Irish Sex Fairy: Ellora's Cave Page 3

  Maybe some people preferred impersonal anonymity when shopping for romance products. “Well. I hope not.”

  “But I keep busy. I’m still involved with the Chamber of Commerce and the committee for Irish Days.”

  “That’s great.” Keara shook her head in admiration, remembering how much fun the Irish Days festival had been. “You put us all to shame, Maeve.”

  “Bah.” She waved a hand, then straightened and reached for two mugs. “You’ll be just like me when you’re seventy. You’ll see. Everyone always said we were alike.”

  Really. Keara supposed they did share a certain drive, but Maeve had managed to follow her own path without caring what people thought of her, and people still liked her. Keara, on the other hand…ah, she didn’t want to think about that just now.

  She accepted a cup of coffee from her aunt and they sat down on her couch. “Tell me about your love life,” Maeve invited, and Keara choked on a mouthful of coffee.

  “Oh dear,” Maeve said. “I’m sorry.”

  “That’s okay, Maeve. I don’t have much of a love life lately. For a while I was dating a nice guy but it just wasn’t…right. You know?”

  “Hmm.” Shrewd emerald eyes, just like her own, assessed her. “Yes, I do know. So he was a nice boy. How was the sex?”

  Again, Keara’s breath stalled. She shook her head. “It was okay. That’s what I meant…he was nice but not…you know.”

  “Ah. No good in bed.” Maeve shook her head sadly. “That’s too bad, but that’ll kill a relationship every time. So you’re not seeing anyone right now?”

  “No.” Keara sighed. “I work long hours. I have my girlfriends, and we go out together. Some dates, but…” She hitched a shoulder. “I guess I’ve been too focused on my work.”

  “Being a bank manager is an important job,” Maeve said. “Your parents would be proud of what you’ve accomplished.”

  “I hope so.” Regret that her parents hadn’t lived to see her success sent an ache through her. They’d been killed in a car accident just after she’d started her career at the bank.

  “But you’re young. You should be having fun.”

  “I do have fun.”

  Maeve smiled slowly. “With a man.”

  “You’re one to talk.” Keara clasped her hands around the warmth of the cup. “You never got married. You must not think it’s that important.”

  Maeve’s face softened and her eyes focused on something behind Keara for a moment. “Yes, I never married,” she finally said. “But that doesn’t mean I was never in love. And,” she snapped her gaze back to Keara, “it doesn’t mean I don’t have men in my life.”

  Good God, she was seventy years old! Keara didn’t know whether to cringe or be impressed. She decided to go with impressed. “So, who are you seeing, then?” she asked mischievously.

  “Well, Glen O’Donnell and I have been out a few times.” Maeve’s eyes twinkled. “He’s a widower, and quite a hottie, too.”

  Keara laughed. “A hottie? Oh, my goodness, I have to meet him.” Then she had a thought. “I won’t be cramping your style if I stay here, will I?”

  Maeve waved a hand. “No, no. We can just as easily go to his place. Don’t worry about it at all.”

  Okay. Keara swallowed her amusement. Not only did seventy-year-old Maeve have more energy than Keara, she had a better sex life too. Damn.

  Maeve glanced at her watch. “I should get back down and let Jayla take a break. Why don’t you go get your things and unpack? You can stay in the spare bedroom, as usual of course.” She stood and led the way toward it, shaking her head. “Although it does seem like a very long time since you’ve been here and done that.”

  Thirteen years. When she put a number to it, it was an embarrassingly long time ago. How had she let time get away from her like that? She’d gone to college, started her career. Her life was busy…she rolled her bottom lip in and sucked on it as she followed Maeve, guilt weighing heavy on her shoulders. God. As if she didn’t have enough guilt wearing her down right now.

  “Here you go,” Maeve said. “I’ve redecorated the room. I hope you like it.”

  “It’s fine.” Keara’s gaze moved over the Limerick lace curtains at the window, the lace cushions on the bed. She walked over to the dresser and stroked a hand across the polished golden oak, then smoothed the woven cotton throw on the bed with its intricate Celtic knots pattern. “It’s so pretty, Maeve.”

  “Thank you.”

  Keara followed her back down the stairs but she went out to her car parked on the street just down from the shop. The stone and beamed style of the buildings lining the street, the hanging wooden signs in front of the shops, and the curvy wrought iron street lamps made her feel like she was in Europe. As a teenager, she’d thought it a little cheesy, embarrassing even, for someone of Irish roots who didn’t really think much about her heritage.

