiet and deserted, light pooling in a circle around paving stones beneath the street lamp. Alone.

On a long inhalation, she turned and surveyed the room. Hey. She could go downstairs and look around the store. She could check out every single kinky thing there with nobody else around.

On bare feet, she padded out of the apartment and toward the stairs, feeling for the light switch she knew was at the top. She flicked it on, descended and pushed through the door into the front of the store. She debated whether to put the lights on. She didn’t want to attract attention from anyone passing by but…there was no one passing by at this time of night. And wandering around in the dark shop did not appeal to her. She looked at the small clock on the desk behind the counter. Ten minutes after three.

With a shrug, she flicked on the light and strolled over to a wall display, her glass of whiskey clutched in both hands. She lifted it to her lips and sipped, the strong spirits almost taking her breath away. How did Maeve drink this stuff? Give her a nice Pinot Noir any day.

She studied the vibrators arranged on shelves. Rabbits, pocket rockets, bullets. Waterproof. Dual ended. Good lord, there was quite a variety. She’d left her own trusty rabbit back in LA. Along with her love of clothes, shopping and dining out, another thing she’d lost interest in over the last six weeks was orgasms.

She moved along the wall to the lubricants. Another large selection. She studied lotions flavored with strawberry, pineapple and coconut, chocolate body paint and honey dust. Now that was intriguing…

She paused in front of a display of lingerie, fingered the silky fabric of a cami set that was surprisingly pretty. Real silk in a rich gold color.

A rap on the glass door had her whirling around, whiskey sloshing out of her glass over her hand, her heart surging in her chest. She gave a small cry, eyes searching at the dark window. Jesus, was someone out there?

She saw movement, a dark head then a face at the door peering in.

Her feet froze to the floor, skin prickling as every hair on her body rose, pulse skittering. Dear God, the place was being robbed. Run. She had to run. But as in her nightmares, when she tried to move her feet it felt like she was dragging them through thick mud, her legs heavy. She stood there paralyzed, blood pounding in her ears.

Chapter Four

“Keara!”

Oh for— It was Shane. She pressed a hand to her racing heart, the adrenaline rush making her legs go mushy. With the lights on, she had to be clearly visible in there, so ducking out wasn’t an option.

She cautiously moved to the door and glared at him, putting a hand on the door frame to steady herself. In the wake of the adrenaline rush, weakness slid through her.

“What are you doing?” he asked, and she could hear him through the glass as well as read his lips. “Let me in.”

She shook her head. “No.”

He scowled. “Are you all right?”

“No! You scared the crap out of me!” Now she slumped fully against the wall. She sucked in a long breath.

“Keara, let me in!”

“I’m not letting a strange man in here in the middle of the night.”

“Keara. I’m hardy a stranger.”

So he did remember. Her body tightened. Her eyes met his through the glass.

“I’m also a cop, for Chrissake. I’m just trying to make sure everything’s all right.”

“I don’t care if you’re Jesus himself,” she replied. “I don’t really know you.”

He rolled his eyes.

With a sigh, she punched in the numbers to disable the alarm system Maeve had showed her how to use so she could come and go as she pleased. She unlocked the door and Shane stepped into the store, closed the door behind him and flicked the lock again.

“What the hell are you doing down here in the middle of the night?” he demanded.

“I couldn’t sleep. I decided to come down and look around.”

He stared at her and she realized he had a smear of something on his jaw. She gazed at it. “Uh…you have something…” She lifted her hand point at it and realized what it was. Lipstick. “You have lipstick on your face,” she said. “Guess the date went well tonight, huh? Make use of all those condoms?”

Shane blinked at her, lifted a hand to his cheek.

“Other side,” she said. He scrubbed at his stubbly jaw.

Date? Condoms? Oh yeah. Considering he’d only rolled out of Laila’s bed an hour ago, he’d forgotten her pretty damn quickly. Maeve’s niece had knocked him off balance.

She seemed a lot different than the passionate, vibrant girl he remembered. The girl who’d driven him wild with lust. Now she was pale, with dark shadows under those sparkling emerald green eyes that had bewitched him. Now, she could freeze whiskey with a glance of those witchy eyes.

“The date was fine,” he said. “And yeah…” He eyed her and gave a deliberate smirk. “The sex was safe.”

“I’m so glad for you,” she snapped, taking a step back. Which was when he realized she was barely dressed. A thin, ribbed white cotton tank top clearly outlined her small breasts, shadowy nipples prominent, and the little shorts, white with pink hearts, revealed her long, sleek legs. Oh man. He’d touched those breasts. He’d had those legs wrapped around him. His dick hardened.

She held a glass in one hand and gave the other hand a shake, drops flying off it. She muttered something he couldn’t hear.

“Spill your drink?” he asked. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“What the hell else do you think my reaction would be? I wasn’t exactly expecting company. And anyway, what are you doing here?” Her eyes swept over him. Please don’t let her notice my hard-on. “You’re not wearing your uniform, so it’s not like you were out patrolling or something.”

“As deputy police chief, I rarely patrol anymore,” he replied, a smile curling his lips. “I was just on my way home.” He lifted a brow.

“Oh.” She rolled her lips in. Pretty lips, except she seemed to perpetually hold them in a tight line. “So it was a late night.”

“Or early morning.” He shrugged, shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Whatever.”

She took a sip of what little remained in the glass. It looked like whiskey. Did she share Maeve’s enthusiasm for a wee dram of the Jameson’s?

“Well, if you’re okay and the place isn’t being robbed…”

She flinched, a flash of something like fear in her eyes, her mouth tightening even more. The whiskey again threatened to leap out of the glass. “That’s why I stopped,” he explained, watching her carefully. “I thought maybe someone had broken in…”

Her eyes shifted, went glassy, and she rubbed her fingers over one eyebrow. “No,” she rasped. “No one broke in.”

And then he remembered. It had been all over the news and Maeve had been distraught with worry about her great-niece. “Fuck,” he muttered, straightening. “I’m sorry. I forgot…”

Her eyes blinked rapidly. “You know about the robbery.”

“Yeah. Are you okay?”

She laughed. Kind of a weird reaction. “Of course I’m okay! It happened six weeks ago. I’m fine.”

The fingers lifting the glass to her lips trembled now and he realized he had indeed scared the shit out of her. Damn. “I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said. “Are you sure you’re all right? Come on, I’ll make sure you get upstairs all right.”

“That is not necessary,” she replied, her tone frosty. “I’m fine. You can go. Thanks for checking, though, I know my aunt would appreciate you keeping an eye on the store.”

Her cool politeness was only slightly less annoying than it had been earlier. The fact that she’d ignored her old aunt for years still pissed him off, but the glimpse of vulnerability beneath the icy façade appealed to his need to protect. Dammit. After what she’d been through, no wonder he’d scared her. What an idiot he was.

“Are you sure?” He didn’t want to leave her, now he remembered what had happened to her.

“Yes I’m sure!” She scowled at him, a pretty scowl, but it carried a clear message.

“Fine,” he said. “Sorry to bother you.” He turned and opened the door, then paused. “Make sure you lock this and rearm the alarm.”

“I’m not stupid.”

He stepped out onto the sidewalk, and even though he knew she was far from stupid, he waited until he heard the locks click. Then the lights inside the shop went out and he could no longer see her.

Well. In the cool, damp night air, he sauntered back to his car parked at the curb. Fucking weird, because he’d just had several rounds of vigorous sex, but all he could think about was kissing Keara’s tight mouth into a soft pout, like he had all those years ago. Why had she shown up here after all these years? And why was his head full of her instead of the sexy blonde he’d just had hot sex with?

* * *

Keara woke when Maeve pushed open the door of her bedroom and said softly, “You going to sleep all day, muirnín?”

“What time is it?” Keara shoved her hair out of her face and tried to focus blurry eyes on of the alarm clock beside the bed. “Eleven o’clock! Dear God!”

“I thought you needed the sleep.” Maeve smiled as she withdrew from the bedroom.

Keara sat up and stared fuzzily across the room. Yeah. She’d needed the sleep. Losing a few hours in the middle of the night did that to you. Her sleep patterns had been so messed up lately, with nightmares and insomnia and…gorgeous, annoying cops.

She remembered the embarrassing encounter with Shane in the middle of the night. Him on his way home from a hot date where he’d apparently used a whole box of condoms. Her—edgy, sleepless, grouchy…and alone. She sighed and flopped back down on the bed, arms out at her sides.

What was the point of getting out of bed? She had nothing to do. Nobody cared.

Oh brother. Want some cheese with that whine? There was nothing wrong with her. She just needed a little diversion. Coming here had been the right thing to do. She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed.

She showered. Dressed. Found coffee in the kitchen and drank it while she poked in Maeve’s cupboards for breakfast. Maeve must have gone back down to the store.

She pulled out some bagels and bread. Carbs. Ugh. She’d given up carbs years ago. Cottage cheese and egg whites apparently weren’t part of Maeve’s diet. And yet she was so slim and trim. Not fair.

Keara probably didn’t need to worry about carbs right now either. She’d lost at least ten pounds, and she didn’t have ten pounds to lose. But once again, she couldn’t bring herself to care.

In fact, she wasn’t really hungry, so why she was looking for breakfast she had no idea. Coffee was perfect.

She carried her mug down the stairs to the store to find her great-aunt.

Maeve handed a package to a customer with a smile and thanks, and the customer turned to leave. Maeve eyed Keara. “You’re up, sleepyhead,” she remarked, but her smile and gentle tone softened the words. “You must have been needing sleep.”

“I was up for a while in the night,” Keara told her. “I couldn’t sleep. I happens to me sometimes.” It had happened even before the hostage taking. That was just the way she was.

“Oh, muirnín.” Maeve’s smile faded. “Have you been having nightmares?”

“I had the odd one.” She forced a smile and waved a hand. “But it’s nothing serious. They’re just dreams. The sleep thing kind of has me messed up.”

“Well. I say, don’t worry about it. While you’re here, sleep when you feel like sleeping. You don’t need to be on a schedule. After a while your body will just figure out what it’s supposed to do.”

“I suppose.”

Maeve regarded her, head tilted. “If you need sleep, go sleep. Even if it’s the middle of the day.”

“Good sleep hygiene is sticking to a schedule.”

“That’s a load of ballsch.” Maeve frowned. “I’ve never liked schedules. It pains me to have to open and close the store at the times I’ve said, but customers get annoyed if they come here and I’m closed when they expect me to be open.”

Keara laughed. “Yeah. That’s kinda the way the world works.”

“Just relax, muirnín. A good laugh and a long sleep are the two best cures. Well, that and sex. It will all come in time. The day of the big wind is no time to be doing the thatching.”

Keara stared at her, coffee mug clutched in two hands, struggling to keep up with her aunt, the mention of sex a little disconcerting. “Uh…what? Thatching?”

Maeve laughed. “There’s a time for everything,” she said. “Just relax while you’re here and let nature take its course.”

It sounded like good advice to her, so Keara nodded.

“Seriously, though.” Maeve tapped her chin. “Sex is most likely what you need. There’s nothing like several good orgasms to relax you.”

Keara’s mouth fell open and thankfully several customers entered the store and began wandering around. Maeve strolled over to offer help, but they all just wanted to look.

“Probably too embarrassed to ask for what they’re looking for,” Maeve whispered to Keara when she returned to the counter. They exchanged a smile, and let the customers browse.

“I have to phone this supplier,” Maeve said with a frown. She picked up some papers. “I ordered these cock rings months ago and they’re still not here. Every time I call they tell me they’ve already been shipped. Can you keep an eye on things for a few minutes?”

Keara nodded, struck dumb by mention of cock rings—if the customers had any questions she sure wasn’t going to be able to answer them. She perched on a stool behind the counter and sipped her coffee, wondering if she needed to worry about shoplifting.

The young couple—were they even old enough to have sex?—were looking at condoms. At least they’d be having safe sex. That was good. An older man explored some toys, and two women were investigating the uh…whips and chains in the BDSM corner. Keara kept her face neutral, found a catalogue under the counter to flip through while she sat there.

Maeve returned moments later with a frown, and rapped the cordless phone down on the counter.

“They still say they sent them?”

“Yes. And…they say I signed for it. February twenty-first. That’s crazy. I don’t have the stuff.”

“Oh.” Keara lifted a shoulder, not sure what to say. “Where could it be?”

“I’ve no idea. Fecking eejits, the lot of them.”

Keara swallowed her smile. “Is there anything I can do? Maybe I could try to trace it through the USPS or…was it FedEx? Some other delivery service.”

“Just a moment. I’ll find the papers. Maybe you can help.”

The young couple approached the counter with their purchases, and Maeve stopped. “I’ll just ring this up first.”

When they’d left, Keara said, “Maybe you could show me how to run the till, and I could help out with customers too.”

Maeve’s emerald eyes fastened on her. “Are you sure, muirnín? You don’t have to work while you’re here.”

Keara shook her head. “I like to be busy.” She couldn’t do nothing. It just wasn’t in her. She’d inherited the workaholic gene from her parents, and she was proud of it.

“I thought this was a vacation?” Shrewd green eyes studied her.

“You know I take after Mom and Dad,” Keara said with a laugh. “They never stopped working.”

“True.” Maeve sighed. “Okay. Let’s do that first. Then I’ll let you try to track down that missing shipment for me.”

Keara got a quick lesson on how to use the till and got to practice as more customers came and went. The Irish Sex Fairy Shop was a busy little place in downtown Kilkenny. Too bad about that sex superstore opening up. Hopefully it wouldn’t take much business away from Maeve.

It was an hour before they had a break in business and then Maeve suggested they stop for lunch. She went upstairs to make sandwiches while Keara manned the store on her own.

“What do you do when you’re alone?” Keara asked as they ate ham and cheese sandwiches while sitting behind the counter.

“Just this,” Maeve said. “I grab something and eat it when there’s a break. Sometimes I just don’t get time to eat lunch.”

“That’s no good, Maeve.” Keara frowned. “You should have someone so you can take breaks.”

“I do have Jayla. She can’t work as much as I’d like, but it’s a help. I have had other helpers from time to time. But they never stick around very long, and it’s such a pain in the arse to advertise, hire someone, and then train them. And then two months later they’re gone.”

A delivery man arrived with two large cartons which Maeve signed for. Keara eyed the big boxes sitting on the floor. “What do you do with stuff like that when you’re alone?” she asked. “Those are too big and heavy for you to move.”

“I just unpack them here.” Maeve reached for a box cutter under the counter. “And put the merchandise out. Or sometimes Shane comes around and helps me if I need to move heavy things.”

“Oh.” Shane. “I forgot to tell you. He stopped by last night.”

Maeve paused, her hand above the cardboard box, and frowned. “Last night? When last night?”

“About three o’clock.”

Maeve’s auburn brows flew up toward her hairline. “In the middle of the night? He came to see you?”

“No, no. I was up. Insomnia. I was wandering around down here uh…looking around, and he saw the light on. So he came and knocked on the door and scared the hell out of me.”

Maeve laughed. “Oh dear. I’m sorry.”

Keara shrugged and wiped crumbs from her fingers with a paper serviette. “Let me open that box. You finish your lunch.”

So Shane helped out her aunt. What a guy. That must be considered above and beyond for the deputy police chief. But then, Shane’s mom and Maeve were good friends. Shane was as much like a nephew to Maeve as Keara was a niece. In fact—shame slid through her—probably more.

“He’s so thoughtful that way.” Maeve picked up her sandwich. “He helps look after his parents too.”

“Good of him,” Keara muttered, slashing the box open. She folded back the sides and reached in, began pulling out boxes containing massage oils and…er…lotions. She read the label—Love Licker. Strawberry melon flavor. Whoa.

Maeve watched her and told her where the items should be displayed, then helped her arrange them.

“There.” Maeve dusted her hands together. “That’s wonderful. Thank you for your help, muirnín.”

“I have to do something while I’m here. Now, what about that missing shipment?”

“What missing shipment?”

Keara smiled. “The one you phoned about this morning. The one they said you signed for in February.”

Maeve’s confused frown made Keara pause.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Maeve said. She put a hand to her head. “We talked about that this morning?”

Keara nodded slowly. “Yes. Don’t you remember?” Worry slid through her, thick and heavy.

“Oh yes, of course!” Maeve rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry about it, muirnín. I’ll take care of it.”

“Are you sure?” Keara wasn’t convinced Maeve did in fact remember what they were talking about. And she’d said earlier Keara could help with it. It didn’t make sense.

But she didn’t push it, and picked up the plates they’d eaten lunch off to take them upstairs.

In Maeve’s kitchen she loaded them into the dishwasher along with coffee mugs and a few other things sitting in the sink, then leaned against the counter after she’d closed the door of the dishwasher. How could Maeve forget something they’d talked about only a few hours ago? And she’d been so annoyed after her telephone conversation with the supplier. Weird.

She went back down to the shop.

“Can I use your computer, Maeve?” she asked. “I’d like to email my friends and let them know I’m away for a while.”

“Of course. In my office. Feel free to use it whenever you like.”

Keara had been impressed to see Maeve using a computer, keeping her business records, emailing and even using “that Internet thing” as Maeve called it. She sat down at Maeve’s computer and logged into her own email, and sent a quick message off to Monica, Paige and Essie to let them know where she was. They’d been so worried about her—for no reason, because she was fine—she wanted them to know she’d just gone on a little holiday. She smiled wryly as she tapped at the keys. No more middle of the night phone calls.

Chapter Five

Shane strolled into The Irish Sex Fairy. To his surprise, Keara stood behind the counter ringing up a purchase. Huh. Maeve had her working.

Still pale and thin, dressed in skinny black jeans and a floaty yellow top, her golden red hair swung around her shoulders. The shadows in her eyes seemed to have diminished but smudges below the eyes said she still hadn’t been sleeping well.

Something tugged at his conscience with a twinge. She looked like she’d been through hell.

She lifted her head and saw him walking in, and a faint frown flickered across her face. What? Had he pissed her off that much by scaring the bejesus out of her in the middle of the night?

“Hello,” she said. “What can I do for you today?”

He opened his mouth to say “nothing”, and then closed it. Did he want to tell her he was there checking up not only on Maeve, but her? Somehow, no, he didn’t. So he grabbed a box of condoms and slapped them on the counter. “I’ll take these.”

Her pretty mouth pinched and she rang up the purchase without a word, slipping the box into the red plastic bag.

“Shane!” Maeve had finished with her customers and spotted him, and zipped across the store. “How are you? How was your date last weekend?”

“Must’ve been good,” Keara muttered handing him the bag of condoms. His cheeks heated but he smiled at Maeve.

“It was fine,” he said. “Great.”

“That’s so good! You need more fun in your life. You must bring your new girlfriend around to meet me sometime.”

Shane didn’t want to tell her that he wasn’t going to be seeing Laila again. Gorgeous girl, and she’d been as horny as he had last weekend, making for a great night of hot, no-strings sex, but she hadn’t really sparked his interest on any other level. But how else to explain the jumbo box of condoms he now held in his hands? He tried to hold them unobtrusively at his side.

“Sometime,” he prevaricated. “How are things here? Need anything moved? Nails hammered? Screws tightened?”

Maeve swatted his shoulder with a trill of laughter. “Don’t be silly, a rún. I can hammer a nail and I can screw…well, let’s not go there.”

“Let’s not,” he agreed with a return smile.

“There are some boxes in the back I wouldn’t mind moved,” she told him, biting her bottom lip. “If you have a minute. I just want to store them on a higher shelf.”

“Sure. I’ll do it right now.” He glanced at Keara as he followed Maeve, felt her eyes on him as they walked through the Staff Only door. He strode into a storeroom where Maeve kept extra stock and supplies.

“These two boxes.” She indicated a couple of large cartons on the floor. “They’ve been sitting there for weeks just getting in the way. I’d like them up on that top shelf.”

He eyed the shelf. “Gonna be hard to get them down. What’s in them? Stuff you won’t need any time soon?”

Keara’s face appeared in the door. “Maeve? A customer is asking for you.”

“Oh. All right. I’ll be right back.” She fluttered out of the room, leaving Keara and Shane alone.

“Know what’s in those boxes?” Shane asked, waving a hand.

“Um…no. But let’s look.”

She went to unfold the flaps but realized that packing tape sealed the boxes. “These look like they’ve never been opened.” She frowned. A packing slip inside a plastic pouch was taped to the top of one, and she ripped it off and opened it. Unfolding the papers, she nibbled her bottom lip.

“What is it?” Shane asked, watching her. The lip-nibbling thing was extremely sexy. His body responded.

A frown edged Keara’s brows. “I think this is the…uh…stuff she was looking for the other day. She said it hadn’t arrived.” She scanned the paper and her brows rose. “February. This was shipped in February. This is the shipment.” She lifted her eyes from the page to meet his. “I don’t get it.”

“Get what?” His own gut tightened a little.

“Maeve was all upset because this shipment was missing. She’s been calling the supplier and they said it was shipped. So she got me to call the delivery company and they insisted she signed for it. They’re sending me copies of the delivery slip, but…” She blinked. “This is it. It must have been sitting here for the last month.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.” She licked her lips then made a face. “I uh…well, she’ll be happy that we found it.”

Shane cursed inside. This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened, only one more reason why he checked in on Maeve from time to time. He drew in a breath. “I’m sure she will.”

Keara tipped her head and looked at him through narrowed eyes. “You don’t seem surprised by this.”

He paused while he debated what to say to Keara.

But Maeve reappeared in the door. “Oh. You haven’t moved them yet.” She divided a look between the two of them and smiled. “Am I interrupting something?”

“No.” Shane smiled back at her. “But Maeve, let’s look in these boxes before we move them up on that shelf.”

He cut the box open and Keara helped Maeve open it and pull items out. When Maeve saw what was in it, her face drew into confused lines. Keara held out the packing slip. “Is this the missing order?” she asked quietly.

Maeve took it and glanced it over. “Yes. Yes it is.” She frowned. “But…when did this arrive? I’ve been waiting for this for over a month.”

Shane met Keara’s eyes and he read the concern there. “Well, good thing I didn’t put it away,” he said easily, stepping forward. “I’ll take these out front and you can unpack them.”

“Thank you, Shane.”

He hated the look of uncertain confusion on Maeve’s face as he hefted the box and strode out with it. Damn, he hated it. He was going to have to talk to Keara.

* * *

Keara trailed along behind Shane, the muscles in his arms bulging beneath the short sleeves of his navy T-shirt as he carried the heavy box out to the store. Despite her confusion and concern, her gaze drifted down his muscled back to his tight butt in faded jeans.

She tucked her top lip under her teeth, and forced her eyes not to stare at his buff body. Maeve. She was worried about Maeve.

He lowered the box to the floor, glanced at her then went back for the other one. “Let me help,” Keara murmured to Maeve. “I think I know where these things go now.”

She unpacked the cock rings and erection aids and Maeve went to look after another customer. Shane returned with the second box and without saying a word, opened it and started helping.

She flicked a glance at him. “You don’t need to help,” she said.

He scowled. “I’m helping. And when we’re done you and I are going across the street to the Shamrock for coffee.”

She blinked at him, hands pausing in the box. “We are?”

“We are.” His straight mouth and lowered brows disinclined her to argue with him, so she said nothing and they worked together to place the stock on the shelves.

“Over here,” she indicated at one point, and he moved the items to the other end of the shelf. When they were done, he closed the boxes up with fast, sure movements. She watched his hands, long fingers dusted with dark hair, strong wrists and sinewy forearms. Sexy.

“I’ll take these out back for recycling,” he said. “Wait here.”

Keara’s tummy flipped and she moved beside Maeve at the counter. “Um…Shane and I are going out for coffee. Is that okay?”

Maeve’s head whipped around and she gaped at Keara. Then, with a glance at the customer across the counter from her, she smiled brilliantly. “Of course it’s okay! You two go on, I’m fine here.”

Keara smiled, but groaned inwardly. What was Maeve thinking in that foxy head of hers?

Shane returned and unsmilingly jerked his head toward the door.

“I’m coming,” she muttered. If Maeve thought they were becoming friends again, she was so wrong.

The Shamrock Cafe was across the street from the Irish Sex Fairy Shop. They paused at the curb to let a few cars pass, then dashed across the four lanes in a break in the traffic.

“You just jaywalked,” Keara pointed out. “An officer of the law just committed a crime.”

He slanted her a grin, blue eyes sparkling. “Arrest me.”

She tried to repress her own smile unsuccessfully. He held the door to the restaurant open for her and she preceded him in.

They sat at a small table in the window, the bright sun stippling the black tabletop with light and shadow through the Irish lace curtains.

“Just coffee,” Shane said to the waitress and Keara nodded her agreement.

Shane was staring at her, studying her.

“Why are we here?” she asked, shifting in her chair.

“To talk about your aunt.”

She nodded. “I’m concerned about her.”

“So am I.”

She did not want to hear that. “This isn’t the first thing she’s forgotten.” She told him about the other incidents. The waitress appeared and set their cups of coffee in front of them. They both drank it black.

“I’ve noticed it, too,” he said quietly. “It seems to be happening more and more often.”

“Everyone has lapses.”

“True. Hell, just yesterday I went all the way from my office to the supply room, and couldn’t remember why. For a few minutes. The other day I couldn’t find my insurance renewal form. I’d set it aside to pay at the end of the week, but couldn’t for the life of me remember where. It happens to everyone.” Then he scowled. “You know, you’re the only family she has.”

“She has family in Ireland.”

He snorted. “That’s not much help to her. But then…neither are you.”

“What do you mean?” She stared at him across the table, hurt slicing through her. Her cheeks grew hot.

“Just what I said. You may live closer than Ireland, but you never visit her. You haven’t been here in years. She talks about you all the time, you know…how proud she is of you, and how you were promoted to manager, how beautiful you are, and the ‘sex in the city’ life you lead in Los Angeles.”

Keara choked on her sip of coffee. “Sex in the city?”

“That’s what she calls it. I gather you do nothing but shop and party with your friends and have sex with men named Mr. Big.”

Despite the seriousness of their conversation, she laughed. “Mr. Big? I wish!”

Then her smile faded. “I guess my life is kind of like that, but…” She shook her head. “It’s not a TV show. I work hard. I love my career. And my friends are important to me, but we do more than just shop and party.”

“Really.” His skepticism heated her cheeks even more. “What else do you do?”

“Well I…go to yoga class.” That didn’t sound much better. “The bank supports a number of charities and I’ve been involved with Wishes for Kids.”

“Through your work.”

“Yes. But…”

“Never mind.” He slashed a hand through the hair. “We didn’t come here to talk about your wonderful life. We need to…”

“Just a minute!” She leaned forward. “Just a goddamn minute! Who are you to sneer at my life? Even if all I do is shop and party and have sex…what business is it of yours, and who are you to judge me? The man who goes through a box of condoms a week!”

He opened his mouth, but she kept going. “And my life is not so wonderful right now, in case you didn’t notice.” She closed her eyes against a sharp slice of fear inside her. “Don’t tell me my life is wonderful. You have no idea.”

He sat back in his chair and folded his arms across his wide chest.

“Was it that bad?”

She sat back, nonplussed at the change of tone of his voice, from cold steel to warm compassion. She cupped her hands around the coffee mug.

“You mean the robbery?”

“Yeah.”

She studied him while she thought about what to say to that question. Her friends thought she was losing it. She didn’t even want them to know how freaked out she was by it, how kooky she’d become. She wished she hadn’t burst out like that. “It’s fine,” she finally said. “Never mind my screwed-up life. We need to talk about Maeve. What do you think I should do?”

His thick dark brows drew down over blue, blue eyes. The corners of his mouth dipped. “Hell if I know.” He thrust a hand through his short hair. “I’ll talk to my mom. She and Maeve are best friends. They play bridge together every week. Maybe she’s noticed too. Maybe she has an idea.”

Keara nodded. “I guess I could ask Maeve about it. But I don’t know…”

“Yeah. You could. She might be worried about it herself. Maybe she’s already talked to her doctor about it.”

“Maybe.” But Keara didn’t think so, judging from Maeve’s confused reaction the few times she’d been confronted with her forgetfulness. “I’ll see if I can work it into conversation.”

“You need to keep an eye on her,” Shane said. “If she forgets something like leaving the stove on, it could be dangerous.”

“Oh lord.” Keara bit down on her lip. She looked down into the half-drunk cup of black coffee. “Do you think…she has Alzheimer’s?” She almost choked on the word.

She’d heard the sharp edge of pain in Gary’s voice as he’d said, “She doesn’t even know who I am anymore.” The look on his face. The agony in his eyes that had driven him to…oh dear God. She struggled to get air into her lungs and tears stung the corners of her eyes.

“Keara?”

Her lungs had tightened and she started to feel that whirl of dizziness. No. No. This could not be happening now.

“Keara, are you okay?”

She tried to focus on Shane’s face across the table from her, like looking at him through a wavery glass wall. She pressed her fingertips to her face. “I’m fine,” she choked out.

Shane snorted and the next thing she knew he’d come around to her side of the table and slid into the booth beside her. “Breathe,” he commanded, his voice like smooth whiskey. His arm circled her shoulders and the heat of his body seeped into her, the scent of him—warm, spicy, male—invaded her nostrils and distracted her from her panic. She swallowed, sucked in air. “Yeah. That’s it. Breathe again.”

When mortification replaced anxiety she knew she was doing better. Her cheeks heated to scorching point and she scrubbed her hands over her wet face. “Shit,” she muttered.

“Yeah,” Shane agreed. “Shit.”

His hand rubbed up and down her back and much as she wanted to shrug him away and tell him to get the hell back on the other side of the table, her body responded to his firm but gentle touch. Finally she lifted her head and met his eyes.

“Okay?” he asked in that whiskey-smooth voice.

She gave a jerky nod. He didn’t move back to his seat.

“What triggered that?” he asked quietly.

“Nothing.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Okay. So. We were talking about Maeve.” He kept his gaze fastened on her. “You’re worried she might have Alzheimer’s.”

She swallowed. “Do you think…?”

“I don’t know.”

“How can she run a business if she can’t remember things? What if she forgets to pay her bills? Order stock?”

Shane’s eyes shadowed. “I know. That’s what I’m worried about. I can’t be here all the time. Lord knows I have my own family to worry about.”

She studied him. “What do you mean? Are your parents not okay, Shane?”

She’d met them a few times that summer. Shane’s parents were so much fun—they made every dinner a party, every get-together full of food and drink, music and talk, laughter and love.

His mouth firmed. “Da had a stroke a couple of years ago.”

“Oh no. I’m so sorry…is he okay?”

“He’s alive.” Shane shrugged. “Actually he’s doing very well. But it’s been a long rehab. It’s been pretty hard on both of them.”

“I’m sure it has.” Her heart squeezed. “I didn’t know about that.”

“Why would you? Anyway, now you’ve finally deigned to visit…”

Anger flared inside her and she straightened her spine. “Deigned? Jesus Christ, you really think you’re just perfect, don’t you? I’m sorry I can’t live up to your high standards of perfection, but I have a life and…”

“Shut up.”

She gaped at him.

To her utter shock, he laughed. Laughed! “I shouldn’t have said that but I’d rather see you mad than defeated.”

“What!”

“I know you’re busy. I was about to say, you being here now is good, you can keep an eye on her and see how bad things are.”

“But—” She stopped. She wanted to scream. He could not just push her buttons with those self-righteous, judgmental little comments, and then not let her defend herself. Aaaaargh! She drew in a long, slow breath. “I’ll keep an eye on her. Excuse me.” She lifted her chin in a request for him to move so she could stand and he did. “I’d offer to pay for coffee but I left without my purse.”

