Smooth Irish (Book 2 of the Weldon Series) (2 page)

Instead she griped her cell phone
tighter, swiveled her chair to face the wall, and shut her eyes.
His voice did things for which she was starved. A moment she told
herself. Just a moment to relay her message to Alexi. Then she’d
hang up.

“
Afraid sugar?” Like
smooth Irish cream, his voice glided and curled into a warm knot
right where his deep tones stroked the most.

“
No.” Since she’d
forgotten to breathe, she sounded wispy instead of
practical.

“
Is that a no to sex via a
live wire, or no to the fear.”

“
Both,” she gasped,
planning to ask to speak to Alexi just as soon as she caught her
breath.

“
Virgin ears. Mmm, that
means I’ll be your first. Can’t you feel me? I’m right up against
you. Feel the heat? My hands on you… my mouth. I can still taste
your honeysuckle lips. I keep wondering if the rest of you is as
sweet. Do you wonder too, Nan? Wonder how all that explosive
attraction would play out between us if we let it loose? Remember
the kiss outside the bar against the wall that day? We almost made
love right then and there.”

Nan gulped for air, she was drowning.
Drowning in him again. She popped her eyes open, hoping that the
images he evoked would evaporate. They didn’t.

“
No,” she said
desperately. “No, I don’t remember. I don’t wonder. Tell Alexi I
can’t make it tonight. We’re all wrong for each other Jackson,
sorry.” Nan cut off the call before she heard anything else to
tempt her otherwise. She stared at the wall, stunned by how much
her need for him had grown since she’d stopped seeing
him.

“
Nan?” A firm finger
tapped her on the shoulder. “Anything wrong?”

She swung her chair around. “Dr.
Swanson?” she said, trying to blink his golden blonde image into
focus, but a blue-eyed raven-haired devil kept imposing himself
onto her retina.

He waved his hand in front of her
face. “The one and only, but please, call me Brad. You look
tired.”

“
I am a little,” she said,
blinking again. This time her vision blessedly cleared and she
latched onto Brad's GQ, Armani draped bod with both eyes like he
was the last lifeboat before the flood. She gave him her brightest
smile. “What can I do for you?”

His eyes widened. “You should smile
like that more often. It’s quite breath taking.”

Nan’s jaw loosened with surprise at
the personal compliment.

Brad shook his head as if bouncing out
of a trance. “Ahem, well, I stopped by to ask you if you’d like to
be my date for the charity banquet next Saturday. It’s not normally
my sort of thing, but I thought if you’d like, we could, uh, go
together.”

Had Mr. Famous Neurosurgeon just asked
her out on a date in the middle of a colleague filled hospital? Nan
shook her head to clear out the Jackson oriented cobwebs and saw
Brad frown.

“
Is that a no because you
are working?” he asked.

“
No. I mean that wasn’t a
no to you. That was a no to…never mind. Yes, I would like to go
with you to the benefit.”

“
Excellent,” Brad said,
giving her the full force of his charismatic smile.

Nan prepared herself for a jolt of
excitement, something along the lines of the lightning bolt Jackson
had sent shooting through her with his “ever had phone sex” line.
To her dismay, nothing happened.

She had thought she wouldn’t date
until she’d erased Jackson from her mind. But that was something
all of her disciplined determination had failed to do--a real first
for her.

“
Just so you know how to
dress, we’ll be sitting with some of the hospital’s board of
directors and they tend be on the conservative side.” He frowned
again and then shook his head. “Sorry, I’m sure you’ll be fine. I’m
heading for a cup of coffee before going home. Care to join
me?”

Nan wasn’t sure she’d heard everything
Brad had just said. Had the man actually been worried that she’d
embarrass him? Perhaps, she looked more of a mess after a day’s
work than she thought.

“
Coffee sounds good. I’ll
meet you in the cafeteria in about five minutes, okay?” She’d go
powder her nose, tidy her unruly hair, and freshen up a bit before
meeting him over coffee.

“Perfect. See you shortly then.” Brad turned and
left the nurses’ station, his stride every bit as efficient as his
manner. Nan stared hard at his broad shoulders and trim waist,
doing her best to drum up a spark of the fire that even just one
lick of Jackson’s voice set ablaze.