  She hefted her suitcase out of the trunk of her little BMW convertible, purchased as a reward when she’d been promoted to manager at Palladium Bank. The March sun warmed her face and the cool breeze held fresh green hints of spring. Saturday traffic clogged the street, and throngs of tourists wandered in and out of the small shops and pubs.

  She carried the suitcase through the store and back upstairs, with a wave for Maeve, who was showing some customers a selection of lubricants. “This one is water based,” Keara overheard as she passed by. She pursed her lips against the smile tugging them. Lubricants. Jesus.

  She spent a while unpacking her things, arranging her toiletries on the dresser, hanging some clothes in the small closet. Compared to the huge walk-in closet in her condo, it was miniscule, but then, she hadn’t brought her extensive wardrobe with her. Probably even the bank managers in Kilkenny didn’t dress in Donna Karan suits and Stuart Weitzman pumps.

  Keara shut the closet door and sighed. She loved clothes and shoes, and shopping was a major pastime for her and her girlfriends. But what did it matter here if she wore ragged jeans and T-shirts every day? Nobody would mind, and clothes didn’t seem worth worrying about.

  The quiet apartment sent her back down the stairs seeking some human contact. Maeve and Jayla stood behind the counter, Jayla ringing up a purchase for a customer while Maeve slipped a large box of condoms into a small, bright green plastic bag. Discretion must be the reason for the plain bag with no logo.

  Keara lifted her eyes from the purchase to the customer. The man laughed at something Maeve had said, and two deep dimples creased his tanned cheeks. Something fluttered low inside Keara and she stopped just inside the doorway.

  Sapphire eyes sparkled beneath dark, thick brows. Black hair cropped short on his perfectly shaped head, neat sideburns and a shadow of dark beard made him look just like an Abercrombie and Fitch model.

  Shane.

  Heat and memories swept over her as she stood there in the doorway. The last summer she’d been to Kilkenny she and Shane Dunstan had…connected. Combusted. They’d spent every minute they could together before Keara went back to LA to start college.

  He seemed taller. Did boys grow even after they were eighteen? He seemed broader, too, with powerful shoulders and arms stretching a black T-shirt. She swallowed, and just as she started to turn and leave, Maeve spotted her.

  “Keara, come here, muirnín. Come and say hello to Shane.”

  Keara felt her eyes grow wide and she swallowed through a dry throat. She forced her feet to move forward.

  “Shane, you remember Keara, surely?”

  Those gem-like eyes fastened on her. His brows lifted, then drew down into a frown. He didn’t smile. “Keara. Long time no see. Nice of you to finally visit your aunt.”

  Keara blinked. Had he just been snotty to her?

  “Shane is now the deputy police chief here in Kilkenny,” Maeve continued cheerily.

  “And a customer,” Keara added, eyeing the bag Maeve handed him.

  His lips twitched. “That’s right. Is that a problem?”

  She sh
rugged. “Not a problem at all. Nice to see the police shopping in a sex shop.”

  His brows snapped together. “What the…”

  “Keara,” Maeve said. “Shane is off-duty, and even police officers have sex lives.”

  And you don’t, Keara finished for her. Fine. She didn’t need sex. It was way overrated.

  Kayla’s cheeks heated and she lifted one foot and set it atop the other as she stood behind the counter. “Quite an active one from the size of that box,” she said, nodding.

  Shane grinned. “I’m hoping.”

  Oh lord. Who was the lucky girl he was going to be having sex with tonight? Keara’s cheeks burned at scorching memories of her and Shane together.

  He lifted the bag in a wave. “Thanks, Maeve. I’ll see you next weekend. Mom says you’re coming for dinner.” The smile disappeared. “Nice seeing you again, Keara.”

  Well. He apparently didn’t treasure those memories the same way she did. It was as if he didn’t even remember that summer. In fact, he’d seemed downright…cool toward her.

  “Have fun tonight!” Maeve called as he strode out of the store.

  “Shane has a hot date tonight with a woman from Santa Barbara,” Maeve said. “And it’s about time he started dating again. That bitseach he was engaged to broke his heart.”

  “Maeve!” Keara still remembered the Gaelic curses Maeve was fond of using.

