The Wedding Pact (The O'Malleys #2) (18 page)

As soon as she pushed send, she regretted it. He hadn’t answered her call earlier. Yes, he’d called back—a call she’d ignored—but…really, she didn’t have a reason to be hurt or pissed or anything. They’d had sex twice, but they were hardly friends. She shouldn’t even be texting him right now. Another glance around the restaurant proved that Kellen was, in fact, still late.

Her phone rang in her hand, startling her so bad, she almost dropped it. “Hello?”

“I’m sorry I missed your call earlier.”

She was, too. Though it had allowed her to get through lunch without the distraction he offered—both a blessing and a curse, as it turned out. What the hell was she going to do about Dmitri? She straightened the fork next to her plate. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It is. I told you I’d be there and then I fucked up. I’m sorry.” He went on before she could answer. “What are you doing right now?”

“Being stood up, I think.” She forced a laugh.

“Another date with a guy from that list?”

“Yes.” This was what her life had been reduced to—and it hadn’t exactly been a dream to begin with. She was waiting for a man her father approved of, with the sole purpose of marrying her off, while on the phone with a man that was the enemy as far as the O’Malleys were concerned. “Apparently he doesn’t find Ciao to his liking.”

Something rustled on the other end of the phone, and she thought she heard a door slam. “He’s a fool.”

“I’m not arguing that. I’ve giving him ten more minutes, and I’m bailing. Right now a date with my bathtub sounds like heaven.”

James growled. “I like the picture that brings to mind. Bubbles?”

“Absolutely.” She smiled and nodded her thanks to the waiter who brought her drink replacement. “Mine smell like roses and suds up like crazy.”

“Damn, lovely, I’d like to see that.”

He wouldn’t be able to, though. He wasn’t welcome in her house, and she sure as hell wasn’t going back to his anytime soon. Unlike Teague, James didn’t keep an apartment somewhere outside the territory of their families. She let herself imagine what it’d be like to have him in a bed, to be able to cozy up with him on a couch while watching a movie, to do any of the thousand little things that people took for granted. It would never happen.

She glanced up to find a young man hustling through the tables toward her. His suit was wrinkled, and he’d obviously been worrying at his tie because it was loose and hanging cockeyed. She’d bet this was Kellen O’Neill. “I’ve got to go. I think my date is here.”

“He’s not worth your time.”

No, he wasn’t. She’d much rather stay on the phone, but this date was a necessary evil. “I’m not arguing that. Good night, James.” She reluctantly hung up and slipped her phone into her purse.

The guy stopped next to her table. “Carrigan O’Malley?”

“Yes.”

“I am so damn sorry. You wouldn’t believe the hell I went through to get here.” He dropped into the seat across from hers and scrubbed a hand over his face. “My car broke down two miles away and I had to hoof it.”

He wasn’t bad looking, though his red hair somehow made him look even younger than he likely was. Pretty blue eyes, though. She raised her eyebrows. His car broke down? It must have been some trek if he somehow managed to get lipstick on his collar in the process.

Another one bites the dust
.

She sipped her drink. “You made it, though.”

“I did.” His smile was kind of sweet, and she was struck by the thought that her world would eat him up and spit him out without hesitation. A puppy, indeed. “Thank you for waiting.”

“I almost didn’t.” If she didn’t get this conversational ball rolling, they’d be reduced to commenting about the weather in thirty seconds flat. “So what is it you do, Kellen?”
Why are you on my father’s list?

“I’m in software engineering.” He launched into the description of some kind of technological mumbo jumbo that she could barely follow.

She could actually feel her eyes glazing over, but she tried to focus. He might be a puppy, but this guy seemed genuinely
nice
, even if he was a damn fool for showing up for this date with evidence of another woman on his collar. There was no shark lurking beneath his skin, and she doubted he’d have the idiocy to shove her against a wall and force his tongue into her mouth.
I could manipulate a man like this. With some careful planning, I could have him eating out of the palm of my hand
.

But he wouldn’t be faithful.

Who am I kidding? None of these men are going to be faithful. This is a business arrangement, not a love match.

She sipped her drink again. “That’s fascinating.”

He grinned. “It’s really not, but thanks for saying so. I’m sure you have much more interesting stuff to talk about than my boring company.”

She might, but him nattering on about his company gave her the distance to let her thoughts wander. Carrigan started to ask another question, but movement near the front of the restaurant made her look over. She stared. She was seeing things. She had to be. There was no way that James was now shouldering past the harried-looking hostess and stalking toward her, intent in every line of his body.

He wore a pair of faded jeans and a black shirt and,
holy shit
, an obviously well-loved leather jacket. She pressed her legs together. It was all too easy to imagine what it would be like to swing up behind him on a motorcycle, with his big body wedged between her thighs, and hang on for dear life as he gunned the engine and they took off. She’d felt free flying down the interstate in his car. How much more so would she feel on the back of a motorcycle?

“Do you know that guy?”

“Huh?”

“He’s looking at you like…uh, like he knows you.” Kellen sounded uncomfortable, but Carrigan couldn’t tear her gaze away from James.

He stopped next to their table and took the seat next to Carrigan. “Hey, lovely.”

“Hi…” She finally looked at Kellen, whose mouth was hanging open. “James, this is Kellen. Kellen, James.”

James barely glanced at him. “You don’t show up for a date with a woman like this with lipstick from another woman on your collar. Fuck, man, you don’t show up for a date
at all
with another woman’s lipstick on you.” He turned back to Carrigan. “You seriously considering this guy?”

No, she wasn’t. But there was something like jealousy in James’s face, and she couldn’t help poking at him a little. “I don’t know. He seems nice.”