“It’s fine. I got it.” He shoved his hand into his front pocket. The gesture was so masculine and sexy it made her stomach flutter. He pulled out a few bills and tossed them on the table. “Let’s go.”

He left her at the door of the shop with a scowl and a muttered “See ya later”. Keara pushed into the store, still seething.

Deep breath, she reminded herself. Luckily Maeve was talking to a customer and she had a few minutes to stand behind the counter, breathing, forcing herself to be rational. This was one of the things Dr. Cogan had mentioned—being irritable, getting angry over little things. Dammit. Even though she knew about it, she just couldn’t seem to help it. And Shane seemed to know just how to push her buttons.

He probably wasn’t doing it on purpose. She repeated that thought over and over. It was just her, overreacting. Guilty conscience, shredded nerves, paranoia…that was her lately. She inhaled another long pull of air, forced a smile as Maeve and the customer approached the counter.

After the customer had left, Maeve turned to Keara, curiosity sparkling in her eyes. “So…how was your coffee with Shane?”

Oh lord. Keara swallowed her sigh. “He’s very annoying,” she muttered.

Maeve lifted a brow. “Hmmm.”

“Hmm what?” Annoyance at Maeve’s tone snapped inside her and she fought to push it down.

“There are sparks between you two,” Maeve observed.

“Ha! Sparks! Yeah, right.”

Maeve’s mouth curved into a wicked smile. “Definitely sparks.”

Thankfully another customer entered the store and they weren’t able to continue that ridiculous conversation.

The man who walked in glanced at them, then quickly away. The hood of his black sweatshirt covered his head and he kept his chin tucked inside the neckline. The sight reminded her of gang members, and a shiver ran through her. Then she rolled her eyes at her own paranoid fear. Someone coming into a sex shop who didn’t want to be recognized was nothing out of the ordinary.

Maeve approached him to ask if he needed any help, but he shook his head and, without meeting her eyes, turned away to inspect the shelves of books.

Maeve winked at Keara when she returned to the counter, now standing in front of it. “We’ll just let him look,” she whispered. “He seems embarrassed.” In a louder tone, she said, “I’ll be in my office for a few minutes if you can handle things here.”

“Sure.”

Keara kept an eye on the kid, who looked to be only about twenty years old, while she did some tidying behind the counter. He appeared to watch Maeve leave through the Staff Only door, then moved from one display to another in the store, keeping his face averted from Keara. Then without a purchase or even another word, he left the store.

Amused, she wondered what he’d been looking for and then lost his nerve.

More customers came in after him and she was grateful for the distraction that took her mind off both Shane and his annoyingly hostile attitude toward her, and disturbing thoughts about Maeve’s memory.

“I need a vibrator.”

Keara turned to the woman at the counter. “Of course. They’re right over here.”

“It has to be quiet,” the woman added, following Keara. “Very quiet. I have three teenage sons. They cannot hear it.”

Oookay. Keara had no idea which vibrator was the quietest and they spent an interesting ten minutes testing each one to find out. The woman finally made her selection, then left.

Maeve returned to help with a little rush of business and then they closed the shop for the day. “Tuesday night is my bridge night,” Maeve told her. “Would you like to come? Tonight is at Fiona’s home.”

Shane’s mom.

“Uh, no. That’s okay. I don’t play bridge.”

“You could just come for the company.” Maeve eyed her.

“I’ll be fine here,” Keara said with a smile. “You go and have fun.”

“Well. If you’re sure…”

“I’m fine, Maeve.” Unfortunately, Maeve now seemed protective and worried about her. Just like her friends. “Really.”

So after a quick dinner, Maeve disappeared with a wave, leaving Keara alone in the apartment. It was the first time she’d been alone—meaning the entire building was empty, not just alone in the apartment with Maeve downstairs—and Keara was acutely aware of it. Knowing there was an alarm system protecting the shop helped. She locked the door at the top of the stairs behind Maeve and turned to the small living room.

She’d lived alone for many years and it had never bothered her.

The television provided welcome background noise and she flicked through the channels until she found an episode of Sex and the City. With a smile, she recalled Shane’s comment about her life in LA. She shook her head. Maeve may think her niece was living a sexually liberated single-girl lifestyle like that, but that was wishful thinking on her part.

Maeve. She sighed, her attention diverted from the show she’d seen before by worry about Maeve. Lots of older people had problems with memory. Was it considered a natural part of aging?

Keara’s parents had died the year she’d graduated from college, in a car crash on the freeway. She still missed them, although the pain of their tragic death had faded, but at this moment she longed for another family member to share this burden with. Her friends were great, but they couldn’t help her with this. Alone, responsibility for Maeve weighed heavily on her. Even someone to talk to, to ask questions of, would help.

Maeve had always been there for her, in the background, and although Keara hadn’t seen her much, they talked on the telephone occasionally, emailed and sent cards. Now Keara was going through a personal crisis, she’d turned to Maeve, only to find that Maeve had problems of her own.

Maybe. She still didn’t know how serious it was. But if Shane was worried too, enough to talk to her about it, it was more than just a vague uneasiness at a couple of forgotten conversations. And Keara had no idea what to do about it.

She hadn’t anticipated something like this when she’d decided to come stay with Maeve. Selfishly, she’d only been thinking about herself and her own problems and trying to get better, hoping that staying with someone would ease her twitchy nerves, and instead she just had one more burden, one more thing to worry about and…dammit, one more thing to feel guilty about.

Chapter Six

Dragging herself out of bed the next morning proved very difficult. Keara had just fallen asleep last night when Maeve got home, and although Maeve had been quiet, Keara’s paranoid ears picked up every little sound. She’d had to get out of bed to assure herself it was Maeve, and then she’d lain there staring at the ceiling for an hour, wide awake. She’d finally gotten up and read a book for a while, but when the alarm clock went off at eight she was dead to the world and awoke groggy and disoriented.

And eight o’clock wasn’t even early! Usually she was up at six thirty to get ready for work and drive the commute on the busy freeway to her bank branch.

She forced herself to have a shower even though it seemed like way too much bother, and for what? Nobody cared if her hair was greasy or her legs were furry. Then she poured herself a cup of coffee and went down to the shop where Maeve was already at work even though the store didn’t open until ten o’clock.

“Good morning!” Maeve greeted her with a sunny smile, which faded when she took in Keara’s appearance. “My goodness, you look terrible.” She stood up from behind the desk in her office and moved toward Keara, studying her face. “Didn’t you sleep last night?”

Keara shook her head. “No. I couldn’t get back to sleep after you got home.”

“Oh no! I’m so sorry, muirnín!” She clasped her hands together in front of her face.

“It’s not your fault.”

“But I feel terrible! I woke you and then you couldn’t sleep…”

“It’s okay, Maeve. That’s the way it is for me. You can’t change your whole routine for me.”

“Oh.” Her eyes gleamed with distress. “Well. What else could we do about it?”

“The doctor gave me a prescription for some antianxiety medication or antidepressants or something, but I don’t want to take them if I don’t have to.”

Maeve’s brows dipped. “No, I understand that. I agree it’s better not to take drugs if you don’t have to…but you must get some sleep, muirnín.”

“I know.” Keara sighed and sipped her coffee. “It’s so frustrating. The more I tell myself I have to get to sleep, the wider awake I feel. My mind just won’t stop going around in circles, remembering stuff, thinking how…”

“What?”

Keara waved a hand. “Nothing. Never mind. Maybe I should just take the pills.”

“You don’t need pills. What you need is sex.” Maeve returned to her seat behind her desk.

Keara choked on her coffee.

“Sex is the best cure for depression and insomnia,” Maeve continued. “Now don’t give me that look. I’m not pulling your leg. Sex releases endorphins into the bloodstream, producing a sense of euphoria and a feeling of well-being. An orgasm releases oxytocin, which helps with sleep. It’s the safest tranquilizer in the world. It also relieves headaches by releasing the tension that restricts blood vessels in the brain.”

Keara rubbed the back of her neck. She did have a headache.

“Well, I’m sure that’s true,” she said. “But I don’t have a partner handy at the moment, so…”

“Well, you don’t necessarily need a partner. There is self-gratification, too. Let’s go look at the vibrators out front…”

“No!”

“Why not? Keara, I’m serious. It could help you.”

“I’m just…” Wildly uncomfortable having this conversation with her great-aunt? “I’m not interested in sex right now. That’s the last thing I feel like doing. I’m…tired.”

“You won’t be so tired after sex,” Maeve insisted. “Even a couple of good self-induced orgasms will make you feel better. The more sex you have, the more you want, because of the hormones your body releases.”

“But…I don’t have anyone to have sex with. I don’t think getting myself all…uh…worked up and then being frustrated is going to help me feel better.”

“Hmmm.” Maeve sat back in her chair. “You may have a point there. But there’s no need for you to be alone. You’re a beautiful girl, smart and sweet…we’ll find you a date.”

“No!” Once again Keara coughed on her coffee. “That’s okay, Maeve. I didn’t come here for that.”

“Well I’m not going to forget it.” Maeve set her mouth stubbornly. She tipped her head. “If I think of someone for you, I’m going to introduce you. And in the meantime, please consider the vibrator offer. And don’t just brush it off. There’s solid scientific evidence that what I’m saying is true.”

“I’m sure there is,” Keara said with a gulp.

“Why do you think I’m still so lively at my age?” Maeve’s eyes twinkled. “Sex produces other hormones, too, like DHEA. It boosts your immune system, repairs tissue, and keeps your skin healthy. Maybe even gives you a longer life.”

Dear God. Her aunt was certainly persistent. But truly, sex was nowhere on Keara’s radar at that moment. All she wanted was to feel better, to shake off the heavy blanket of depression that weighed her down, to not have that tight feeling of anxiety knotting her stomach all the time, and to just be able to sleep. Somehow she knew if she could just sleep better, everything would improve. She sighed as she went out to the storefront to open the store.

“Fiona’s invited us for dinner on Friday night,” Maeve said, following her into the store. “Isn’t that nice of her? You remember her and Declan, don’t you?”

“Yes, of course.” Keara paused. “Shane mentioned that Declan had a stroke a couple of years ago.”

“Yes.” Maeve sighed. “That was terrible. He seemed so young for that. But he has made an amazing recovery. He still has some weakness on the right side of his body and his speech is just a bit slurred, but his mind is sharp as ever, thankfully. He gets tired easily.”

“So he’s retired, then?”

“Yes. He didn’t go back to work. Fiona was happy about that, she wanted him to retire years ago, but he loved his job.”

“Did he sell the business?” Keara remembered that Shane’s dad had been a contractor, building high-priced homes all over the area.

“Yes. He was pretty devastated about that.”

“They still live in their house?”

“Oh, yes. Shane was determined they would stay there. His da spent months in the hospital of course, so Shane looked after his mother and the house, and he still helps them. They do love living in their house. Declan was always such a gardener, and though he can’t do as much as he used to, he enjoys planting things and puttering around in the yard.”

“That’s nice. I hope dinner isn’t too much trouble for them.”

“Fiona is still quite able,” Maeve replied, preparing the till with a float for the day’s business. “She wouldn’t invite us if it was too much for her. We’ll bring some wine of course and I said we’d bring dessert.”

“Maybe I can make something.”

Maeve eyed her. “That would be lovely, muirnín. I didn’t know you liked to cook.”

“I don’t.” Keara gave her a faint grin. “I pretty much heat up frozen dinners or eat out. But I’m sure I could put together some kind of dessert.”

“Well. If you feel up to it. That would be very nice.”

Much as she’d enjoyed Shane’s parents as a teenager, the idea of a big, noisy family dinner with the Dunstans just made her feel even more tired. Conversation seemed too much effort. Paying attention and thinking about what to say seemed exhausting.

Oh God. She was a sad, sad case. Really, she had to snap out of this. Maybe she and Shane were worried about Maeve for nothing. She seemed fine this morning. And if she could still play bridge, she couldn’t be that bad. Right?

As customers entered the store, Keara pasted on a smile and shoved away her worries.

Would Shane be there for dinner? That would just be great. The animosity he felt for her now wouldn’t make for a very enjoyable evening. Maybe she’d find out, and if he was going to be there she’d make some excuse not to go.

Maeve’s talk about sex and then thinking about Shane naturally led to thoughts of sex with Shane. Keara leaned on the counter, lost in memories. She’d been seventeen, Shane nineteen, home for the summer after his first year of college. They hadn’t had a lot of places to go to be alone, but they’d driven to the coast, found a private spot on the beach sheltered by large rocks, where they’d had many picnic lunches and…sex.

Hot, horny, teenage sex, exploring each other’s bodies, trying every new thing their innocent minds could think of. Keara closed her eyes, remembering long, sexy kisses, the first time Shane had touched her breasts and the wild passion his hands had ignited in her, the first thrilling time he’d slipped his hand into her panties, and the first time she’d seen his erection, bigger and harder than anything she could ever have imagined in her virginal fantasies.

“Excuse me?”

Keara jumped and turned startled eyes to the customer wanting to pay for some flavored massage oil.

“I’m sorry.” She rang up the sale, aching low in her belly, sure that her panties were wet. Just from remembering. Oh lord. Maybe she did need sex.

* * *

It had only been a few days, but Shane couldn’t stop himself from dropping in at the Irish Sex Fairy Shop again on his way home from work. Despite Keara’s declaration that she was fine, she clearly wasn’t. The little meltdown the other day hadn’t been nothing and she was thin, pale and jumpy. And he’d thought she was going to look after Maeve? Christ, she could barely look after herself from the looks of her.

And Maeve’s memory problems disturbed him too. Keara had already seen signs of it and she’d only been there a few days. It made him nervous. Just last month, an elderly lady living alone on the south side of town had set her house on fire with a candle she’d forgotten she’d lit. He did not want something like that to happen to Maeve.

As he walked up to the door of the store, something rose up inside him like…excitement. He stopped with a hand on the door handle. What was he excited about? And then he realized what he felt was an eager anticipation at seeing Keara again. What the hell was that about? Was he having some kind of regression to that summer they’d spent together? Because that had been a helluva long time ago. They were two different people now.

He yanked open the door with a scowl and stepped inside.

Maeve was nowhere to be seen, but Keara stood behind the counter reading what appeared to be a catalogue. A few other customers browsed—a couple looking at lingerie, two young men studying movies.

“Hi.” He approached the counter. Sparkly emerald green eyes shot up to his and the glossy catalogue in her hands jerked so hard it almost ripped. Christ, she was a jumpy female.

“Oh! Shane.”

“Yup. How’s it going?”

“Fine. Good. Great.”

He studied her still pale face. As a teenager she’d had cute sun-dusted freckles across her little nose, but now she didn’t seem to have seen the sun on her skin for quite some time. Dark circles still gave her a haunted look and if possible, she seemed even thinner. But damn, she was still gorgeous, that bright red-gold hair falling on her shoulders, her mouth soft and pretty until she’d straightened her shoulders and tightened her lips.

“Sure,” he said, not believing her. He lowered his voice. “How’s Maeve?”

One slender shoulder rose and fell. “She seems okay. I haven’t noticed any memory episodes at all for the last few days.”

“Did you talk to her about it?”

“No, I—”

“Shane! What brings you here again so soon?” Maeve swished toward him and enveloped him in a Shalimar-scented hug.

“Uh…” Shit. He glanced wildly around and his eyes fell on the display beside the till. “Just needed more…of these.” He grabbed another box of condoms.

Maeve arched a brow, one corner of her scarlet mouth kicking up. “Well. You’ve been a busy boy lately, haven’t you? Are you sure you aren’t getting serious about that girl?”

“No.” His mind leaped. “It’s not the same girl.”

“Ah.” She nodded, lips pursed. “I see. Well. Are you coming to your parents’ for dinner tomorrow night? They’ve invited Keara and me.”

Shane flicked a glance at Keara. “Uh…yeah. They invited me. I’m not sure…”

He could tell she was listening to his response. In fact, he could sense the tension that seized her as she awaited it.

“Will you bring your new girlfriend?” Maeve asked.

Jesus. What had he gotten himself into? “No. No, I won’t. I may not be able to make it.”

“Oh.” Maeve’s bottom lip pouted. “That’s too bad. But you do need to be having a social life.”

“I may have to work.”

“Oh.”

He sought out Keara again with his eyes. They might have a chance to talk more at his parents’ place. Maybe he should go. He couldn’t invite Keara for coffee again or Maeve would really get the wrong idea.

The three stood there for a long, slightly awkward moment. Shane didn’t know what to say, wished Maeve would leave them alone, but she didn’t budge. He sighed.

Keara reached for the condoms. “I’ll ring these up for you,” she said, her voice sounding choked. A few moments later he walked out of the store clutching another bag of prophylactics. Damn, he was spending a fortune on rubbers.

Chapter Seven

Shane knew he wasn’t going to stay away.

He’d told his mom he might have to work, so might not be there for her dinner party, but that was just an excuse and goddammit, he couldn’t stop thinking about Keara and her big shadowed eyes and her small anxiety attack. Yeah, he was still annoyed at how she’d ignored her aunt all these years, but it was kinda hard to stay mad at someone so lost and fragile, someone clearly struggling with some wicked demons.

Shit. Now he wasn’t just worried about Maeve, he was worried about Keara. What was with him and his damn desire to protect the whole damn world?

He rubbed the back of his neck as he walked in the front door of his parents’ house. They still lived the in spacious three-bedroom ranch-style house on Blarney Stone Drive, shaded by palm trees and enclosed by, yes, a white picket fence, where he’d grown up. The house was nothing fancy but it had been his home all his life. His parents had once mentioned moving to one of the new seniors’ condo developments on the edge of town, but he always shut down that discussion. His da loved his yard, maintaining a meticulous carpet of lawn, and lush flowerbeds. His mom, retired from her nursing job, enjoyed cooking and entertaining. For a long time after Da’s stroke, there’d been no big gatherings at the Dunstan home, but more recently they’d gotten back into having friends over nearly every week.

His parents had always wanted a big family and it had been a disappointment to them to have been able to have only one child, and late in life. Which is maybe why Shane felt such a deep obligation to his parents, to be there for them.

“Hey, Ma, I’m here!” He stepped into the foyer and heard a babble of voices in the kitchen. He followed the scent of roasting meat—was that roast beef?—and the sound of chattering voices into the large kitchen at the back of the house where the party always seemed to end up.

A crowd of people stood two or three deep around the big island, drinks in hand, nibbling at the snacks set out, everyone talking and laughing. His dad was about to take a seat on a stool, but when he saw Shane walk into the room, he rose and limped over to him with his cane.

“Shane, me boy! Good ta see you.” His dad gave him a masculine, one-armed hug and Shane returned it with a grin, but his gaze fell over his father’s shoulder and came to rest on Keara. She stood there smiling, a blousy black top hanging off her slender shoulders, but the smile didn’t warm her tired and defeated eyes. How he could feel a tug of attraction to her when she looked so forlorn was beyond him. He compared Keara to Laila, whom he’d dated a few weeks ago—Laila, the typical California blonde, bursting with health and energy, with endless tanned legs, long straight blonde hair and generously enhanced boobs. And yet, while the sex had been hot, Laila hadn’t appealed to him enough to want to see her again.

“Oh, you came, lad! I’m so glad!” His mom set a platter of appetizers on the island and wiped her hands on her apron, then quickly gave him a hug. He handed her the bottle of wine he’d brought.

“Ah, you didn’t need to do that,” she protested, but took it and slipped it into the refrigerator.

“Jameson’s?” Declan asked his son.

“Sure.” He accepted the glass of whiskey and leaned against the counter. His mom returned to the other side of the counter where she fussed with some vegetables, beneath the sign on the wall that said “Níl aon tintéan mar do thintéan féin”—there’s no place like home.

“How are you, Shane?” Maeve inquired, standing beside Keara. She wore an outrageous red, black and orange scarf draped around her neck. “No date tonight?”

Would she not leave him alone about that? Served him right for buying all those condoms, he supposed. He swallowed his sigh and smiled at her. “Not tonight.”

He greeted some of the other guests, neighbors and friends of his parents, some their age, some closer to his own age. As lively conversation flowed around them, he covertly studied Keara, until their glances collided then bounced away. Huh. She was doing the same thing.

She sipped her wine and he sipped his Jameson’s, letting it warm him inside while his dad shared a racy joke about an Irish priest that coaxed a real smile from Keara. He was glad she had a sense of humor.

He should know she did. It may have been thirteen years ago, but they’d shared a lot of laughs along with the hot sex. He and Keara had had a lot of fun together. Even though clearly she was a different woman than the young girl she’d been, someone didn’t change that drastically.

“Tell us about your day, Shane,” his mother invited, still fussing in the kitchen.

He shrugged. “Three-car pile-up on the freeway just outside of town. Thank the lord nobody was seriously hurt. Jim Mahon pulled over a man for drunk driving this afternoon. The guy tried to bribe him with his sandwich.”

Everyone laughed. “Sandwich?” Keara asked.

Shane grinned. “Yeah. He had a big sub wrapped up on the seat beside him and told Jim he could have it if he let him go home.”

“What kind of sub?” Da asked.

“Declan!” Ma gave his shoulder a tiny smack. “It doesn’t matter what kind of sandwich.”

Da grinned. “If it was one of those toasted ones from the Shamrock…”

“Declan!”

Shane grinned. “Jim turned down the offer. But he did say it made him hungry, and once he booked the guy he headed over to the Shamrock.”

More laughter.

“And what happened over on Ballycastle Road last night?” his dad inquired. “I heard the sirens. Was there a fire?”

Shane shook his head, another grin breaking out. “No. Some juveniles decided to have a pool party at a house that was for sale. Nobody was living there. They brought in a couple of kegs of beer and about fifty of their closest friends. The real estate agent brought someone by to show the house and got quite a surprise.”

“Oh dear lord!” Ma gasped. “What were those kids thinking?”

“They were thinking it was a great place for a pool party,” Shane said. He shouldn’t be amused, but none of the kids were known to them and luckily nothing had been damaged in the house, so it was just a crazy teenage escapade they’d have fun telling their grandchildren about one day. “I would never have done such a thing as a kid.”

His mother rolled her eyes. “No, certainly not. You only did crazy things like rolling the lawn tractor while you were plastered on tequila.”

Keara’s eyes widened as she looked from Shane to his mother. “I don’t think I heard that one,” she murmured. “Rolled the lawnmower?”

“I’d bought one of those nice John Deeres,” Da said, shaking his head with disgust. “He banjaxed it, totally, the eejit. And who in their right mind drinks tequila?” He glanced around the table in outrage. “Now if he’d been drinking whiskey…”

“Declan!”

Shane smothered a grin. His mother as usual was keeping his father in his place.

“You were a right chancer,” Declan continued. “The cops didn’t pick you up, and since nobody else got hurt we didn’t turn you in. Can you get charged with DUI on a lawnmower?”

Shane laughed. “Good question. Guess if I’d been caught, my career in law enforcement would have been down the toilet. But then again, I was a juvie.”

His mother gave a delicate snort. “Thank the good lord you weren’t killed, that’s what I say.”

Shane noted the way the laughter had brought a sparkle to Keara’s eyes and relaxed the pinched lines of her mouth.

His mother finished setting out a buffet dinner on the island and everyone filled their plates with roast beef and mashed potatoes and salads. Some stayed in the kitchen to eat standing, others wandered into the family room to sit with plates perched on their laps. Da had started some Celtic music in the CD player and the fiddle and tin whistle notes wove through the multiple conversations, deep voices and lilting laughter.

Shane elected to stay in the kitchen where Maeve and Keara sat on stools at the island. Keara didn’t eat much but she did give his mom’s roast beef high praise.

“I don’t know how you do it, Fiona,” Maeve said. “Almost every weekend you have a house full of people.”

Shane’s mom smiled. She loved it, he knew. She flitted from one room to the other, making sure wine and whiskey glasses were full, whisking away dishes that were done.

“Ma,” Shane said when she returned with hands full. “Sit down and eat.”

He gave her his stool and took the dishes from her, then strode over to the dishwasher. When he’d loaded them into the machine, he stood up and his gaze knocked up against Keara’s. A strange expression tilted the corners of her mouth up and had her eyes hazy.

“Keara, it’s been so long since we’ve seen you,” Fiona said. “Tell us all about life in LA.”

Keara gave a faint smile and dropped her gaze to her plate. “There’s not much to tell.”

“Your job keeps you busy,” Fiona said, with a nod. “No husband? No children?”

“No.”

“Maeve told us about your bank being robbed,” Fiona said and Shane saw Keara stiffen. She sure didn’t like to be reminded of that. But she was fine. Yeah, right. He got himself a beer out of the fridge—one whiskey was enough for him—and popped the top, again leaning against the counter.

“Yes.” She didn’t look up. Didn’t say another word.

Guests wandered back into the kitchen and the noise level rose several decibels. Da roared with laughter in the family room and you couldn’t help but smile at the sound. Now finished eating, everyone mingled and chatted. Except Keara, who remained on her stool, arms on the island, glass of wine between her hands. Deep in conversation with another friend, Maeve had stepped away.

Shane slid over onto the stool vacated by Maeve beside Keara.

“It’s women’s work to do the dishes after dinner,” his dad grumbled as Ma handed him a dish towel, earning him another smack.

“He just says that to push her buttons,” Shane said to Keara in a low voice. “He doesn’t really believe it. He helps with the dishes all the time.”

She grinned. “I’m glad you told me that.” She tipped her head to one side. “He must get that from you.”

“Get what?” Shane frowned. “The chauvinism?”

“No! I mean the pushing-buttons thing. You seem to be very skilled at that, too.”

He stared at her. “What does that mean?”

“I mean, you keep pushing my buttons by bugging me about how I’ve been derelict in my duty to my aunt. You know I feel bad about that, but you keep pushing my buttons anyway.”

Shane leaned in closer. “Do you? Feel bad about it?”

“Yes.” Her eyes lowered. “I didn’t realize she was having…problems until I got here. I guess I thought she would just always stay the same. Crazy, energetic Maeve.”

He nodded and straightened slowly. A strand of hair hung in front of her eyes and he reached out, and with his index finger, pushed it back. Their eyes met and the boisterous crowd around them faded to a murmur.

“I guess we all wish our family won’t get old,” he finally said. “But it happens.”

“Your dad seems pretty good. He limps a little. I almost didn’t notice that he only used his right arm to eat.”

Shane nodded. “He’s amazing.”

Surrounded by laughter, talk, harp music and clinking glasses, they continued to gaze at each other, the air thickening. Shane wanted to lean over and kiss her.

Well. This wasn’t exactly a romantic location. In fact he couldn’t think of anywhere less romantic than a messy kitchen surrounded by people, including his parents and her aunt, laughing uproariously at something,

He took a big breath and sat back.

“This evening seems to have done you good,” he commented.

“What does that mean?”

Ah hell, now he was going to insult her again by telling her she looked crappy. The charm just kept oozing out of him around her. “Ever since you got here, to Kilkenny I mean, you’ve looked like someone who just got out of a war zone.”

She gave a choked little laugh as she lifted her wineglass to her lips. “Thank you very much.”

He tipped his head. “You’re gorgeous, Keara, and you know it. But you look so sad and you’re so jumpy. What’s going on?”

She paused, turned and lifted those emerald eyes to meet his gaze. “Nothing’s going on.”

“Bullshit.”

Amusement sparkled in her eyes.

“Maybe I can help.”

She lowered her chin. “Could we not talk about this?”

“Keara. What happened?”

She gave her head a tiny shake. “I’m okay.”

“Clearly, you’re not okay,” he argued, not sure why he was. “Have you seen a doctor?”

She slid off the stool to her feet and Shane reached out and grabbed her wrist. She flinched. Hell.

“Keara. Do you have post-traumatic stress disorder?”

She glared at him. “None of your business.”

“Keara. PTSD isn’t anything to be ashamed of. Lots of people have it.”

“Yeah. Sure.”

After a brief pause, he said, “I had it.”

Chapter Eight

Her mouth fell open, and the soft bottom lip invited him to kiss and nibble. He leaned toward her. Stopped.

“You had PTSD? When?”

“When I came back from Afghanistan.”

“Really.”

She sank back down onto the stool. Again they sat there just looking at each other, a connection drawing them together like an invisible cord. Keara broke the eye contact to gulp some wine.

“So maybe I can help,” he said softly.

“Maeve says I need sex.”

Shane choked. “Oh. Well. I guess that’s not surprising. Maeve thinks everyone needs sex.”

“True. She was citing the many health benefits of sex to me, including some hormones that will make me feel better. It’s good for stress, apparently. And sleep.”

“Ah.” He considered that. “There may be some truth to that.”

“I’m sure there is,” she agreed. “But…” Her voice trailed off and she rubbed her finger over the drops of moisture on the outside of the glass.

“You know, now that you mention it, that’s a damn fine idea.” Shane sat up straighter, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “And since I did just offer to help…”

Her hand stilled and her mouth fell open.

“Just to…you know…make you feel better,” he finished.

“Thanks,” she croaked. “That’s good of you. But not necessary.”

“It could be worth a shot,” he persisted, shifting just close enough to inhale the floral scent of her hair. She smelled like the flowers growing up the wall just outside the French doors. Jasmine? Honeysuckle? Whatever. It was warm. Feminine. Damn.

“I thought you were annoyed at me. For not visiting Maeve.”

“Well, yeah. But I’ve always liked helping people—hence the job—so I’d consider it a sort of…public service.”

“Thanks. You have no idea how turned-on that makes me.”

The dry tone of her voice gave him pause. She had a point there. Shit, everything he said around her came out wrong.

“Well, it’s not that it would be a hardship,” he tried to backtrack.

“More flattery to go to my head.”

He laughed. And Keara smiled. A genuine, wide smile that sparked her eyes and turned her face…stunning. Attraction pulled him toward her, the urge to touch her almost overwhelming.

Joe McKinnny approached them to ask Shane what to do about his neighbor’s barking dog and Shane talked to him with as much patience as he could dig up, but wanted to growl when Keara stood and excused herself with a smile.

It was an hour before Shane could find his way to her side again, after talking with other guests, helping his mom serve dessert and finding a minute when Keara wasn’t occupied in conversation. What had started as a crazy joke had lodged itself in his mind, and his dick, apparently, which had been half hard ever since they’d talked about having sex, and he wanted to pursue that possibility.

Keara had been talking to Darlene from across the street for quite some time, and her eyes had begun to glaze over.

“Darlene, you’re looking stunning tonight,” Shane said, moving between them. “You’ve lost weight haven’t you?”

Darlene smiled with delight. “Yes, I have.”

“Would you excuse us? There’s something I need to show Keara.”

He took Keara’s arm and led her away from Darlene. Keara also murmured an “excuse me” to the woman.

“Was she telling you about her hysterectomy?” he said in her ear, steering her through the crowd to French doors leading out onto the patio.

Keara snorted a laugh. “Yes, as a matter of fact she was. That was apparently quite the tumor they removed. Benign, luckily.”

“Mmm. She loves to talk about her health. I thought I’d rescue you.”

“Thank you, I guess.”

They stepped out onto the patio, paved with attractive honey-colored stones and surrounded by curved beds bursting with flowers. The sun had set, leaving the sky the intense sapphire blue of dusk. A cool breeze drifted over them along with the scent of the jasmine flowers growing up the wall of the house.

“So where were we?” Shane said. “I think we were interrupted as we were about to leave and go to my place.”

“We were?” She eyed him, clutching her empty wineglass. That was no good. She needed a refill. “I don’t recall that.”

