3. GUY FOR THAT
3
GUY FOR THAT
PENNY
H o. Lee. Shit.
It was JCarr, standing before her in the flesh, and what magnificent flesh it was.
The man had to be at least six foot four, towering above her even though she was average height for a woman (by American standards anyway) and wearing stack-heeled boots. His frame was massive. A jacket and navy sweater stretched across broad, muscular shoulders. His corded thighs were encased in denim.
Up close, the creases in his forehead were more pronounced. The beginnings of squint lines radiated from his eyes like half-stars. In his picture, they’d been darker. Now, they were lit up to a mossy color somewhere between light brown and dark green by the late afternoon sunshine. His hair in the pic had seemed darker, too, but in sunlight it was a silky golden brown. Her fingers itched to touch that hair and test the silkiness with her palms.
A collection of tiny scars were visible up close, some over his eyebrows and along that deliciously chiseled jawline. Those scars begged to be stroked and kissed. This wasn’t a pretty boy but a man who’d been seasoned by life, maybe even hardship. He was broken but beautiful.
And for some reason she couldn’t fathom, she wanted to climb him like a tree, hug him, and get wrapped up in those strong arms. Breathe him in, sink into him, and tell him never to let her go.
But this was all wrong. He was the wrong man at the wrong moment.
“Where’s Latin Lover?” she asked when she regained her speech.
JCarr’s brows lifted, even as his eyes shifted from hers to her mouth and back again like he didn’t speak English.
“Okay, let’s try it again. Donde esta el…el …” Flustered, she gave up trying the few sentences in Spanish she’d learned in high school. “Never mind. Are you the Latin Lover, or are you JCarr?”
He was still staring at her as though she were an alien who’d crash-landed on his front lawn. “I’m Jack Carr. Valentine. It’s really you.” Why was he staring at her like that? He huffed a laugh, rubbing his clean-shaven jaw and gazing at her with narrowed eyes that glittered with a look she didn’t recognize.
Floored and disoriented by this entire exchange, Penny pulled out her phone and opened the app and the message chain. Nothing from Latin Lover was in her mailbox. Where his username had been at the top of the message chain, it now said JCarr.
No. No fucking way could she have made such a huge mistake. She hadn’t been drinking ayahuasca coffee or snacking on raspberry edibles at that café. Unless they’d spiked her java with a shot of whiskey and made it “Irish,” she’d been perfectly lucid when they’d chatted.
JCarr — Jack, whoever, pulled his own phone out of the pocket of his jeans. He stabbed the screen with a thick finger and showed her the same. Her messages to him. Agreeing to this meeting and a date for a Halloween ball. This was really happening.
All that stopped seeming to matter as she stared at the big hands with the dusting of golden hair on the calloused knuckles and the veins along the back. Her eyes followed the path of those veins where they disappeared at his platinum wristwatch. His fingers bore tattoos like mysterious hieroglyphics waiting to be deciphered. If she kept looking at that masculine hand porn, she might need a change of underwear soon.
Penny became aware that he was standing a little too close while she was staring at the messages. He smelled like he’d dropped out of Heaven, freshly showered with a spritz of good cologne like rainwater in a pine forest. A more subtle but equally heady scent lay underneath. She’d never quite understood what it meant when she’d read that someone smelled like a man, but now she got it. And it was intoxicating.
“Okay, so, it is you,” Penny declared, making herself take a step away from the phone and the man holding it. “But I —” She looked up, and her tummy flipped to see he hadn’t stopped staring down at her. The intensity in those eyes, the slight parting of his lips, as if he was contemplating what he was having for lunch, and it just might be her, made her pulse quicken.
When that mouth lifted at the corner into a tilt and he kept staring into her eyes, she was flooded with lust again.
I’m already here , she rationalized to herself. It would be rude to take off now, right?
Yes, very rude. She should at least talk to him before she bowed out and took her thirsty ass home to her B.O.B.
“Okay. Coffee,” he said after another century of waiting for her to finish that sentence. His gaze slid from her eyes to her mouth. Again. Penny swallowed hard.
“Wh-what?”
“Coffee. Unless you want something else,” Jack said. God, his voice was deep, almost growly.
She was going to need a towel to mop up after herself if he said much more. Please let him be the strong, silent type.
Penny didn’t know if his “something else” meant real food or going straight to his place to fuck right then and there. He probably meant the food.
