6. AURORA
6
AURORA
PENNY
T hey reached the boutique in under twenty minutes while arguing about the supposed orgy. The place was small and elegant, with pink and blue French décor that looked like a slice of cake. An array of costumes lined one wall, and a tall bookcase held frilly hats, gloves and shoe styles from several eras ranging from Regency to 70s disco.
A freckled brunette came forward and favored them both with a bright smile and sparkling blue eyes.
“I’m Aoife. Welcome to my shop. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to let me know. You’re Mr. Valentine, of course — who doesn’t know that.” Jack gave Penny a pointed stare at that, and she made a face at him. “And you are Miss Mayfield. Let me take your coats, and you can get relaxed.”
They removed their outer layers. Penny tried not to make it obvious that her jaw practically dropped to the floor to see what Jack had on underneath that peacoat. Black silk must have been melted, stirred, and poured over his torso, showing off the rippling muscles of his shoulders, chest, and arms with every movement he made. His gray tweed trousers, which would have been boring on any other man, hugged his ass and his thighs.
How dare he? How was she supposed to function like a normal person around all that hotness?
At least it was some consolation that he seemed to be having trouble tearing his own attention from the V of her dress.
Aoife had to wave a hand in front of their faces with a light laugh. “Mr. Valentine says you need something fairytale-inspired, which happens to be my personal favorite. Do you have anything specific in mind?”
Her original idea, which had been fun to tease Jack about in the car, now seemed too on the nose. Penny thought for a moment. “Um…we were thinking Beauty and the Beast, but now maybe not. There’ll probably be at least a few other couples going as that.”
The modiste examined them both. It took Penny a moment to realize there were no other customers there. The only noise in the shop was classical music playing discreetly in the background.
“Hm….” Aoife walked a circle around Penny, looking at her skin and her shape. “You have a gorgeous deep complexion. I think you’re a natural for vibrant pastels. I’m thinking…a very rich rose pink. Give me a moment, please.”
Aoife rushed to the backroom and returned with a bolt of fabric. Bringing it over, she held it up to Penny’s face and throat.
“This is perfect. What do you think? Do you like this color?” Aoife asked.
“I’ve never been one for pink, but…I do like this. It’s really pretty,” Penny said after giving it some thought.
“Grand...” Aoife went to grab a tablet from behind the counter and typed something in. Then she held up the results for them to see. “Aurora, also known as Briar Rose, also known as Sleeping Beauty. Her original dress was sky blue in the classic cartoon, but she’s known for the pink gown since Cinderella made the blue her own. Now we can work on Mr. Valentine’s Prince Philip outfit. I am thrilled. No one ever chooses Aurora. They think it’s kinda problematic now that Prince Philip kisses her while she’s sleeping. Without her consent .” Aoife whispered that last part. “If you want to go with a different character, we can find something else.”
“Let’s pretend Prince Philip shakes her awake before he tries anything,” Penny suggested.
Jack snorted while Aoife laughed. “Perfect. Alright, you two. Have a seat, and I’ll get my assistant out here so we can take your measurements. In the meantime, please enjoy some complimentary refreshments.”
“Why is it so empty in here?” Penny wondered aloud after the modiste left. “You’d think they’d be busy this close to Halloween.”
“They would have been, but I asked them to keep our appointment private.”
“Wow. Nice. I see that world championship belt opens a lot of doors.”
“When I’m recognized,” he said, giving her the side eye.
Penny snorted a laugh. Over the next two hours, they enjoyed their champagne and grapes, had their measurements taken, and were on their way. Outside, the early evening air was sweet and woodsy, as if Jack had somehow permeated everything around her with his own scent.
“Alright,” Jack said with an expression of relief. “Now that that’s settled, let’s go get something to eat.”
He was silent on the way to the restaurant. Yesterday, that would have made her nervous, thinking maybe he wasn’t enjoying their time together, but tonight felt different. This was a relaxed, companionable silence. It was nice, actually, not to feel forced to come up with things to say to keep him interested.
At the restaurant downtown, Penny appreciated the beautifully lit interior after Jack gave the valet his keys and escorted her in. It was wood-paneled with large glass windows on all sides. As they moved through the dining room, Penny noticed again that people noticed Jack. At the height of her fame with Thorny Rose, she’d never received that much recognition in public, even in her small hometown, where being a “celebrity” was rare. She’d been happy when the occasional fan came by to say hello or ask for an autograph.
They were seated at a table with a riverside view. Hanging their jackets on nearby hooks, they sat facing each other. The table was covered in a thick cream cloth, and in the center, a tiny white votive candle gave off a soft, sensuous light. In the butterscotch glow of the candlelight, Jack’s skin was a rich gold, his eyes illuminated to amber. Penny risked being mesmerized by him, so she looked away, taking in the scenery and the restaurant décor.
