Chapter 2
Chapter Two
M idnight .
I must be getting old if I was this tired already. I’d tried all evening to engage Matt in conversation. He’d remained friendly and polite, yet never once flirted with me. Maybe I had read the signs he’d been giving me wrong. Something had changed since the last time I’d seen him, but for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out what.
I couldn’t go home until I won the bet, even though the girls had long since abandoned me. My pride wouldn’t let me. So, I focused back on Homer—the youngest of Harmony’s seven older brothers—and smiled indulgently.
He droned on and on about his prized Mustang he was souping up in his garage. He’d been hitting on me all night, but that was nothing new. He’d had a crush on me for years and was a nice enough guy—almost as big and handsome as Matt—but he did nothing for me.
Not that I wanted Matt to do anything for me, either, except maybe physically. Physical affairs, with no strings attached, were all I allowed myself. I liked my independent lifestyle too much to risk answering to another man ever again.
Tonight was about proving I still had it. And getting lucky enough to find a four-leaf clover, that’s all. Not that I planned to do anything with the laddy’s shamrock—as Harm would say—other than take a peek for proof purposes only.
But I wasn’t at all positive whom I was trying to convince.
“Well, I’d better hit the hay. Gotta open up the garage at the crack of dawn, and then cover Harm’s shop on her lunch hour. Ma needs her, as usual. Cut the cord already, right?” Homer grunted and jerked his head to the side to flip the red strands of hair out of his green eyes.
“She will when she’s ready, doll,” I answered, remembering exactly why he didn’t do anything for me.
Homer was handsome enough, but still rough around the edges, whereas my tastes tended to run toward the more refined. An image of Matt McGinnis popped into my mind’s eye. While he might be big and rugged, he had an air of worldliness and charm about him.
“It’s closing time, Ms. Eisenhower,” Matt’s deep voice rumbled from right behind me, and I jumped. “See ya, Homer,” he added.
“Later, Matt.” Homer sent Matt a two-fingered salute. “Catch you on the flipside, Tiff.” He winked as he swaggered out of the bar.
“I thought you didn’t close until two?” I focused my attention on Matt, who was studying me with an expression I couldn’t quite read.
“That’s on weekends, lass.” He glanced around the interior. “It’s Wednesday, and the bar’s empty.” His gaze landed on my silk dress with a raised eyebrow as he added, “A woman like ye must have someplace to be?” before walking to the front door and flipping the sign to closed , then turning the lock.
“Nope.” Sad but true, I thought as I ran my finger around my empty martini glass. No date, no man…nothing.
All I had were a good-for-nothing ex who was bleeding me dry with more alimony demands, parents who didn’t want me, a sister who didn’t get it because she was the twin they kept, and my grandmother—the woman who raised me and the only person who ever loved me—but Grammy was losing her battle with breast cancer.
A lump formed in my throat.
I didn’t know what I’d do once she was gone. I couldn’t bear to think about that, so I focused on the only other thing I had going for me. My looks. A bit shallow, but true, and I worked hard to maintain them. Although based on tonight’s turn of events—Homer didn’t count—I was obviously losing those as well.
I sighed, glancing down at my empty glass. How many of these little lovelies did I have, anyway? It had been a long night, I thought as I stared deeply into Matt’s baby blues. Not a hard task to do by any means.
His smile dimmed and a brief flash of wariness flitted across his chiseled features, but then it disappeared. “Well, I’m a wee bit tired myself. C’mon. Ye can leave through the back with me.”
I followed him through the game room by the pool and poker tables and dartboard, thinking the time had come to pull out all the stops. Go for it. Give it all I had. When he reached for the handle, I put my hands on his back, feeling his muscles bunch, and noticed my head only came to his shoulders. I was five-ten.
Not too many men towered above me.
“Wait,” I said on a breathy whisper, the sheer size of him overwhelming me. I had to think of something to get him to stay. So far, I’d tried everything, but nothing had worked.