“I’m sitting right here.”

“That’s your first mistake. There’s no such thing as a nice guy. We’re all dogs, lovely. Every single one of us.” He jerked his thumb at Kellen. “This one just pretties up better than most. Didn’t your brothers tell you that it’s the so-called nice guys you have to watch out for?”

She
had
had that conversation with Aiden many years ago. It made Carrigan smile to think about. Her oldest brother might be making choices right now that she hated, but once upon a time they’d been close. “I think I remember hearing something about that.”

“
Still
sitting right here.”

“Pipe the fuck down, kid.” James shot him a look. “As I was saying, you don’t really want to marry this guy, do you?”

She didn’t really want to marry
any
guy—especially the ones her father had chosen. But wailing about it wasn’t going to do a damn bit of good and they both knew it. “I’m doing the best I can with the options I have.”

“I know. Hell, I know better than most.” Abruptly he grinned and held out his hand. “You want to get out of here?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

She looked at Kellen, who didn’t look all that nice now. Not that she could blame him. He was a mottled shade of red that didn’t go well with his bright hair, and he looked about ready to burst a blood vessel in his forehead. “I—”

“Go back to whatever woman you left to come here, kid. This one doesn’t want you.”

“Jesus Christ. Fine. Whatever. She seems like a stuck-up bitch anyway.” Kellen shoved to his feet, nearly knocking over his chair, and gave them one last disgusted look before he marched away.

James snorted. “Now, where were we?”

“That was mean.” A laugh bubbled up inside her, and she pressed a hand to her mouth to keep it inside. She should yell at him for his high-handedness and showing up uninvited, but the truth was that he’d saved her from another hour of boring conversation with a man who was barely more than a child. “Really mean.”

“You like me mean.” He motioned her forward with his fingers. “What do you say?”

She could go home, climb in a bath, and hope that would be enough to soak away her misery. Or she could take this man’s hand and run away from reality for a while. Really, it was no contest. Carrigan slipped her hand into his. “Where we going?”

“Crazy, lovely. We’re going crazy.”

*  *  *

Knowing Carrigan was marrying another man was one thing. Seeing her sit across the table from some douche who didn’t deserve her was something else entirely. It made James see red. He’d wanted to snatch that little shit up and shake him for being so goddamn disrespectful enough to be late, let alone show up with evidence of another woman on his clothes. When you had a shot at a woman like Carrigan, all others paled in comparison.

Except James didn’t really have a shot. All he had was stolen time.

He knew that—fuck, it was a truth he couldn’t escape—but the thought still soured his stomach. He wasn’t sure if knowing she obviously wanted him as much has he wanted her made things better or worse. Carrigan was the calm in the middle of the hurricane that was his life. It didn’t make a damn bit of sense because half the time she drove him up the wall, but the second her hand slipped into his, the tightness in his chest loosened, just a little, and he could breathe again.

He led the way out onto the street and waited for her to text her driver. “He’s trustworthy?”

“As trustworthy as anyone is. Though if you kill me and dump my body in a ditch, he’s going to take it personally.”

James snorted. “Lovely, there are half a million things I’d love to do to your body, and not a single one of them includes pain, let alone death.”

“That’s…comforting.” She turned off her phone and dropped it into her purse. It brought his attention to her clothing. He’d been so focused on getting that asshole out of his presence that he had to step back and take a look at the long white dress she wore tonight. It was different from the one he’d last seen her in—there was a definite Grecian feel to the way the fabric fell around her, but it was white and it covered more skin than it exposed.

“White is the last color I’d choose for you.”

She shot him a sharp look. “You don’t get an opinion.”

“Maybe not, but those tiny little excuses for dresses that you wear to the club are more you than
this
.” He pinched the fabric that fell from her hips, and lifted it a little before letting it flutter back into place. “What would you wear if you weren’t trying to play a role?”

“Maybe one day I’ll show you.” She moved past him, the dress giving her the illusion of floating over the ground instead of walking on it. “Where’s your car?”

“This way.” They strode around the corner to the tiny parking lot. He held the door open for her and then took the driver’s seat. “You up for a little drive?”

“As if you have to ask.” She ran her hand lovingly over the dashboard. “I could spend days in this car.”

He pulled out of the parking lot, picturing what a road trip with Carrigan would look like. Would she wear jeans? Maybe kick off her shoes and prop her bare feet on the dash? Would she laugh as the wind whipped her long hair around, her green eyes hidden by a pair of oversized sunglasses?

He liked the image. He liked the image too damn much.

He drove out of Boston, heading north. The falling night was clear and cold, and the roads were almost deserted. From time to time, he glanced at Carrigan, but she’d pulled her knees to her chest and was staring out the passenger window, obviously lost in thought. James wanted to know what she was thinking. Fuck, he wanted to know
everything
. But he didn’t have a right to.

Beyond that, he had a feeling that she got even less time to herself than he did. So he drove in silence and let his mind wander. He’d been so focused on Ricky, he’d almost forgotten about the shipment of girls coming in soon. Just thinking about it made him feel dirty. Yeah, he wasn’t going to set them up as slaves for his own purposes, but that was a cold comfort. Because it was just one shipment. There would be others that he couldn’t help. Once the flesh peddlers realized he wasn’t in the business anymore, they’d take their merchandise elsewhere. James seriously doubted whoever bought those girls would feel as sick about it as he did.

What if I kept buying them?

He tightened his grip on the steering wheel. It wasn’t possible…was it? He couldn’t just buy the girls and then set them loose. That’d be almost as fucked up as keeping them. They’d each need to be offered a choice, and if they chose to go out on their own, they’d need their own start-up fund. That’d drain resources that were already strained.