The large wall across from them that separated the dining room from the kitchen was hung with a huge tapestry of a hunting scene featuring a sword-wielding giant and his band of hunters. They were chasing a deer, whom Penny knew was, in fact, a woman who’d been turned under a curse. In the stories, her name was Sadhbh. Once the hunter had captured Sadhbh and brought her to his homeland, she’d turned back into a woman. Unfortunately, their story hadn’t ended happily ever after.
“That’s Finn McCool,” Penny said. Jack looked over and nodded.
“You know Irish folklore,” he said.
“I’m not an expert, but I’ve learned a little.”
“From your husband?” Jack’s gaze was soft but serious. “He was Irish, wasn’t he?”
Penny tried to resist the stiffening in her shoulders. She knew at some point, Brendan would come up. That didn’t stop her from dreading it all the same.
“Brendan was Irish American. He didn’t know much until we toured the Giant’s Causeway here with the band. I’ve learned a bunch more since coming back for my research.”
Penny was grateful for the server’s interruption, a bubbly twenty-something girl who was pleasant and quick.
As platters of sizzling meat and seafood were carried to the other patrons, Penny’s stomach rumbled at the tantalizing smells. If she were alone, she’d risk and probably lose an epic struggle with some shellfish. But sitting across from the silent giant who was staring at her, she thought she’d save the potential embarrassment of a flying crab leg for another day.
She asked the server for a steak sauteed with butter and garlic, roasted potatoes with truffle oil, and roasted asparagus with a light honey glaze. Jack was having the same. The server took their order and reappeared to bring them water and a good pinot noir.
“Tell me about your book,” Jack continued, picking up his glass and taking a swallow. “How long have you been working on it?”
He seemed genuinely interested. Penny picked up her glass of pinot and sipped. His eyes lingered on the place where her lips met the glass.
“For about ten years.”
“Ten years? Does it usually take that long to write a book?” His eyebrow lifted, and heat bloomed in her cheeks.
“Depending on the book,” she replied with a small shrug. “In this case, it’s not as simple as the articles I write freelance. It takes tons of research, organizing and compiling notes. More than that, in a lot of rural communities, people don’t just give up the goods to outsiders that easily. You have to stick around and build trust.”
“Is that how you support yourself while you travel? Freelance articles?”
She wasn’t used to someone asking her so many questions about herself. Again, Penny had to control the heat spreading through her cheeks all the way to her hairline. Thank goodness for dark dining rooms and brown skin.
“Um, no. That wouldn’t be enough. Brendan had a good insurance policy. He’d also inherited some money from his grandfather, and when he passed away, the remainder came to me.” She paused, taking a bigger sip of wine.
“How does a girl from a small town in upstate New York end up playing the banjo and writing a book about the roots of Appalachian music?”
“How’d you know I was from New York?”
She could detect Jack’s face warming, even in the restaurant’s low lighting. “Looked you up last night after we talked,” he answered gruffly.
Penny ignored the pulsing in her body at the admission that he’d found her interesting enough to research, the way she’d spent the night researching him.
“Well. I was training to be a classical violinist at Julliard. Brendan was attending Owenville College in their music program and studying guitar.”
“Julliard. Impressive.”
She could tell he was sincere. “Yes. Every summer since high school, we’d pick a place to go hiking.”
“I’ve never gone.”
“It’s fun. And I love the woods. It’s kinda in my blood, growing up in the Finger Lakes. Anyway, one summer in between semesters, we decided to spend two months hiking the Appalachian Trail, starting in New York and heading down south. Along the way, we met a bunch of old-time country and roots musicians. A lot of them were descended from Scots Irish and English settlers. When I found out that the banjo was originally an African instrument, I became obsessed with learning all about it, which kinda snowballed into learning about all the instruments. A lot of people in Owenville love country, but that trip really opened my eyes.”
“So you thought you’d write a book.”
Penny shifted in her seat and toyed with her fork. “The book was actually Brendan’s idea. Ever since that trip, it was his dream to write it. He wanted it to be his contribution to music history. A legacy, I guess. I, um… I never gave him the baby he wanted, so, this is my way of giving him his legacy. I think it would make him happy.”
Jack’s expression was inscrutable, but his attention never wavered from her face as though she was the book, and he was trying to read its pages. Penny was grateful when the server returned with their salads and bread.
“What about your music? You put out four albums, and then after that, nothing.” Jack spread a thin layer of butter on his bread and chewed it reflectively.
“Without Brendan, Thorny Rose fell apart. Squeeze and Dennis wanted to continue as a trio, but I just couldn’t.”
“But it’s something you loved. You don’t miss it?” The rumble of his voice was almost tender. It threatened to bring tears to her eyes.