He froze, his back still to me. “Ms. Eisen?—”
“Tiffany. Call me Tiffany…please.” Give it all I had? I blinked.
Oh, my God, I had nothin’. When the hell had that happened? The reality hammered through me. Goodness gracious, maybe I really was losing my touch. This was no longer about a stupid bet. I just wanted to feel desirable. Special. But I didn’t feel special, I felt stupid. And alone.
And…old.
A lump formed in my throat. What the hell was I doing here? I really hadn’t expected turning forty would hit me this hard, and it didn’t help that I’d drank just enough little lovelies to make me emotional.
“Tiffany, I don’t think?—”
“Then d-don’t think.” I swallowed my sob.
He turned around slowly and dipped his head to look in my eyes. “What’s wrong, lass? Are ye crying?”
And that was all it took.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” I rubbed my eyes, keeping the tears at bay, thank God. I hadn’t cried in a man’s arms in about ten years, before my ex-husband had turned into an asshole, and I didn’t plan to start now. “I must have something in my eye, is all.”
“Here, follow me.” He took my arm and led me to the center of the room, then placed his hands on either side of my waist, his fingers nearly spanning the circumference as he lifted me onto the pool table.
“What about the felt?” I asked, startled at the turn of events. “I don’t want to ruin your pool table.”
“This old table has been in my family for decades. There’s not much you can do that my nieces and nephews haven’t already done. Besides, my uncle restores old furniture, so don’t worry about it.” He winked.
Well, now, this was a first. Me learning something new about men and romance. Who knew a little sincere vulnerability would work better than a peek at my girls. I decided to roll with it and continue being myself—an over-sensitive mess—but got distracted by his smell: soap, fabric softener, a touch a booze, and something uniquely…him.
“Tiffany, hello, are ye in there?” He arched a brow, his lips quirking up at one corner, granting me a glimpse of an adorable dimple. “I said, which eye has something in it?”
“Huh…oh, um, th-the right.” I cleared my throat.
He bent his knees slightly, so he was on eye level with me as he cradled my cheeks with his palms. I couldn’t breathe. Something about Matt rattled me, completely throwing me off my game every time I was around him.
Tonight was no exception.
Using his thumbs to hold my eye open, he tipped my head to the left and right as he searched the depths. The blue of his eyes was so pale, it resembled the calm waters of a Caribbean tide pool on a windless day. I wanted to reach out and touch them just to see if they would ripple.
He blew a soft puff of air square in my eye, and I flinched. “Oh.” I scrunched my eyes closed.
“A trick me mum taught me back in Ireland when I was a lad.” The deep timber of his voice vibrated my mid-section.
I pried my eyes open in time to see him beam as though he’d performed some intricate feat like eye surgery or restoring my vision.
“Feel better?” He waited expectantly.
I squinted, my eye now irritated, given that it had nothing in it to begin with. “Much.” I feigned a smile. “Thanks.”
“Yer welcome.” He started to lift me down, but I rested my fingertips on his corded forearms and his gaze snapped down to mine, a deep V forming between his brows.
“You come from Dublin, right?” I smiled a genuine smile, really just needing to be held. “It’s a beautiful city.”
A grin filled with warmth and pride replaced his frown. “Ye’ve been there?”
“A few times. I love the magnificent architecture, and those rolling green hills and jagged cliffs in the countryside,” my hand fluttered to my bosom, “why, it’s enough to take your breath away.”
His gaze finally dropped to my cleavage, and I realized what I had done. My confidence building, I wiggled my fingers and his eyes widened. Oh, yeah. I still had it. I let my lids close halfway and watched him, watch me, feeling my body tingle all over in response.
“That it does,” he managed, and then tore his gaze away from my breasts, giving my C cups the respect they deserved. “It’s yer birthday, right?” He looked as though he were struggling for a distraction.
I nodded as I moistened my lips.
He zoomed in on the tip of my tongue, and his Adam’s apple bobbed. “Being that it’s after hours and I can join ye now, how about I buy ye a drink, lass?” He made a beeline for the bar, downing a shot as soon as he got there.