“I recall you saying that you needed to have sex.”

She sputtered. “I didn’t say that! Maeve is the one saying that. And it’s only a theory.”

“Ah. Right. But one worth checking out, don’t you think?”

The sound of the party was muted outside here, and crickets chirruped somewhere behind them.

“Shane.” She stared at him. “This is not a good idea.”

He met her eyes. “Why not? I think she could be right.”

She sighed and his eyes were drawn to the way her breasts rose and fell beneath the black blouse she wore. “I don’t even know where to start. There are about a million reasons.”

He shifted close enough to feel the warmth of her body, close enough to see that she did indeed still have faint freckles on her small nose, close enough to see the tiny flecks of lighter green in her emerald eyes.

“So? What are they?”

She moved away from him. “Well, first of all we’re not teenagers anymore. Second, I’m not looking for any kind of relationship. Third, my aunt is friends with your parents. Fourth, uh…”

“See, there aren’t a million reasons.” He smiled and breathed in her sweet scent again. “True, we’re not teenagers anymore. I see that as a plus. And no one said anything about a relationship, so don’t panic about that. We’re just talking about sex here. We both know how good it was. Aren’t you curious to know if it still is?” He stroked a hand from her shoulder down over her bare arm to her wrist, his fingers resting on the warm pulse point. She shivered.

He was doing pretty good. She seemed to be softening—her eyes warming and her smile widening. She shook her head.

“And as far as Maeve and my parents being friends—another thing that has nothing to do with us having sex.” He bent his head and stroked his fingers back up to her inner elbow, her skin as soft as the petunia petals in the basket beside them.

“I have to go now. I’ll just go say goodnight to your parents.”

And she walked away.

Damn.

* * *

Keara moved up beside Maeve and flashed an apologetic smile at the man she was talking to.

“Oh, Keara, there you are! I want to introduce you to Glen. Glen, this is my great niece, Keara. Keara, Glen O’Donnell.”

Her aunt’s…uh…friend.

“So nice to meet you.” Keara extended her hand for a warm handshake. Glen appeared to be about her aunt’s age, with thick white hair and a ruddy face, lines crinkling up around his eyes as he smiled warmly at her.

“I’m glad to meet you too,” he said. “Maeve has told me so much about you. You’re right, Maeve, she is beautiful.”

Keara’s cheeks warmed. “Thank you. Uh…Maeve, I’m ready to go home now.”

“Already!” Maeve glanced at her watch. “It’s early!”

“I’m a little tired.”

“Oh…” Clearly Maeve did not want to leave and Keara felt bad at dragging her away from her friend. “Well…you could take my car, and I’m sure I could get a ride home later.” She shot a glance at Glen who nodded. Keara felt her stomach clench at the thought of returning to the apartment alone.

“I’ll take her home.” Shane’s voice, deep and husky, spoke from behind her. She whirled around.

“Oh no, that’s okay…”

“Thank you, Shane! What a dear boy you are.”

He grinned. Keara opened her mouth to protest, but Maeve continued. “You should go say goodnight and thank you to Fiona and Declan before you go, Keara.”

Keara resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Of course she was going to thank her host and hostess before she left. She just didn’t want to leave with Shane.

His flirting earlier had thrown her off balance. What had he been doing? Trying to humiliate her? There was no way he was attracted to her after the barely hidden contempt he’d shown her every time they’d met. Which had now apparently changed to feeling sorry for her. Why, why had she blurted out that bit about Maeve thinking she needed sex?

She was so confused now, wondering what Shane really thought about her, wondering why she felt so mixed up inside, like she was attracted to him but afraid, reluctantly, surprisingly aroused—but nervous.

She allowed him to once again draw her away and lead her across the room. His parents sat in the living room, side by side, Declan’s arm around Fiona’s shoulders. Aw. Sweet.

“I’m taking Keara home,” Shane announced. “Say good-night.”

Keara shot him an exasperated glance. “Thank you so much for having me tonight, Mr. and Mrs. Dunstan. It was a lovely party, as usual. I always remember coming to your house and having so much fun.”

Friona stood and took both Keara’s hands in a warm, maternal gesture that made Keara’s heart go soft. “Thank you for coming,” she replied. “I’m so glad you’re here to visit Maeve.” She flicked her eyes toward Shane and then back, and Keara waited for some embarrassing question or comment. But none was forthcoming and Fiona just smiled. “I hope we’ll see you again while you’re here.”

Keara nodded, and after their farewells, she and Shane left through the front door. His car was parked on the street in front, beneath the orange glow of a street lamp.

“You’re leaving early,” Shane commented. “I hope not because of me.”

She studied him as he started the car. “What if I said it was?”

His eyes flicked sideways and he put the car in gear. “Then I’d feel bad. I didn’t mean to chase you away.”

She sighed. “You didn’t. I just find it exhausting being in a crowd like that right now.” And yet, she was afraid to be alone. Go figure.

“That’s not like you,” he said, and the fact that he remembered her, that they had a history together, warmed and softened her inside. “You used to love parties.”

“Yes.” She looked down at her hands clasped in her lap as light from a street lamp slid over them, faded to dark, then light again as they drove. “I did.”

“You will again.”

She sucked in her bottom lip to keep it from trembling. She wanted to believe that, but at times it seemed so hopeless that she would ever be the same again—fearless, independent, sociable.

Shane insisted on walking her inside, and she trembled as she unlocked the back door of the shop and disarmed the alarm, anticipating that he was going to try…something. A kiss, maybe. And when he saw her upstairs and said goodnight, then left—she was unreasonably, confusingly disappointed.

She wandered through the apartment, after having ensured the doors were all locked securely, turning on lights. She’d wanted to leave the party because she was exhausted, but now her body hummed with energy and a strange anticipation. She put a hand to the vague ache low in her belly and realized she was…aroused.

Dear lord. What was happening to her? Shane had gotten her all worked up. She washed her face in a trancelike state, changed into pajamas and crawled into her bed, drawing the covers up under her chin. She closed her eyes, but couldn’t ignore the liquid heat between her legs.

She slid a hand down over her stomach, under the elastic of the sleep shorts she wore, over her pubic curls. She cupped her pussy, holding it for a moment, feeling it pulsing against her fingers. She couldn’t believe she wanted this…wanted to touch herself like this. After the horror she’d experienced, sex had seemed so…trivial. So unimportant.

Her other hand slid up under her tank top and covered one breast. She squeezed gently. It felt good. She squeezed harder and a small moan leaked from her mouth. She parted her legs, let her fingers delve deeper into the folds there, and when she found slick wetness, she gasped.

Her tummy did a flip flop and images of Shane rushed into her head—his sparkling sapphire eyes, his deep dimples, his long, sexy fingers. His body had a perfect masculine shape—wide shoulders tapering to narrow hips, flat abdomen—and she pictured him without a shirt. She’d seem him shirtless, but that was thirteen years ago when he was still a boy. Now he was bigger, broader, more solid and she wanted to know what lay beneath the T-shirts he always wore.

She wanted to feel his long fingers on her body.

Her own fingers stroked, dragged wetness up to the bump that quivered and jumped when she touched it. Another flash of Shane, a young Shane with his face between her legs and his mouth on her pussy. She turned her head into the pillow, fingers of one hand rubbing her clit, fingers of the other pinching her sensitive nipple, tension coiling in her until she climaxed in a hard, shuddering orgasm.

Chapter Nine

“What can I do to help today?”

Maeve looked up from her paperwork. “Well, if you’re not too tired, I need a few errands done today. Or maybe you’d rather stay in the store and I’ll go out and do them?”

“I’ll go.” A change of scenery might be a good thing.

“Okay.” Maeve handed Keara a stack of envelopes and a small shopping list. “These need to be dropped off at the county office in Santa Melita, and I need stamps and these put in the mail, and these are a few things I need for groceries. Here, I’ll give you some money…”

“That’s okay. I’ll pay for it.”

“Well, bring receipts for the postage back and I’ll reimburse you. That is a business expense, after all.”

Maeve gave her detailed directions to the locations she needed to go and when she’d done her coffee she set out on her mission, happy to be doing something that would take her mind off Shane and his disturbing flirting.

It was all Maeve’s fault. If she hadn’t been talking about sex all the time and how sex would cure everything that ailed her, she wouldn’t have told Shane and he wouldn’t have gotten the bad idea to flirt with her.

And she wouldn’t have masturbated to thoughts of Shane’s hard body and beautiful face.

With a sigh, she negotiated a curve in the road that wound through the mountains. She needed to get him out of her head. She needed to get back to worrying and feeling guilty and afraid.

Jesus, what was she thinking? She was losing her freaking mind. She wanted to feel guilty! How sick was that?

But she didn’t just want to feel guilty. She deserved to feel guilty. After what she’d done, she totally deserved to be as miserable as she was.

Dr. Cogan had told her she had to stop thinking that way. She had to reframe her thoughts. She deserved to be happy. Bah. What did he know?

A car in her rearview mirror distracted her from her musings as it came up close behind her. Idiot. Tailgating was always stupid, but on this narrow winding road through the mountains, it was dangerous. She pressed her lips together, her eyes moving from the road ahead, to the mirror, and back to the road. She tapped her brake to flash her lights at the moron behind her then focused as she went into another mountain-hugging turn.

She nibbled her bottom lip, trying to refocus her thoughts. Maybe thinking about Shane was better than thinking she needed to be punished for what she’d done by being miserable and scared for the rest of her life, then wishing she could get over being miserable and scared.

The car behind her drew up even closer and she frowned. What a dickhead! If he wanted to pass, he should just pass. Of course, the solid yellow line and curving road made it difficult, but she was going the speed limit for God’s sake, what was his rush? Her gut clenched a bit as she glanced to her right and saw how the mountain dropped away, trees and shrubs falling to the valley below. The small guardrail wasn’t much deterrent from a long descent.

She put her foot on the brake to slow down. Maybe the guy would pass her if she slowed down. She assumed it was a guy. She couldn’t imagine a female driver being so aggressive. Although, you never knew.

She squinted into the mirror, trying to make out who the driver was. Short dark hair. Definitely a man. Still riding her ass, the jerk. She slowed even more.

She rounded another curve and there was a blessed straight open stretch of highway. Finally. Now he could pass her and leave her alone. She slowed even more, now well below the speed limit, and waved a hand to motion the driver behind her to pass.

But he didn’t. Her frown deepened as he stayed right behind her, so close she could feel him. What the hell? Her eyes kept going back and forth between the highway and the car behind her, and then she was going into another long curve around the mountainside and he was still hugging her butt. She gripped the steering wheel with both hands.

Enough. This was stupid. She was going to pull over and let him go by. If she stopped, surely he’d pass her. If he didn’t, she’d get out and give him a piece of her mind. He was a fucking moron. But what if he was some kind of lunatic? What if she pulled over and he pulled over behind her and got out and he had a gun or something, and was insane…

Stop! She could not let her mind keep imagining these worst-case scenarios. Dr. Cogan told her to think best-case scenario, not to always imagine the worst. She would pull over.

She set her foot on the brake and started to slow her car. The shoulder was unpaved and very narrow here, the low guardrail flimsy. When she felt she’d slowed enough, she directed her wheels onto the shoulder, felt the jolt as they left the paved road, held tightly to the steering wheel to control her car on the loose gravel.

And then she felt the bump. A small bump, but a bump. The car behind her had actually hit her! Jesus! What the hell was he thinking!

She glanced in her mirror, gripped the wheel and hit the brakes, but the car had now come up beside her—close! She reflexively jerked the wheel to avoid the collision, a glimpse of a dark blue SUV flashing into her vision, and then her car hit the guardrail and to her horror crashed right through it.

She wrenched the wheel back, trying desperately to get back on the road, but her rear tires skidded off the gravel and over the edge of the embankment. No. Oh, no. This could not be happening. Her wheels spun, the car shuddered and then her front end headed over the edge.

Eyes wide, hands gripping the steering wheel, her mouth opened and she wasn’t sure, but she might have screamed as her car skidded. She jammed her foot on the brake but it was too late. The front end drove into nothingness.

Horror made everything happen slowly—the vast spread of greenery far below her, the sensation of falling, like in one of her dreams, the tree that appeared in front of her windshield—and then blackness.

* * *

Shane ran a hand through his hair impatiently, standing in the crowded waiting room of the hospital ER.

“Should we call her next of kin?” Jim Mahon asked. He’d been first at the scene of the crash, had radioed for emergency help. The California Highway Patrol along with officers from the Kilkenny PD and an ambulance had rushed to the scene.

When Shane had first heard of the accident, he hadn’t thought much of it, had let his staff deal with it. But when he heard it was Keara, his heart had slammed into his ribs and he’d torn out of the station and raced to Kilkenny General. He’d actually gotten there before the ambulance, which arrived moments later with lights and sirens blaring.

Watching them carry Keara into the ER on a stretcher had just about knocked his legs out from under him.

“No,” he answered shortly. “Just let me find out how badly she’s hurt. If I have to, I’ll go get Maeve.” He swallowed, his chest tight. Jesus, she had to be okay. He could only imagine showing up at Maeve’s shop with news that Keara…he shook his head. “That’ll be better than phoning her and getting her all upset.”

The nurse had promised to report back to him in a few minutes. They were still checking Keara out back behind the reception desk. He paced back and forth, wanting just to stride back there and yank her curtain open to demand answers. He scrunched his nose at the smell of antiseptic and sickness and rubbed his face.

“Her vehicle?” he asked Jim.

“Wrecker got it. Towed it to their compound. Probably a write-off.”

“Fuck.”

What the hell had happened? He knew that stretch of highway, the steep drop off beside the highway. There were too many accidents on that highway.

“My son has a sore throat,” he heard a woman tell the nurse at the desk. He frowned. Jesus. A sore throat. He rubbed the back of his neck, turned and paced back down the hall, behind the reception desk as far he thought he could get away with.

The nurse he’d spoken to earlier whisked the curtain open and stepped through it. She inclined her head and motioned him to follow her away from the bed where Keara lay, hidden from his sight.

“She’s okay,” the nurse began. “We can’t find any broken bones. They’re checking for any possible internal injuries, but looks like just bumps and bruises.”

Relief poured through him, making him feel almost lightheaded. “Can I see her?”

“In a few more minutes.” She nodded. “But do you have to talk to her right away? Surely you can get your report tomorrow.”

“It’s not…I’m not getting a report,” he muttered. “I’m a friend. Uh…family friend.”

“Okay.” She studied him. “Are you okay, Chief?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” He scowled. “I need to let her aunt know. But I want to see her first, make sure she’s all right. Will they keep her here?’

“I don’t think so. Unless we do find internal injuries. Otherwise she’ll probably be released.”

“I’ll wait for her. Take her home.”

A man in a white coat emerged next from the curtained cubicle. “She’s going for a CT scan,” he said to the nurse, handing over a chart. He glanced at Shane. “Let me know when she’s back.”

“Of course.” The nurse took the chart. “Come on,” she said. “You can talk to her for a minute before she goes.”

She pulled aside the curtain and let him in. Shane stood beside the hospital bed and stared down at Keara.

Her fiery-bright hair spread out on the white pillow around her face, almost as white as the bedding. She opened her eyes.

“Hey,” he said in a low voice, bending lower. “You okay?”

Her eyes went liquid and she blinked. “I think so,” she whispered. “My head hurts. Well, my whole body hurts. But apparently I’m in one piece.”

“That’s what they said.” He resisted the urge to reach for her and touch her. “I’ll wait for you. If everything’s okay, you should be able to go home.”

“Maeve…”

“Do you want her?” He leaned closer. “I can call her or go get her if you do.”

“I don’t want to scare her. I’ll call her.”

He snorted. “No you won’t.” Her voice was so weak and shaky she’d scare the shit out of Maeve if she tried to talk to her. “We’ll talk when you get back.”

Hospital personnel in scrubs arrived to take her for her CT scan and he watched them wheel her down the long wide hall. Fuck.

He turned back and saw Joe still standing there. “Hey,” he said, striding back to the waiting area. “You can go. I’m gonna wait for her.”

“Okay. She can come in and make her report when she’s up to it.”

“Yeah. I’ll make sure.”

Joe looked curious, but said nothing more as he left. Shane wandered over to a vending machine and fumbled some quarters into it to get a cup of coffee. Pretty disgusting stuff, but it was hot. He tried to sit but couldn’t, ended up pacing more with his cardboard cup of steaming brew. He’d finished it and was debating another one, when the nurse came to tell him Keara was back.

“She says you can come in while we wait for the doctor,” she told him with a smile. “He’s just in with another patient, but he wanted to see the CT results.”

In about three long steps, Shane was back at Keara’s bedside. She looked a little more alert, but he could see a bruise already forming on one temple. This time he did stroke her hair back off her face.

He smiled at her. “Wanna tell me what happened?”

She closed her eyes and grimaced. “Oh God. It was so scary.”

“Did you lose control?” He wanted to snap out questions at her, but kept his voice gentle. “Jesus, Keara, you picked the worst place on that road to go off.”

“I didn’t pick it,” she retorted, voice still insubstantial. “Someone forced me off the road.”

Shane stared at her. “What? What do you mean?”

She blinked eyes that had gone watery again. “Another vehicle was following me. He was riding my tail all the way and making me nervous. I was going to pull over onto the shoulder to let him pass, and he crowded me…and I…” She stopped, closed her eyes and swallowed.

“It’s okay.” He laid his hand on her forehead. “Are you sure, Keara?”

Eyes flew open and glared at him. “You don’t believe me?”

“Well…sure I do, but I just…why would someone do that?”

“I don’t know.” The words whispered out of her and her eyes closed again. “I don’t know. But he did.”

“We’ll talk more about it later,” he said softly, stroking her silky hair back over her head. “When you’re out of here. Let’s just get you out of here and get you home first.”

She made a small nodding movement of her head and winced. “Okay.”

The tests showed no internal bleeding. She had only a mild concussion, so they sent her home with painkillers and a warning about potential problems, and Shane led her out of the hospital to his car parked in the Emergency Vehicles Only zone.

“A police car,” Keara murmured, as she got in. “This is the second time I’ve been in a police car.”

The first likely having been the robbery a few weeks back. Shane got in and glanced at her. “You okay?”

Her bottom lip quivered. “Yes.”

Shit. Shane put the car in gear and pulled out.

“Does Maeve know?”

“No. We’ll tell her about it when we get there.”

She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. The only sound in the car was the crackling and distorted voices on the radio as the dispatcher talked to officers.

“Where’s my car?”

“Tow truck took it to their compound. You’ll need to call your insurance company.”

“Oh.”

“I can’t believe they actually got it up the side of the mountain,” Shane said. He shook his head as he drove. “Christ, Keara.”

“I know, I know. I didn’t do it on purpose.”

“I know. It’s just…” Words failed him.

He parked behind Maeve’s shop, and helped Keara in the back door, with a call to Maeve. She appeared in the Staff Only door.

“Shane? What are…oh my God! Keara!” She flew across the hall to where they stood at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the apartment. “What happened?”

“She had an accident,” Shane said, holding onto her around her waist. There was nothing to her, she was so small and thin. “Motor vehicle accident. She’s okay, though, Maeve.”

“I’m okay.” Keara pulled herself away from him.

Maeve just stood there, hands on Keara’s shoulders staring at her in shock. “Jesus and Mary, what happened? Oh, come. Let’s get you upstairs.”

Shane started to lead Keara up the steps but then cursed and bent down, sliding an arm beneath her legs. He picked her up and carried her up the stairs.

“Shane!” She clutched his shoulders. “I can walk.”

“Sure.” She wasn’t heavy at all, although climbing stairs made it a little more difficult. At the top of the stairs, Maeve opened the door and let them into the apartment. “Where’s your room?”

“It’s this one,” Maeve said, scurrying ahead to open Keara’s door. She stepped aside and let Shane carry Keara into the room and lay her on the bed.

“I don’t need to go to bed,” Keara snapped, but she let her head sink into the pillow. She looked like crap, but Christ, she was still appealing as hell.

“Just lie down for a few minutes,” he growled back, and turned to Maeve. He filled her in on the details of the crash as he knew them, saying nothing about Keara’s claim she’d been forced off the road. “She was damn lucky the way her car got hung up on that tree on the way down or she’d be…well, it’d be way worse. Air bags probably saved her from too much damage. Just bruises and scrapes.”

“I have a big scrape on my…chest,” Keara interjected. “From the seatbelt.” She touched a hand just above her left breast.

Maeve’s eyes were wide but she didn’t freak out. “Well, thank the good Lord for that,” she said. “A scrape from a seatbelt is far better than…” Her eyes flicked to Shane and then back to Keara. “Well. How did this happen, Keara? I don’t understand.”

A long, shaky breath escaped Keara’s lips and she started to sit up. “I’m sorry I didn’t get your errands done…”

Shane put a hand on her shoulder—her right one—and gently pushed her back down as Maeve sad, “Oh, muirnín, that doesn’t matter.”

“Just lie down,” Shane said mildly. “We can talk about this later if you just want to rest.”

She gazed back at him, looking…resigned. “There’s no way to prove someone forced me off the road, is there?”

Maeve gasped. “Forced you off the road? Keara! Are you serious?”

“Yes.” She held Shane’s gaze. “Someone made me crash. I don’t know why.”

“We’ll have a look at your vehicle,” Shane replied. “Did he hit you?”

“On the back bumper.” Her mouth twisted. “He came up close beside but I jerked the wheel away to avoid hitting him. That’s when I went through the guardrail.”

“Can you describe the vehicle?” he asked. “I don’t suppose you got a plate number.”

“No.” The corners of her mouth turned down. “Of course I didn’t get a plate number. He was right in my rearview mirror for miles and I was getting pissed off, but I couldn’t see his plate, and then there was no time for that. It was a blue SUV. I think…I’m thinking it was a Jeep Liberty, but I can’t say that for sure. Something like that. Dark blue. It was a man. He had short, dark hair. Sunglasses. That’s all I know.” She took a breath. “It happened so fast.”

Shane took the bottle of painkillers they’d given her at the hospital out of his pocket and set it on the small table beside the bed. “She just had some of those,” he told Maeve. “She can have more in four hours.” He handed over a printout with information on mild concussions for her. “She needs to have an eye kept on her for the next twenty-four hours.”

Keara’s eyes closed.

“What can I get you, muirnín?” Maeve asked, touching her hair. “Anything to eat? Drink?”

“Some water,” Keara whispered. “Just water, please.”

Shane followed Maeve out to the kitchen where she poured water from the pitcher she kept in the refrigerator. She gazed at him with anxious eyes. “Do you believe that’s what happened?”

He shrugged. “No reason not to believe it. But like she said, hard to prove. Unless there were witnesses, which it doesn’t sound like, or some damage to her car. If some paint from the other vehicle is on her bumper, we’d have something to go on. Otherwise…” He met her gaze. “Single vehicle collision. We won’t charge her with anything.”

“I should hope not!”

“No drugs or alcohol involved. Her insurance company won’t be impressed.” Huh. Where were her insurance papers? He could get that started for her at least.

“I have to get back to the store.” Maeve looked frustrated. “Jayla’s not in today so I’ve no one else.”

“I’ll stay for a while.” He took the glass of water from Maeve and strode back into the bedroom. “Here you go.” He helped her sit up, pushing some of the big pillows from the bed behind her so she could sip the water. “Where’s your insurance stuff? I’ll call and get the claim started for you.”

“You don’t have to do that.” She lay back down.

“Whatever. Where is it?”

“No, Shane. I can do it myself.” She started to get back up and he put a hand on her shoulder and pressed her down.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re in no shape. Just let me do this, for Chrissake.”

She sighed. “My purse.” He handed her the soft leather bag and she dug it out and handed it to him.

“You rest. I’ll make some calls.” He walked to the door.

“Okay.” She watched him, eyes huge in her wan face. “Shane?”

“Yeah?” He turned at the door.

“You do look good in your uniform.”

He lifted a brow. Where the hell had that come? Must be the pain meds. One corner of his mouth kicked up. “Uh…thanks.”

Chapter Ten

Keara woke to Maeve nudging her arm.

“I can’t let you sleep too long, muirnín,” she said softly. “Can you wake up and talk for a few minutes?”

“Mmmm.” She forced her eyes open and pushed up onto her elbows. Every muscle screamed with pain and she whimpered. “Dammit.”

“You okay? What can I do?”

“Can I have more pain pills yet? What time is it?”

The room was dim but Keara could see Maeve look at her watch. “Yes, you can have more now. Here.” She shook out two tablets and handed them to her with a glass of water. Then she sat carefully on the end of the bed.

Keara downed the pills and took a few long gulps of water. Her head throbbed to the point of making her feel a little nauseous. “Well, this is no fun,” she said, lying back down.

“I’d say not.” Maeve studied her. “I feel terrible that this happened to you, muirnín.”

“It’s not your fault. It’s my own stupid fault.”

“You said someone else caused the accident.”

Keara sighed. She’d been thinking about it ever since, when she hadn’t been dozing. “I thought he did. I don’t know. Maybe I just imagined it. I was nervous with him tailgating like that, on the winding road.”

“That highway is crazy. I never should have asked you to go into Santa Melita.”

“It’s not your fault, Maeve. Maybe the guy was just trying to pass. I was slowing down and pulling over. I must have overreacted. An accident.” But she recalled how close he’d been to her car, how her heart had leaped with fear. He’d had the whole two-lane highway to pass her on.

“But he didn’t even stop. You’d think he would have stopped to help if it had been an accident.”

“Maybe he didn’t realize I’d gone over the side, once he’d passed me.”

Maybe. No. He’d absolutely known she’d gone over the side of the mountain. Had to have. Fear gripped her again, seizing her lungs and making her heart trip.

Oh shit. Here we go again. That morning when she’d set out on her errands, her focus had been on getting her mind off Shane and sex. Off sex with Shane. Now she was back to being reduced to a trembling mass of nerves and fear. And was bashed and bruised on top of it.

Tears stung her eyes and she squeezed them shut, not wanting to break down and cry in front of Maeve, but a hot tear tracked down her cheekbone and into her hair.

“Don’t cry, muirnín.” Maeve moved closer and gathered her into a hug. “Don’t cry. You’re okay. You’re okay.”

“I was starting to feel better,” Keara sobbed. “I had fun at the Dunstans’ last night. And…and…Shane was f-flirting with me.” Maeve’s hand rubbed her back soothingly. “I was th-thinking about sex. Like you wanted. And…then this happens, and now I’m all scared again. Oh. I think I’m going to throw up.”

She slid from Maeve’s arms and rushed to the bathroom across the hall, fell to her knees in front of the toilet. Saliva accumulated in her mouth and she swallowed repeatedly while her stomach heaved, but nothing actually came up.

Tears wet her cheeks, and when her stomach settled she reached for the towel hanging above her and dried her face.

“Okay?” Maeve stood in the doorway, looking drawn and worried.

Ah hell. “I’m sorry,” she muttered. She climbed to her feet, her whole body aching and tight. “I’m okay.”

“It’s the concussion,” Maeve said. “In a couple of days you’ll be fine.”

“Yeah.” But she hadn’t been fine in weeks.

“I’ll make us some soup for dinner, how’s that? Do you want to go back to bed?”

“I think I should move around,” Keara said. If she lay around too long her muscles would just tighten up even more. Tiny hammers swung in her head but she followed Maeve to the kitchen. While Maeve bustled about heating up soup, Keara found a box of soda crackers and munched on a couple, hoping that would help her stomach. She hadn’t eaten all day and had been taking strong pain meds, which could also be making her feel sick.

This had to stop. She could not go on this way. She’d gone from prickly fear and pervading anxiety to numb and lethargic, then to annoyed—hey, it was better than dead—and yes, turned-on, and was now full circle back at clawing panic. She focused on taking in slow, regular breaths.

Why did this have to happen now? Was her mind playing tricks on her and making her think someone did this to her deliberately? It was just like the break-in at her condo all over again. She’d sworn someone had been out there, but the police were equally certain no one had been. That her paranoid imagination had just taken off. And now it had again.

Her stomach tightened and as Maeve slid a bowl of soup onto the table in front of her, she peered down at it in dismay. She picked up her spoon, knew she should eat, but felt repulsed and her stomach protested.

“You should eat something,” Maeve murmured, taking a seat at the table.

“I know I should.” She dipped her spoon into the creamy bowl. “What is it? Cream of mushroom?”

“My special mushroom chowder.”

Keara tasted it. “It’s delicious.” She ate another spoonful. And another. “I don’t think Shane believed me.”

Maeve met her eyes. “He said there was no reason not to believe you. But they won’t likely be able to find the person unless there’s some kind of evidence.”

“I know.” She huffed out a breath. “Asshole.”

“I’m going to assume you’re talking about the other driver and not Shane.”

A little snort of laughter escaped her. “No, I wasn’t talking about Shane. He was very nice to me today. A little bossy, but nice.”

“He was worried about you.”

“Well.” Keara lowered her gaze to her soup again. “He doesn’t even know me. Really. He doesn’t need to worry about me.”

“You said he was flirting with you.”

Keara sucked in her bottom lip. “Oh. Yeah. I don’t know what got into him.”

“You’re a pretty girl. Why wouldn’t he flirt with you?”

Keara laughed. “I’m not going to talk about this.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’m okay, Maeve. I’ll be moving a bit slow for a day or two, but I’m okay. This was just a stupid accident.

Even as she said it, her face grew hot and tight and her throat closed up. She blinked at stinging tears, feeling as if her world was spinning out of control. If she didn’t even have control of her mind, if her brain could play tricks on her like it had been, what did that mean? How could she control anything?

She looked at Maeve and blinked back the tears. “I didn’t tell you exactly why I came here.”

Maeve regarded her solemnly. “Well, I knew it wasn’t for a holiday.”

“No.” Keara gripped her hands together in her lap. “The robbery shook me up.”

“It would shake anyone up, going through something like that.”

“But it seems to have affected me…a lot.” She rubbed the back of one hand across her nose. “I’ve been off work ever since the robbery. I was seeing a psychologist. They told me I had to, to deal with the trauma. I was supposed to go back to work last week, on Monday. Two days before I called you, I had gone in to work for a visit. I…had some kind of strange episode. Apparently it was a panic attack. Just slightly humiliating.” She struggled to get the words out, hating the way her voice was all shaky and pathetic. “And then, the night before I called you, I thought someone tried to break into my condo.”

“Oh no.” Maeve’s eyes widened and she set down her spoon.

“Except, it was nothing. I called the police and they came and it was all very embarrassing, but there was nothing there. My nerves were still shot from the robbery thing.” She swallowed. “Then I was terrified to stay there alone. That’s why I came here.”

She twisted her trembling fingers tightly. “Now this happens. And I did it again. Let my nerves get to me. I probably thought that SUV was closer than it was, and I panicked and overreacted and…I could have killed myself. I’m just glad nobody else was with me.”

“Oh, muirnín.” Maeve’s face softened and she stood up and held out her arms. “Come here and give me a hug.”

Keara stood, muscles aching, and stepped into Maeve’s embrace. She held onto her aunt, let her hold her, soothe her.

“It will be okay,” Maeve murmured.

Keara gathered up everything she had and stepped out of Maeve’s arms. She had no right to dump this on her poor old great-aunt, no right to worry Maeve, when she was just being silly.

“Yes, I’ll be okay,” she agreed with a tight smile. “Actually this week I was feeling pretty good. I had fun last night at Dunstans’. And then flirting with Shane kind of took my mind off things.”

Maeve drew back and smiled at her. “See? I was right. Sex is what you need. A good round of hot, shake-the-bed sex.”