“Right, it is lunchtime. Um…I think coffee.”
Yes, keep this short. Keep this light. If he turned out to be a straight-up dud, she’d go home, rub her own clit and then contact the actual Latin Lover for another try at a suitable, less frighteningly hot partner.
“Good. I know a place.”
With a quick lift of his square chin, he indicated the direction they should go. Penny found herself taking a few skips to keep up with his long-legged stride. He seemed to notice because he slowed down. Walking together at a more comfortable pace, they went in silence.
The streets of the city center were packed, a mix of Dubliners out for lunch in their business suits and tourists with “Kiss Me, I’m Irish” T-shirts on. She hid her grin; the Irishman striding alongside her would probably never be caught dead in such a shirt. He didn’t look like most of the locals she’d met, those with the ginger or fair hair or the “Black Irish” Colin Farrell types. She wondered if he was a transplant from somewhere else, even though he did have that sexy, almost musical Dublin accent.
Either way, he wasn’t saying much. When they arrived at their destination, a coffee shop on a quieter street not too far from Trinity College, he held the door open for her. Nodding at the tables, he asked, “Do you want to sit or take these to go? Decent day for a walk.”
He was right about the weather. Rather than the typical overcast autumn sky, what arched above them was a gorgeous, sunny blue. Spun sugar clouds swirled in the distance as though rain might still be a reality later.
“It is nice out. Let’s take them to go.”
Penny stepped up to the counter while the baristas, of all genders, grinned openly at Jack with almost starry-eyed expressions.
“Hello,” Penny said, practically having to wave her hand to draw their attention. “I’d like a small coffee, hot, with whipped cream and a chocolate drizzle. And that chocolate chip muffin, too, please.”
“Name?” Slight, fair-haired, and blue-eyed, the male barista looked so much like Brendan that Penny’s heart momentarily hurt.
“Penny.”
Before she could contemplate reaching for her purse, Jack pushed her gently to the side and stepped up.
“I’ll have my usual,” Jack said when the barista turned to him.
“You’ve got it, Mr. Valentine,” the blonde boy said with a big grin.
“Mr. Valentine?” Penny repeated quietly as Jack pressed his card to the reader at the cash register. They stood to the side of the counter to wait for their coffees. “I thought you said your name was Jack Carr.”
“Bio father is a Carr. Valentine is the man who married my mother. He adopted me. And you’re Penny Mayfield.”
Jack placed his hand at the small of her back to guide her out of the way when a boisterous couple with nasally New York City accents pushed their way to the counter. She would have given her fellow New Yorkers a dirty look, but she was too busy melting at the casual yet protective gesture, at the way his splayed fingers and his palm pressed heat into her skin even through the jacket and her thin sweater.
He didn’t take his hand away, even when they were safely in the corner. The absent-minded brushing of his thumb up and down in that one spot made her weak-kneed. The barista thankfully called their names before the fluttering in her tummy could turn into a full-on butterfly battle royale.
Butterflies were a new experience for her. She wasn’t sure if she appreciated what they were doing to her insides.
Heads turned as Jack retrieved their drinks, and they passed through the small crowd of waiting customers. Some men called out, “Oi, Lucky Jack!” Others whispered to their companions, their eyes moving between Jack and herself. Popular guy. She wondered how he had so many admirers since it seemed he hardly spoke.
Then a thought struck her. “How did you know my full name?”
Was it possible he recognized her from the ancient days when she sang in front of an audience? Thorny Rose hadn’t been super famous, but she did still run into old fans occasionally.
Jack averted his eyes, now more like the deeper brown from the photo when he turned away from the sunlight outside. “You’re Penny Mayfield of Thorny Rose. I wasn’t sure if it was you on the app, but I thought it could be. You’re a singer and a musician. A good one.”
That was the most he’d said so far. It was a plus that it was a compliment. Penny’s face warmed with pleasure.
“I was, a long time ago. You’re a folk, country, or trad fan,” she surmised. “Nice.”
“My father plays the fiddle at the local pub some nights.”
He held the door open for her again, and they left. She took an experimental sip of her coffee through the tiny built-in spout. “Oh, this is good. Thanks for the introduction to a new place for coffee.”