I bit back a giggle, feeling sooo much better. “Have any champagne? I prefer Crystal.”
He arched a brow. “Ye wouldn’t be what they call ‘high maintenance,’ would ye now?” His lips formed a slanted grin as he opened a fresh bottle. “I don’t have much call for Crystal, but I do have a bottle of Dom Perignon.”
“Dom will do just fine.” I quirked a brow. “And if you call having standards ‘high maintenance,’ then I guess I am.”
“Not that there’s anything wrong with that, of course.” He chuckled as he poured himself a tankard of dark beer.
“Of course.” I met his smile with one of my own.
He carried our drinks over to the pool table and then handed me my sparkling wine, the tiny bubbles fizzing and popping as I sipped. After hopping up beside me, he took a long draw from his beer and let out a sigh of ecstasy by the sound of it, which only succeeded in heightening my senses further.
He raised his glass. “Nothing like an ice-cold Guinness after a hard day’s work.”
I felt his deep voice throb in places it had no business throbbing, so I crossed my legs and leaned back on one hand as I nursed my drink with the other. “Exactly. Only I prefer martinis or champagne.”
“Shaken, not stirred, and top of the line.” His shoulder brushed mine as he leaned over when he spoke. “Extra dirty.”
“Is there any other kind?” My smile came slow and sweet as I peeked at him from the corner of my eye. “You remembered.”
He stared at me for a long moment only to pull away and softly say, “Yer not an easy woman to forget, Ms. Eisenhower.”
I met his gaze full on and heat blazed between us. “You’re not easy to forget, either, Mr. McGinnis.” Reaching out a finger, I dipped the tip inside one of his dimples. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long, you have no idea.”
“Glad I could accommodate ye.” His smile remained in place, but he studied me with a mixture of longing and wariness.
He could accommodate me oh-so-well, but I still couldn’t figure out what was holding him back. All I knew was, I wanted him more than I had ever wanted anyone. “Speaking of accommodating?—”
“Oh, look at that, yer glass is nearly empty.” He vaulted off the table and headed to the bar.
I glanced at my glass that was nearly full and smiled a little. I was getting to him. I looked back up at him and swallowed hard. He was getting to me, too. His fabulous glutes flexed all the way to the bar, distracting me from the fact that he was still holding out on me. Wow, what that man did to a pair of jeans was downright sinful. Thanks be to Jesus. I wasn’t a religious woman by nature, but I was all about giving credit where credit was due.
God got it right when he’d created Matthew McGinnis.
Good thing my apartment was just a few doors down from his pub. Two glasses and several flirtatious conversations later, Matt said, “Well, lass, it’s getting late. Let me walk ye home.” He hopped off the table and stumbled a bit. Go figure, since he’d added shots to chase his beer ever since we’d started the conversation about accommodating.
“Wait, I need help,” I said to his incredibly wide back. I didn’t want the night to end. He’d cheered me up, and he was so easy to talk to, it just felt good being around him.
He paused, turning around slowly. “Oh, sorry. Me Ma would have me head fer that.” His brogue got thicker with every shot he’d downed. He placed his hands on my waist, but I wrapped my legs around his middle and my arms snaked around his neck as he lifted me. He froze. “Lass, ye be playing with fire, ye know.”
“Aye,” I said, imitating his accent with a poor version of my own. “I’m old enough to know what I be playing with, laddy.”
A goofy cockeyed smile played across his face. “Do ye now?”
I let go on purpose and started to slide down his body, but his hands slid beneath my bottom, catching me just as my most intimate spot pressed up against his groin. He closed his eyes on a deep groan, his Adam’s apple bobbing again, then he hoisted me back up above dangerous territory.
“Aye, that ye do, lass. That ye do.” He shook his head, forcing a serious tone into his voice that I did not want to hear right now. “Tiffany, we can’t?—”
“Sure, we can.” My chest rose and fell against his as my breath grew faster.