The sound that emerged from Keara’s throat was half laugh, half sob. “Maybe you are right,” she said, dragging her fingers across wet eyes. “But now it’s going to have to wait until all these bruises are gone.”

“Perhaps.” Maeve returned to her chair and picked up her spoon again. “Eat your soup. And tell me about the robbery. Maybe it will help to talk about it.”

“I talked about it to the psychologist.” Keara obediently lifted her spoon. “I don’t need to talk about it anymore.”

“Well, I’m not a psychologist, but people tell me I’m a good listener. And keeping stuff inside you isn’t healthy.”

So Keara talked as she ate her soup, telling Maeve about the robbery and the hostage-taking. She didn’t tell her everything. Because some things were just too awful to even think, never mind tell someone else. Because she didn’t want Maeve to be disgusted with her, to know the whole thing had been her fault. She kept that part of the incident closed away in a partitioned-off part of her brain, where she didn’t have to examine it or deal with it.

And to a certain extent, telling Maeve and hearing her sympathetic comments did make her feel better.

They’d just finished their dinner when Shane arrived, buzzing at the back door, now locked.

Shane walked into Maeve’s apartment, still in his uniform. He hadn’t even gone home to eat yet. He sought out Keara and found her seated on the couch, cross-legged, a cushion clutched on her lap.

“Should you be out of bed?” he asked with a frown.

“I’m fine,” she replied, with a roll of her eyes. “Sore, but fine. I want to keep moving around so I don’t stiffen up too much. What are you doing here?”

“Just checking to see how you’re doing.”

“You don’t need to do that.”

He ignored her. “Will you be up to coming in to the station to make your report tomorrow?”

“I think so. I just have no way to get there.”

“You can use my car,” Maeve offered.

“I’ll pick you up,” Shane said at the same time.

“Do you offer that service to every crash victim?” she asked, frowning.

“No. Not everyone. It’s no trouble. I’ll come around lunchtime and we’ll get it done.”

She gave him a look—chin tilted down, up through her eyelashes—and his chest tightened. She looked so damn vulnerable and lost. What was it about her?

“Fine,” she finally said with a sigh.

“I called your insurance company,” he said, taking a seat on the other end of the couch from her. “An adjuster will have a look at the car to see if it can be repaired. But first thing tomorrow Joe and I will go have a look at it also. See if there’s any evidence of another car hitting you.”

“There won’t be.” She looked down at the cushion on her lap then back up to him. “I think I imagined that.”

He stared at her. “You think you imagined it. Why do you say that?”

Her lips pressed together. “I just do. I think I probably overreacted to the guy tailing me close. So I’m sure the accident was all my fault.”

He said nothing. It was possible. And yet, she’d seemed so certain earlier. “Is that what you’re going to say in your statement?”

“I…I don’t know. I just want to tell the truth.”

He nodded. “Well, you figure it out, honey, and we’ll go from there. I’m willing to investigate if you think someone deliberately tried to force you off the road.”

“There’s probably no point in it.” She sighed. “I don’t want to put you to a lot of work for nothing.”

He nodded, not sure how to respond to her. Keara wasn’t the type of person to try to blame someone else for something that was her fault. He was pretty sure of that. Some drivers would make up a story like that to take the blame off themselves, maybe thinking they’d be charged with something. But he didn’t believe she would.

So what had really happened up on San Marcos Pass? He found himself hoping unreasonably that he’d find something on her car the next day, even though he knew it unlikely, and even though he knew if he did, he had a helluva bigger problem on his hands. But…Keara’s new admission that she might have overreacted and the sadness on her face as she said it tugged at something inside him. He wanted to pull her onto his lap and wrap his arms around her.

“Everyone makes mistakes,” he finally said, not sure if she was going to take that as reassuring or an indictment. She just nodded, her morose lethargy heart-tugging.

“You look tired,” he said, standing. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

As Maeve walked him to the door, he asked her in a low voice, “Is she okay?”

Maeve nodded, her mouth tightened into a thin scarlet line, eyes narrowed. “Shane. I’m worried about her.”

He stopped, glanced over Maeve’s shoulder at Keara, staring into space.

“You think she’s hurt? Did they miss something at the hospital?”

“No.” Maeve shook her head. “She’s just going through a difficult time right now. She just needs a friend, I think.”

He met her eyes. What was she saying? “We…I…”

“You two were friends. A long time ago.”

“Yeah.”

“Just be a friend to her again, then,” Maeve said gently.

He nodded and left, about a hundred questions bouncing around in his brain. What the hell was going on? And why should he even care?

But he did.

* * *

As he’d said he would, Shane picked her up and drove her, again in the police cruiser, to the station to fill out the report. She repeated everything that had happened, including the fact that she’d thought the vehicle forced her to the side,

She could tell from the look on the officer’s face who took her report that people probably told him stories about mysterious vanishing vehicles forcing them off the road, into telephone poles, and over curbs all the time. They thought she was just making it up so she wouldn’t have to take the blame for the accident. She could tell.

It annoyed her because she wouldn’t make something up. Sure, she’d probably overreacted to the vehicle being there, but she wasn’t inventing the whole thing. There had been someone following her too close, for whatever reason, and even if it wasn’t totally his fault she’d driven over the side of the mountain, he had been a jerk. She could still be angry about that.

Shane kept his expression carefully neutral as she made the report, unlike the other officer who didn’t much hide his disbelief, and she wondered what Shane was really thinking. About her. She didn’t want him to think she was avoiding blame.

Shane told her it wasn’t likely her car would be able to be repaired. Great. She’d have to see what the insurance company offered her, but now she was stuck in Kilkenny with no car until then, and until she could buy a new one. Just effing great.

When they stepped outside the small police office into bright sunshine and cool mountain air, she glanced at him.

“What?” he asked, looking at her.

She hesitated then said, “I want to have sex.”

Chapter Eleven

Shane stopped walking. Glanced at his watch. “We’ll have to be fast. I’ve only twenty minutes left in my lunch break.”

She gave a strangled laugh. “I didn’t mean right this minute.”

“I’ll call Jim,” he said, taking her hand and leading her down the sidewalk at a near-run. “He’ll cover for me for an hour.”

“Shane!”

He slanted a glance at her. “I guess we’ll go to my place.”

“Shane!”

He felt like he was dragging her along and he paused, reminded of her recent injuries. “You feel up to this?” He had to ask. But if she said no…

“Well…I am still pretty sore…”

“We’ll be careful.”

They arrived at his car and he handed her in, then leaped into the driver’s seat. He debated putting lights and siren on. Nah, he’d get in trouble if anyone found out he was racing home for sex. He hardened painfully.

“I don’t even know where you live,” Keara said.

“Over on Shillelagh Road.”

“A house?”

“Yup.” He drove with determined, focused speed the short distance to his house, glancing sideways at Keara. Her fingers twisted around each other in her lap, but she hadn’t told him to take her home. Yet.

He pulled into the driveway in front of the double-car garage.

“Nice place.”

He leaped out of the car and dashed around to help Keara.

“Yeah. Thanks. My dad built it a few years back.”

Holding one of her hands in his left, he unlocked the front door with his right hand, then stepped into the foyer and punched the code into the alarm system while kicking the door shut behind him.

Keara tugged her hand back but he didn’t release it. “Um…”

He turned and looked down at her. Her teeth sank into her lush lower lip and her cheeks pinkened. “What?”

He was acting like a caveman. A horny, crazed animal. Shit. He sucked in oxygen. “I’m sorry.”

She blinked at him. He tugged her closer and put his hands on her waist. “Believe it or not, I do believe in foreplay,” he said softly, smiling.

She gave a choked little laugh. “That’s good. I know we don’t have much time, but…”

He pulled her closer, against his body, inhaled that sweet jasmine honeysuckle scent of her. He had a hard-on like a club. “We have all the time in the world,” he murmured.

“Um…your job? Shane…”

He nuzzled the side of her neck, beneath her ear, where the skin was soft and sweetly fragrant. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Oookay.” The word was a breath and he pressed a kiss to her throat, to the pulse fluttering there. His own heart was about to pound out of his chest and his cock throbbed insistently behind the zipper of his uniform trousers. He slid his hands down to her hips and then around behind her to the curves of her ass.

Her breath hissed out, her head fell back and he lifted his own head to gaze at her. Her lips parted and his mouth opened with the need to taste her. He lowered his head and kissed her, at first soft, exploring, coaxing. Then with a groan, he gathered her in his arms and brought her up tight against him, loving the feel of her in his arms, and deepened the kiss, mouth opening over hers, his tongue licking over her bottom lip and into her mouth. She tasted like sweet, delicious female and he realized he recognized the taste of her and the feel of her as if the last time he’d kissed her had been yesterday.

The shock of that jolted him like a live current, made his pulse leap, made his cock twitch. He pressed it into Keara’s softness, felt her arms slide around his neck, her fingers slipping into his hair. If they could have wrapped themselves around each other, they would have, by the feel of her straining against him. Her breasts—not big but damn cute from what he remembered—pressed against his torso.

Christ! He hauled her up by her ass, and her legs wrapped around his waist, their mouths devouring each other. He tried to carry her to the stairs leading to the bedrooms upstairs, stumbling a bit with her across the shiny white tile floor of his foyer.

“No,” he gasped as his raging lust threatened his self-control. The carpeted stairs looked good to him, and he considered stopping there and taking her.

“What d’you mean, no?” She arched against him to rub those pretty tits over his chest.

“I mean, I want to do you right here, but I promised you foreplay.”

“Screw the foreplay,” she said. “I want it now. Right here. Oh God, Shane.”

She rocked against him, her soft center rubbing seekingly against him.

Okay, the stairs it was. He lowered her to the gray carpet, two stairs above him, and started unfastening his pants while she reached up under the full skirt she wore and wriggled out of her panties.

“This is crazy,” she breathed, tossing the panties over the railing. He fell onto her, kissing her mouth, her jaw, her neck, taking himself in hand and finding her wet folds. He nudged at her, her wet heat scalding him, so tight he had to push harder.

“Don’t wanna hurt you,” he muttered, nipping her chin. She hissed.

“Don’t worry.” Her legs opened wider, her pelvis shifted and he thrust harder, submerging himself partially into her hot clasp. Another push, sensation sizzling down his spine, and then another, and he was in her, all the way, deep and tight.

He groaned, fragments of sanity flashing into his consciousness. She was bruised and sore from the accident and here he was pounding into her on the staircase for God’s sake. They hadn’t even made it to his bed.

“I’m sorry.” The words squeezed out between his clenched teeth and he kissed her again, her mouth soft and sweet beneath his, her tongue sliding against his, as urgently as his. He thrust into her once, twice, pressure building, heat spiraling.

She pressed up into him with his every downstroke, her mound bumping his lower belly, and then she cried out, her thighs tightening on his hips, her fingers digging into his shoulders.

“Ah, Keara, come for me, Keara.” He drove into her one more time and let sensation take him, let himself go, pouring into her in hot hard, pulses.

He rested his forehead on the carpet beside her while his heart slammed painfully in his chest and his lungs strained for air. “Jesus.”

“I know.” Her hands moved over his back in short, restless movements. “I know. Dear God, I know.”

When he could speak, he asked, “Are you okay?”

“I think so.”

“I can’t believe we did this.”

“Me neither.”

Her hands continued to pet his back.

“Fuck.”

“Mmmm?”

“I can’t believe it,” Shane muttered. “We forgot to use a condom.”

Her body tightened beneath him. “Uh. Yeah. That was kinda stupid.”

“It’s not like I don’t have any.” He rolled his forehead back and forth over the carpeted stair. “I’ve got three jumbo boxes of the damn things up in my bedroom.”

She snorted out a laugh which made her tighten around his still-hard cock. “Really? I thought you’d been using all those.”

“Ha.” He lifted his head, and frowned down at her, smoothing her hair back from her damp forehead with one hand. “I’m sorry, Keara. Are you…protected?”

“Yes. And I think I’m safe. I am.”

“I am too.” He gazed at her. “Sorry.”

“It’s as much my fault.” She touched his cheek. He went to move off her and out of her, and she winced.

“What? Shit, I forgot your bruises.”

“This one from the seatbelt is the worst.” She touched her left collarbone gingerly.

He pulled out and shoved himself back into his pants but didn’t zip up. Rising, he held a hand out to her and she took it and pulled herself up. She smoothed the skirt down over sexy bare legs.

“Well,” she said. “You’ve still got plenty of time to get back to the office.”

He laughed. “Oh no I don’t.” And he grabbed her and swung her up into his arms. With a squeal she clung to his shoulders and he started up the stairs.

“Shane! What are you doing?”

“I promised you foreplay and I’m going to give you foreplay.”

“Uh…wouldn’t that be afterplay?”

He grinned as he reached the upstairs hall, but didn’t set her down. He carried her into his bedroom. “We’ll call it afterplay and if it leads to something, then we’ll consider it to have turned into foreplay.”

Her smile made his heart start thudding again. Damn, he liked that smile.

He carried her over to the bed and lowered her gently to the pouffy surface, a plain navy blue duvet. She sank into the down, loving the softness on her aching body. Aching from the car accident yesterday and now aching from being fucked on the stairs. Her tummy flipped at the thought.

Shane hadn’t just been doing her a favor. He’d been so hot for her he couldn’t even make it to the bedroom. The idea of that thrilled her to her melting core.

It had been so hot, so sexy, so wicked she hadn’t noticed any pain, only felt the desperate lustful longing to press herself against him, to have him deep inside her. Lord, she was melting all over again, slow liquid heat seeping down through her body to between her legs. She tightened her thighs and watched Shane start to unbutton his shirt.

Her mouth went dry and she felt her eyes widen. She’d wanted to see his chest. Dear lord, here it was. He shrugged out of the shirt and let it drop to the floor, and his chest was sooooo hot. Her eyes feasted on the ripped abs, the slabs of his pecs with dark nipples, the dust of hair between, and the thick muscles of his shoulders and upper arms.

She blinked.

And then his hands went to his pants, still unzipped and gaping open, the bulge there impressively recuperative.

Heat surged between her legs again and her nipples tingled as Shane shoved his pants and underwear down. His eyes met hers and he paused. If that had been her, standing there stripping in front of him, she’d be scarlet as Maeve’s hair and trying to cover herself. But Shane stood there unapologetically naked, supremely confident, and damn, he had good reason, because his body was a freakin’ work of art.

As a teenager he’d had a good body—nice male shape with wide shoulders, narrow hips, smooth bare chest—but he’d become so much more muscular since then. He was a man now—strong and heavily muscled and dominant. Keara’s eyes dropped to the nest of dark curls between thick thighs, and his penis jutting out, also thick, long and male-beautiful.

Her dry mouth began to water. She wanted to taste him. But at that moment Shane had other ideas and he fell to the bed beside her and began working at the buttons of her shirt.

He was going to undress her, and her heart swelled in her chest and her pussy dampened even more. It was so tender, so sexy. She longed for him to remove her clothes, ached for his touch.

She had to touch him too. She stroked over his corded arms and thick biceps as he slowly undid each button on her cotton shirt, then opened it to reveal her to his eyes. The way he studied her, with heavy lids and parted lips, was so sensual she burned. Her nipples tightened and her breasts swelled beneath the white lace of her bra. She knew she wasn’t well endowed, but Shane had never minded that, had loved her breasts and lavished attention on them. Her breasts were sensitive in inverse proportion to their size, and she derived so much pleasure from having them touched that she now longed for him to remove her bra, to reveal her to him, to touch her.

And he did.

He slid his hands beneath her back and plucked at the clasp of her bra, opening it easily. Then he drew the cups away from her, slid the straps down over her arms and tossed the lacy garment aside. He looked at her and she tingled and tightened even more beneath his heated gaze.

“You have got the prettiest breasts in the world,” he whispered, and the awe and admiration in his gaze and in his voice drew everything inside her up into a tight ache. “They’re so perfect.”

“They’re…small. And I’m kind of…bruised.”

“Phhht. You know they’re perfect. And the bruises will fade.” He laid his hands on her rib cage so his fingers and thumbs circled them. Then he bent his head and feathered a kiss over her bruises. “Exactly how I like them. Round. I like how your nipples point up. I like how your nipples pucker…” He leaned down and licked one. She shivered. Hard. “Like that.” He licked the other and another shudder racked her. “I like how your nipples are such perfect, hard little points. How they taste…” And he sucked one into his mouth. “So sweet,” he mumbled around it. He sucked again, harder, and her hands went to his head, tried to fist in his hair but it was short, cop short. He’d worn it longer years ago. She raked her nails over his scalp and he gasped. He moved to the other breast, took her nipple gently in his teeth and bit.

Her back arched, lifting her breasts higher to his mouth, sensation sizzling through her veins, pleasure zapping from nipple to womb, flooding her with erotic need.

He cupped her breasts in his hands, sucked and nipped and licked until she thought she would go insane. Nobody had ever so generously tended to her sensitive nipples and she writhed and twitched beneath him, until he lifted his head and gazed at her chest. Her nipples felt like they were glowing, hot and red. She tried to breathe, her chest aching and tight.

“That feels so good,” she whispered, fingers slipping from his head to his neck, caressing his hot skin.

“Oh yeah.”

He moved against her, and she became aware that he was aroused, fully aroused, his erection pressing against her hip. She reached for him, wanting to touch, to feel his silky hardness and yes…she sucked in a breath as her fingers closed around him, burning hot, hard and throbbing. She stroked him, eliciting a gasp and a groan from him.

“So good,” he said, pushing into her palm. “So good, Keara.”

“Yes.” She stroked him, but she needed more, and she lifted her hands to her mouth and wet each palm with her tongue, then returned to him, slicked her wet hands over him and he jerked hard.

“Christ, Keara.”

She liked the way her hands slid now, lubed up and slippery, up over the head, back down, and he thrust into her grasp, eyes closed. “God yeah,” he whispered. “So fucking hot.”

“So hard,” she whispered in return. “Hot and hard. Big and hard.”

He made a low growling noise and she stroked faster. Harder. She remembered he liked it like that.

“Yes.” His hips moved.

“I want to suck you.”

His eyes flew open and he twitched in her hands. “Hell yeah.”

They shifted on the bed, and Keara knelt between his thighs, pressing them open with her palms. His erection thrust up before her, but she wanted to enjoy every second of this, every taste, every smell, so she bent her head and pressed kisses to his thighs, licked the crease of his groin, pressed her nose to the curls at the base of his penis. She inhaled slowly, loving the male scent of him, spicy, warm and sexy. She licked him, up and down, slowly, lusciously, let more saliva slide out of her mouth onto him then took him in. Her tongue swirled around the satiny head, her cheeks hollowed as she sucked, lips wet and lubricious, and then she relaxed her throat to take him deep.

“Jesus,” he croaked, hands on her head, guiding her. “That feels incredible. Your mouth…Keara. Your lips…”

She kept moving up and down until he pulled her away from him, hands in her hair, and although she missed him filling her mouth, she loved the pleasure-pain in her scalp. She moaned.

“I’m gonna come,” he groaned. “Wanna come inside you.”

“Yes.”

He rolled to the side and yanked open the drawer of the table beside the bed and Keara smiled when she saw the three boxes of condoms. He fumbled around and finally produced one, ripped it open and rolled it on.

“Uh…” She was going to say something about how it was kind of too late to worry about that, but she appreciated his thoughtfulness and let him glove up. Instead she smiled wickedly. “I thought you were going through a lot of those things.”

He grinned back. “I wish.” Then he rolled her over onto her back and moved over her. “I still feel like this is too fast. I could play forever with you. There’s so much I want to do to you…”

“I know.” But she needed it as much as he did, aching between her legs, throbbing inside her, thick desire swirling and bubbling, flames burning at her, licking over her with hot need. “Do it, Shane. Do it now. We’ll play later.”

“Yes.” His jaw tightened as he pushed into her again, and God! It felt so good, a stretching heat, a shimmering fulfillment. She arched against him, grabbed his back, slid her hands down to his ass and pulled him tighter to her, deeper, as deep as he could get.

Little yearning noises, gasps and the slick sound of his body inside hers filled the room as he penetrated her and fucked her. She whimpered, lifted her legs, opened to him and held him to her. When he slipped a hand between their damp bodies and found her clit, she cried out. Again, nobody had ever done that for her, ensured her orgasm, attended to her pleasure. She tightened inside, around him, big and filling her, let his fingers stroke over her while his cock stroked inside, two sources of pleasure mingling and twisting into one, coiling together, tighter, higher until she thought she might burst. And then she did burst, an explosion of sensation, sparks shimmering over her, colors shattering behind her eyelids, and she hung on to him so she didn’t fly apart.

She felt him explode too, his body taut against her, surging into her in long, hard thrusts, noises of pleasure and torment rippling from his throat.

He covered her mouth with his and drank from her in a long, ravenous kiss as he throbbed inside her and she quivered around him in aftershocks of delight.

Chapter Twelve

The ringtone of Shane’s cell phone somewhere in the bedroom aroused them from a drifting, languorous state of near-sleep. His warmth and heaviness felt so good, his arms around her, her head on his chest.

Keara lifted her head and gazed around the room.

“Shit,” Shane muttered, rolling away from her and out of bed.

He found the phone attached to his pants, lying in a heap on the floor. “Yeah?” He stood there, naked, his back to her, and she admired the curve of his back, the smooth ridges of muscle sloping down to two deep indentations just above the finest buttocks she’d ever seen. She smiled on a soft breath out. “I got tied up,” Shane said, and glanced at her with a lifted brow. “I may be a while longer. Why?” He listened. “Yeah, okay. Do that, that’s fine. I’ll see you later.”

He snapped his phone shut and dropped it on the bedside table before sliding back under the duvet cover.

“Don’t you have to go back to work?”

“Yeah. But we have a little longer.” He reached for her and slid her up against his hard warmth. “This is too nice to leave.”

“Mmmm.” She couldn’t argue with him there. She snuggled in again, a feeling of peace and contentment sliding over her. “You know, I didn’t make that story up.”

“What story?”

“About the SUV forcing me off the road.”

“I never thought you did.”

“Oh.” She listened to his heart thudding, strong and sure, beneath her cheek. “Okay. I think that other guy…what was his name?”

“Curtis.”

“Yeah. I think he thought I was totally making it up.”

“Possibly. We do tend to get a little cynical.”

“I just wanted you to know that…” She tipped her head back. “I didn’t make it up, but…I’m worried that maybe I’m going crazy.”

His mouth quirked. “You are, huh? Why are you worried about that? Because of the PTSD?”

“Well…” She cleared her throat. “Yes. And because of what happened at home just before I came here.”

“What happened, Keara?” He stroked a hand down her back, reassuring and strong.

She told him about the break-in at her condo and how it had turned out to be nothing. “My mind seems out of control lately,” she confessed to him, hiding her face against his chest again. “I also had a panic attack a couple of days before that when I tried to visit the bank. That’s never happened to me before. I didn’t believe it was a panic attack, but the doctor said it was classic. My mind and my body seem like they’re beyond my control sometimes. It…it scares me.”

“It is scary.” He pressed his face to the top of her head. “It’s terrifying. And nobody understands it, unless they’ve experienced it.”

She lifted her head to look at him, remembering what he’d said that night at his parents’ home. “You had PTSD, too?”

“Yup. It was humiliating. I hated to admit it, but like you, I couldn’t hide the things that were happening to me, the reactions I was having to stuff. Thank God for my parents, who recognized what was going on and made me get help. If it wasn’t for them…” His mouth tightened. “I don’t know what would’ve happened.”

“So you know what’s like. But did you imagine things happening that weren’t real?”

He shook his head. “No. But everyone is different. I knew one guy who came back convinced everybody was out to get him. Like they were the enemy. He was really screwed up.”

Keara sucked on her bottom lip. “I guess it could be how I react. But I hate that, Shane. I don’t know if I can trust myself to really know what’s going on. That’s twice something like that has happened. How am I going to…” Her voice broke and she stopped, unable to say the words that terrified her.

“How do you know you can go back to work and manage a bank?”

She gave a small nod, her throat tight.

“Give it time, a thaisce.” He stroked her back again, warm, protective. The Gaelic endearment rolled off his tongue. “Give it time. You will.”

At that moment, she felt hope sprout inside her, tiny but there, more than she’d had for weeks of hopeless helplessness. Maybe Shane was right. She moved against him, skin to skin, loving the way she felt alive and…God, sexy.

They made love again—three orgasms in one afternoon, lord, that was amazing—and talked a little more until Shane heaved a sigh and said he really had to go back to work.

“I don’t want to cost you your job,” Keara said with a smile, buttoning her shirt carefully over bruises and tender breasts. She didn’t like the bruises, but the tender breasts were actually exciting. Every time she brushed over the sensitive tips she got a flippy feeling low in her tummy.

“Don’t worry.” He grinned. “I hardly ever take a lunch break. One day I take an extended one I think is okay.”

She glanced at her watch. “And you still have to take me home. Or, I could call a taxi…”

“Don’t be silly. It’s not far, I’ll drop you off.”

She walked into the Irish Sex Fairy Shop feeling lighter and more relaxed than she had in ages. Dear God, Maeve had been right. She couldn’t help the smile that pulled up the corners of her mouth, and when Maeve looked up at her from the counter and did a double-take, she knew Maeve probably recognized her change in demeanor too.

“And where have you been, young lady?” Maeve demanded, but her twinkly eyes belied the harsh question.

“Um. With Shane.” She knew Maeve would know exactly what they’d been doing. And she didn’t even care.

“Ah. Well, that’s fine, then. You look quite…relaxed.”

“Yeah.” Keara touched a hand to her hair, sure she still wore a goofy smile. “I feel pretty good.”

“I won’t say I told you so, as long as you promise to remember that I am right about most things.”

Keara laughed, and it felt so good it startled her. “Okay, I’ll remember that.”

“Not to ruin your mood, but what happened at the police station?”

Keara told her and shrugged. “I doubt they’ll find anything. But Shane believes me.”

“Well of course he does! I believe you too!”

Keara regarded her aunt, and a soft warmth spread inside her. “Thank you,” she choked out. “That means a lot to me.”

Maeve shook her head, but was smiling.

“Anything for me to do?” Keara asked.

“Actually there was a phone call for you a while ago.” Maeve reached for a piece of paper and handed it to Keara. She looked down at the name and phone number. Oh lord. It was the case manager from the disability insurance company the bank contracted with. She was the one who’d arranged for Keara to see a psychologist when she’d been having the flashbacks and nightmares, and had arranged for Keara to go back to work—until she had that episode of dizziness. Then the plan had been put on hold. Keara had emailed her too, that she’d be out of town and could be reached at this number.

“I guess I should call her,” she murmured. “I’ll go upstairs.”

Up in Maeve’s apartment she called Stefanie Craig.

“Hi, Keara, how are you doing?”

If Stefanie had asked yesterday, she’d have gotten a totally different answer, but today Keara felt pretty good. “I’m doing okay,” she said. “Considering.”

“Considering what?”

Keara told her about the accident.

Stefanie was shocked. “Oh my goodness! Are you okay?”

“I’m a little bruised up, stiff and sore, but I’m okay. They checked me out at the hospital but they released me.”

“Well, I guess that means you’re not ready to come back to work, then.”

“Uh…well, no. I mean, I could, but…” The thought brought on a familiar anxious feeling in the pit of her stomach, although not anywhere near as bad as the attack she’d had the day she’d tried to go back to work. Would it escalate into more? Keara pressed a hand to her tummy as she talked. “I think I’ll be ready soon. One problem is I no longer have a car. I doubt if it will be able to be fixed, so I’m going to have to get a new one once I settle with the insurance company. So I have no way to get home.”

“Well. There are other ways to get home.”

“Yes. I suppose. I could uh…fly down.”

“Or take a bus,” Stefanie said cheerfully. “But if you’re still sore from the accident, that’s okay. I’ll give you a call next week and see how you’re doing. Okay?”

“Okay. I’ll know more by then and I’m sure I’ll be feeling much better.”

She was sure of no such thing, but considering how cheery she’d felt after her romp with Shane, there was some hope that she actually might get better enough to go back soon.

* * *

The bright mood lasted until Shane’s phone call later that day to tell her that they had in fact found traces of blue paint on her back bumper.

“Oh, dear God,” she breathed. “Really?”

``Yes. Dark blue. Not much. We’ll see if there’s enough to analyze.”

She drew in a breath. “Then what?”

“It’s unlikely we’ll ever find the vehicle it belongs to,” he said. “But if we know the make and model, it’s a starting point.”

They had to believe her now. Which she should be happy about, but goddammit, someone had really tried to run her off the road! Why? Why would someone do that to her? It was insane. She rubbed her hands up and down over the goose bumps that rose on her upper arms.

It was just a stupid accident. Probably a kid showing off, trying to act like a NASCAR driver or something, got carried away and when he’d seen what he’d caused, he probably ran scared. It was despicable. It was bad luck. But she was okay.

It took a few days for the car to get estimated and everyone had been right, it was a total loss. She thought she’d be sad about that, considering how much she’d loved rewarding herself with that car, but hey, it was just a car. She was alive and that’s what mattered. She’d get another car.

Shane had dealt with her insurance company even though she kept telling him he didn’t have to do that. She’d seen him every day when he popped in to check on both her and Maeve. She told him he didn’t have to do that either. She wasn’t a baby or an invalid, for heaven’s sake. So she had a few problems—he didn’t have to worry about her.

“I like looking after you,” he’d murmured into her ear. “How about we go back to my place and I’ll look after you even better?”

They couldn’t keep their hands off each other and when he wasn’t around, she had a hard time thinking of anything but him. Again, Maeve was right. The more you had sex, the more you wanted it. She had this insatiable hunger for Shane that no amount of foreplay, sex, afterplay or any kind of play seemed to assuage.

Keara helped in the store as much as she could. She listened to Maeve give out jaw-dropping sex advice. Like the man who wanted a strap-on dildo for his wife to wear. When Maeve asked him if his wife wanted to do that, he said, “Uh…I don’t know.”

“Go home and ask her,” Maeve said, patting his arm. “You’re going to freak her out if you come home and tell her you want her to do that to you without talking about it.”

He did.

Then a man came in and wandered from one area to the other, casting sideways glances at both Maeve and Keara until Maeve finally approached him. “My wife and I have this fantasy,” he said in a low voice, although Keara heard every word. “I want to be a patient, and she’s going to be the nurse.”

Maeve led him over to her selection of costumes and clothing, and found him a nurse uniform that would fit his apparently quite buxom wife.

And then came the man who wanted to be wrapped in clear plastic. Maeve sent him to the grocery warehouse store for wholesale-size rolls of cling wrap.

Keara was getting quite an education.

That evening she was waiting for Maeve to go out to her weekly bridge game, anticipating being alone again in the apartment and thinking she was going to be okay with it, wondering if Shane was going to come by. But Maeve was puttering around in her kitchen and making no move to go out. Keara checked her watch. She was going to be late.

Was Maeve staying home because of her? She’d better not be. Finally Keara had to say something.

“Aren’t you playing bridge tonight?”

Maeve stared at her. “Bridge?”

“Yes. You know, that thing you do every Tuesday night?”

Maeve’s auburn brows snapped together. “It’s Tuesday?”

Keara’s heart sank. “Yes, it’s Tuesday.” She forced a smile. “The day after Monday.”

Maeve’s eyes got all owl-blinky and she turned her back to Keara. “I can’t believe I forgot what day it is,” she said brightly, but her voice sounded funny.

“You still have time. It’s only a quarter to seven.”