“I play all the time,” she said with a self-deprecating grin. “Just at home, by myself. I don’t need to play in front of a crowd like some sort of diva. But I do miss jamming with people. I miss that flow you get into when you’re in tune with another person, creating something from nothing together. It’s…well, it’s magic. It’s like making magic.” There was a moment of silence while he contemplated her with those piercing hazel eyes. She didn’t want to be read so easily, didn’t want him to see how much she truly did miss that old life. “What about you? How did a boy from a tough neighborhood in Dublin end up the mixed martial arts champion of the world?”
“My rags to riches story?” The corner of Jack’s mouth lifted in that fucking sexy smirk again. “It’s not special. You could talk to maybe twenty fellas in the sport from anywhere in the world and hear the exact same thing.”
“I don’t want to know about their story. I want yours,” Penny said.
Jack’s expression turned reflective. “Okay. I was given some choices early on. I could either be like almost everyone else in me family and spend me life rotating in and out of jail, which I managed to avoid, somehow. Or I could use me fists to make legit money and keep my arse out of lockup.”
“You come from a family of criminals?” Now that was interesting.
“Do you find that exciting, good girl?” Jack drawled with glittering eyes.
Damn, that was fucking hot . She was grateful they were there, in the middle of a restaurant, where she couldn’t go over and slide right onto his lap.
The server returned again and broke the mood. Although Penny couldn’t wait for Jack to tell her his story, she was grateful to finally eat something more substantial than grapes and crackers. While she cut and ate her steak, cooked to perfection with a tenderness that literally melted in her mouth, he continued.
“My mam’s a Rourke. They’re small-time hoods here in Dublin. She decided to leave for England when she was young to ‘escape the life.’ Ended up in Manchester working in a bar where she met my father. Another gangster, him and his brothers,” Jack said, pausing for a bite of potato. “That’s good, innit?”
Penny tried her potato and agreed wholeheartedly. And now she understood why Jack looked different than the other men around here. Clearly the Anglo-Saxon had overpowered the Celt in his genetics.
“Anyway, four years and one baby into the marriage, Mam had enough of the Carr’s shite and decided to come back home. She found out my father had been taking me with him on his errands.”
“Damn, that’s scary. How old were you?”
“Two. Can you imagine? A gun in one hand and a toddler on your arm looking to collect? I think she loved him, but that was it for Dierdre. She packed us up and came back here to my grandparents. They helped, but they worked, too. She pretty much raised me on her own until I was about thirteen.”
“It must have been hard for her,” Penny murmured with sympathy.
“It was. And I didn’t help by being a wild little bastard. When I was twelve, I started working for her brother Redmond. He’d lived in America for a while but had to self-deport or go to jail. He chose deportation.” She laughed. “He brought me into the fight circuit to toughen me up. And then one day, Dierdre met Bran Valentine. Straight-laced, fancy education, worked in a bank that he wasn’t stealing from. You’d look at the man and think he’s soft. Wrong. It was Bran who saw where I was headed. He snatched me up by the collar and said, ‘Now, young man…’”
Crinkles appeared at the corners of Jack’s eyes at the memory. How was it possible for that to make him look even more attractive?
“He said, ‘Young man, if you don’t figure your life out, I’m gonna do it for you.’ And he took me to Charlie’s gym. They beat the hell out of me and put the discipline in. The rest, like they say, is history.”
“Well, alright, Bran Valentine!” Penny cheered with a laugh. “What about your biological father? Are you in contact with him?”
“Oh, sure,” Jack said, wiping his mouth with his napkin. “He did come to Dublin to be with us, but he ran into trouble with the Rourkes and had to go home. I speak to him from time to time. He’s still in that life. He is who he is. He can’t change. I lived in London for a while when I was training for my first title fight, and I’d go up and see him, spend time with him, his brothers, and me aunt. Got pretty close with my cousin James. He’s in London.”
“What does James do for a living?”
Jack grinned. “He’s a criminal. And I’ve got Rourke cousins in New York. Guess what they are?”
“Criminals,” they said in unison.
“Wow,” Penny drawled, shaking her head. “Remind me to keep my hands on my purse at your family reunion.”
Jack leaned forward on the table, holding her gaze captive with his own. “That means you’ll be coming to meet me family?”
“Well, I… it was a joke,” she murmured.
“No, you should meet them. Redmond’s still around. I see his daughter Meghan a lot. She lives not too far from where we are with her twins. And you should come by when Bran’s playing the fiddle at the pub. Maybe you could even sit in and play your banjo. He’d love that.”
A rush of pleasure and anxiety flooded her at the suggestion. This was casual, right? Meeting his family would be casual. Jamming at a seisiún was something people did here for fun, that’s all.
But Jack’s eyes touching hers didn’t seem very casual. Penny scrambled to get the subject off her hanging out with his family and back onto him.