Jack grunted and took a sip from his own cup. He’d gotten a no-frills black with no sugar and zero baked goods. With his level of fitness, that made sense. He seemed like the type who worked out every day and never indulged in anything that made life worth living. She took the lid off her drink and swiped up a dollop of the whipped cream and chocolate with her tongue. So satisfying. She savored the melting goodness with a smile until she caught his stare.
A muscle tensed in his jaw, and his eyes went hooded as he looked at her mouth and then away. She didn’t know what to make of that look, except he seemed annoyed. Was he one of those fitness freaks who was judgmental about every little thing a woman ate and drank? Jade had dated a guy like that, and it had pissed Penny off so badly listening to his constant passive-aggressive digs at her cousin when they’d gone out to eat together. If Jack hated women who ate, oh well. She’d enjoy the coffee and the treat he’d paid for with gusto.
In silence, they strolled toward Trinity College and passed the gate onto the grounds. Most people were headed inside for tours of the beautiful old buildings, especially the library housing the famous Book of Kells. She’d already seen it a few times. Penny hoped Jack’s intention was to stay outside as he’d said. Days with weather like this were to be prized and taken advantage of.
The sun shone brighter, and Penny grew warmer. She finished her muffin and wiped her face with a paper napkin, being careful not to take off too much lipstick in the process. “Would you mind?”
She held out her cup for him to hold momentarily while she shrugged off her jacket and draped it over one arm. His eyes dropped to her breasts, and his mouth tightened again, along with his huge fists that held their cups. Up close, the scarring on each knuckle was more obvious. Clearly, he’d spent a fair amount of time knocking people out. That probably wasn’t a good sign.
“Are you in Ireland on vacation or touring?” he finally asked, looking at the green quad with its manicured lawns and swaying trees.
Penny took her cup back and had another sip. “I live here.”
Slowly, he restated what she’d told him as if he hadn’t heard her right the first time. “You live here.”
Giving him a quirked eyebrow, Penny nodded. “Yes, temporarily. Irish Residence Permit. I’m working on a book. I’m in Ireland for the last leg of my research.”
Jack’s eyebrows rose, too, in response. “Really? What’s it about?”
“The roots of Appalachian music. I started my research back in North Carolina with the old-time musicians. Then I spent some time with artists and historians from Southeastern Native American tribes to learn about their call and response and harmonies. Mostly the Eastern Band of Cherokees, Haliwa-Saponis, Tuscaroras, Alabama Muskogees. Then I went to Nigeria and Ghana to research the stringed instruments that enslaved people brought with them to America that became the banjo. Then I was in Italy to research the mandolin and eat way too much pasta and cannoli.”
Abruptly, she stopped the nervous chatter and patted her soft tummy with a self-deprecating grin—no use trying to hide it. If a man wanted to bed her, he was going to see it all anyway. The jury was still out on whether this man would be seeing anything. Those eyes went to her belly, then to her hips, then away. She still had no idea if he was interested or irritated. He seemed somewhere caught in the middle.
It dawned on her that the date for the party might really be all he had in mind when he’d seen her photo. Maybe he’d thought it would be cool to show up to a party with a guest who’d had a brush with fame, even if it was a million years ago. That realization took a little wind out of her sails, but she kept smiling and continued.
“Anyway, I was in England for a year. I took trips up to the border between there and Scotland for a few months to study the traditional ballads, and I’ve been here in Ireland to soak up the fiddle and bodhrán for the past eight months. All over. I love it here…but I should probably stop talking about it so I don’t bore you to sleep.” She grinned ruefully over the rim of her cup.
“I like hearing you talk,” he said seriously. “You love what you’re doing, and it shows. Not a lot of people can say that.” That pleased her, even as it made warmth flare inside her. He opened his mouth as if to ask a question but seemed unsure what to say. Penny waited for it. Finally, he ground out, “Are you still married?”
Immediately, the dull ache that always lurked somewhere under the surface at the thought of Brendan couldn’t be suppressed as easily as it had been at the café. It rose high and fast up from her chest to her throat. Grinning, she swallowed it back down and stored it away.
“If you know Thorny Rose, you probably know I was married to the other founding member of the band. And if so, you might be wondering what I’m doing on an app looking for a date. Accurate?”
Jack nodded curtly. “I don’t usually ask married women out for dates.”
Penny appreciated that. “That’s fair. I don’t go out with married or even quasi-taken men.”
“I’m single.”