“Yes. Yes. I’ll just go freshen up.” She hurried out of the room.

Oh dear, oh dear. Keara sank down onto the couch. Another example of Maeve’s memory problems. She hadn’t seen any problems for a few days, had almost hoped maybe everything was fine, but damn, this wasn’t good.

Maeve rushed out of the apartment, leaving Keara alone. Last time she’d been there alone, she’d been a little antsy, a little edgy, but tonight she thought she was okay. Just a touch worried about Maeve, distracted by trying to decide what to do. She was going to have to talk to Maeve about it.

And then Shane arrived.

She stared at him in exasperation as she let him in. “Now what are you doing here?” Deep down, she had to admit, she was happy to see him. And it wasn’t because she didn’t want to be alone. It was because she wanted to see him.

“Bridge night,” he said softly, pushing against her with his body, gently, insistently. “Right?”

“Right.” She pushed back, their pelvises bumping together, sending a jolt of sweet heat through her. “Come on in.”

Chapter Thirteen

A thought flickered through her mind that she needed to tell Shane about Maeve’s latest incident of forgetfulness, but staring at Shane’s gorgeous face, blue eyes gleaming, sexy mouth curved into a smile, she just melted. Liquid lust pooled warm and heavy inside her and she leaned in closer to his radiating heat, all thought vanishing from her head.

He slid a hand around the back of her neck, under her hair, and urged her closer. He was staring at her mouth and her breath stuck in her chest. A long breath whispered out of her.

“It’s just sex,” she whispered to him.

“Yup. Just sex.”

“Like therapy.”

“Sure.”

Their mouths were only a breath apart and her eyes fluttered closed as she felt Shane’s nearness. Everything inside her tightened and she needed to taste his mouth. She closed the gap between their mouths and his lips moved against hers in a luscious, lingering kiss. Their mouths clung and lifted, met again and she needed to be closer. She twined her arms around his neck and with a low groan he gathered her up against him. She pressed herself to him, fighting to get as close as she could to his body—warm, solid, irresistible.

He slanted his mouth over hers and the kiss deepened into long, open-mouthed, devouring kisses. Sensation sizzled over every nerve ending, hunger rose inside her, desperate and urgent. She rolled her hips, pressing into his groin in an erotic, helpless rhythm.

He stroked a hand down her back, found the waistband of her jeans and slid beneath it to cup her butt. He made a growly sound in his throat and she broke the kiss to let her head fall back with a gasp.

“Nice,” he murmured. He squeezed and his fingers played about the crease between each cheek. But her jeans were snug and he slid his hand out and over her waist, around to the front button. His touch sent cascades of shivers over her.

Excitement grabbed at her stomach, tightening and drawing everything up inside her even more. Need ached between her legs. “Bedroom,” she gasped.

“Good idea.”

She turned to him in her dim bedroom and they began to undress each other. His shirt, her jeans, his jeans, her T-shirt. Then he slid his boxer briefs down over muscular, hair-roughened thighs, while she reached behind her to unclasp her bra and let it fall. Wearing only a lacy thong, she stood before him and he again settled his hands on her waist and drew her closer.

“You are so beautiful,” he murmured pressing a kiss to her cheek, her jaw, the side of her neck.

“So are you.” Her palms slid over satiny skin and smooth muscle, up over his biceps to the big hard bones of his shoulder, down to his chest where she rubbed. He groaned. Her fingertips brushed small hard nipples and he growled.

His erection prodded her stomach, hard and hot and insistent and she slid a hand lower, tangling her fingers in the curls just above, then wrapping her fingers around him. He sucked in a sharp breath. “I want to taste you,” she whispered, lips against his ear.

“Oh yeah, babe. Do it. Suck me.”

She went to her knees in front of him, grateful for the soft rug on the floor, and took him in both hands. She studied him for a moment, the heavy veins under silky skin, the rounded head. She cupped his tight balls and caressed them with her fingertips and he made strangled-sounding noises, stepped his legs further apart to allow her access. He was warm, smelled delicious and she leaned her head in for the taste her mouth watered for. She took him in, licked and sucked and tightened her lips around him.

He held her head, gently, never forcing her, just guiding her as she moved her mouth up and down on him, and when she opened her eyes and peered up at him, mouth full of him, the look on his face made her spasm deep inside. She slid one hand between her legs to press there, throbbing against her fingers.

She drew back to catch her breath, slid the wet tip of his penis over her lips then kissed him, right there.

He groaned again and pulled her up. “In the bed,” he muttered, dragging her toward it. “God, I want inside you.”

Didn’t he like that? Because she sure did. She loved the taste and feel of him, and mostly loved knowing that she had caused that look of extreme erotic pleasure on his face.

“Your mouth should be illegal,” he moaned as he tumbled down beside her. “I might have to arrest you.” She smiled as he moved over her. She’d take that as a compliment.

He cupped her breasts, played with her nipples, which she loved so, so much, until she was writhing and so hot she couldn’t stand it.

“Now,” she cried. “Now, Shane, please.”

“Wanna fuck you, baby. Wanna fill you up and make you come.”

“Oh yes. Please.”

“Just need…a condom.”

“Oh. Good thinking.” She waited, a throbbing mass of lust, while he retrieved one from his jeans and returned to her.

She closed her eyes, grabbing onto his shoulders and tilting her pelvis as he pushed inside her, slow and stretching. “Love that. Oh God.”

He filled her, touched her deep inside, and they moved together in a sensual rhythm, rubbing against each other, laying small kisses on shoulders and forehead, the only sound Shane’s harsh breathing and Keara’s whimpers.

She lifted her legs and wrapped them around his hips, trying to take him as deep as she possibly could, all of him.

“Feels so damn good,” he groaned in her ear. He thrust again and she felt his body tense, and she reached for it, her own climax there, just there, there… A fractured cry tore from her lips as she peaked, a high, sharp point of sensation that burst into a shower of sparks. She held him tight as he, too, gave a harsh cry and tightened and pulsed inside her.

They lay there for endless moments of rapture, descending from the high to a plane closer to earth, legs tangled, bodies damp, arms around each other.

“What time does Maeve get home?” Shane murmured.

“Oh shit.”

“What?” Amusement painted his voice.

She turned her head and met his eyes. “I was going to tell you. She forgot it was Tuesday. She was going to miss her bridge game.”

“Shit.”

“I know.”

“She’s been doing that every week, forever.”

“Yeah.” Keara blew out a breath. “I’m going to talk to her. Maybe tomorrow.”

“I’ll do it.”

“No. I will. I’m her niece.”

“But you just got here. I’ve been around a long time, and I’ll be around long after you’ve gone back to LA.”

She said nothing. He was right, but somehow his words wounded. As when she’d arrived, when he’d made her feel guilty for not visiting Maeve, but now his low opinion of her didn’t just annoy her, it hurt. She pushed away from him, but he caught hold of her and dragged her back. He tipped her chin up.

“I’m sorry,” he said seriously. “I wasn’t trying to be rude. But it’s the truth.”

“I know.” She took a breath. “But I’m her family and I’ll talk to her.”

He studied her face, eyes gentle, and then nodded. “Okay. Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

“I will.”

He pulled her back down onto his chest and stroked her bare back. “I’m here to help,” he said.

She sighed. “I know you are, Shane, but I’m a big girl.”

“With a few problems right now.”

“Okay, yeah. Hell, I don’t know how I think I’m going to help Maeve when I can’t get my own life together.”

“You will.” He stroked her hair and the gentle tug on her scalp sent tingles skittering down her spine.

“I don’t know. The thing is, I don’t think I deserve to be happy.”

His hand stilled. “What? Why would you say that?”

“Because of what I did. The things I did, the mess I made. And…” She swallowed through a constricted throat. “Never mind.”

“Tell me. It can’t be that bad. It’s not like you’re a murderer or something.”

“Yes, I am.”

Shane couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. She had to be joking.

“Don’t be crazy,” he said roughly, tugging her hair so she had to lift her head to look at him. He rolled her over onto her back and moved over her.

“I’m serious,” she said, eyes closed. “I might as well have killed him.”

“Killed who?” What the hell was she talking about? His mind went to the accident, but there’d been nobody else involved in that.

“Gary. The man who robbed the bank.”

Shane frowned. He’d read the reports, knew the unfortunate outcome of that incident. How the perp had been shot by the SWAT team, coming out of the bank, Keara held in front of him with her hands up.

“How could that be your fault? Jesus, Keara, he held a gun on you.”

“Yes, but…” A tear slid from the outer corner of her eye, a silvery trail in the muted light of her bedroom. “Oh God. I don’t want to tell you about this.”

“Why not? Keara, if it’s bothering you, it’ll help.”

“You’ll hate me.”

“I won’t hate you. Look at me.” Her touched her chin. “Keara, look at me.”

Her eyes opened, luminous with tears.

“I hate myself,” she whispered.

He shook his head, but waited. Finally she spoke, her voice low and choked.

“Gary worked for the bank.”

“Yes.” He’d read that the perp had been a former employee of the bank.

“I fired him.”

“Oh.”

“A couple of months before that. I’d been working my tail off since I started managing that branch, trying to come up with ways to cut costs. They wanted me to turn things around at that branch. It was in trouble when I got there, but it’s an important branch to the bank and they wanted someone who could improve performance. I was so happy to have that challenge, and they said if I did well, I’d be moved into executive management.”

Shane’s body tensed.

“They wanted to cut a lot of positions. Twenty. Maybe more. I really didn’t want to let that many people go, so I worked hard to find other ways of saving money. But even so, at the end of the day I had to cut positions. There was no other way. I managed to get it down to eight. And Gary was one of them.”

“That must have been hard for you to do.”

“That’s the awful part,” she replied, a sob catching her voice. “It wasn’t that hard. I didn’t know Gary. He was the head of security and he made the most money, so he had to go. I barely talked to him other than good morning every day. Same with the others I fired. I made my decisions based on sound business rationale. I didn’t think about the people behind the positions.”

Shane was silent. He understood what she was saying. He empathized. Hell, he had to make tough business decisions, too. Resources were scarce in a small-town police force. He knew what it was like.

“What happened?” he asked. “With Gary. Why’d he do that? He was that pissed off about being fired?”

“No.” Anguish roughened her voice. “Well yeah, he was angry, for sure. Angry at me. Because his wife had Alzheimer’s.”

Jesus Christ.

“She was in a home. A very expensive home. He had no job, his severance was gone, and he couldn’t find another job. At his age, it’s not that easy, and the economy is crappy right now. He was desperate. He…” More tears pooled and dripped down her face and she could hardly talk. Now Shane was sorry he’d made her talk about this.

“It’s okay.” He stroked her hair back from her forehead. “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me any more if you don’t want.”

“Oh sure, now you let me off the hook.” A glimmer of a smile touched her mouth. “I’m sorry, I’m getting all emotional.”

“It’s okay.”

“He loved his wife,” she choked out. “He talked to her on the phone. In front of me. I heard him talk to her and I thought I was going to die. He’d looked after her their whole life together and he loved her so much, and I was the one who had taken away his ability to look after her.” Tears poured now and her voice wavered. “You have no idea how I felt, hearing that, knowing it was all my fault. Whatever happened at that damn bank that day—even if he’d lived, he would’ve gone to jail—his life was ruined and it was all my fault.”

“Oh Jesus.” Shane groaned and scooped her up into his arms. He turned and settled back against the headboard of the bed, with Keara on his lap, sobbing and drenching his chest with tears.

“I will never forget that,” she cried. “And Gary told me how the others at the bank saw me. An axe-woman who didn’t care about her staff, only cared about making the numbers, climbing the corporate ladder.”

Shane rolled his lips in because in fact, that did sound like her description of herself. “Keara.”

“It’s true!” She lifted a tear-streaked face. “That is what I was like! One of the guys I fired had just had a baby. She was born premature and had lots of problems, expensive problems. I didn’t even know that. I mean, I knew he’d had a baby, but I didn’t think of that, I just canned him.”

“Business decisions don’t always have room for things like that,” Shane said carefully. “It’d be nice to not ever have to fire anyone or cut staff, but that’s the way the world is. I’m sure you made the best decisions you could.”

“I did. But I hate myself for it. And…” She swallowed convulsively. “I don’t know if I can ever do that again.”

“Do…what?” He was almost afraid to ask.

“Make tough decisions like that. I’m afraid I’ll always be second-guessing myself, taking things into consideration that I shouldn’t be. How can I be an effective manager if I’m too wishy-washy to make decisions? I was almost ready to go back to work, and when I went to visit the bank I had a meltdown.”

He watched her, unsure of what to say.

“They told me I had a panic attack. First time in my life. I didn’t believe them, but every time I think about going back to work, I get this funny, tight feeling in my stomach. It’s fear, Shane. I’m terrified. And it’s not just because of being held at gunpoint and thinking I was going to die. It’s the guilt.”

God. His chest ached for her and he wished he could do something—anything—to make things better for her. Tenderness and warmth filled him and he drew her back down to his chest and wrapped his arms around her. “Go ahead, cry,” he murmured against her hair. “Get it all out.”

And she did. She sobbed and choked and sniffled until she seemed exhausted. His chest was wet and he reached for a box of tissues beside the bed and handed her some. She quivered against him. “God, I am so sorry,” she said, voice thick. “I do not know where that all came from.”

“I think I kinda pushed you to tell me that stuff,” he said. “I guess I should apologize. Except I think it might’ve been good for you.”

“Oh sure, embarrassing myself is good for me.”

He chuckled. “Don’t be embarrassed. I told you, I get it. I know what it’s like to have all those powerful emotions inside you that you don’t understand and don’t know what to do with.”

“Yeah,” she said slowly. “That’s it.”

He tipped her chin up and kissed her mouth. Her lips tasted of salt. Words rose up inside him, words of…Christ. He wasn’t in love with her. He was just having sex with her to help her get over this depression. But her sadness tugged at something inside him, opened up a hole in his heart, made him want to save her, protect her from everything.

He deepened the kiss, expressing his feelings with actions instead of words, sliding his hand into her hair to hold her head, the other on her bare hip. She was tiny on his lap, silky-soft and delicious-smelling. He wanted to inhale her, eat her up, claim her.

The intensity of his feelings threatened his self-control and he had to fight to restrain himself, to remind himself what this was.

She kissed him back, soft mouth opening against his, silky tongue stroking, sweet and warm. She was naked in his arms, delicate breasts pressed to his chest, her butt cheeks on his thigh and he knew he was hardening against her.

They sat there snuggled together on the bed for a long time, just kissing in long, sweet, slow kisses, hands petting and caressing in gentle touches, tongues sliding, bodies pressing. Tenderness expanded inside him, filling his chest, his desire for her more than just lust for her body but an intense need to look after her, to make things better for her. He knew he couldn’t, really, but he could do this to make her feel better. And he made love to her with his hands and his mouth and his body, slow and gentle and worshipful.

When his cock hardened to the point of excruciating need, he slid down the bed, Keara still on top of him and helped her part her thighs around his hips. She lifted herself over him and lowered on to him, impaling herself, and the hot velvet clasp of her body around him seared his senses, sent sensation pouring through him in ecstatic waves. He arched and lifted into her, reached for her hands, and held them beside his shoulders as she rode him, her pretty breasts with tight little nipples in front of his face.

He lifted his gaze to her face, and though her mouth was swollen and eyes still glossy, the pleasure he saw there made him swell even more inside her. She gasped, eyes wide, quickened the pace and he matched her, hips thrusting, fingers tight on hers. He was so close already, but he wanted her to come too, so he released her hand and slid his down between them to where their bodies joined, probed for the bud of her clit and stroked over it. She cried out, rode him harder, and then he let himself go just as she sat up and arched her back, hair hanging down her back, eyes closed. He held her hips as he fucked up into her, balls tightening and jerking as he poured himself into her. Ah, Christ. Christ. She was incredible. So good. So damn good.

Chapter Fourteen

“Maeve.”

“Hmm?” Maeve was in her office, head bent over some papers.

“We need to talk.”

“What is it, muirnín?” She lifted her head, concern shadowing her eyes. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I wanted to talk to you about you forgetting it was Tuesday. Forgetting your bridge game.”

Maeve’s lips thinned. “It’s no big shillelagh. Everyone forgets things sometimes.”

“Yes. But you’ve been forgetting lots of things.” Keara sat down on a chair beside the desk. “You forgot I was coming. You forgot you’d received that shipment.”

Maeve waved a hand, but her lips trembled. “It’s nothing, Keara.”

Keara leaned forward. “I’m worried about you.”

Maeve gave a strangled laugh. “You’re worried about me? Don’t be silly, muirnín! I’m fine. I’m seventy years old. It’s natural for the memory to fade.”

“Yes, I guess it is. I just wondered if you’d talked to your doctor about it.”

“No, of course not! What’s he going to do? He’ll just tell me I’m getting old.”

“But what if it’s not just age? What if it’s something…more serious.”

Maeve stared at Keara, her face lined with horror. “What are you saying? Do you think I have… I have…the Alzheimer’s?”

“No. I don’t know. Probably not. But it might be an idea to see your doctor.”

Maeve shook her head, her bottom lip protruding. She folded her arms across her chest. “I don’t want to know. If that’s what it is, I don’t want to know.”

“Oh no! Maeve!”

“It’s true.” She stared back at Keara, her stubbornness shining in her green eyes. “Don’t you know the Irish philosophy?”

“The…no.”

“In life, there are only two things to worry about—either you’re well or you’re sick. If you are well, there’s nothing to worry about. But if you’re sick, there are only two things to worry about—either you’ll get well, or you’ll die.” Maeve smiled. “If you get well, there’s nothing to worry about. But if you die, there are two things to worry about—you will either go to heaven, or hell. If you go to heaven there’s nothing to worry about. If you go to hell, you’ll be so busy shaking hands with all your friends you won’t have time to worry!”

Laughter bubbled helplessly out of Keara. “Oh, Maeve.”

“We’re all going to die, muirnín. I’m seventy years old. I want to live my last days enjoying them, not worrying about dying.”

Keara smiled tremulously. “You know, I actually think I get that. But for me, would you go to the doctor? Just to make sure you’re okay?”

“No, Keara. I’m not going to the doctor about something so silly.”

Keara regarded her great-aunt, her mouth set, chin tipped up, and sighed.

* * *

Shane showed up every night now. “I’m fine now,” she told him, folding her arms across her chest, shaking her head. “You don’t need to keep checking on me.”

He moved closer to her and bent his head to nuzzle the side of her neck. She smelled so damn good. “But I wanted to see you.”

“But Maeve’s here.” She laid her hand on his chest. Their eyes met and warmth slid over her.

“Isn’t this Tuesday?”

“No!” She laughed. “You know it’s not Tuesday.” Then she frowned. “Which reminds me. I talked to Maeve. About her memory.” She glanced down the hall, telling him Maeve was nearby.

“Why don’t we go out for a drink?”

“Good idea.”

“Maeve! Shane and I are going out for a drink.”

Maeve emerged from her bedroom holding a book. “Excellent idea. Have fun.”

Shane grinned and grabbed Keara’s hand. “My purse!” she said. “And maybe a jacket.”

He waited while she disappeared to her own room, remembering the last time he’d been in there and the hot fun they’d had. He watched Keara return, her soft leather bag slung over one shoulder, a tiny denim jacket now over her long-sleeved black T. Baggy cargo pants should not have been so attractive, but they did hug her ass in a very sexy way.

They walked down the dark street to Brady’s Pub. They found a small round table unoccupied in a dark corner. Keara studied the room. “This is very cute,” she said. “I’ve never been here.”

“You’re kidding me. Not even the last time you were in Kilkenny?”

‘I was seventeen.”

“That never stopped me,” he said with a wicked grin and she laughed.

She nodded at the sign over the bar. “I like that.” She read it aloud. “‘When we drink, we get drunk. When we get drunk, we fall asleep. When we fall asleep, we commit no sin. When we commit no sin, we go to heaven. So let’s all get drunk, and go to heaven!’”

Shane leaned toward her. “Let’s go to heaven, a thaisce. What would you like to drink?”

She laughed. “Would I be kicked out if I ordered a glass of Chardonnay?”

“Probably not.”

The waitress approached them and Shane ordered her wine and a Guinness for himself.

“So,” he said, elbows on the table. “You talked to Maeve.”

Her mouth pouted. “Yes. And it didn’t go very well.” She related her conversation to him.

“Damn.” He studied his hands clasped in front of him. “What do you know about Alzheimer’s?”

She looked pained and gave a snort. “All I know about is that Gary’s wife had it and she had to be put in a home.”

He nodded, sorry that this had come up and reminded her. He reached out and covered one of her hands with his, gave it a squeeze. “I don’t know much either. Maybe we should do some research. I don’t think there’s a cure for it, but…maybe there’s something they can do if they catch it early enough.”

“I’ll go on Maeve’s computer and Google it tomorrow.”

“Good idea.” His fingers stroked over her soft hand. Then the waitress arrived with their drinks. He released her and leaned back in his chair.

“My parents are having another party this weekend,” he said. “Wanna come?”

She blinked at him. “Did they invite me? Me and Maeve?”

“I’m sure they would.”

“Shane! You can’t invite people to your parents’ house without them knowing.”

He cast her a sexy smile. “They won’t mind.”

“I think Maeve has a date with Glen.”

“Ah. Well, you can still come.”

She tipped her head to the side and sipped her wine. “Why?”

He shrugged and looked at his beer. “Why not?”

He realized that a party at his parents place wasn’t exactly an invitation to have sex. Which is what they’d been doing. And she’d made it clear that’s all it was. Healthy, hormone-inducing, stress-relieving sex.

He wanted more than that.

The thought sliced through him so sharply he almost gasped. What the hell was he thinking?

“Never mind,” he muttered. “Bad idea.”

Now she reached for his hand and wrapped slender fingers around his. “I’ll come,” she said softly. “I like your parents.”

He looked up at her, then away, and gave a jerky nod. “Okay. Good.”

* * *

Even more people filled the Dunstan home than the last time she’d been there, and Keara let Shane introduce her to so many, she’d never keep track of all the names and faces. She smiled and made small talk as they worked their way through the house to the bar set up in the kitchen and Shane handed her a glass of wine.

“Thank you.” She smiled up at him, and then his mom spotted them and rushed over.

Hugs and greetings were exchanged. “So nice to see you again, Keara! I’m glad you could come.”

“I hope I’m not imposing.”

Fiona laughed and waved a hand. “Don’t be silly! Look at this place! There’s always room for one more. Come and have some food.”

She led them over to the buffet loaded with mouthwatering dishes. Keara began filling a plate, watching in amusement as Shane loaded his to the point of overflowing.

“Hungry?” she asked.

He glanced at her as he balanced more potatoes on his potatoes. “Yeah.”

She shook her head. He was a big muscular guy, he must burn a gazillion calories. Lucky him.

They found a place to sit and eat, and Declan joined them for a few moments, too, greeting Keara warmly.

“Thank you for having me,” she said.

“Any friend of Shane’s is always welcome here,” Declan said, and gave Shane a knowing look that had her feeling warm and shifting in her seat. What were they thinking? She’d been afraid of this. They couldn’t exactly tell Shane’s parents they were just having sex.

She choked on her wine and Shane patted her back. “You okay?

She nodded. Her eyes fell on an unusual stone on a shelf nearby. “That’s pretty,” she said. “Is that a shamrock carved on it?”

“Yes.” Declan reached out and picked it up. “Funny you should notice this. Maeve gave it to us.”

“Really?”

“Yes. It’s Connemara Marble. Hand-carved stone. It’s a traditional gift between families who vow friendship through generations.”

“Oh.” Something inside her chest softened. “That is so nice.”

Declan smiled. “She’s a good friend.” And then he lifted a brow and looked from Shane to Keara. “And speaking of generations—you two are our next generations, so it’s fitting that you be friends, too.”

She glanced at Shane. Hell, she’d tried to change the subject and ended right back where they started.

Shane met her eyes. “Yeah,” he said. “Friends.”

She felt her gaze snared by his, and heat rose inside her. She liked this man. She really liked him. He annoyed her with his overprotectiveness and bossiness, but damn…she did want to be friends with him. She supposed they were friends. Friends who were sleeping together.

She took another big gulp of her wine. Declan was pulled aside by other friends and was soon involved in telling a long joke about an Englishman, an Irishman and a Scotsman. Keara and Shane sat there and listened, and when Shane reached for hand and wrapped his warm fingers around it while they laughed, she didn’t even mind.

After a while, Shane leaned close to her ear and whispered, “Wanna go to my place?”

She looked at him and pursed her lips against a smile. Her tummy tightened and warmth spread through her body.

“Sure,” she replied, and she gave him a mischievous look. “I have some things for us to try.”

His eyes went dark blue. “What things?”

“Some um…things. From Maeve’s shop.”

He coughed. “Really? Like what?”

“I have a selection of items,” she replied. “Some different toys, depending on your uh…preferences. And massage oil. Cotton candy flavor. And some honey dust.”

Shane’s gut cramped and his dick twitched, his head full of images of him massaging Keara’s naked body. Then her massaging him. And then…toys. What kinds of toys?

“Let’s go.” He grabbed her hand and all but dragged her out of his parents’ house.

He was hard as steel when they walked in to his place, Keara carrying a large shopping bag he hadn’t noticed her slip into the back seat of his car earlier. What the hell did she have in there?

He took her jacket and hung it in the closet and they stood in his spacious foyer, white tile gleaming beneath the modern steel and glass chandelier. Their eyes met. She held up the bag.

“Want to know what’s in here?” Her wicked smile teased and tempted.

“Hell yeah.”

“Let’s go upstairs.”

“Good idea.’

He followed her up the stairs, unable to take his eyes off the curves of her sweet little ass as she climbed. The things he wanted to do…

He swallowed a groan as he followed her into his bedroom. The room was dark so he flicked on the lamp mounted on the wall beside the bed and started unbuttoning his shirt.

She grinned and sat on the bed, then upended the bag and dumped out an array of products. Shane recognized some of the items, but was shocked to his core that Keara wanted to try these things. He searched her face. She looked eager, aroused…wow.

“What should we do first?” she asked, biting her lower lip as she surveyed the goods.

“Uh…Keara.”

She glanced up at him and he dropped his hands from his open shirt and stepped toward her. “You really want to use these things?”

She frowned. “Why? Don’t you? Oh God. I’m sorry. I thought…”

“No, no! I’d love to try these things with you.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You’ve used these before, haven’t you?”

“Well yes.” He hoped that wasn’t going to piss her off. But on the contrary, her frown cleared.

“I thought maybe you were too prudish to use these,” she said with a breathy laugh. “I thought I’d offended you.”

“God no! I’m uh…up for anything.”

“Yes, you are,” she murmured, glancing at his crotch.

His chest tightened. “I just wasn’t sure if you…have you used these things before?” Images of her with another guy using those toys on her flashed into his mind along with a wash of hot jealousy.

“Well…no. But I’ve been curious and…” She bit her lip and peered up at him through her lashes. “Maeve says the more sex you have, the more you want, and I guess it’s true. I just want it all the time…and these things in the store made me…” Her voice trailed off and she clasped her hands on her lap.

He smiled. “I know.”

He stepped closer and reached for her hands, drawing her to her feet. “Let’s start with a massage,” he murmured, lifting the hem of her shirt. Loose and billowy, it slipped easily over her head. She wore—dear God—red lace beneath it, a low-cut push-up bra that made the most of her small cleavage. He sucked in a breath, and found the button and zipper of the skirt she wore. “Do the panties match?”

“Of course.” She smiled up at him as he revealed the lace boy shorts.

“Oh.” His breath whooshed out of him. “These are nice. Very nice.” He turned her around to get the back view. Her butt cheeks were only half covered by the lace, tempting him to reach out and touch. So he did.

“Better take these off,” he said, through teeth clenched with restraint. “So I don’t get massage oil on them.”

She slipped her fingers inside and shimmied out of them. She pushed the toys to the carpeted floor, but kept the bottle of massage oil and handed it to him, and the look she cast him as she did was so sexy he thought he was going to come right then.

He quickly removed the rest of his clothes while Keara lay down on the bed. “Turn over,” he said. “I want to start with the back.”

Obediently she rolled, and he sat down beside her, and popped open the massage oil. He squeezed some in a drizzle down the center of her back and she squealed.

“You’re supposed to warm it in your hands,” she gasped.

“Oh. Right.” Next time. He set the bottle aside and went to work, smoothing his hands through the oil and over her silky skin. She was smooth and small and delectable and he wanted to touch every inch of her.

She let out a long moan of pleasure and he moved lower, to her butt, caressing there with firmer strokes.

“That feels so good,” she murmured, head turned to one side on her folded arms.

“Good.” He enjoyed the feel of firm curves beneath his hands, admired the gleam the oil gave her skin in the lamplight. “You’re so beautiful, Keara.”

He moved his hands lower still, to the back of her thighs and she quivered. She liked that. He liked it too. He massaged down her legs, spent time on her small feet, and then moved back up and when he reached the top of her thighs, he pushed her legs apart so he could slide fingers between them.

Another breathy moan escaped her but she allowed him access, and he stroked slick fingers down the crease between her cheeks, lower into her soft folds, back up, teasing the small entrance there. He watched in delight as her muscles flexed and relaxed. “Oh God,” she groaned. He probed gently again and her cheeks tightened around his finger. “Relax,” he murmured. “Want me to get one of the toys?”

She lifted her head and looked at him, eyes heavy and drowsy. “Okay. But on one condition.”

He lifted a brow.

“You let me do the same thing to you.”

Whoa. What he’d had in mind…he’d done to partners, but had never had it done to him. His own butt cheeks clenched and his dick hardened even more. He sucked in air. “Okay,” he wheezed and reached for the toy he had in mind, flexible pink silicon beads of gradated sizes.

He rubbed oil over it and then slowly, gently began pushing it into her, the smallest bead first. Her ass lifted, and he slipped his other hand beneath her to find her clit. His hand was oily but she was wet, and he found the hard little nub with his thumb while he played with her behind. The room filled with her gasps and soft cries. Her hands clenched on the duvet cover and he studied her profile outlined against it, the small nose, feathery eyelashes, her top teeth sunk into her bottom lip.

She lifted against him almost involuntarily until she gave a harsh cry and her body tightened. “God!” she cried. “Oh God!” He kept his thumb on her as he slid the toy out of her, slowly, bead by bead, drawing her orgasm out as long as he could.

She lay there, her ribs lifting and expanding and she took in deep breaths, eventually relaxing. He kissed his way up, from each butt cheek, up the curve of her back to the base of her neck, where he nuzzled her beneath her hair.

“That was so good,” she moaned, and rolled to her side. He lay on his side in front of her and put a hand on her smooth waist.

“You are so hot.” Eyes fastened on her face, flushed and glowing, he leaned in for a kiss and their mouths met and clung in a long, searing kiss. Then he rolled to his back and flung his arms out to his side. “Okay, my turn.”

She laughed and reached for the massage oil.

Keara straddled Shane’s thighs and flipped open the cap of the bottle she held. She poured oil into her palm, closed the bottle and tossed it aside. Then she rubbed her palms together, all the while watching Shane. He hadn’t moved, still lying there, arms outstretched, and she slid her slick hands up over his chest. She lingered on his pecs, rubbing him there and earning a small groan. His eyes fell closed.

She leaned over and kissed his mouth, sucked his bottom lip, then shifted a little lower to kiss his chest. She nibbled on one small nipple with her lips, flicked her tongue across first one, then the other, making Shane groan again and twitch.