His breathing matched mine as he said in a hoarse voice, “But we’ve had too much to?—”
“Honey, I haven’t had nearly enough.” I cupped his cheeks and stared him in the eyes, letting him see I wasn’t even close to being drunk, but I was damn close to exploding in his arms. “I want you,” I added seconds before I pressed my lips to his and thrust my tongue inside to do battle with his.
I needed this…I needed him.
He ran one hand up my back to plunge into my hair and cradle my scalp, while the other gripped my bottom hard, pressing me firmly against every blessed inch of him. Tipping my head to the side, he dove his tongue deeper, sweeping every nook and cranny of my mouth, until every pulse in my body vibrated with desire for him.
He set me on the pool table abruptly, finally breaking our kiss as he flattened his palm on my chest and pushed gently until I fell back, my legs still wrapped around him, my dress now hiked to my upper thighs. His gaze devoured me from head to widespread knees, so I slowly inched my dress higher until my barely-there white lace thong peeked out from beneath.
He clenched his jaw, and I could see the muscles bunch as he struggled for control, finally tearing his gaze away from the V of my lacy thong. “We’ve both had too much to drink, lass. This is probably not a good idea.”
“You’re right, this isn’t a good idea,” I said breathlessly, as I undid the buttons on the front of my dress with the built-in bra and peeled the fabric wide, exposing my bare breasts. His pupils dilated, and my nipples hardened as he devoured them with his heated gaze. “This is a great idea.” I reached up to cup him through his jeans, and he leaned his head back and let loose a groan that was so deep I felt it clear to my toes.
He focused back on me, looking as though he couldn’t take any more, then mumbled something about burning in hell for this as he bent forward at the waist and caught my nipple between his teeth. I squealed as he sucked hard, and I felt the tug all the way to my womb. My eyes rolled back in my head, and I moaned deeply.
There was something about him that drew me to him in a way no other man ever had.
“Ye bewitch me, lass,” he mumbled, before taking me in his mouth once again.
“Ditto,” I managed, gasping for air.
He was different than any other man I had been with, making me feel alive, making me want him more than I had any man ever, making me need him, and that disturbed me. I liked being in charge, calling the shots. Or maybe it was just the night. The circumstances surrounding the night. The stupid birthday. I didn’t know what to think, so I didn’t. I just let myself feel.
Because for the first time today, I felt young.
Matt trailed kisses down my stomach through the fabric of my dress, then slid my thong aside and dove his tongue deep. I screamed for all I was worth and plunged my fingers through his blond curly locks, fisting my hands around the silky strands. I couldn’t breathe. I wasn’t washed up, I wasn’t old, I was…beautiful. I cried out as a tidal wave of pure joy consumed me, then the next thing I felt was something massive, stretching me, filling me, and pushing me to the edge of a cliff.
“Yes! God, yes!” This was exactly what I needed, what I longed for, what I wanted with all my soul.
I knew it wouldn’t be the same with anyone else. I opened my eyes and met Matt’s wide, intense gaze locked solely on me. He knew exactly what he was doing, same as I did, but neither of us was willing to give voice to that. All we were prepared to accept was the fact that we wanted each other, needed each other, more than anything else.
For now, right here in this moment, that was enough.
Matt picked up the pace and I matched his rhythm, until we both were heaving for air and screaming out our release. I dug my fingernails into his arched back, and he gripped my hips, pressing me tighter to him, then he fell forward and collapsed on my chest. I wrapped my arms around him and stroked his back, totally spent. We both just lay there, basking in the pure unadulterated feeling of being completely satiated, even though we were both still nearly fully clothed.
That just made it even sexier.
As the air drifting over us grew cold, Matt stood up and slowly pulled away. I propped myself up on my elbows as a lazy, completely satisfied grin crept over my face, and I met his equally satisfied smile. But then my gaze dropped lower, and my eyes sprang wide at the sheer size of his magnificent penis…but then a realization hit me.
I gasped. “Wait…is that a clover?”