“I’m widowed.” His features froze, eyes narrowing as he stared at her. She licked her suddenly dry lips and quickly said, “I wanted a date for Halloween because it’s one of my favorite holidays. I’m in Ireland, the land where it got its start, and I wanted to relax a little. Have some fun. Not…fun alone. So, I went online, and ta-da . Here I am.”
Why had she felt the need to explain herself to this man? She was supposed to keep this light and casual and short, not give him the Cliff Notes of her autobiography. And now, instead of looking like he had anything fun in mind, his expression softened into sympathy. There was something more behind those eyes she couldn’t interpret. Whatever it was, it no longer resembled desire at all. Penny’s hopes were dashed that she’d be getting some “Vitamin D” from him tonight or any other night.
“What happened, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Accident,” she answered shortly, then bit her lip again. Before the memories of that awful night could come back and drown her …before she could hear that high-pitched scream… she shook herself and squared her shoulders. “Bad luck.”
“Luck is a fickle bitch, ain’t she?” Jack said softly. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Penny answered.
For a long moment, she was lost in his eyes, which had darkened to a serious brown. Green, brown, and amber, all in those eyes. She wanted to kiss Jack Valentine-Carr for that sympathy. But it appeared she’d killed any chance at casual lust with her story. It was just as well. Their date had been a weird glitchy mistake in The Matrix anyway.
“Well. What about this fancy party of yours? I’m still interested if you still need someone to go.”
That probably sounded pathetic at this point. The last person this gorgeous man would want to bring to a party was a hard-up woman with a sob story.
“I run an MMA training gym. Mostly teens and kids in their early twenties. The charitable foundation that funds the gym is always looking for donations. The ballroom type usually has money.”
It was fitting that a man with a honed body like this would make his living in sports. But she knew next to nothing about mixed martial arts. Avoided anything having to do with violence, sugar-coated under the banner of organized sports or not.
Judgmental maybe ? Yes, she had to admit it was judgmental of her. He and his gym were clearly fulfilling a need in his community. She should be praising that.
They continued walking, avoiding the bigger crowds that passed by. It was nice in this little bubble with him, at least when the focus was on him and not herself.
“Ah, charity balls. I’ve attended a few in my time.”
“The purpose of the ball isn’t exactly for charity.” Jack drank more coffee. He finished and tossed the cup in a waste bin. Penny loved that he did that. She hated litterbugs. “When people with money get to talking, get some drinks in them, they tend to be more generous than if you cold call and say, ‘give me yer cash.’”
Penny laughed, then squinted at him. She was getting into the groove of how he spoke, that deep bass still somehow almost musical in his cadence. “And someone decided to invite a guy who runs a gym for kids to a party where rich people hang out. Does that happen a lot?”
“Jack Valentine really doesn’t ring a bell?” he asked. He turned that direct gaze back on her like a floodlight.
“Should it?” she asked with an upraised palm. “Alright, let’s see.” Penny pulled out her phone and did a quick search. And there it was. “Lucky Jack Valentine, former MMA heavyweight champion of the world. Retired undefeated five years ago. Net worth…” She laughed again at the ridiculousness of this discovery. “And I was wondering if I should offer to pay for my coffee.”
Jack grinned with wry amusement. “You’re welcome to treat me next time, if you like.”
“Alright, now I have to ask. Why does a rich, successful former pro athlete go on an app to find a date for a high society party? You seriously don’t have, like, a hundred women waitin’ on you?” Penny asked, giving him plenty of side eye.
“Been on a few dates to find someone to go but they didn’t work out.”
His blunt honesty that she hadn’t been his first choice was a bit of an ego blow. Never mind he hadn’t been her first choice for a date either. And now that she knew that he’d pounded people into the ground for money, she had somewhat less interest in letting him pound her into a mattress. Which he seemed not to want to do anyway since they started actually talking. Shaking off the disappointment, Penny drank the last of her own coffee and disposed of her cup in the next bin they passed.
“Why would anyone say no to a ball? They didn’t want a whole night out with your sparkling personality?” she teased with a raised eyebrow.
Jack glanced at her, and a hint of a smile formed in the corner of that mouth. The sudden urge to kiss it struck her again. Penny’s pulse fluttered at that grin, along with other body parts. Only now she had to tell those parts to hush and calm down as her hopes for this meeting were now in freefall.
“It’s not just a night out. It’s overnight at a country estate. We’ll have to share a room. And a bed.”