Brad had asked
her
. The most professionally perfect
man available had singled her out to have dinner with him, where
she’d be personally introduced to some of the board members who
would be choosing the recipient for the scholarship she’d applied
for, and all her body could do was vibrate like a tuning fork for
Jackson’s sensuality? She definitely needed a lobotomy.

Over the years, she’d worked hard and
played little, but she wasn’t a virgin. So, why out of the few men
she’d known, why did Jackson, a man she hadn’t slept with, had only
passionately kissed, loom so much larger than any other?

Was it the pull of the tragedy that
she knew was buried beneath his “I don’t care” air? Not that
Jackson himself had ever spoken of it, but Nan knew from Alexi that
Jackson’s first wife had died a few years back.

It’d been three months since she’d
last seen him, a total of seventy-one days from New Year’s Eve to
April Fool’s Day. She knew because she’d like a fool had
counted.
You dated him for less than two
months. Odds are you aren’t ever going to forget
him
.

Not true. I can and I will, Nan told
herself and the sooner she reached the coffee shop the better off
she’d be.

* * *

Jackson let the receiver rest against
his ear until it hurt. Good, he knew pain. He could deal with that.
It was this damnable attraction he had for Nan Miller that didn’t
fit the comfortable rut he’d dug for himself.

He liked messing up her quick mind
with a soft suggestion, liked watching her blue eyes go liquid and
dark with desire. Hell, maybe his whole problem is he wanted her
and she walked before he could have her.

Alexi had mentioned Nan might come
tonight. That’s why he’d come. He glanced around at the cozy,
well-ordered home his sister-in-law had lovingly fashioned. Its
very warmth shouted at him to get the hell out. He didn’t belong
there. Outside he could hear the twang of banjos as his uncles
plucked out a tune or two. He could hear a few dozen yard apes
running around, hear their laughter, hear his brothers Jesse,
James, Jared ragging the kids and each other. Every now and then
his mother, Emma, would lovingly rope in their teasing play with a
firm word or two to keep everyone in line. Having raised four wild
Weldon boys, she had an iron hand to go with her gold
heart.

Since leaving Chicago, Jackson had
done his best to lay low when it came to family. He didn’t much
belong any more. Didn’t deserve it. Didn’t want it.

“
Come on out. We’re
putting together a game of rag football.” Jesse, his brother and
pregnant Alexi’s husband, stuck his head in the door.

“
Maybe next time.” Jackson
stood. “I think I’m going to head on.”

Jesse’s smile died. He stepped inside
and slammed the door.

“
How long are you going to
shut us out?”

“
Don’t start dishing out
guilt trips, bro. You’ve got a wife and a kid on the way. Go worry
about them.”

Jesse’s hands fisted. Jackson could
see frustration, anger, and even a hint of pain waver in his
brother’s eyes, but it left Jackson unmoved. Of his three brothers,
Jesse had always been the closest, but not anymore. Nothing and
nobody seemed to penetrate the numbness he felt. Nothing, except
maybe the woman who’d just hung up on him. The same woman who’d
walked out in the middle of their date. Just left him sitting in
Salty’s Bar all alone to ring the New Year with only a bottle of
whiskey to kiss.

Jesse planted a fist against the door.
“What is it with you? You want me to feel guilty because I found
Alexi? And you lost…”

“
Amy? No. I just want to
be left the hell alone. Got that?” Jackson shouldered his way
outside. He found Alexi sitting at the picnic table with his
mother.

“
Great BBQ,” he said,
grabbing a chicken leg off the platter on the table. He did it to
appease his mother. He knew she’d be more apt to leave his
departure unchallenged if he had food in his hand. “Nan called,
Alexi. Said she wasn’t going to make it tonight.”

“
Don’t tell me she’s
working overtime again?”

“
She didn’t
say.”

“
I’ll call her tomorrow
and read her the riot act.” Alexi narrowed her eyes. “So, um, did
you two talk a little?”

“
Nope,” Jackson said
nipping any interrogation in the bud. Alexi had been matching him
up with Nan since she married Jesse eighteen months ago. Jackson
winked at his mother and kissed her cheek. “Later,
sweetcakes.”
She ruffled the ever-present dishtowel she held at him.
“Distracting me with smooth talking isn’t going to work, young man.
You can leave if you want to, but don’t think you aren’t going to
be missed. Some day you’re going to have to get- never mind.”
Thankfully, she stopped whatever it was she’d been about to say.
Anywhere that sentence could have gone wasn’t something Jackson
wanted to hear.

