Kiss Me, I'm Irish

  Oh yeah. “I like.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me it was an online event?” she asked, a friendly accusation in her voice.

  “I wanted to surprise you.”

  She laughed lightly, the sound tugging at his heart. Her lips hitched in a sweet, but inviting, smile. “Looks like I’m going to make the extra thirty percent after all.”

  He nodded, taking in the happiness glimmering in her eyes. “Yep.”

  Pulling away from her brother she stepped close to Deuce, a muskier, heavier scent than she normally wore drifting up to him. She rose on her toes, put her mouth against his ear and whispered, “Remind me to thank you properly later on.”

  Every hair on the back of his head stood straight up. And that wasn’t the only thing.

  He turned to nearly brush her lips with his. “You’re going to have a hard time in the sand with those shoes, Ken-doll.”

  She curled one long leg around his calf, her heel playfully scraping the denim of his jeans. “I’ll take them off.”

  He closed his eyes and fought the temptation to kiss her. Right there in front of Jack, the Hatchet Man and a few aging classmates. He resisted, but, man, he wanted to.

  And then there was that foolish fantasy flash again. Coaching Rock High baseball, keeping an eye on the bar at night, married to Kendra and making love every night until she couldn’t walk in those shoes.

  He had a really good reason for calling his agent and starting the search for a coaching job. He had a really good reason for letting Kendra realize her dream without him intruding and turning it into his monument to sports. He had a really good reason for keeping his hands off her for the past week and arranging this event so that she made her magic number for the investor.

  He knew he did, but for the life of him, good reason had evaporated and was replaced by the need to taste her skin, feel her body and love her every imaginable way and then some.

  And if the look in her eyes was any indication, she was feeling the same overpowering need.

  KENDRA TOOK THE ice-cold bottle of beer that Dec Clifford offered and slipped out the back door for fresh air. Scooting up on the hip-high brick wall that lined the parking lot, she inhaled the cool evening air and took a deep drink.

  She’d danced until she worked up a sweat, laughed until her face ached, and even shared a warm and funny instant message exchange with none other than Annie Keppler, who’d French-kissed Deuce all those years ago. Annie was married and living in Buffalo.

  And Deuce?

  He hadn’t taken his eyes off Kendra for the entire night. No matter when she caught his gaze, it was returned. All night long, his look had shifted from amused to aroused and everything in between.

  The back door creaked as it opened and Deuce appeared in the moonlight.

  “Hey lady in leather.” He crossed the narrow parking lot to where she sat. “What are you doing out here all alone?”

  “Getting air.” She held up the beer. “And breaking the rules by bringing a bottle outside.”

  He walked right in front of her, so his stomach touched her knees.

  “Oh yeah?” He put his hands on the leather above her knees, sending fire up her thighs. “I like to break rules.”

  “That’s why they say Deuce is wild.”

  As easily as he did everything, he gently parted her thighs and slid right into the opening so they were chest to chest. “You look pretty wild yourself tonight, Ken-doll.”

  She took another drink, then held the bottle to him. “Want some?”

  His hands still firmly on her legs, he put his mouth over the top of the bottle, tipped his head and let her give him a slow sip, never breaking eye contact.

  Her whole lower half knotted at the sexy move and, without thinking, she wrapped her legs around his waist.

  “Why d’ya do it, Deuce?”

  He raised his eyebrows. “’Cause I was thirsty?”

  “I mean the cyber reunion. The thirty percent. You know if I get that investment money…your dad’ll be hard-pressed to keep Monroe’s as a sports bar.”

  “Yeah, I know.” He lifted one shoulder. “I give up. It’s yours.”

  “Not like you to be a quitter,” she said, carefully setting the beer bottle on the bricks next to her. “Or are you just dying to coach so bad that you’re ready to give up on that lifelong dream of owning Monroe’s?”

  He lifted both eyebrows in surprise. “How’d you know about my coaching?”