She kissed her way down his taut abdomen, sucked on his navel, kissed the soft skin just below it. Then she nuzzled the dark curls, breathing in his male scent. Her hands slid up his legs, her fingertips teasing the sensitive skin of his inner thighs and then she pushed his legs apart. His cock thrust up, solid and broad, the veins prominent, the head glistening. She swiped her tongue over it, swallowed the taste of him.

She loved the smell of him, the taste of him, the way his cock got so hard for her. With a sigh of pleasure she kissed the tip, then took hold of it and rubbed it over her lips. Before she got started though, she needed something… She reached over the side of the bed and felt around for the toy she’d brought…there it was. She straightened, holding the small black latex toy.

“What is that?” Shane croaked.

She smiled and held it up. It looked like a small, oddly curved dildo. “It’s a Boy Toy.”

He blinked, eyes focused on the small device.

“A male G-spot stimulator.” Her smile widened. The things she had learned since working in Maeve’s shop!

“Male G-spot?” His voice sounded thick.

“Otherwise known as the prostate.”

“Oh.”

At the look on his face, she smiled again. “You said I could do the same to you.”

“Uh…”

“Sshh.” She wriggled herself into position between his thighs and circled his cock with her fingers. “Just relax and enjoy.” And she took him in her mouth. He filled her mouth and she let her tongue wet him, slid her lips up and down the thick shaft. Delicious. Hot. Thick. He bumped the back of her throat.

“Christ, Keara.” His hands lifted to her head and gathered her hair up in big handfuls. “Oh Christ.”

She sucked on him for a few wonderful minutes then let him slid from her mouth. She held his cock up flat against his abdomen and kissed and licked his balls, nipped at the flesh of his inner thighs, then pushed his balls high too, and licked below them.

“Fuck!” he groaned. “Oh fuck.”

Her tongue tasted and teased the tight flesh. She let the Boy Toy fall to the mattress and used both hands to push his thighs wider, wider, then up and back, exposing more of him to her mouth. She sucked on the smooth, firm flesh of his buttocks, licked up and down, around his anus.

He made a strangled noise, let go of her hair and grabbed his legs just below the knees, holding them up, rolling his hips off the mattress. Again, she took her time, playing there with lips and tongue and teeth, while his body shook and tensed. He wasn’t stopping her. He seemed to like it. That was good. Very good. Because she’d never done this before and she wanted him to enjoy it.

She’d been studying for this.

She stroked a fingertip over the puckered hole. Once. Twice. Watched it wink at her. One more time, and then…she pushed her fingertip inside.

“Jesus!” His hips lifted in reaction, and he pulled his legs higher yet. God that was hot. So hot she lost her breath, pulled back just to look at him for a moment, lying there, his cock and balls held out of the way, his ass on display for her. God she loved his ass. A rush of liquid heat surged between her legs. This was turning her on as much as it was him.

She pumped her finger in and out, not far, just inside the tight ring of muscle that clamped around her, while Shane made strangled moaning noises. “Fuck, Keara. What’re you doing…?”

She didn’t answer. He knew exactly what she was doing. She leaned down and let saliva slip out of her mouth and over his perineum, let her finger get wet with it, pumped a few more times, then withdrew. Time for the Boy Toy.

She poured some of the oil onto it and rubbed it all over, then tucked the rounded end of it against Shane’s anus. She held it there, just nudging for a few seconds, and then pushed it into him slowly. Very slowly. She didn’t want to hurt him since this apparently was his first time…she thought.

He made a guttural noise and she looked up at his face, his eyes squeezed shut, his square jaw rigid. “Okay?” she whispered.

He made another choked noise but it wasn’t a no, or a get-that-thing-out-of-me. So she kept it inside him with one hand while she held his cock with the other and took him in her mouth again. She sucked. He bucked. She fucked his ass with the toy. Lava-hot arousal flowed through her body, gathering in her pussy.

“Gonna come,” he gasped. “Sorry…fast…aw fuck!”

He spurted into her mouth, tangy and hot, and she sucked and swallowed and held the toy inside him while his whole body jerked and jumped. When he finally stilled, she slowly released him from her mouth, loving the feel of the ridge of the crown as it slid through her lips, and slowly pulled out the Boy Toy.

“Holy shit,” he muttered. “Holy fucking shit.”

She tossed the toy aside and slid up his body in a sensual slide of oil and sweat. She kissed his mouth, and he turned his face toward her and kissed her back, his mouth urgent, hungry, hot. His arms came around her and squeezed her so tightly she almost couldn’t breathe.

“Was that okay?” she finally asked, pressing her cheek against his.

“That was unbelievable.” He still sounded as if he’d just run a marathon, his chest still heaving beneath her breasts.

“But good unbelievable?” she persisted, wanting to make sure she really hadn’t done something he didn’t want.

“Oh yeah. Hell yeah.” Again he caught her hair in his hands, held her head and kissed her. “Hell yeah.”

Chapter Fifteen

Another Tuesday-night bridge game was an excuse for Shane to come over and keep Keara company, and as usual they ended up in bed, hot, sweaty and sated.

Keara drifted on a floating cloud of near-sleep when she heard the noise from below. She blinked. Maeve home already? She lifted her head to peer at the alarm clock beside the bed. It was nearly ten. Maeve usually got home around eleven.

“Did you hear that?” she murmured to Shane. His arms tightened around her.

“Hmmmm? Hear what?” His drowsy voice was so sexy.

Then a crash had her sitting straight up in bed, head whipping around. “What was that?”

Shane too sat up, rubbing his eyes. “Maeve?”

“I don’t think so. I didn’t hear the alarm beep. What could it be?”

“I’ll go look.”

He climbed out of bed and headed toward the door.

“Put some clothes on!” she hissed at him, but he ignored her and with three long-legged strides he was out of the bedroom and gone. Heart pounding, she slid out of bed too, and grabbed her robe. She wrapped the silky garment around her, holding it closed with her arms as she tiptoed out of the bedroom after him. She waited at the top of the stairs as he thudded down them, his naked body a shadow in the darkness.

When he neared the bottom of the stairs another shadow appeared. Keara’s eyes flew wide and she gasped. Who was that? What the…

The other shadow was darker, fully clothed, even a dark shroud over his head, and with a muttered curse and grunt, Shane lunged at it.

“Shane!” She put her hands to her mouth. Should she run down there and help him? What could she do? Well, she had to do something, and she started down the stairs, her robe sliding open and billowing behind her, but she didn’t care.

As she trotted down the stairs the other person had already gotten to the back door. Shane leaped for him, but he had the door open and yanked from Shane’s reaching grasp on his shirt. Keara felt the cool draft as she continued her sprint down the stairs and she arrived just as Shane took off through the door after the guy.

“Shane!” She stood in the open door, trembling hands over her mouth, heart banging against her ribs, watching the dark shadow race down the lane. Dear God. Shane was running outside naked, never mind unarmed, chasing a burglar or whatever the guy was. He was crazy.

Shane stopped near his car parked behind the building. As if he suddenly realized he wasn’t exactly dressed to be chasing criminals, he turned and came back.

“Shit,” he growled. “Gotta phone for backup.”

Backup? What the hell did he think he was going to do? But he was leaping up the stairs two at a time, and when she caught up to him in the bedroom he was stumbling into his jeans while he barked orders into the cell phone.

He snapped the phone shut and tossed it on the bed, shoved both hands into his hair. “Shit, shit, shit.”

“What was that? Who was that? Oh, Shane.” Trembling, she went over to him. His body was tight and vibrating.

“Gotta go,” he muttered. “See if I can find that asshole.”

“Oh no.” She watched him leave, biting her bottom lip. He wore only his jeans and shoes now, still bare-chested, and he thundered down the stairs and out the door.

Again Keara followed him, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts. She stood in the open door again, still wearing only her silk robe, then realized she should close and lock the door in case the guy came back.

So she did that, stood there trembling, peering out the small window watching for Shane. How had the guy gotten in? She hadn’t heard a thing. Even when not armed, the alarm system always beeped when either door was opened, and the sound was clearly audible in the bedroom. She’d been drowsy but not that out of it that she wouldn’t have heard it.

Her mouth dry, she tried to swallow. This was crazy. It was like trouble was following her around. What was she, a magnet for criminals?

* * *

The police were still there when Maeve arrived home. Shane glanced up from where he directed one of his officers. Her eyes widened at the sight of a uniformed officer dusting for fingerprints in her shop.

“What’s going on here?” She stood there gazing around, taking in Keara and Shane, now fully dressed.

“Oh, Maeve.” Keara moved over to her and put a hand on her arm. “Someone broke into your shop!”

“What?” Her scarlet mouth dropped open. “How can that be? Where were you?”

“I was here.”

“Oh Jaysus. Are you okay, muirnín?”

“I’m fine. Shane was here with me.”

A knowing look flashed in her eyes but she immediately grew serious again. “Well, thank Jesus and Mary for that. What happened?”

“We don’t know how he got in.” Shane walked over to them. He didn’t want to alarm her, but she had to know. “There’s no sign of forced entry at all.”

“We didn’t hear the alarm chime,” Keara added, not wanting to mention that they wouldn’t have heard an earthquake if it had happened while they were in the midst of screaming simultaneous orgasms.

“Well, how did he get in, then?” Maeve fixed her gaze on Shane.

He grimaced and shoved a hand through his hair. “No fu—uh, no idea.”

“Hey, Chief,” one of the men called to Shane. “We found something.” He strode across the shop to where Jim Mahon stood in the Staff Only doorway.

“Some stuff looks like it’s been moved in this storage room, and I think we found some dirty footprints. Come see.”

Shane had to agree, but he called Maeve and Keara to ask if they’d moved some boxes in the store room. They both shook their heads, but unfortunately he wasn’t confident of Maeve’s memory.

“I’m sure,” Keara said in a low voice. “I just stacked those there yesterday.”

“Looks like he might have been hiding behind them.”

“Oh dear God.” She put her fingers to her mouth. “You mean he came in when the store was opened and hid here all day?”

“Who knows how long he was here.” He turned to Maeve. “Were you working today? Was Jayla?”

“Jayla worked from one to six today. I was in and out.”

“Keara? Did you work in the store today?”

“I was in and out too. It got busy around four so I helped Jayla.”

“I’ll need to talk to her too, but do you remember anyone coming in who seemed suspicious?”

Keara rubbed her forehead and squeezed her eyes shut. “I don’t think so.”

“The guy was shorter than me, smaller, and he was wearing a dark sweatshirt with the hood over his head. Ring any bells?”

Her brow furrowed as she concentrated, but shook her head. “Jayla will likely remember more, she was here the whole time.”

“If anything comes to you, just let us know.”

She nodded.

“I don’t understand,” Maeve said. “Was nothing stolen, then?”

“Doesn’t look like it, but again, we’d like you to look around. You don’t keep cash here, do you?”

“Um. Well…”

“Maeve.”

“Sometimes if I don’t feel like going to the bank, I take everything upstairs and put it in a safe place.”

“He didn’t come upstairs,” Keara assured her. “And as far as I can tell, nothing was taken from the store.”

“People don’t often break into a sex shop to steal vibrators,” Maeve stated and Shane swallowed a laugh.

“True enough.”

After Maeve had checked around, Shane told Keara to take her upstairs while they finished up.

“This is weird,” Jim said to him. “That the guy would hide in the store. What would his motive be if he didn’t want to steal anything?”

Shane pressed his lips together. There was something about all this that bugged him. Keara had thought her apartment was being broken into. Turned out to be nothing. Someone forced her off the road. They still hadn’t heard back from the lab about the make and model of the vehicle that had done it. Now this.

Fucking weird. He scowled and paced, then turned to Jim. “I’m worried about Keara.”

Jim gazed back at him blankly. “Okay.”

Shane shook his head. “Never mind. Let’s just worry about solving this case.”

He went up to check on Keara and Maeve. The way Keara had been feeling lately, this was the last thing she needed. His gut clenched as he imagined the fear she would now be feeling.

But when he got upstairs, he found her calmly and confidently reassuring Maeve. “I’m fine,” she said. He stood there and watched her pour the Jameson’s into two glasses. She looked up at him and the way her face warmed and softened was like a fist grabbing his insides and twisting. Holy shit. He was in deep trouble here. Fighting for composure, he walked over to them in Maeve’s small kitchen.

“Would you like one of these?” Keara lifted the bottle.

He stared to refuse then changed his mind. “Yeah,” he said. “I would.” So she poured a measure of amber liquid into a third glass and handed it to him.

“I was just telling Maeve that it wasn’t that bad. The guy didn’t get upstairs or anything. Nobody got hurt. Nothing got stolen. It’s weird, but it’s all okay. Right?” Her eyes met his steadily. He lifted the glass to his lips and sipped the burning liquor.

“Right.” He paused. “And we’ll find the guy.”

He wasn’t that confident they’d be able to, but maybe some prints would show up and they’d get lucky. Maybe Jayla would remember something significant. It was possible.

He wanted to talk to Keara more about the break-in at her home in LA, but this wasn’t the time. Maeve, for a change, looked more shaken than Keara did and Keara was doing a great job of calming her down. He smiled at her as he sipped his whiskey.

* * *

“Are you okay, Keara?” Maeve asked the next day. “I’m sure last night must have shaken you up.”

Keara tipped her head to one side and thought about that. Strangely, she’d slept fine. Probably still sated from all the orgasms Shane had given her. Ha. Doped up on…what was that? Oxytocin? Endorphins? She hadn’t even been nervous. Shane had made sure the building was locked securely and the alarm system working before he’d left. What were the chances the guy would come back? And who knew why he was even there?

Keara had her own theory. She was a little worried that the sex shop might attract some unusual characters. Perhaps someone a bit unbalanced had some strange idea about hiding in the store and then trying things out—maybe someone with a strange fetish. This had never happened before, according to Maeve, but after seeing some of the customers come in, like the guy who was so embarrassed he kept his hood over his head, it wasn’t that farfetched.

And it wasn’t likely to happen again, but Shane had talked to Maeve about having a lock on the Staff Only door, maybe a keypad or a system with a card they could swipe to get access. That way there was no danger of any customer walking back there unnoticed. That satisfied Keara.

“Actually,” she finally said to Maeve, a small smile breaking through, “I’m fine. I like Shane’s idea of getting a security system on that door…” She nodded to the back of the store. “In fact, I plan to call someone today about that.”

“Shane said he would do it.”

Keara sighed. “Shane doesn’t have to do that for us.”

“For me,” Maeve pointed out gently. “He’s doing it for me.”

“Well, I’m here, and I’m perfectly capable of handling that.”

Maeve’s brows lifted and the corners of her mouth quirked up. “Yes, of course you are. Well, I’ll let the two of you fight that one out. I think it’s a good idea too. I wish I’d thought of that before, but of course, I never thought something like this would happen.” She paused. “I’m glad you’re handling it okay. I was afraid that after thinking your condo was almost broken into, this would scare you.”

Keara shook her head, bemused. “No. They’re completely unrelated, of course.”

“It’s the sex.”

Keara gaped at her aunt. “Uh…what sex?”

Maeve laughed. “The Irish Sex Fairy strikes again. See? You’re feeling so much better.”

Keara felt her cheeks heat up to red-hot. “Coincidence.”

“I think not.”

They shared a smile, Keara still a little embarrassed. “Whatever.” She waved a hand. “What security company do you use for your alarm system? I’m going to call them and get them to give us a quote on security for that door.”

She’d just hung up from making the arrangements when the phone rang again. It was Shane, calling to check on them.

“We’re fine,” she said, leaning against the counter.

“Did you sleep okay?”

She sighed again at the interest in her sleep, first Maeve, now Shane. But it was kind of nice that they cared. “I slept great.”

“Good. So, tonight…wanna come to a movie?”

She blinked. “A movie?”

“Yeah. My buddies Dillon and Joey—I think you know Dillon?”

“Yes, I remember him.”

“They’re taking their wives out to a movie tonight and they invited me to come. I thought you might like to join us.”

It sounded almost like a date. Keara nibbled her bottom lip. “Um…I guess so.”

He laughed. “Don’t worry, they’re harmless. It’ll be fun. I’ll pick you up at seven. We’ll probably go out for a drink after too.”

Fun. What a concept.

She and Shane had had a lot of fun together lately, just the two of them. Meeting his friends added a new dimension to the whole sex relationship thing.

But his friends were fun. After the movie, they all went to O’Doole’s Pub and argued about the movie and laughed and teased Shane about the first girl he’d kissed and how her mouth had ended up bleeding from Shane’s braces. Joey and Dillon shared Shane’s sense of humor, and their wives Lisa and Gwen included her in conversations that she might have felt left out of, not knowing them and their clearly long and friendly history. When Shane dropped her off at Maeve’s near midnight, he walked her upstairs into the quiet apartment, one lamp on in the living room, Maeve’s bedroom door closed.

Shane pulled her into his arms and kissed her, and she found herself responding with a deeper intensity of feelings, a new warmth and affection for him after the casual, relaxing fun evening. So when he pulled back to smile down at her, she couldn’t help but smile back, loving the circle of his arms around her.

“I’m off tomorrow,” he murmured. “We should do something.”

“Like what?” All they usually did, until tonight, was have sex. Hot, bone-melting, sheet-ripping sex.

“Let’s drive to one of the wineries nearby. There’s a nice one near Santa Ynez. We can have lunch, do the tour, taste some wine…”

Her eyes widened. It sounded like another date. It sounded…amazing. “Okay.”

Chapter Sixteen

Shane drove to Santa Ynez. Above them, a few wispy clouds streaked the cerulean sky. Golden fields stretched away from the highway, to the Santa Ynez Mountains, and yellow, orange and purple wildflowers brightened the roadside. At one point, they passed two men on horseback, plodding along in the hot sun, their Stetsons shielding their faces from the sun. One lifted a hand in a greeting as they passed.

Shane parked his vehicle on the main street in Santa Ynez, and they stood on the sidewalk looking at the western-style buildings, a quaint contrast to Kilkenny’s Irish ambience.

“Where should we have lunch?” he asked. “How about the Ranchman’s Coffee Shop?”

The sun lit up Keara’s hair into a fiery halo. She’d slid sunglasses onto her face so he couldn’t see her eyes, but her lips curled into a smile. “Sure.”

He took her hand as they walked across the street, felt her almost withdraw from his grasp then relax.

They entered the coffee shop and were soon seated. Inside was all wood and wrought iron, with leather and western artifacts decorating the walls and shelves.

“Cute,” she commented, pushing her big sunglasses on to the top of her head, gazing around with interested eyes.

She was cute. Damn. He dragged his gaze away from her to look at the menu the hostess had set in front of him. They ordered lunch, took their time eating.

“You’ve been doing better lately, haven’t you,” Shane said, fingers playing with a paper napkin. He looked up from it.

Keara nodded. “Yes.” She pressed her lips together, and met his eyes. “Thanks to you.”

He grinned. “I’ve been told I have an amazing effect on women.”

She laughed. “I guess it’s true.”

“Seriously, though.”

“Better, but I still get a bit anxious thinking about going back to work. I’m still worried about being able to make decisions.”

“Don’t go back.”

Her eyes flew wide. “What?”

He shrugged and looked down at the paper napkin again. “Don’t go back. If it’s worrying you, maybe it’s not worth it. It’s just a job. You can find another one.”

She stared at him, lips parted. Then she shook her head. “I can’t do that. It’s not just a job. It’s my career. It’s…who I am.”

“It’s not all of who you are,” Shane said softly. “You’re more than just a bank manager, Keara.”

“Well, I know, but…you don’t understand.”

“Make me understand.”

She tilted her head and gazed across the coffee shop for a long moment, then back at him. “My parents were very um…successful. My dad was the CEO of Palladium. I was just starting my career there when they were both killed in a car accident.”

Shane’s breath leaked out. He nodded.

“My mom was a vice president at Ezron Savings and Loan. They both wanted me to follow in their footsteps. They helped me take the best courses in college.”

“Your dad got you the job.”

“No.” Her chin jutted. “I got the job on my own. I wanted to make him proud. And he was. I wanted to make them both proud. And now they’re gone, I feel like I have a mission—to go as high in the bank as I can. I may not ever be CEO, but I have a career plan at Palladium. I’m going to do it. I’m going to get back on track, and I’m still going to do it. I have to.”

He nodded slowly, turning her words over in his head. That explained quite a bit. Her determination and dedication to her career. He got it. For some reason, it kinda made him feel depressed. But he got it. There were things that mattered that much to him, too, including his own career.

“You will,” he agreed and forced a smile. “You are smart and strong, Keara. You’ll do it and it’ll be fine.”

“Thanks.” Her hesitant smile made his heart squeeze.

After lunch, they emerged back out into bright spring sunshine and both slid sunglasses on.

“Let’s wander around, look in some of the shops,” Shane said, starting down the street, again taking her hand. This time her fingers curled into his warm and willing. “There are some nice places and wine-tasting rooms.”

“Sounds cool.”

They spent a while in one room where artists were painting, then tasted a few different wines. They browsed in a few interesting little shops and galleries, sat in the sunshine and ate ice cream, then started the drive to The Bridle Path Winery.

Tidy vineyards lined the narrow road to the winery, and the parking lot they arrived at was crowded. “This is a popular place,” Shane said.

“It’s stunning.” Keara took in the white stucco with typical clay tile roof, and they entered through a wide, vine-covered arch in the stucco wall. Potted palms and colorful flowers adorned the stone courtyard and a long, shaded veranda lined one long side. Water splashed in a fountain in the center of the courtyard and sparkled in the sun.

“This is a 2002 Pinot Noir,” they were told as they accepted a glass of ruby-red wine. They each swirled the glass, inhaled the aromas of cherry, raspberry and sweet vanilla-oak. “This wine has typical red fruit flavors, like raspberries, cranberries and cherries, with spice on the long finish. Big but balanced. If you like Pinot Noir, you should enjoy this one.”

Next they sampled a Syrah, with the taste of blackberry, smoky pipe tobacco, white pepper and oak. At the end of their tasting, Shane asked, “Which one did you like best?”

“Hmm. I think the Pinot Noir.”

And he bought a bottle of it and handed it to her. “Here. For you.”

“Thank you,” she said slowly, taking the bottle in both hands.

“Maybe you’ll share it with me some time.”

She tipped her head and smiled. “Maybe.”

* * *

A few days later, Keara was supervising the installation of the security system on the door. Maeve had opted for a key pad, and each person who had access would have their own code. It made Keara feel better about Maeve’s safety after she was gone.

And speaking of leaving… “Keara, a call for you.”

It was Stefanie, the disability case manager, calling to see how she was doing. She’d said she’d check on her this week.

“I’m feeling pretty good,” Keara said into the phone. But the thought of going back to work still caused the tight clenching of her gut. She’d finally confessed her fears out loud to Shane. It wasn’t just post-traumatic stress disorder from the hostage taking. Maybe that had been part of it, at first—having your life threatened like that would be enough to do it—but in addition to that, facing the mistakes she’d made in her management of the bank, the way she’d treated staff and her fear that she wouldn’t be able to make sound, rational business decisions still filled her with doubts. What if she went back and she couldn’t cut it anymore? Her job was her whole life.

She gripped the telephone.

“That’s wonderful,” Stefanie said brightly. “So what do you think about going back to work next week?”

“Next week?” Keara turned in a circle and stared into space. “Well, I still don’t have a car.”

“You know, I mentioned there are other ways to get you back to Los Angeles.”

“I know. I expect to hear from the insurance company this week. I could probably go ahead with getting a new vehicle.” She had to, sometime. There just didn’t seen any big rush there in Kilkenny, where she could walk a lot of places, and truthfully, she didn’t have many places to go.

“I just…I’m not sure,” she said.

Stefanie’s voice got firmer. “Keara. Unless we have something in writing from a medical professional—Dr. Cogan, for example—saying that you can’t work, we won’t be able to keep paying your benefits.”

The disability insurance company was depositing money into her account every two weeks. She hadn’t spent much since she’d been in Kilkenny. Her rent was paid for this month. She had savings and some investments—she was a finance person after all. She was smart with money. But the prospect of no income coming in was not exactly appealing. Great.

“Well then,” she said a bit stiffly. “I guess I really don’t have much choice.”

“Of course it’s your choice,” Stefanie said, back to cheery. “But you should know that the bank is getting anxious about you coming back. This costs them money too, and they’d rather have you back at work.”

“Of course.”

Money. It all came down to money. Now she was the number. She rolled her lips in and clenched her teeth. “I understand,” she said. “I’ll see what I can do about getting a car. I don’t think I can be back next week, but how about the Monday the week after?”

“That sounds wonderful! I’ll let them know that’s the plan.”

Keara clicked off the phone and stared blindly at it. She was going home.

* * *

“My mom wants me to bring you for dinner tomorrow,” Shane said. They lay in his bed Friday night, wrapped around each other as usual in a haze of postcoital satisfaction.

“Me and Maeve?”

“No. Just you.”

She looked at him. “Is it a party?”

He shook his head, and his eyes shifted away. “No. They just want to have you over.”

“Why?”

“Because…we’ve been…uh…”

“Having sex?” Her dry tone grated on him and he frowned.

“No. Well yes, but…they think we’re seeing each other.”

She laughed, a short, tight laugh. “Don’t they know you’re just helping me out?”

“Uh…haven’t discussed that with them, actually. And I’m sure you don’t want me to.”

“I guess not.” She eyed him warily. “But it’s probably not a good idea for them to think there’s more between us than there is.”

Shane’s stomach tightened. He took a deep breath. “Maybe there could be.”

She blinked at him. “Like what?”

“Like…” Christ, this was hard. Sweat prickled his underarms and his heart thudded. “Keara, I…really like you.”

She smiled. “Thanks. I like you too.”

He closed his eyes, felt like he was jumping out of a speeding cop car on a high-speed chase. “Keara. I think I’m falling in love with you.”

She stared at him for a long, fraught moment. Then she rolled away from him and off the bed, reaching for his shirt on the chair and dragging it on. She wrapped it around herself, holding it with her arms. He watched her, dismay sliding through him in hot shivers.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m going back to LA.”

“When?” he challenged. “Why?”

“I told them I’d be back to work a week from Monday. I’ll leave next weekend.”

Shane’s breath stopped. He kept his face tight and controlled. “Next week. You’re leaving next week.”

She nodded. “The case manager called, and said I need something from a doctor if I’m going to stay off any longer. I haven’t seen a doctor, and I’m feeling better…” He saw the shadow pass over her face as she said that. “So I have to go back.”

“Oh. Jesus.” He let his head fall back down to the pillow and stared up at the ceiling. She hadn’t talked about leaving and he’d just thought maybe she was enjoying it in Kilkenny and might stay longer. Like forever.

He was a fucking idiot.

He couldn’t believe this was happening to him again.

“But I’d love to see your parents before I go.”

He lifted his head to gape at her. Was she serious? Apparently so, standing there, his shirt wrapped tight around her pretty body, emerald eyes blinking at him.

Shit. He felt like he might just puke up the meal he’d eaten earlier. And yet, he knew if he had only a week left with her, he’d spend every minute with her he could. So he’d torture himself by taking her to dinner with his parents, pretending everything was just hunky-dory, as his mom would say, so Keara could say goodbye to them.

* * *

His parents definitely had the wrong idea. They were being so nice to her, they clearly thought she was their future daughter-in-law. And so, over dessert, she said, “I want to thank you for having me over so I could say goodbye to you before I leave.”

Fiona’s mouth opened and she paused with her fork halfway to her mouth. “Leave?”

Keara nodded and smiled brightly. “I’m going home. Next weekend.”

“You are?” Fiona said slowly. “For good?”

“Well, yes. I have to get back to work.”

“But…” Fiona glanced at Declan, who also looked…puzzled.

Damn. She was hurting them? That was crazy. They didn’t even know her.

“Well then. I should give this to you now, then.” Fiona rose from her chair and crossed to the sideboard. She picked up a small silver box and handed it to Keara.

Reluctantly, Keara took it. She paused before opening it, glancing at Shane, whose dark scowl told her he was pissed off. His parents were going to hate her for doing this to him. Despair and sorrow twisted in her as she slipped the lid off the box and saw the oval of marble, a soft glowing pink streaked and flecked with gold.

It was similar to the stone she’d admired the last time she’d been there. The one Maeve had given them. A vow of friendship between families. She tried to speak but the words stuck in her tight throat. She coughed and tried again. “It’s beautiful,” she choked out and lifted it from the box.

“Declan said you’d admired the one we have.”

Keara nodded, and replaced it in the box. “I did. But you shouldn’t have.”

“It’s nothing,” Fiona said, but Keara felt her guarded disappointment. Oh hell, she was making a huge mess of things here. She should never have gotten involved with Shane’s family. “It’s a symbol of friendship. Between families.”

“So,” Declan said briskly. “Your job must be important to you.”

“Yes. It’s very important to me. I feel bad that I’ve been gone so long. But there’s no reason not to go back.”

The hell there wasn’t. But she ignored that thought and focused on the reasons she had to go back. She picked up her fork to finish her cheesecake, then set it down, unable to eat.

“I see,” Fiona said quietly. She gave a sharp look at Shane, then laid her own fork down. “Coffee anyone?”

“I’d love some coffee,” Keara said, thankful for the change of subject.

Shane followed his mother into the kitchen, leaving Keara and Declan alone.

Declan looked at her over the top of his reading glasses. She attempted a smile but his face remained serious. Then he asked quietly, “Did Shane ever tell you about Trista?”

Keara shook her head. “No.” Who was that?

“They were going to get married,” Declan continued. “It was about two years ago. She was a very nice girl. Very pretty. Smart.”

The bitseach who’d dumped him. “Oh yes. Maeve mentioned that Shane had been engaged.”

“That’s right. But she got a job offer in Los Angeles with a big law firm. She was a lawyer.”

Oh no. She could see where this was headed, and a sick dread filled her. “She left.”

“Yes.” Declan kept his voice low, no doubt so Shane didn’t hear him talking about him. “She wanted Shane to go with her. To LA.”

Her chest squeezed. “Why didn’t he?”

“It was just after I had my stroke. To be honest, I don’t remember a lot of what happened then. I was pretty out of it. But I know he had to make a tough choice. We didn’t try to influence him. He could have left with Trista, moved to LA, and we would have survived. We just wanted him to be happy. In the end, he made his choice to stay. But I know his heart was broken.”

Keara looked down at her hands in her lap, eyes stinging. Oh Shane. And now she was doing the same thing to him.

But she had to go back. She had to. She had to prove to herself she could still do it. If she couldn’t—who was she? She was nobody. Nothing. A washed-out shell with no direction, no control. No life.

Chapter Seventeen

Stefanie called on Tuesday to let Keara know that it was all set for her to go back to work Monday. Keara had rented a car to drive home in, figuring she’d buy a new car back in LA. She’d just go back to the BMW dealership and get another one.

“Do you want to visit the bank first?” Stefanie asked. “Like last time?

Remembering the humiliating experience, Keara shook her head. “No, I’m fine. I’ll just go in to work Monday.”

“You could work half days at first, if you want.”

It sounded reasonable, but Keara was determined she was going to do this. She wasn’t going to admit that a fist of tension still squeezed her guts at the thought of going back. She could do this. She had to do this.

“No, that’s fine,” she replied.

Maeve came into the apartment just as she hung up the phone, looking upset.

“What’s wrong?

Maeve’s lips quivered. “I’ve…I’ve misplaced some money.”

“Money. What do you mean?”

“A few days ago I didn’t go to the bank to make the deposit. I put the money in a safe place upstairs.”

“And…it’s gone?”