He nodded good-bye, waved off his
father who was motioning him over for the rag football game, and
cut around the corner of the house to his motorcycle. Soon he was
eating up the road with no destination in mind, just living the
moment for the moment a mile at a time.

* * *

Nan shut her eyes and relaxed into the steamy tub,
sighing as her headache eased when she sank all the way to her
chin. Hot water, made silky smooth with bath oil, sluiced over her
naked body. The rigors of a day’s work slowly faded, and a sensual
heat soaked into her bones. Jackson’s voice came flooding back.

Ever had phone sex, Nan? A
virgin…I’ll be your first
… she tingled all
over. The image of a lady waiting came to her...a lady who’d waited
for so long she could wait no longer…

The front door opened. She was alone, had planned it
that way when she’d written the note. No one could save her; no one
would stop her. Her heart sped triple time to the sound of booted
feet coming her way. She knew it was him, knew he was coming to her
at last. Tonight she’d know all the secrets behind his heated looks
across the ballroom. Already she could see his raven hair brushing
his shoulders as he walked, his stride, measured and predatory. She
could feel the fire of his gaze. His dark eyes were intense and
demanding. Tonight she would feel all she’d been denied in her
chaste upbringing and in the years of an arranged marriage to an
invalid. Tonight on the anniversary of her widowhood, she would
have her first lover.

Suddenly the time for waiting had gone. Sir Jackson
Weldon strode into her bedroom; the heat of his presence burned
more than the gentle fire in the hearth beside her. He didn’t stop
until he stood over her. He didn’t speak until his gaze surveyed
all that the steamy bath water and candlelight revealed. His dress
was casual, just a half-buttoned shirt and breeches. As if her note
had caught him undressing, and he’d abandoned all to come to
her.

He cocked one eyebrow. “Lady Miller, your note
implied you were in dire straits and needed my immediate
assistance.”

She bit her lip, suddenly unsure.
She’d heard whispered wild
stories on how
many had boldly claimed their lovers, and had dreamed for years of
claiming her own. “I am,” she said softly. “I am,” she said again,
then she stood and stepped from the bath, the water pooling upon
the wooden planks at her feet. She didn’t stand alone long. Without
another word he swept her into his arms, his lips claiming hers,
his tongue plundering, as his hands possessed. Wet, wicked with
need, she braced her hands on the breadth of his shoulders as he
lifted her, bringing her breasts to the heat of his tongue. He
swung her around and laid her back upon the bed.

“I seem to find myself in dire straits and also need
your immediate assistance,” he said, his voice soft with amusement,
husky with desire. He took her hand and placed it over the bulge of
his arousal. Throbbing heat filled her hand.

“Oh, heavens,” she said, blinking with surprise.

He grinned. “Not yet, but it will be heaven.” He
ripped his shirt open and buttons flew about them. His boots and
trousers followed so quickly that she barely had time to see all of
him before he pulled her to the edge of the bed and drove deeply
into the very place she ached for him. She winced with the
discomfort and the alien feel of being invaded.

He froze; his eyes widened with surprise. “A
virgin?”

“No, not anymore.” She grabbed his arms, wanting
him. “Show me heaven.”

“
Heaven help me, my Lady.
At this point I’ve no other choice.” He strained as if fighting a
huge battle then groaned in defeat. After a moment’s hesitation as
he stared down into her eyes, burning a way right to her soul, he
moved out of her a little, then slid back deep inside her, more
gently this time. He did this again and again until the fire inside
her flared so hot she had no choice but to meet his thrust with her
own. Then his hands roamed over her, touching her everywhere,
playing mercilessly with her breasts and nipples. The fire blazed
hotter, and just as she thought she couldn’t stand it another
moment, she shuddered uncontrollably with more pleasure than
imaginable. Sir Weldon’s body jerked against hers the same way and
then they lay still together for a while, her heart pounding thrice
for every breath he panted. She opened her eyes to see him smiling
at her.