  “The modern version of a heat register.”

  He looked warily at her. “Are you serious?”

  “Were you?”

  His eyes turned smoky dark. “I don’t know how much you heard, but, I’m serious, yeah. The bar is yours. I mean, the café. And I’m stepping aside.”

  Not so long ago, that would have filled her with joy. Tonight, it hurt. “You know, owning Monroe’s is not my lifelong dream.”

  “What is?”

  She was holding her lifelong dream, he was wrapped in her leather legs at the moment. “You first.”

  A little smile snagged the corner of his mouth. “Well, not so long ago, my lifelong dream was playing in the major leagues. I can’t do that, so, I guess my dream has to change.”

  “That’s never easy.”

  His smile turned tight. “No, it isn’t. Okay. Your turn. If owning the Kendra Locke-inspired premier cyber café and artists’ performance space isn’t your lifelong dream, then what is?”

  “You.”

  She felt the air escape from his chest. “Excuse me?”

  “Yep.” She nodded, a sudden lightness lifting her heart. “All I’ve ever wanted to do in my whole life is be with you.”

  His jaw slackened. “Me?”

  She locked her hands around his neck and pulled him closer. “You really didn’t read the rest of that journal, did you?”

  He shook his head. “I felt bad enough about what I did read.”

  “Shhh.” She put a finger over his lips. “We can’t change history. But we can change the future.” Leaning forward, she dipped to his mouth and as gently as she could, she kissed him. He eased her closer and she tightened her legs, and let their tongues collide and tangle.

  He pulled back enough to look in her eyes, an expression of pure hope and sin. “Let’s start right now.”

  She trailed one finger over his cheek, loving the slightly roughened feel of his beard. “I want to make love to you, Deuce Monroe. And nothing, nothing at all, is going to stop me this time.”

  Just then the back door opened again and she felt Deuce let out a sigh of frustration.

  “Hey Deuce,” Jack called. “Someone named Coulter is on the phone for you. Says he’s been trying to reach you all day.”

  Deuce closed his eyes for a second, then turned to Jack. “That’s my agent. It can wait till tomorrow.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out keys. “Do me a favor, Jackson.” He pitched the keys across the parking lot and Jack caught them with an easy snap that came from years of playing baseball together. “Lock up for me when this shindig is over. I have something I have to do.”

  Jack peered into the shadows where they sat.

  “Is Kennie with you?”

  “I’ll take care of her,” Deuce promised. “You can drive my car home. Just handle the bar, okay?”

  Kendra leaned forward and whispered, “It’s a cyber café.”

  He slid his hand all the way up her thigh and gave her rear end a mischievous squeeze. Then, his hands still firmly on her backside, he lifted her from the wall and set her on the ground. “Tell me you don’t need anything in there,” he said huskily. “’Cause I really don’t want you to change your mind.”

  She patted the flat pocket of her pants. “I have a car key and a house key right here. No purse.”

  He started to tug her toward the street, then froze mid-step. “You’re sure, right? I mean, you’re sure you want to…repeat history?”

  If anyone could ever tame wild Deuce, it’s Kendra Locke.


  She could still hear the honesty and wistfulness in his confession. Sliding her arms around his shoulders, she pulled herself into his chest. His return embrace was automatic and just as powerful.

  “I have never been more positive of anything in my life.”

  Deuce pulled her into him for a lusty kiss before he’d even turned the ignition off. They’d never make it inside, to either house. He was so hard and achy for her, it was a miracle they’d made it home at all. Especially considering that he’d kissed her at every light and was nearly blinded when she reached over and slid her hand up his thigh.

  Somehow, they managed to get out of the car and into Diana’s house. Newman barked and Kendra grabbed a treat from the pantry to bribe him into silence.

  Deuce took her hand and pulled her toward the stairs, pausing only to kiss her again, and skate his hands over her leather-clad backside again. She arched into him with a soft moan.

  “Upstairs,” he managed to say.