“No. I mean, I don’t know. I can’t remember where I put it.”

“Oh, Maeve.”

“I know, I know, it was stupid.” Maeve rubbed her forehead. “I should have gone to the bank.”

“Have you looked? It has to be there somewhere.”

“Yes, I’ve looked.” Maeve’s voice took on just a slight edge. “I’ve looked everywhere.”

“Well what do you think…you don’t think it’s been stolen, do you?”

“No! Oh, Jesus and Mary, I don’t know. I’m sure it’s not been stolen, but I just can’t think where it would be.”

“Well, come on, I’ll help you look for it.” Keara fought back the panicky feeling Maeve’s latest memory problem brought on. What was going to happen when she was gone? “How much money was it?”

“Eleven hundred dollars.”

Keara stopped on the stairs and looked over her shoulder at her aunt. “Oh, dear God.”

Maeve’s face crumpled as if she was near to tears and Keara turned and put her arms around her thin shoulders. “It’s okay, Maeve. We’ll find it.”

“It’s not okay. I’m a stupid old lady. I can’t believe I lost that much money.”

Inside the apartment, Keara stood there, looking around. Where would Maeve have put it? She started searching, Maeve following behind her, saying, “I looked there already”, then “I wouldn’t put it there”. Until Keara finally reached the bathroom and found the canvas bag from the store beneath a pile of towels in the cabinet.

Maeve pursed her lips, clutching the bag in both hands. “I decided maybe I will be going to the doctor,” she said slowly. “So I called earlier and made an appointment.”

“Oh, good.” Keara let out a long breath. “I’ll come with you.”

Maeve slanted her a look. “Well. It’s not until next week. You’ll be gone.”

Keara stared back at Maeve. “Oh. Damn.”

“It’s okay, muirnín. I can go on my own.”

“I-I know. I just wanted to be there for you.” In case it was bad news. In case there was anything she could do. But she wouldn’t be here. Her stomach churned a little. “Well, I’ll just have to phone you,” Keara said, pasting on a smile. “What day is your appointment?”

“It’s Wednesday.”

“Okay. I’ll call you Wednesday night.”

“All right.”

“I’ve rented a car,” Keara told Maeve. “I’ll pick it up late Friday, but I’ll leave Saturday morning. That’ll get me back to LA in time to get some food, get ready for work on Monday.”

Maeve nodded, eyes cast down to the rug at their feet. “That sounds like a good plan.” She lifted her gaze and found Keara’s. “You’re sure you’re ready for this, muirnín? Because you’re welcome to stay longer if you need to.”

“I know. But I have to do this. I’ve been away from work too long. It’s not fair to them. And I can’t just hide here forever. I have to face reality.”

“I suppose. Well, what should we do to celebrate your last night here? Should we have a party on Friday night?”

“A party?” Keara laughed. “Just the two of us?”

“We could invite Shane and his parents, and Glen of course and Jayla and…I don’t know.”

Keara shook her head, but smiled. “That’s okay. I don’t want a party.” And she doubted if Shane or his parents would come anyway. It had been a few days since she’d been to their home and she hadn’t forgotten the hurt looks of disappointment on their faces. Worse, Shane hadn’t dropped by in the last few days, either.

“Perhaps you and Shane will want to spend time together your last night,” Maeve said. “I understand that.”

Keara shook her head, keeping her smile firmly in place. “I doubt it. Now that he knows I’m going, he’s…well, I’m feeling better and…”

Maeve’s eyes sharpened. “Oh no.”

“What?”

“You two have fallen in love.”

“No we haven’t!”

Maeve sighed. “I should have known that would happen if you had sex. What was I thinking? I knew that oxytocin had that effect.”

“What effect?”

“It makes women feel like nurturing. Bonding.” She closed her eyes and tipped her head back, then flashed Keara a quizzical look. “You’re in love with him but you still intend to go back to LA?”

“I’m not in love with him!” Keara speared her fingers into her hair, pushing it off her face. She paced away from Maeve. “It was just sex, Maeve, just like the Irish Sex Fairy ordered.”

Maeve blinked several times, her mouth a thin line. “What about Shane?”

“What about him?” She tried to prevent the defensive tone from edging her voice but didn’t succeed totally.

“If he’s in love with you…oh Jesus and Mary. What have I done?” Maeve covered her face. “I can’t believe…oh lord.”

“What?” But Keara knew exactly what Maeve was thinking. If Shane cared about her and she left, it was his history repeating itself. She was going to hurt him, and the thought of that was like an icicle stabbing into her heart. She didn’t want to hurt him. She turned away, chest aching, throat throbbing, and glanced at her watch. “Isn’t it time for your bridge game?”

“I don’t know if I’ll go tonight.”

“Oh, Maeve. You should go.” Keara turned back to her and forced a smile.

Maeve studied her then said, “All right. I’ll be home at the usual time.”

When she had left, Keara wandered to the window and looked down into the street at the cars passing by, the people walking along the sidewalks. When she realized she was looking for Shane she muttered a curse and turned away from the window.

She rubbed her face and wandered through the empty apartment. He knew it was Maeve’s bridge night. He always came over on bridge night.

She sat on the couch and turned on the television, stared at it without really seeing it as the evening passed, time measured in thirty minute programs, until it was ten o’clock and with a dismal, aching heart she knew Shane wasn’t coming.

* * *

Maeve and Keara had decided they would go out for dinner for Keara’s last night in Kilkenny. After they picked up the rental car and dropped it off at Maeve’s, they drove to Peabody’s, an elegant restaurant on the edge of town. Keara was all packed and ready to load her things into the car in the morning.

White cloths covered the tables, silverware and glass gleamed in candlelight at each table, and a fresh orchid floated in a small bowl. Soft music drifted through the restaurant, accompanied by the hushed murmur of voices and the clinks of cutlery on china.

Keara was sure her meal was delicious, but she didn’t even taste the chicken piccata she’d ordered, so elegantly presented, and the glass of wine that accompanied it was probably lovely.

She declined dessert and was finishing her second glass of wine when she looked across the room and saw Shane walk in. Her heart leaped and her pulse accelerated. The wineglass in her fingers trembled.

Was he here on a date? God, she so did not want to see Shane with another woman. Yes, she was leaving, but please, let him wait until she was gone before he started dating someone else.

But as he spotted them and crossed the room toward them, he appeared to be alone.

“Um…Shane’s here,” she said to Maeve, who looked behind her.

“Oh! That’s wonderful!” Maeve pushed back her chair and stood to hug him as he neared. As his arms circled her, his eyes met Keara’s above Maeve’s head.

Her body quivered in response and her heart tightened.

“You came!” Maeve said. Keara frowned.

Maeve turned to her with a small, cunning smile. “I’d invited Shane to join us for dinner, but he…uh…declined. But, Shane, we’ve just finished our dinner.”

“That’s okay,” he said, voice rough, eyes still holding Keara’s gaze. “I ate anyway. I just stopped by to say goodbye.”

“Would you look at the time?” Maeve said. “I have to go meet Glen! Shane, you’ll give Keara a ride home, won’t you?”

Shane’s expression didn’t change. “Sure.”

“Oh…” Keara began, pushing her chair back. Maeve had to meet Glen? How could that be?

“The bill is paid,” Maeve said with a wave of her hand, scooping her purse off the floor. “But stay and have another drink if you like.”

And she disappeared, her trim figure in all black with a silver and gold metallic scarf draped around her shoulders, hurrying across the restaurant.

Keara’s gaze returned to Shane. He stood there, still looking grim faced. “I…uh guess we can go.”

“Finish your wine.” He dropped into Maeve’s seat, taking up far more room across the table from her than Maeve had, his broad shoulders blocking out other diners. She regarded him for a moment, taking in the short black hair, the thick brows, his sapphire blue eyes, firm square jaw locked.

He wore a white button shirt loose over a pair of black pants, and the turned-back cuffs revealed his strong wrists and forearms, dusted with dark hair. He was so appealing, so sexy and attractive, she felt herself warm and melt inside.

Heart aching, she picked up her wine and sipped what was left.

“Would you like to order a drink?” The waiter appeared at their table.

Shane glanced at Keara. “Sure. I’ll have what she’s having, and she’ll have another.”

Oookay. She shook her head at his bossiness. Guess they were staying a while.

“I didn’t think I’d get to say goodbye to you,” she said. “I haven’t seen you all week.”

“I know. You could’ve called me.”

She blinked. Yes, she could have. But she’d gotten so used to him just showing up every day, when he hadn’t she’d interpreted that as him not being interested anymore. “I didn’t think you wanted to hear from me.”

He inclined his head. “I didn’t, actually.”

“Oh.” She bent her head, stinging inside from his rejection. But what did she expect?

“I figured it’d be easier if we didn’t see each other again. That’s why I said no to Maeve’s dinner invitation. But then…” He looked away from her, gazing across the restaurant. “I couldn’t do it. I had to see you one more time.”

Her mouth felt full and soft, her eyes prickling. It was hard to breathe, her chest felt so tight. She emptied the rest of the wine into her mouth.

She didn’t know what to say.

“Keara.” She looked up at him, his gorgeous blue eyes sad and full of shadows. “I don’t want you to go.”

Her heart cracked and splintered, slowly, agonizingly, filling her chest with painful shards. She gazed back at him, and blinked back tears. “Shane…”

“Never mind. When are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow morning. I’ve rented a car to drive back to LA. I’ll get a new car there. I start work on Monday.”

“That’s going to be okay?”

She hesitated. “I don’t know. But…I have to do it.” She pleaded for understanding with her eyes. “I have to, Shane.” She wanted to say more, but the words clogged up in her throat.

He gave a jerky nod and sat back as the waiter set their glasses of Sauvignon Blanc in front of them. He picked up his glass. “I know. I understand.”

“Shane.” There was so much she wanted to say to him, to tell him…but she knew she couldn’t. Things were complicated enough. It was better just to leave without things getting all messy.

“Maeve’s going to go to the doctor next week,” she said, her voice annoyingly shaky and low. She told him about the money Maeve had forgotten. “I wish I could be here to go with her.”

Shane’s mouth tightened. “Yeah. That’d be nice. But I’ll take care of her.”

She nodded. “I know you will. And I’ll be in touch with her. I promise you I will. But I know she has good friends looking out for her.” And she did. She trusted Shane and knew without a speck of doubt he could be counted on to do just that. That’s the kind of man he was.

He lifted his chin, sipped his wine.

They watched each other, and the restaurant around them faded into a blur, the noise muted to a murmur, Shane’s face crystal clear in her vision. Emotion swelled inside her, rising into her throat, and her face felt tight and hot. She ached but she didn’t know exactly for what. She wanted…but she wasn’t sure what. She only knew she wanted something, so much, that she could have cried from it. And she had to blink back the tears that gathered.

Shane reached across the table and took her hand in his. The warm strength of his touch sent ripples of need through her. She needed him.

“Come home with me,” he said, his thumb stroking over the pulse in her wrist that fluttered there, eyes blazing blue.

There was only one answer. Right or wrong, she didn’t know. Maybe it was right and wrong. “Yes.”

Shane wasn’t sure if he could walk with the massive hard-on pressing against his zipper. Luckily he’d worn his shirt untucked. He stood, tossed some bills on the table to cover their glasses of wine, then put a hand out to Keara. When she set her hand in his, creamy soft and small, he felt the tremors in it and something swelled inside his chest. Pausing beside the table, right there in the middle of the restaurant, he tugged her hand so she took a step closer to him, then lifted her fingers to his mouth and pressed a kiss to them. His gaze met and held hers and the glossy green of her eyes and the sharp intake of her breath told him her emotions were as turbulent as his.

He led the way out of the restaurant, still holding her hand, and she tripped along beside him in a pair of high-heeled sandals he’d never seen. Come to think of it, she was dressed like he’d never seen her in the weeks she’d been in Kilkenny—a strapless black dress hugged her curves from breasts to knees, and the silky bare skin of her shoulders begged him to touch.

“Is this a new dress?” he murmured as they waited for the valet to bring his car around, allowing himself to drag a fingertip over one shoulder.

She blinked up at him. “Dress? Oh. No.” She looked down at herself. “I don’t know why I brought this with me. But Maeve said we should dress up for our last dinner.”

“Love the shoes.” He looked at her slender calves and the sexy shoes. Pretty scarlet toenails peeped below barely there straps over her insteps.

“Thank you.” Her voice, too, was throaty. Sexy. His insides tightened.

The drive back to his place was smolderingly silent. When they walked into his house, memories of the first time they’d had sex right there on his stairs flashed and burned. And when their eyes met, he knew she was remembering too. A peachy flush crept up her cheeks, making her so adorably pretty he had to reach out and touch her cheek with his fingertips. His thumb stroked over her jaw, then her bottom lip, which parted from the top, and a fierce tenderness expanded inside him.

With a long, aching groan, he drew her against him, tipped her face up with both hands and kissed her mouth. She arched against him, and need for her slammed into him. His arms slid around her, one hand tangling in her hair, one skimming down her back to her butt, where he pressed her tight into him.

Their ragged moans mingled as they shared a kiss that tasted of raw joy and hungry ardor, mouths moving, tongues sliding. Keara’s fingers glided into his hair, her nails scraped his scalp and spears of need stabbed into him.

He never wanted to let her go. He didn’t want her to leave, but the idea of begging her to stay, of opening himself up like that, making himself so dangerously vulnerable, horrified him. He couldn’t do it. He could implore her with his body, with his mouth, with his hands. He could appeal to the emotion he knew raged in her too. But he couldn’t say the words.

He bent and hooked his arm beneath her legs, swinging her up against him. She choked out a gasp and grabbed on to his shoulders and he loved it, loved the feeling of her hands gripping him so needily.

He carried her upstairs. “This time we make it to the bed,” he promised her. She tucked her head against him, and he admired the sleek curves of her legs dangling, the skirt of her dress hitched up well above her knees.

He set her down to sit on the bed then dropped to the carpet beside her. He picked up one foot and slid the strap behind her heel off, then slipped the shoe off. Her foot felt delicate in his hands and he kissed her instep, then her ankle. She shivered and her fingers curled into fists at her sides.

He removed the other sandal, skated his palms up over silky calves, and rose onto his knees. Darkness and quiet enfolded them, the only sound he could hear the thudding of his heart. His hands slid up higher, beneath the dress, over her thighs, until he touched the edge of her panties.

Their eyes met. And she lifted her hips just enough for him to hook his fingers into the strings of what must be thong underwear and drag them down.

As he drew the panties over her knees, the scent of warm feminine arousal filled his nostrils and a feverish lust ripped through him. A moan of pure, primal desire tore from his throat and he tossed the panties aside and shoved her skirt up. With a choked gasp, she fell to her back on the bed, and he parted her thighs and surged over her, craving her taste. He licked and sucked and kissed, filled himself with her scent and her taste, her soft whimpers mingling with the soft noises of his mouth on her until her fingers tightened in his hair and her hips arched beneath him. She cried out. “Shane! Oh God, Shane.”

He sucked until her quivery body went still, and even then didn’t lift his head, inhaled her, eyes closed, wanting to imprint that scent in his olfactory memory forever.

If this was their last time, he was going to make it…everything. He wanted to do everything to her, wanted to be everything to her, as she was everything to him.

His throat burned when he finally lifted his head and moved up over her to kiss her mouth again, sharing her taste with her.

Her hands fluttered over his back. “You make me come so hard,” she whispered, mouth moving against his. “I want you inside me.”

“Mmm.” Oh yeah, he wanted that too. But he knew they could take their time because he was going to make love to her all night long, even if it meant she drove back to LA with zero sleep. This was their last night and every minute—every second—built a memory, a fragile keepsake, a dream he could sink into alone at night.

* * *

Keara was drunk and floating, dizzy and breathless, her body soft and wet and pulsing. But she needed more. She needed it all. She needed Shane, naked, over her, in her, around her. Shaky fingers worked the buttons of his shirt, greedy with the need to feel his chest, smooth, bare, warm.

She felt so much. She felt shaken with the extent of her need for him, knowing this would not be enough.

She almost couldn’t remember why she was leaving this man, except she knew it was important and she didn’t really have a choice. She longed to ask him to come with her back to LA, but before the words could even form in her head, she knew how stupid they were. Of course he wouldn’t leave Kilkenny. His career, his family, his life were all here. If he’d wanted to leave he would have gone with Trista.

So this night had to last the rest of her life, had to fill the emptiness her life would be without Shane in it. Her throat quivered and ached and she slid her hands inside his shirt finally, over hot sleek skin. Her fingers played in the silky patch of hair, her palms brushed over the hard bones of his shoulders. Strength and security and honor emanated from him.

She pushed his shirt back off his shoulders and tasted the skin of his chest with her lips and tongue, sliding lower, until she kissed the quivering flesh of his belly below his navel. She fumbled with his button and zipper, and he helped her reveal the throbbing, hot erection beneath. Her mouth watered and opened instinctively to taste him, to take him in and she breathed through her lust for enough patience for him to stand up and get rid of his pants and underwear.

Her eyes drank in the sight of him, long, hard, thick, and her hands reached for him. She rose to her knees on the bed and he let her stroke him. She loved his rough moan. She tested the weight of him, of his heavy balls, bent her head to suck him in.

His low growl inflamed her, his hands in her hair sent a barrage of sparks over her body, and pleasure swelled inside her, almost unbearably sweet.

“Keara, God, your mouth. Suck me.” He groaned. “Suck me, just like that.”

His voice splintered and her body burned, her mouth loving him, her hands admiring him. She wanted it all. But he pulled out of her mouth, and stood, holding himself, panting.

Now she was the one who moaned, her lips swollen, mouth aching for more.

“Inside you,” he muttered, and he pushed her down to the mattress with a dominance that thrilled, yet with a gentleness that moved her. The knowledge that this man had all that inside him—the overriding need to protect not just ones he loved, but everyone, and the strength and courage and conviction to carry that out—made her feel like her heart was going to explode.

He twisted and turned her body out of the formfitting dress. She wore no bra and her panties had already disappeared. He cupped her breasts, stared at them reverently, kissed and licked and nibbled them until sensations sparked over her body, pinpricks of pleasure racing over her, her nipples glowing points of pleasure, a hot aching need building between her legs.

His body inside her felt right. Perfect. Complete. They fit together, they moved together in an intimate, dazzling rhythm. Their quiet sighs and the sounds of their slick bodies moving together filled his dusky bedroom. She felt safe. She felt desired.

She felt so much.

He took her higher, sliding a hand between them to find her clit, to make sure she came again, and she loved him for that. He found the exact place, rubbed with a sure and perfect touch. Inside her, he thrust deep, filling her almost to the point of pain, a sweet pain. Everything drew up inside her tighter, higher, to a sharp point of ecstasy, and then even higher yet, higher than she’d ever been, so high she was scared. And then she burst and shattered and shuddered, clinging to him with her hands, her teeth sinking into his shoulder.

They pressed through their orgasms together, long, blinding, wrenching spasms, until they lay wrapped around each other in perfect intimacy and saturated rapture. She pressed her mouth to his shoulder where she’d bitten him, and when she felt wetness there she realized she was crying.

She felt so much.

Chapter Eighteen

She was getting away later than she’d planned because Shane had dropped her off at Maeve’s apartment at five thirty in the morning. They’d both been exhausted, emotional, totally in denial. Shane looked at her with tired and shadowed eyes as he laid his hands on her shoulders and gently kissed her goodbye, and she could tell his smile was forced.

And she did the same. She wanted to throw herself at him, into the protection of his arms, and stay there forever, and she had to physically stop herself from doing that. She felt as if his body was a magnet pulling her to him with a powerful, irresistible attraction but she had to resist.

She had to go home.

Jayla was working in the store, so Maeve came to the back where they’d parked the rental car the night before. Keara slammed the trunk down where she’d stowed her stuff, and dusted her hands together. Maeve regarded her with steady look, and the affection on her face made Keara’s heart swell up again and ache. Maeve opened her arms and Keara walked into them and hugged her frail body. She was always so energetic and vibrant, it was only when holding her like this that it became so evident she was aging and fragile.

Tears gathered and prickled in her eyes and she squeezed them shut briefly, before drawing back and smiling at her great-aunt. “I’ll call you after your doctor appointment,” she reminded her, stepping back. She pulled the car keys out of her jeans pocket.

Maeve nodded. “Drive carefully, muirnín,” she said, voice low and husky, her brow furrowing. She was worried about her on the highway where she’d had the accident and to tell the truth, Keara wasn’t looking forward to that part of the drive, either. Her stomach clenched unpleasantly at the thought of those winding curves and the memory of that jerk riding her ass and then forcing her over the cliff.

It couldn’t happen again. It was random. Like the break-in at the store that the police had never solved. Shane had been annoyed about that, but they just didn’t have enough evidence. No prints. Nobody had really seen him other than Shane that night. There wasn’t much more they could do.

But she’d be fine. She’d take her time, drive slowly and carefully and she had her cell phone charged up and handy in case of any problems. And she had a piece of pink and gold Connemara marble sitting on her passenger seat for good luck.

“Thank you, Maeve,” she said, her voice coming out thick and choked-sounding. She swallowed, and her throat ached. “Thank you for everything.”

“You’re welcome, muirnín. That’s what family is for, right? We look after each other.”

Keara nodded, unable to say another word, her face tight and burning. A heavy weight of guilt settled on her shoulders. She was leaving her. All alone. She was the only family Maeve had. Maeve had helped her—but what if Maeve needed help? Where would she be?

She’d visit. She swore to herself she would come back and visit a couple of times a year at least. There was no reason not to. Her busy weekends of shopping, dinners and concerts seemed so unimportant now, compared to Maeve and making sure she was okay.

She got into the car and pulled out, hardly able to see where she was going through a wash of tears. She lifted her hand in a wave and as she left, the sun sparkled off thin silvery trails on Maeve’s cheeks.

At least she knew Shane and his family were there to make sure she was okay. She didn’t need to worry. Maeve had lived alone all these years and had done fine.

She had to keep repeating the various mantras to herself the entire drive home so she didn’t break down into a sobbing puddle of guilt and sadness.

She spent the rest of the weekend airing out her apartment, shopping for some groceries, doing laundry. In a way it was nice to be back in the little home she’d created for herself. The shopping she’d loved had yielded some pretty furniture and attractive accessories, and she’d created a cozy nest that was all hers, just how she liked it.

But the nest was empty. Even the television didn’t fill the silence and provide virtual company like it used to. And as she sat there on the couch, staring at the TV but not really seeing it, she lifted her head and looked around. She was alone.

For once, she wasn’t afraid. She was just…lonely.

A heavy wave of emotion swept over her, threatening to drag her down and under, like the depression had been doing before she went to Kilkenny. The feeling scared her, because she remembered what it had felt like before—hopeless, helpless, like she was drowning and couldn’t save herself.

But now she knew she could. She just had to remember it. She had to remember the things she’d accomplished. She had to remember the good feelings she’d felt. Which led her to thoughts of Shane, to a flip of excitement in her tummy thinking about how he aroused her, how they’d laughed together and talked and how he’d bossed her around. But remembering how good he’d made her feel, just emphasized how alone she was now.

She thought about what her life would be, from this point on. She’d go back to work. She waited for the panicky feeling and felt only a small flutter. Good. She’d go back, get back into the swing of things. She’d need to get updated on what had happened while she was gone, but then she’d be ready to move forward. She’d had a plan in place for turning around the branch’s performance and she was ready to pick things up again. Next month she’d be meeting with her superiors at corporate head office to review her progress. She remembered how much she’d anticipated that meeting with the prospect of showing them how she was exceeding expectations, how much she would enjoy their pleased reactions. Strangely, now the idea didn’t excite her in the least.

Her bottom lip pushed out. She just needed to be back at work. Once there, she knew her usual enthusiasm and love of her job would take over.

* * *

What took over was panic.

It hit her unexpectedly as she walked into the bank Monday morning. She was always there early, before anyone else, and this Monday she was there even earlier, and was grateful for that as she went in because the panic punched her square in the chest and took her breath away.

She couldn’t let it take over, though. Now she understood physiologically what was happening to her body, maybe she could control it better than the last time she’d walked into this building.

She strode into her office and sat down. She focused on breathing, some of the techniques she’d learned in her therapy, because her body needed oxygen. But not too much oxygen. She relaxed her muscles. She repeated positive thoughts to herself and reminded herself she was not having a heart attack.

She’d started to get herself under control when other staff began to arrive. She guessed they’d all been told to expect her because nobody was surprised, and they greeted her with unexpected warmth. She knew they all thought she was a bitch axe-lady boss from hell, but they didn’t treat her like that at all. Thank God.

Her assistant manager, Peter, had put some things together for her to review and they spent an hour going over that. She had a gazillion emails to go through, most of which were junk and outdated anyway, but she did that. While she was concentrating on work, she was fine. But when Peter left her office and she was alone, the panic started expanding inside her again, tight and frightening.

She closed her office door and spent another hour refocusing herself. She had to do this. She had to. She could not leave here humiliated once again. She didn’t know what her staff thought of her sitting in her office alone with the door closed for an hour, but she didn’t care, just did what she had to do to make it through the day.

And she did.

At five o’clock, when she looked at her watch, she sagged with relief. She’d done it.

That knowledge gave her a much-needed burst of adrenaline, and she was able to wish everyone a good evening while they closed up. She actually felt lighthearted as she drove home. She hadn’t missed the crazy commute on the freeway, but she survived that too, and when she walked into her apartment, her little sanctuary, she covered her mouth with her hands and cried with the relief of it.

She’d done it.

She was strong. She survived. She could do it. She could do anything.

An expansive lightness filled her, and she changed out of her suit and heels and into a pair of yoga pants and a T-shirt. Maybe she’d get back into yoga again. That was good for stress relief. Or start working out at a gym. She’d always thought she should do that, she’d even bought a membership once but ended up working such long hours she never got there.

The buoyant feeling of freedom lasted until she started preparing her dinner. She’d bought some food, but she missed Maeve being there while she cooked, talking and drinking whiskey. Keara didn’t have any whiskey or she would have poured herself a little glass of it, just to celebrate.

And when she sat down to eat alone, desolation fell over her again like a thick blanket. She wasn’t even hungry. She looked at her food, pressed her lips together and sat there for a long while, aching and empty inside.

* * *

She called Maeve on Wednesday and it was so good to hear her voice.

“How did things go?” she asked her, settling herself onto her couch.

“Well…good, I suppose.”

“What happened?”

“He asked me a lot of questions—Jesus and Mary, a lot of questions—but he doesn’t think it’s Alzheimer’s.”

Keara’s breath burst out of her. “Oh, thank God! What did he say?”

“Well, I guess there are some things that are typical aging memory loss and other things that are more indicative of Alzheimer’s. The bad thing is they can’t do any tests that will show it at an early stage. So he can’t say for sure. But he seemed very positive and reassuring that it isn’t.”

“I’m so glad,” she breathed. This was good news. Maybe she’d feel better than she had the last few days knowing that Maeve was okay. She wouldn’t have to feel so guilty.

Although she knew deep inside it wasn’t just guilt that made her feel so spiritless and sluggish.

“He told me a few things I can try to help,” Maeve said. “I need to exercise my brain more. He told me to get one of those things…what’s it called? A Game Boy?”

“What!” Keara laughed. “Really?”

“There are games you can buy that work your brain, apparently. I told him I just need more sex.”

“Maeve!”

“Well, it’s true. Those sex hormones also help cognitive function. But Glen won’t take that Viagra and it’s putting a damper on our relationship.”

“Oh no. You’re not seeing him anymore?”

“We are. But if he’s not as interested in sex as I am, it’s not going to last long. Let’s be honest here.”

Her forthright, amazingly blunt tale made Keara smile and her heart soften. Damn, she missed her!

“Have you seen Shane?” she asked.

“Um. No.” Maeve’s voice changed tone. “He called me a little while ago, to find out when my doctor appointment was. He wanted to take me. When I told him it was today and I’d already gone, he sounded…upset.”

“Oh.” Keara wanted to know if they’d talked about her, but couldn’t bring herself to ask.

“He sounded a bit down,” Maeve continued. “I think you broke his heart, Keara.”

Keara’s own heart seized. “I did not.”

She was such a crybaby lately. She was supposed to be a tough, cool businesswoman, but thinking of Shane’s heart made her tear up again. Because she knew his heart wasn’t the only one affected.

Maeve sighed. “I don’t know what to do about you two. I thought maybe if you spent your last night with him, you’d realize your feelings for him, but I guess that didn’t work.”

“You planned that, didn’t you? Shane showing up that night and you taking off. You probably didn’t even have a date with Glen that night.”

Keara heard a muffled laugh. “Why would I make a date with Glen on your last night?”

“I knew it!” Keara shook her head, but smiled. “You are so bad.”

“Well, I thought it worked when you stayed out all night with him, but it was all for nothing, apparently.” Maeve paused. “How did things go at work?”

“Fine,” Keara said. Lying just a little. After the first shaky day, she was getting back into things, but so far had found little of the joy and excitement she used to get. “I’m getting caught up.”

After their chat, Keara hung up and the dense silence in her apartment closed in on her.

She felt sorry for herself. She needed to call her friends. So she did. First she called Essie.

“Keara! Are you back?”

“I’m back.” She leaned into the couch cushions and tucked her feet under her. “How are you? How’s that baby of yours?”

“Oh God, he’s growing like crazy.” Essie yacked on for twenty minutes about her progeny, his eating, sleeping and pooping habits. Keara was happy to hear they were doing well, but a little lost in that conversation. Then, after a promise to get together soon, she called Monica.

No answer.

Fine. She called Paige. She too was happy to hear from Keara, but sounded…cautious. Like maybe she was a nut case or something. “How are you doing?” she asked hesitantly. “How are the nightmares?”

“I haven’t had one for a while,” Keara replied. Maybe because so many nights had been spent with Shane. She had no fears with him, other than the fear of…well, him. Or maybe it was her feelings for him. “I’m doing much better. Really. Some strange things happened in Kilkenny, but all coincidence, and I’m back at work now.”

“That’s so good! But hey, I have to jet—I’m meeting Monica at a new club on Wilshire.”

“Oh. Okay.” She blinked. Waited for an invitation.

“So call me, okay? We’ll get together.”

She hung up the phone, dejected and even more lonely. She’d only been gone a few weeks. How could they have forgotten her that fast? Abandoned her?

Why hadn’t she just told Paige, hey, I’m coming with you guys.

Because she didn’t really want to go clubbing.

She leaned forward and picked up the smooth piece of pink and gold marble sitting on her coffee table, fingertips rubbing over the sleek, cool surface, and her heart contracted as she thought of everything she had left in Kilkenny.

Chapter Nineteen

The next night when she got home from work, she decided after she’d parked her car she’d walk to the ice-cream store on the corner and get ice cream for dinner. When you lived alone, that was completely acceptable.

She made her purchase of a carton of dulce de leche, her absolute fav, and started strolling back toward her apartment building. It was dark already, because she’d stayed late at work to review some reports that she needed to be up to speed on for a meeting tomorrow.

Footsteps crunched behind her, and she glanced over her shoulder, because a girl on her own in a big city couldn’t be too careful, not because she was paranoid. Well, maybe just a tiny bit. Maybe it would take a long time to get over some of the aspects of the post-traumatic stress. Maybe she’d never get over them.

She sighed and shifted her purse over her shoulder, reaching for her keys as she neared the entrance to the building, her heart speeding up just a bit. Once inside the security system of the building, she’d be fine.

She unlocked the door and shifted her ice cream to pull it open but the door swung wide as if it had blown open. She almost stumbled at the unexpected loss of weight in her hand, and then a body pressed up close behind her.