“Of all the things you could have done for a living, though…why fighting? Was it, like, a way of channeling aggression?” she guessed.
“Like an anger management thing?” Jack asked with a squint. He rubbed his jaw slowly. “It started off that way, yeah, sure. I was always fighting when I was a kid. Somebody said somethin’ I didn’t like — pow . They looked at me funny — pow . I settled it, no hesitation. But when I started training with Charlie, and my other teachers for Muay Thai and jiu-jitsu, I learned how to control that. Even studied Tai chi for the mindfulness.”
“Wow, so you can fuck people up fast or slow,” Penny said with raised eyebrows.
He grinned. “I can. But martial arts isn’t just about how to fuck someone up, although it helps. It’s teaching you to recognize your own worst impulses and how to defeat them. Self-control, self-respect. Optimizing your body, feeding it good food, giving it rest. It’s your entire life.”
“A spiritual thing?”
“That can be part of it too, yeah. It’s whatever you need to get out of it. When I was in that cage, it wasn’t just about what I could do to the other fella. It was how I could rise beyond my limitations. How I could be the best version of meself.”
The zeal in his eyes when he talked about his sport made goosebumps rise along her skin, even as it created heat inside her body. His passion for it was so compelling. And a thousand percent relatable. He’d described perfectly how she felt when she hit a difficult note or finally mastered a new instrument.
“You miss it?” she asked softly.
“My time in the cage is over. I have people coming up after me. It’s their time now.”
But something about the way he said that didn’t ring entirely true.
“Can I ask why you stopped? Why did you retire? You were on a winning streak.”
Jack wasn’t smiling anymore. “I did win. But the night of my last fight, I got hit pretty hard. I’d had a few concussions by then, but that one…that one was the big one. I had what they called a hematoma in my brain, and I needed emergency surgery. Could’ve died, but I didn’t. After two months of sleeping, I woke up.” Their eyes met again, and she was shocked at the sudden longing in his. “I…” There was another pause, this one deep and full of mysterious meaning she couldn’t begin to fathom. Then he grinned, lopsided. “My old doctor had a good long chat with me and said if I fought again, and I got another knock to me thick skull like that one, the next time, I might not be so lucky.”
“I’m sorry,” Penny murmured, not knowing what else to say. The thought of Jack lying in bed unconscious yet fighting for his life filled her with alarm and dread. The sensation was all too familiar.
“It’s a tough career to be in for long. It’s hard on the body. Hard to dedicate most of your life to training, traveling, making appearances. It doesn’t leave a lot of room for anything else. Most fighters go into the pros knowing they’ll tap out in about ten or fifteen years. I did my time.” But again, she wasn’t sure he meant it. Jack’s smile returned. “I think you should come by the gym. See that we’re not a pack of mindless monsters. Maybe I’ll even put some gloves on you and get you into the ring. You might like it.” Now he was definitely teasing her.
Penny rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I don’t know if my idea of fun is getting knocked around at your gym.”
“What is your idea of fun?” Jack leaned forward again. His entire focus was on her.
Too sexy. Please stop.
“Crocheting,” she said abruptly.
“Will you make me something?” The teasing gleam in his eyes made her woozy, even as it made her smile.
“I’ll make you a scarf.”
He shifted back in his seat, and the conversation thankfully got lighter after that. Penny had a scrumptious slice of carrot cake with her coffee, while Jack indulged in a hefty piece of German chocolate. He settled the bill and did the gentlemanly thing once again by helping her put her jacket on. And once again he escorted her out with his hand on the small of her back to move them through the dining room.
Outside, while they waited for the valet to bring his car, Jack stepped closer. “I’ve gotta ask. When you responded to me on the app…did you just want a night out on Halloween? Or did you want a real date? With me?” he murmured. Her nipples tightened at those words and that look.
Penny would never admit that she had, in fact, not chosen him to be the one she broke her dry spell with. Didn’t want to tell him that looking at his picture, she’d immediately sensed danger, like a deer catching the sudden scent of a hunter. The danger of being with a man who’d undo every last defense she could muster.
Jack was still, his body tight and tense as he waited for her reply, a hunter poised with his bow and arrow pointed and ready.
She couldn’t resist. She didn’t want to.
“I was looking for this,” she said, sliding her hand inside the warmth of his coat. Under her touch, his muscles jumped. His heart pounded a rapid beat against her palm.
Then, as if he couldn’t help himself, he suddenly leaned over, grasped her chin, and kissed her. His wine-sweet tongue licked at the seam of her lips and pushed into her mouth, seeking, tasting, devouring. This kiss scorched her down to her toes. Penny reached up to sink her fingers into the short hair at the nape of his neck, loving the silky feel.
“Good.” He pulled back to stare into her eyes with stark lust brimming in his own. “Because I’m still hungry. And I need to know what you taste like.”