  They kissed and caressed and whispered and laughed their way up the steps, and Kendra pushed him into the first bedroom.

  Oh, so that’s where she’d been when she’d overheard his conversation with Jack. He started to tease her, but she was already pulling off her sweater and all he could manage was to kick the door closed and guide her to the bed while he devoured the black lace bra with his eyes and then his hands and, finally, blissfully, his mouth as she fell backwards onto his bed.

  He freed her breasts from the lace, immediately bearing down to taste her flesh, loving how her whole body shuddered when he sucked her nipple deep, deep into his mouth.

  He murmured her name and licked the tip into a hardened pebble, and she rewarded him with a writhing, helpless sigh.

  Pulling up her leg, he took one sexy shoe in his hand and grinned. “Nice cleats.” He slowly unbuckled the strap of one, then the other.

  He trailed kisses down her stomach and unzipped the outrageous leather pants. Sliding them over her hips, he discovered nothing but a tiny bit of black satin barely covering her.

  “Aw, Kendra, you’re killin’ me, honey.”

  With a soft laugh of victory, she tugged at his polo shirt and pulled it over his head. As soon as his chest was bare, he covered her to feel her silky warm skin against his muscles. As he captured her mouth again, she dragged her hands over his stomach and slipped into the waistband of his jeans.

  Her fingers closed around him and white lightning shot through his body as she stroked him.

  They struggled together to get his pants off, laughing softly at their desperation. Finally, he was down to his boxers. He pushed them off and eased her onto her back.

  Taking his erection in her hand, she stroked the length of him. “I love that I can do this to you,” she said huskily.

  “Every day, all the time,” he whispered. “All you have to do is walk into a room and I’m hard.”

  He gently straddled her and caressed the concave of her stomach, the rise of her breasts, the dip in her throat, the angle of her jaw. He wanted to dive into her, to pound into the heat and warmth of her, but he forced himself to slow down. To look at her.

  He’d known this woman since she was a child, he’d basked in the glow of her admiration for years and years, and he’d loved her body once before.

  But this was different.

  He traced a line from between her breasts, over her stomach, down to the edge of the black triangle of satin that covered her.

  This time, this night, something was completely different.

  She closed her eyes. He slipped his finger under the fabric, over the soft tuft of hair and onto the wet, swollen nub.

  She sucked in a breath as he touched her. He tenderly rubbed her, and sweet torture darkened her face as she sighed and turned her head from side to side. Her breasts rose and fell with each breath.

  “Do you like that?” he asked.

  She nodded, far away and lost in pleasure.

  He leaned over her and eased the little silk patch to one side, revealing the glistening blond hair. She was moist and ready. “And I love what I do to you,” he whispered.

  She arched in response and he dipped his head to kiss her. He stroked her once with his tongue. Just once. Easy, slow and deliberate. She tunneled her fingers into his hair, rocked her hips up and asked for more.

  Blood pulsed through his head, heating his veins and surging into a potent, aching hard-on.

  Her legs were smooth against his face, and warm, as he kissed and suckled her, then he slipped the little thong over her hips so she was as naked as he.

  Straddling her again, he pulled open the nightstand drawer and lifted out one foil packet. She watched, taking quick, frayed breaths as he sheathed himself, then lowered himself on top of her.

  Once again, she arched upwards and his erection slid between her legs, against her opening.

  “Deuce,” she whispered as his tip found entry. “I love you.”

  Her words jolted more blood through him and he entered her almost the moment she spoke.

  That’s what was different.

  “I love you,” she repeated, kissing his mouth, his neck, his shoulder as he pulled back and plunged in again.

  Everything intensified: the hot, wet walls that enveloped him, the silky curves of her breasts, her sweet confessions, her hungry kisses.

  She rose to meet every thrust, and he ground out her name as sweat rolled down his temples and stung his eyes.