Her heart jerked in her chest, then thudded. What the hell? She whirled around, ready to give someone hell for bashing into her, but froze when she saw who it was.

* * *

Shane ambled into his parents’ house and headed to the refrigerator. He hoped they had beer. They always had whiskey, but not always beer. But then again, maybe he was in a whiskey mood.

Yeah. He turned from the fridge and sought out a glass. The bottle of Jameson’s sat on the counter.

“Shane, what are you doing here?” His mom walked into the kitchen.

He shrugged. “Thought you might need some things done around the house.”

“Oh.” She tipped her head. “Well. I don’t think so. Not at the moment.”

‘How’s Da?”

“He’s fine. He’s sitting out back. Enjoying the last of the evening.”

Huh. Shane took his glass of whiskey and wandered out the patio doors. An image of him and Keara out here flirting blinded him. He shook his head. “Hey, Da. How’s it going?”

His dad looked up in surprise from the book he was reading. “Shane, me boy. What are you doing here?”

Shane grunted. They’d both asked him that. Nice greeting. “Jesus. I can’t just drop by?”

“Well, sure and you can, we love to have you.”

“I thought you might have some things for me to do. Something to fix. What about that lawnmower? Wasn’t it acting up?”

“I took it to Precision Motors and they fixed it.”

“Oh.” Shane frowned. “I could have done that.”

“I know. But you were busy last weekend with Keara, so I just took it in.”

“How’d you get it there?”

“Your mother and Jeff across the street helped me. It was easy.”

“Oh.” He gulped some throat-searing Jameson’s.

He gazed out at the yard, the lush carpet of green and luxuriant beds of flowers and shrubs. The setting sun saturated the greens and reds and yellows with rich light, and cast long shadows.

“What’s wrong?”

Shane looked at his dad “What? Nothing.”

His dad rolled his eyes. “That was the deepest sigh I’ve ever heard.”

He hadn’t realized he’d sighed.

“You’re all mad ouva.”

“No, I’m not.” And it was sad that he even understood his old man’s Irish brogue. Mad out of it. Out of his mind.

“About Keara. Because she’s gone.”

Shane shook his head and downed the whiskey.

“Here’s to women’s kisses.” His dad held up his nearly empty glass. “And to whiskey, amber clear; not as sweet as a woman’s kiss, but a darn sight more sincere!”

Shane gave a crooked smile.

“Not funny?” His dad shook his head. “Didn’t she do the same as Trista? Women.”

“Keara’s not like Trista. She had to go.”

“Ah. You’ve got it bad, boy.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Jaysus, boy, don’t been an eejit.” His dad scowled. “If you want her, go get her.”

Shane shook his head morosely. “She doesn’t want me.”

“The hell she doesn’t. I saw the way she looked at you. Maeve thinks she’s in love with you.”

Shane’s head jerked up. “She does? Why?”

His dad shrugged. “Ask her. Better yet, ask Keara.”

“She’s not here.”

“Ever hear of a phone?”

Shane snorted, looked out at the yard. Yeah, he could call her. But for what?

“She’s gone back to LA. Her big important career is there.” Even he could hear the bitterness in his voice. “And my life is here.”

“What’s here?” his father demanded. “You couldn’t get a job as a cop in LA?”

“You and Ma are here.”

He felt the burn of his father’s stare and slowly turned and looked at him. “What?”

His father’s scowl unnerved him just a bit. The man had had a stroke but Shane could still remember his father physically taking him down when he’d been a snotty teenager. He was still his father.

“Don’t be telling me you gave up a sweetheart like Keara because you wanted to stay here with us. Jaysus.”

“Da. You need me. You want to stay in the house as long as you can, but it’s too much for you alone.”

His dad cursed again. “I can’t fecking believe it. You fecking mongo sap.”

Shane winced and wished for more whiskey.

“Hell yes, we like to have your help. And we like to have you around. But we could manage without you.”

Shane stared at his father’s pale blue eyes, snapping and lively.

“Your mother and I have been talking about moving to that new seniors’ complex over by the river,” he continued. “Betty and Dougal are there. And others we know. It’s a nice place and we think we’d enjoy it.”

“What?” Shane sat back in his garden chair. “The seniors’ complex?”

“Yes. Why not? It’s time.”

“But…the house.” Shane waved a hand. “The yard. You love your yard.”

“I do. But…” He sighed. “I can’t expect you to keep helping me with it forever. Those apartments have a nice little patio and I could plant some pots…that’s enough for me these days.”

“Are you serious?” Shane shook his head. “You’re just saying that.”

“No, Shane, me boy.” His dad tipped his head and smiled. “You can still visit us there.”

Shane nodded. “Wow.” He stared again into the distance. “How long have you been thinking about this?”

“A while.”

Maybe he could have gone to LA with Trista. Bah. Her memory flicked in and out of his head so quickly it barely registered. Thank God he hadn’t gone to LA with Trista. He’d thought he’d been broken-hearted when she’d left, but it had been nothing like what he felt now.

Keara. His chest ached.

“Shane. When Trista left…we figured you wanted to stay here. And you got over her pretty quick, so we thought it all worked out for the best.”

Shane nodded and looked down into his empty glass.

“But don’t do it again. If you love Keara, for God’s sake, go to her. If it means moving away from here, so be it. No offence to your ego, but we’ll live without you. Maybe you could visit once in a while.”

Shane’s throat tightened. He pushed out his mouth as he regarded his father. “You’re serious. I can’t believe this.”

“Shane.” His mother’s soft voice spoke from the French doors to the house. “We love you. We never intended for you to sacrifice your life for us. We never expected that.”

“I’m not sacrificing my life,” he growled. “You’re my parents. It’s what I’m supposed to do.”

His parents smiled at each other. “We did a fine job of raising him, don’t you think?” Ma said.

“Too damn fine.”

“It breaks my heart to think that you let Keara go because of us,” she said to Shane.

“I didn’t let her go,” he snapped. “She left and I couldn’t stop her.”

“Did you try?”

He bent his head and rubbed his mouth.

“You didn’t even try,” she said. “You are a fecking eejit.”

“Ma!”

She laughed. “Maybe if you’d just asked her, she’d have stayed.”

“No.” He knew she had to go back. He understood why. He knew she had to prove something. Mostly to herself. He got that. But…

He looked up at his mother.

She hitched a shoulder. “We want you to be happy, a chroí. You’re not happy right now. I’ve never seen you so miserable.”

He wanted to deny it. But the words choked in his throat. Christ, he was lucky to have parents like these. He’d damn near driven them insane as a teenager, but their unconditional love had turned him into a man. A man with a sense of duty and responsibility. Only, now they were cutting him loose. They didn’t even need him anymore.

* * *

Keara stared at the dull metallic gleam of a gun.

A gun. All she could think was—a gun. Another freaking gun.

Adrenaline slammed through her bloodstream and she lifted her eyes and stared into the shadowed face. The man grabbed hold of her arm, and it would have hurt except for the thick fabric of her jacket. He yanked her closer, the gun pressed to her side.

Jesus. Jesus and Mary. What the hell was happening to her now?

He wasn’t tall, only about six inches taller than her, and not a big guy, but damn, he didn’t need to be big when he was holding a gun on her. His black hoodie draped over slim shoulders and the hood shaded his face so she couldn’t see it.

She tried to scream but it came out as a croaking cry. She glanced wildly around the lobby, but there was no one else there. Security cameras. But who the hell was watching them.

“Shut up,” he snarled, jerking her again and she made another pathetic noise.

“What do you want?” She’d give him her purse. That’s what you were supposed to do.

“Upstairs. Into your apartment. Now.”

He shoved her over to the elevators and stabbed one of the buttons. Her legs felt rubbery, like they didn’t belong to her, her entire body shaking like Jell-O What was he doing? Dear God, was he going to rape her? This could not be happening.

“I have money,” she told him, voice quavery. “You can have it all.”

He laughed. Laughed!

The elevator pinged and the doors slid open. Please, please let someone be inside.

Her prayers were not answered. He thrust her into the empty car and stepped in after her. He jabbed the button to the third floor.

Her eyes flew open wide and she stared at him. “Who are you?” she demanded. “How do you know what floor I live on?”

He didn’t answer. The gun gleamed in his hand. She wanted to sink to the floor and cover her head and disappear. What was happening? Thoughts spun uselessly in and out of her head. She was going to be raped. Maybe even killed. And for what? What?

The ride was far too short, and he grabbed her and pushed her down the hall to her apartment door. Her hands shook so hard she couldn’t get the key into the lock and he gave a low growl of impatience that made her shake harder. Her heart banged in her chest. Maybe if she couldn’t get the door open, someone would come out, her nosy neighbor or the man next door that she hardly ever saw, and barely knew, but hell, he’d help her, wouldn’t he…

“Oh for Chrissake, give me the key.” He shoved it into the lock and the door fell open. Damn, damn, damn.

She had to think, think clearly. What did she have in her apartment that could be a weapon? Her Henckels knives sitting in the block on the counter. All the way across in the kitchen. Maybe she could get there. Her eyes swiveled around the room. The lamp might work. The wrought iron base wasn’t too heavy, but…how was she going to get it?

He pushed her down onto the couch.

She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering and quaking. And then the first flashback hit. Her, on the floor in the bank, with Gary pointing a gun at her.

She blinked.

She stared at the man before her, who’d taken a step back.

“What do you want?” she asked again, striving for composure. Control.

He sat down on one of her armchairs. She gaped at him.

“Make yourself at home,” she snapped. “What is going on here?”

He leveled the gun at her. She knew nothing about guns, but it looked lethal, the black hole of the barrel staring at her.

She swallowed, her throat tight and dry.

“Tell me what you want,” she said again, stronger. “I’ll see if I can give it to you.”

“You can’t give me what I want,” the man said. His voice sounded young but she still couldn’t see his face well.

And then the second flashback slammed into her. A man walking into Maeve’s shop, a black hoodie pulled over his head. A dark shrouded shape at the bottom of the stairs that Shane tried to grab.

Her mouth fell open. No. It couldn’t be.

“Who are you?”

He gave a sick-sounding laugh.

Frustrated, she pressed her lips together. She started to sit up, but the gun moved. She watched the opening of it, remembering her nightmare, ready to fall apart. But she didn’t. She sat up straighter. She’d gotten through this once before, somehow. She could do it again. If only she knew what he wanted. She remembered the police negotiators talking to Gary in the bank. She could only hear his side of the conversation, but she’d gotten some of what they were doing. Making a connection. Asking him what he wanted. Trying to give it to him.

“What happened to you to make you do this?” she whispered. She had no idea if she was asking the right question.

“What happened to me? How about, what happened to my dad?”

“Your dad?” Bewildered, she squinted at him, still trying to see his face. “Do I know your dad? Do I know you?”

He shoved his hood back. A kid. Early twenties. Dark hair. She didn’t know him.

“My dad was Gary Jarvis.”

Chapter Twenty

Shane stood.

“Gotta go,” he said to his parents, voice raspy. He kissed his mom’s cheek, carried his glass into the kitchen and set it on the counter then strode out.

He drove home, working himself up into a good high dudgeon, as Ma would say. They didn’t need him. Apparently, nobody needed him. He’d wanted to take Maeve to the doctor and she’d gone on her own, goddammit. She didn’t need him either.

Keara didn’t need him. Every time he’d tried to help her with something, she’d protested, gotten annoyed. He knew it. That’s the way he was. But she didn’t need that. She was a strong, independent woman.

Ah hell. The truth was…he needed her.

His gut cramped as he pulled into his driveway. His big house sat empty, black windows like vacant eyes. He sat there in his car, staring at the garage, fingers still holding on to the steering wheel.

He could call her.

He glanced at his watch. She might not be home from work. Or maybe she’d be out partying. What would he say to her? Did he have the guts to ask her if she’d come back. What if she said no?

Her career was important to her. Like Trista’s. Except he had to admit he hadn’t really given a shit about Trista’s career. He’d wanted her to stay, wanted her to turn down that promotion and he’d been mad when she hadn’t.

He couldn’t ask Keara to do that. Wouldn’t ask her to do that. Because if it meant that much to her, he wanted her to have it. The thought slammed into him like a bullet, driving home the realization of the difference between his feelings for Trista and for Keara. Night and day. Black and white. Whiskey compared to water.

So—he’d go to her. He’d go see her and tell her he’d leave Kilkenny for her. Because he would.

He knew it was crazy, impulsive, maybe stupid—but he put the car in reverse and backed out of the driveway. If she wouldn’t let him into her apartment, he’d be on the street with only the clothes he was wearing. He’d take the chance. A sudden urgency gripped him, and it felt absolutely imperative that he get to Keara as quickly as he could.

* * *

Keara stared at the boy across from her. His mouth was a thin line, his eyes defiant. “You’re Gary’s son?” she whispered, clasping her hands tighter.

“Yeah.” His tone was sharp with bitterness and anger. “And thanks to you, my dad is dead.”

A sharp slice of pain stabbed into her. She rubbed one eyebrow, trying to ease the throbbing below it. What could she say to that? She’d been blaming herself for Gary’s death for months now. Now she was face-to-face with the living, breathing evidence of how badly she’d screwed up.

She tried to breathe, her lungs tight. She nodded slowly, gathering her thoughts, but it was like pulling clouds out of the sky.

“My mom is dying,” Gary’s son continued harshly.

“What’s your name?”

He stared at her. She repeated the question.

“Scott.”

“Okay. Scott.” She nodded, licked her lips. “I know about your mom.”

“Then why did you fire him?” he burst out, the gun wavering. Keara tensed. He could shoot her even accidentally if he wasn’t in control of that thing.

“I didn’t know about your mom then,” she said quietly. “I found out the day he…”

“He tried to rob the bank,” Scott sneered. “You drove him to that. Drove him crazy. And then they shot him.”

“Do you…do you know what happened in there?” she asked, leaning forward a bit.

“I know he talked to Mom. I know he was coming out. The cops told me he was going to give himself up, but I don’t believe it. He wouldn’t give in. We needed the money.”

“You think what he did was right?” She kept her voice soft.

He slashed the air with his hand. “That doesn’t matter. He was doing what he thought he had to.”

Gary’s son clearly had inherited his faulty reasoning skills. Or maybe they managed to convince themselves what they did was right. Keara wasn’t sure, but it was very sad that Scott had been driven beyond rational thought just like his father had.

She took a deep breath. “I’ll tell you what happened in there. When it was just your dad and me. I told the police, but I guess they didn’t tell you everything. I’ll tell you, if you’ll put the gun down and listen.”

He glared at her for a long moment while he weighed things. “I’ll put the gun down,” he said finally, laying it on the wide arm of the chair. “But it stays right here with me. So don’t try anything.”

“I won’t. I just want to talk.”

“Fine. Go ahead. But don’t think you’re going to make any difference. You deserve to die just like my dad did.”

The way he said it, the way it sounded rehearsed, the lack of conviction in his words, made her relax minutely. It made her think he wasn’t really a killer. Just like his dad had had no intention of killing her. They were desperate but they weren’t murderers. She didn’t know what Scott thought he was going to accomplish by doing this, other than scaring the bejesus out of her, but she didn’t believe he was actually going to kill her.

Of course, a gun sitting right there still made her nervous.

“This is what happened.”

Keara paused in her story. Scott listened intently, although he stared across the room and not at her.

“Scott. I have to be honest with you.” She leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “I don’t know if knowing about your mom would have changed the decision I had to make to let your dad go. I don’t know if it would have. I had to make business decisions. But I’d like to think that if I’d known, I would have done more to make sure your mom was looked after. I would have talked to your dad about options. Before that happened.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No. And I will always regret that. You have no idea how sorry I am that I didn’t take more time to get to know your dad and what was going on his life.” She pleaded for understanding with her eyes. He looked away.

He sat there, silent, staring into space, shoulders slumped. She sat up a bit straighter and her fingers gripped her knees. What was he going to do?

Then he turned his eyes to her. “Is that really what happened?”

She blinked. “Yes.”

“He told you to leave and you wouldn’t go without him?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

She rolled her bottom lip in and let it slowly slide through her teeth as she pondered what to say to him. But Scott answered for her.

“He was going to kill himself, wasn’t he?”

“I don’t know for sure,” she said after a short pause.

Scott shook his head. “He was. You did know it. And you didn’t want to leave him there to do that.”

His image blurred as her eyes filled with tears and her chest constricted. “I wanted to help him,” she whispered. “Like I should have before I let him go.” A sob escaped her lips and she covered her mouth with shaking hands.

“So you were trying to save him,” Scott said slowly. His shoulders slumped even more. “And then the cops shot him.”

“That wasn’t supposed to happen.” She twisted her fingers together and leaned forward again. “They told me after. One of the SWAT team just got overeager, or something. Adrenaline apparently can do that. They thought he was still going to kill me. But the guy in charge kept telling them not to shoot. He knew. I knew. Your dad wasn’t going to kill me. And…” she paused, “I made sure our insurance company paid out your dad’s death benefits. They weren’t going to. They thought he’d been trying to commit suicide.”

“Suicide by cop.”

“Yes.” She swallowed. “I told them he wasn’t. The money’s being used to look after your mom.”

Scott bowed his head. A hard shudder racked her body and she bent over her knees at the emotion that swamped her. She covered her face with her hands and choked on another sob.

She had tried to save Gary. And it wasn’t all her fault.

She cried. Scott was sitting there with a gun right by his hand, and all she could do was cry.

She cried for Gary. He’d been so desperate and yes, part of that was her responsibility, and she’d do anything to go back in time and change how she’d handled that, but she didn’t make him rob the bank. That was his choice.

She cried for Scott, for the sadness and desperation and vengeance that made him choose to follow her and try to get revenge for the wrongs he perceived had been done to him and his family. A misguided, desperate choice, but it was his choice.

And she cried for herself. For the guilt and misery she’d been beating herself up with. For trying to save Gary and then having him die anyway. For the mistakes she’d made.

“I’m sorry,” Scott said, sounding almost as choked up as Keara was. “I’ve been following you for weeks, trying to get up the nerve to do something.”

She lifted her head, tears wet on her cheeks and stared at him. “You’ve been following me?”

He nodded miserably. “I tried to break in here one night. Weeks ago. Then you took off.”

“How did you find me?”

“I’m pretty good on the internet. I uh…hacked into your email.”

“Oh.” She swiped her palms over her face. “Don’t tell me…please…was that you in Kilkenny? On the highway?”

He dipped his head. “Yeah.”

“Jesus, you could have killed me!”

“I just wanted to scare you!” he burst out.

“Oh, Scott. And then…in the shop…was that you that night?”

Again, he nodded. “Yeah. I hid in the storage room for a few hours. I was going to sneak up and…hell, I don’t know what I was going to do. I didn’t know that dude was gonna be there with you.”

She sucked in a long breath. Dear God. She wasn’t going crazy. She hadn’t imagined all those things. When she laughed out loud, Scott shot her a startled look.

“Are there even bullets in that gun?” she asked.

He scowled and picked it up. “Of course there are.”

A knock on her apartment door made both of them jump.

Shit.

She did not want a guy with a gun being startled like that. Who the hell was at her door? How did they get in through security?

Maybe it was the security people, having seen her being dragged at gunpoint into the elevator. Her eyes met Scott’s.

“Who is that?” he whispered, and he held the gun like he meant business with it. Again. Dammit.

“I have no idea.” She didn’t lower her voice, hoping whoever was at the door would hear them and know she was in there. Eyeing the gun, she called out, “Who is it?”

“Jesus!” Scott hissed. “Shut the fuck up!”

“Scott.” She stared him down. “You know this is done. You’re not going to shoot me.”

Another hammering on the door blasted through her apartment. “Keara! It’s Shane!”

She froze. Blinked. She must have heard that wrong. “Sh-Shane?”

“Yeah. I…uh…are you alone?”

Was she alone? What the hell did he think was going on in there? Jesus, did he think she was in there doing some guy on her couch? “Shane!” she cried. “Don’t leave!”

She looked at Scott again and tilted her head. His scowl deepened. “Don’t make this worse, okay? And I’ll try to help you with the police.”

“Cops?” His eyes widened. “That’s the cops?”

“Yes. Yes, it is.”

Shane pressed his ear to the door. Dammit, he could hear them talking in there, and one of them was definitely male. He sagged against the door, head dropping. Who the hell would’ve thought she’d have another guy that fast? Shit. Maeve and his parents had clearly been wrong about her feelings for him.

And he’d driven three and a half fucking hours from Kilkenny for nothing.

“Shane! Don’t leave!”

He straightened. Listened. Nothing. He knew he’d heard that. Keara. A bolt of fear lanced through him like a knife, deep into his gut. Everything coalesced in his head at once—the MVA, the intruder at the shop, the break-in at her apartment—where she was right now. With someone else in there with her. Jesus Christ.

Adrenaline surged in him, made his skin go tight, his muscles rigid. He eyed the door. He took several steps back, then lifted his leg and drove his foot into the door. Sonofabitch! That fucking hurt! But the door broke loose from the frame. She didn’t have the deadbolt on. Stupid. Or good. Okay, in this case, good.

He kicked one more time and a splintering noise filled the air. He charged in, reaching for the gun he still wore on his hip. He hadn’t even been home since he left work and he still carried. He whipped his Glock out and assumed the stance, eyes sweeping the room.

Keara sat on the couch in her living room, gaping at him, eyes about to fall out of their sockets, hands clasped together. A male had jumped to his feet from the armchair across from her, and Jesus, he had a gun and was aiming it right at him.

“Police!” Shane barked. “Drop the gun!”

The young male’s hands shook and the weapon wavered. Shane took a step back and glanced at Keara. “You were right,” the guy said, almost with disbelief. “I thought you were lying.”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” she said, standing and walking toward Shane. “Put the gun down.”

He didn’t. His gaze flicked back and forth between her and the guy. “Keara! Sit down, for Chrissake!”

She shook her head and continued toward him. Shane kept the guy in his sights and his gun leveled at him. “Who is this guy?” he demanded. “What the hell is going on?”

“What are you doing here?” she asked, not answering his damn question. He stared at her incredulously, then reached for her and shoved her behind him.

“Drop it!” he commanded again.

“Shane,” she murmured in his ear, putting a hand on his arm. “I don’t think his gun is even loaded.”

He glanced over his shoulder at Keara then back to the other man, confused, stunned, disbelieving. Was she insane? She didn’t know? You always had to assume a gun was loaded. Jesus.

“Scott,” she called softly. “It’s okay. He is a police officer, but he’s a friend of mine. Put the gun down.”

Scott whoever-the-hell-he-was didn’t lower his gun. Keara, sweet as she was, knew nothing about criminals. You couldn’t just tell them to put the gun down and expect they would do it.

“I told you,” she continued. “Just cooperate and don’t hurt anyone and I’ll help make it okay.”

The kid—he was just a kid, for God’s sake—stared at both of them. Then, to Shane’s astonishment, he dropped his hands. The gun hung at his side and he seemed to cave in on himself.

His mind boggled, Shane kept his own gun leveled at the guy.

And then Keara—the crazy woman—walked over to the guy and took the gun away from him. Just like that. Shane’s jaw almost smacked the floor.

Keara turned to Shane. “Here. I don’t know how to tell if it’s loaded.”

He took three steps toward her and numbly removed the gun from her hand. His lips curled as he regarded the cheap Bersa, checked the chamber. Holy hell. Empty. He lifted his eyes to Keara, and then directed a stern glare at the kid.

“Are you really a cop?” Scott asked.

“You bet your ass I am,” Shane replied tightly, shoving the Bersa into his waistband then reholstering his Glock. “What the hell are you doing with this? Who are you? What is going on here?”

He looked at Keara. She should have been crumpled into a traumatized heap on the floor. Instead, she stood there beside Scott whoever, and she laid a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. In his entire life, Shane didn’t think he’d ever been so bewildered.

“We’ll tell you,” she said. “But you have to promise to take off your law enforcement hat and just be my…” She paused.

He waited.

“My…”

He shoved a hand through his hair.

“My friend,” she finally finished.

Whatever. They’d talk about that later.

“Fine,” he snapped. “Sit.”

She rolled her eyes but amusement tugged the corners of her mouth up. “Have a seat,” she said to Scott.

The kid looked terrified now. Sure, now his gun was gone. His unloaded gun. Shit. But Scott sat obediently in the arm chair.

“You too.” Keara sat, looked at Shane, and patted the couch cushion beside her. “Scott and I will tell you everything.”

Chapter Twenty-One

They had a big argument about what to do with Scott. Shane insisted she had to call the police. She didn’t want to. Well, part of her did. The stupid idiot could have killed her by driving her off the road that day. She wavered between spurts of anger and empathetic sorrow. She felt for him, she really did. But what he’d done wasn’t right. And perhaps he needed some kind of help.

So in the end she gave in and let Shane call the police. They came and took statements and took Scott away but she told them she didn’t want to press charges—she just wanted to make sure he got the help he needed.

It was nearly midnight by the time that was all done and she and Shane were alone. She eyed her broken door with disgust.

“You didn’t have to break the door down,” she said. “I had him calmed down and I knew there were no bullets in the gun.”

“Keara. Dammit. Don’t ever assume a gun isn’t loaded.” He walked toward her. “If you have some tools I’ll fix the door. For tonight.”

They found what he needed although he looked askance at her pink-handled hammer and screwdrivers. “They’re tools for women,” she said.

He just shook his head and went to work, and soon the door was fixed enough to be secure for the night. She’d likely still have to get someone to replace the whole thing tomorrow.

Shane set her tools on the kitchen counter and turned to face her. They shared a long, questioning look.

“What are you doing here, Shane?” she whispered, arms wrapped around herself, shoulders hunched.

He took a step toward her. “I…Jesus, Keara.” His eyes closed briefly and he stuck his hand into his hair, held the back of his head for a moment. “I can’t believe I got here just when that guy…”

“It was okay,” she said softly. She took a step toward him now. “I was dealing with it.”

He burned her with his gaze, eyes blazing blue. “Yeah. I guess you were.”

She shivered. “You still haven’t answered my question. And I don’t think it’s because you have ESP and knew that I was in danger, so you rushed here to rescue me.”

He smiled faintly. “Actually…”

Her lips parted. “No!”

He huffed. “Okay, I guess it’s not ESP, but it’s weird. Once I’d decided I was coming, it felt like it was an emergency. Like I had to get here as fast as possible. I broke the speed limit on the freeway.”

“Not you! An officer of the law?” Her teasing coaxed a small laugh from him.

“Yup.”

They stared at each other again. She tipped her head to the side and lifted an eyebrow.

He sighed. “I came to see you. To talk to you.”

“About…?”

His mouth tightened and his throat moved as he swallowed. Her body quivered in anticipation.

“I love you, Keara.”

Everything inside her went soft and shivery and her breath got stuck in her throat. Her eyes burned. Her mouth pouted.

He watched her with eyes full of hope and fear. She unwrapped her arms from around herself and stepped into Shane’s. He pulled her hard against him and the welcoming warmth and strength of him sent a flood of emotion through her so intense he had to hold her up. She threw her own arms around him and squeezed tight.

“I love you too,” she told his chest, her words muffled by his shirt. “I love you so much. I missed you so much.”

“Me too. That’s why I’m here. I want to be with you, Keara.” He tugged her hair so she had to lift her head and look at him. A wet spot spread on his shirt from her tears.

She nodded eagerly. “Oh, me too.” She gazed up at him. She’d been so lonely this week. Before going to Kilkenny she would never in a million years have thought of quitting her job. But she was thinking of it now. And it didn’t even bother her. “I want to come back. To Kilkenny.”

“You do?” His eyes widened. “Seriously?”

“Yes.”

“But I came here to tell you I’ll move to LA. Because your career is so important to you.”

She put a hand up to his face, cupping his lean, rough cheek, her thumb tracing over the square strength of his chin. She studied his mouth, his eyes, close enough to see each individual eyelash, the tiny dots of black whiskers, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. She traced over one thick eyebrow with a fingertip, then brushed her fingers across his beautiful mouth.

“You are so much more important to me than my career,” she told him and the light that flamed in his eyes filled her with intense joy. He crushed her to him, buried his face in her hair, and if she didn’t know better because he was a big, tough cop, she would almost have thought he was crying. They stood like that for a long time, wrapped up in each other, holding each other, squeezing the breath out of each other.

“God, I love you,” he whispered. And then their mouths met, in a long, devouring kiss. She slid a hand to the back of his head, kissed him over and over, lush kisses of hunger, gratitude, complete surrender, total abandon.

She felt his heart thudding against her, her ears buzzing, her skin sizzling. She couldn’t get close enough to him and she pressed herself to him, kissed him deeper, open mouthed, her tongue licking into his mouth to find his.

“Keara, God, Keara.” They paused to gasp for breath, staring at each other. “We’ll fight later about who’s going to move where.”

“No, we won’t. I’m moving to Kilkenny. Maeve is there. Your parents are there. They need you.”

“Apparently not.” His wry smile made her pull back and look inquiringly at him. “They told me to get lost and quit bugging them.”

“Whaaat!”

“I’m kidding. Sort of. I went over there tonight and they told me they’ve been thinking of moving to the new seniors’ complex.”

“Really?”

“Yup. They also gave me a big lecture about sacrificing the woman I love to look after them when they don’t even want me to.”

“Oh.” She touched his face. “Oh Shane. I think they do still need you.”

“Yeah. I guess. It just felt like a smack in the face. Kind of like you do to me all the time.”

She jerked back. “What the hell does that mean?”

He laughed. “It’s a good thing, Keara. I go around thinking I need to protect everyone, look after everyone. Well, the truth is, I can’t. I felt like crap when you left, partly because I was worried about you. I wasn’t there to look after you, after the crazy things that had been happening. And then I get here and come charging in like a freakin’ white knight, and you didn’t even need me. You had the whole thing under control.”

She smiled at him, filled with a swelling tenderness. “I did, didn’t I?” A feeling of pride nudged inside her. “I’m okay, I think. I went back to work without a full-blown panic attack. It was hard, but I did it. I even made some decisions. Nothing like having to fire people. But if I ever have to make that kind of decision again, I know what I have to do.”

“What?”

“If it’s the right business decision, I just have to make sure I’ve looked after the people part of it. I still have to make the decision. But I’ll try to understand the human impact of it, and try to address that too, if I can.”

He smiled down at her, and she could tell he was proud of her too.

“But I do need you,” she continued, holding his face in her palms. “I need you so much. Not to protect me. Well, maybe sometimes. I need you because you make me better. Because you make me feel good about myself. Because I…I love you. I just need you.”

“I need you too.” His eyes shone. “I realized that too. I thought everyone needed me, and they don’t…”

“We do, Shane. We do.”

“Well. I need you. To keep me in line if I try to take over people’s lives. To give me a smack and make me realize I’m not in charge of everyone, all the time.”

She gave a soft laugh. “Okay. I can do that.”

She went onto her tiptoes and kissed him again, a kiss to show him how much she needed him.

“Did you bring any of those toys back with you?” he murmured a long moment later.

“Mmmhmm.”

Their mouths met and clung again.

“You do realize we owe Maeve for this?”

She paused. She pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “The Irish Sex Fairy. She was only partly right.”

“How so?”

She kissed the other corner of his mouth, licked across his bottom lip. He groaned. She liked it. “It wasn’t just the sex that made me better. It was sex with you. It was love.”

“Mmm. I like that.”

They forgot about the toys. For a while.

Content

Kelly Jamieson
Irish Sex Fairy

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One