Heated Rush

“My cat,” she explained with a soft laugh. Remembering something she hadn’t cleared with him, Annie added, “He’ll be coming with us on Saturday. I hope that’s all right.”

“I’m allergic.”

Oh, no.

“Kidding,” he said, holding a hand up, palm out, as he saw her panic. “Lord, girl, but you’re easy to get a rise out of.”

“I warned you about that catfish,” she said, unable to keep herself from laughing. He was…charming, that was all. Even when he was trying to get her back up, he was entirely charming. Easy to talk to, amusing, flirtatious but also courteous, his teasing sounding even more lighthearted with his lyrical accent.

She’d never met another man like him. And she wanted him with a kind of desperation that she’d never experienced before. The lust bubbling up inside her almost made her shake with its intensity.

Lust. She, little Annie Davis, whose brothers had put out a bounty on any guy who dared even think about relieving her of her virginity in high school, was seriously in lust.

The things she wanted to do with this man probably hadn’t even entered the heated imaginations of the guys she’d gone to school with.

“Maybe I should meet Wally before we’re stuck in a car together for a few hours on Saturday.” The mischief in his smile negated the seriousness of his suggestion. “Perhaps you ought to invite me to come home with you.”

Oh, yeah, that’d be a great idea. Once she got him inside and shut the door, she’d immediately try to come up with some excuse to tear her clothes off—like, maybe because she got splashed with acid or something. And then she’d find a reason to leap naked into his arms.

That would be easy…she could just tell him the truth. She was so damned attracted to him, she couldn’t help herself.

Too soon. Annie never acted on instant attraction. That had saved her ass with Blake. So she wasn’t about to question her own judgment now by leaping into this man’s bed within twenty-four hours of meeting him.

This Sunday, though? Within six days? Well, she’d give it some serious thought.

Not even bothering to answer his question about coming home with her, she asked, “Want a drink?”

He nodded, letting her change the subject. Signaling the waitress, he ordered a pint, which sounded perfect coming out of his Irish mouth.

His very kissable Irish mouth.

Just the thought of the kisses they’d shared last night was enough to make her want to sink low in her seat and relive it in her mind. Then fantasize about the next one.

“You’re starin’, Annie,” he said, his voice silky smooth.

Shaking her head quickly, Annie mumbled, “Sorry.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you wear your every thought on your face?” He definitely seemed capable of reading her mind. “You’ve not got a deceptive bone in that beautiful body.”

Ignoring the flash of pleasure shooting through her so-not-beautiful body, she went for bravado, knowing she was about as good at bluffing as Wally would ever be at roller-skating. “I don’t know what you mean.”

He grinned, but didn’t call her on the lie, since his drink was just being delivered. Drawing a deep sip, he winced as he lowered the glass to the table.

“Not good?”

“It loses its flavor with every mile it’s shipped away from Dublin, and the bartender drew it far too quickly.”

“So you are from Ireland. Not just of Irish descent.”

“I was born in San Francisco, actually. My mother’s American. But after their divorce, when I was just a tot, my father took me back to Ireland.” Though his tone remained easy, his body had stiffened. She understood why when he added, “And that’s as much as we’re going to talk about that.”

“Sorry,” she said, realizing the subject was a touchy one.

Maybe Sean had family issues, too. She couldn’t be the only person to come from a big, obnoxious, pushy clan. Even if it sometimes felt that way, given the reactions of many of her friends here in Chicago. They generally listened with fond amusement to the stories of her childhood, then treated her like she was the only refugee from the planet of 1950s Small-Town Hell.

Annie reached for the small bowl of nuts the waitress had deposited on their table, carefully picking one up and lifting it to her mouth. “I guess you’d like to know about the weekend now.”

“I would.”

“Then you can decide if you want to back out.”

“I will not. I told you last night I’d accompany you.”

“But I thought we were meeting so I could convince you.”

He reached across the table and stroked the back of her hand with his warm fingertips. “We’re meeting because I couldn’t stand to wait four more days to see you again.”

Wow. Talk about words going straight from one person’s mouth to another person’s heart. Or stomach. Or anywhere else…. Annie’s thighs clenched below the table, and she scooched her legs together, suddenly very aware of the tight seam of her pants.

Because the words—plus that touch, and the intimate look in his eye—had definitely landed there.

“Since we’re here, however, you might as well fill me in.” Smiling slightly, he averted his gaze and let go of her hand. “Though, I think I might be able to venture a guess.”

“Oh, really?” Her tone held unspoken challenge.

He tilted his head, thinking about it. “It’s your highschool reunion and you’re the last unmarried prom princess?”

She rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t the prom princess type.”

More the dairy princess. But she didn’t want to mention the cows again until it was absolutely necessary.

Sean tried again. “Your ex-boyfriend’s getting married and you can’t stand to show up alone?”

“Not even close,” she said. “My only ex-boyfriend back in my old hometown can’t get married legally, at least not in this state. Though he and his partner seem very happy anyway.”

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