  Each time, he was deeper into her, lost in the heat, the ecstasy, the pure bliss of her unguarded response. Each time, his body sparked like a flint, his senses overloaded by the womanly smell of her, his head threatening to explode as thoroughly as his body. Each time, pleasure rocked him and stole his breath and brain and heart.

  Each time, he was more in love with her. Oh, yeah. That’s what was different tonight. He loved her.

  And as he realized that, he lost the control he’d barely ever had, finally giving in to the release, spilling into her as she unraveled with a climax as staggering as his.

  He collapsed on her, kissing the moisture of her perspiration, letting the heat of their bodies melt together, attempting to get his breath back.

  He managed to lift himself from her and look into her eyes.

  “I do love you,” she whispered, the only other sound the deafening thump of their heartbeats. “I always have and I always will.”

  Nothing in his life—a life full of glorious moments of victories and success—nothing had ever felt anything quite as complete as hearing those words.

  And suddenly he realized that he hadn’t come home to find hero-worship at all. He hadn’t come home to find glory or admiration or memories of better days. He’d come home to find love and security.

  And he had. He held it right here in his arms and he could hold it there forever.

  “I love you, Kendra.”

  She closed her eyes and exhaled as though he’d given her the most precious gift in the world. And yet, he was the one who felt lucky.

  Deuce tightened his grip on Kendra as though he thought she’d leap out of bed and run. He should know her better than that by now.

  Instead, she slid her leg over his hip and let him pull her so tightly into his chest that she had no idea where she ended and he began. She nuzzled into the dusting of black hair on his chest, inhaling and pressing her cheek to the granite-hard muscle.

  He loved her.

  “You know what I just realized?” he asked her.

  “That you love me?”

  He smiled down at her. “Besides that. I realized I came back to Rockingham for all the wrong reasons.” He squeezed her again. “It wasn’t about running the bar.”

  She punched him playfully. “You could have fooled me.”

  “What I wanted,” he said slowly, as though the realization was just forming in his mind, “was to figure out who I really was. Without the crowds, without the fame.”

  “Did you figure it out?”

  He sm
iled and pulled her closer. “I’m in the process.”

  Somehow, she managed to breathe. Managed to swallow and smile. But then a digital phone beeped “Take Me Out to the Ball Game” and he fell back on his pillow.

  “That’s my agent’s ring,” he said, not moving.

  “Why don’t you put him out of his misery and answer?”

  “Because he’s going to tell me I got a job coaching in Greenville or Gainesville or somewhere I don’t want to go.”

  The second ring started. “So tell him you’re staying here.”

  He pushed himself up from the pillow and surveyed the floor for his cell phone. “I think I will,” he said with finality.

  Kendra’s toes curled with happiness. She pulled the sheet higher and watched the muscles of Deuce’s back tighten as he reached down to pluck the phone out of his jeans pocket.

  “Coulter, it’s midnight on the east coast and I’m real busy right now. This better be good.”

  Suddenly, all the air came out of him in one long whoosh. “Are you serious?” he asked, sitting up straighter. “They do?”

  He shook his right elbow, then rubbed it. “Well, it’s a lot better.” He laughed softly. “Maybe by All Star break.”

  She bit her lip as Deuce listened, then hooted. “They’d actually reinstate my contract? I can be there in May.”

  She took a deep breath, uncurled her toes and gave in to the way-too-familiar physical pain of heartbreak.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  DEUCE TRIED TO CONCENTRATE on the instructions Coulter was barking at him about training and timing, but all he could process was the fact that Kendra had scooped up her clothes and disappeared into the bathroom.

  Was she leaving?

  She couldn’t leave. He’d just realized he loved her. He needed to tell her again—to show her again.

  “Coulter, can’t this wait until tomorrow?” he growled into the phone. “I’m seriously in the middle of something here.” Like changing his life.

  “Call me first thing in the morning, Deuce,” the agent ordered. “We have to go over the fine print of this contract. It’s not exactly the cakewalk you had last year.”