  “She was a bitch,” Maeve replied unapologetically.

  Shane had been engaged? But apparently wasn’t married now. Keara rolled her lips in. Why was she even thinking about that? What had been between them was a long, long time ago.

  “And what was that rudeness about, may I ask, young lady?”

  Keara licked her lips. “He was rude to me first.”

  Maeve arched a brow. “He was?”

  “Never mind.” God, what was wrong with her? She’d never in her life been deliberately rude to someone. But that jab about finally visiting her aunt had struck a nerve she didn’t even know was there.

  “You and Shane were friends at one time,” Maeve said, tapping her lips with one finger.

  Ha. Friends. Had Maeve not realized what was going on between them?

  “Did you two have a fight or something that summer?”

  “No.” Keara looked at the floor.

  “Well, you just need to get reacquainted. Everyone loves Shane. Not only is he delicious-looking, but he could charm the moss off a tree. He’s so charming he can tell someone to go to hell and have him look forward to the trip.”

  Keara couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her at that.

  “And…” Maeve winked. “You should see him in his uniform. Jesus and Mary, he looks hot.”

  More customers entered the store and Jayla and Maeve became occupied helping them. Keara retreated upstairs to the apartment, head full of thoughts and images of Shane. She hadn’t thought about him in years. And there was no reason to think about him now.

  * * * * *

  Keara woke with a gasp. Her cotton tank clung damply to her skin. She stared at the ceiling, her heart thudding, taking in big lungs full of oxygen through her nose. She pressed a hand to her stomach.

  For a few heartbeats she didn’t know where she was. Moonlight peeked between the edge of the blind on the window and created a strip of lacy light through the curtain.

  Maeve’s. She was at Maeve’s. She was okay.

  But damn, she’d had the nightmare again.

  She took a few more deep breaths, her heart slowing. Then she sat up in the bed, shoving the pretty coverlet down her legs. She sat cross-legged in the dark for long moments, trying to forget the gruesome dream.

  She knew from experience she would not get right back to sleep. The doctor had told her not to lie there and dwell on things, but to get up and have a cup of herbal tea, read a good book, do some knitting.

  She didn’t know how to knit.

  Maybe Maeve knew how to knit. Or crochet. Maybe she could teach her.

  But that was no help tonight. She swung her legs out of bed, reached for the lamp and flicked it on. Shadows shrank back into the corners of the room. She stood on the soft cotton rug, straightened her tank top and ran her thumbs under the low waistband of the little shorts she wore. She’d brought a couple of books with her, so she retrieved one from the shelf she’d set it on, and looked back at the bed. Maybe she’d go sit in the living room and read for a while.

  Television was supposedly bad. It played with your brain waves or something, and interfered with sleep, rather than induce it, but after Keara found herself rereading the same page three times, she tossed her book aside and picked up the remote for the TV. Then she glanced down the hall at Maeve’s room. She didn’t want to disturb her aunt.

  She leaned her head back against the couch. The television provided voices almost like human company and she probably relied on it too much to soothe her agitated nerves.

  Herbal tea. Did Maeve actually have any of that?

  Keara padded into the kitchen and opened and closed cupboards, feeling a little like she was snooping. When she opened a cupboard and spotted the bottle of Jameson’s, she paused. With a little huff of laughter she recalled her aunt’s earlier insistence that they have a drink and toast Keara’s being there. “Sláinte chugat,” Maeve had said, lifting her glass.

  Another shot of whiskey might be the answer. Why not? It didn’t look like Maeve had any chamomile tea. So she poured amber liquid into a glass and wandered back to the living room. She peered out the window overlooking the street, now quiet and deserted, light pooling in a circle around paving stones beneath the street lamp. Alone.

  On a long inhalation, she turned and surveyed the room. Hey. She could go downstairs and look around the store. She could check out every single kinky thing there with nobody else around.

  On bare feet, she padded out of the apartment and toward the stairs, feeling for the light switch she knew was at the top. She flicked it on, descended and pushed through the door into the front of the store. She debated whether to put the lights on. She didn’t want to attract attention from anyone passing by but…there was no one passing by at this time of night. And wandering around in the dark shop did not appeal to her. She looked at the small clock on the desk behind the counter. Ten minutes after three.

  With a shrug, she flicked on the light and strolled over to a wall display, her glass of whiskey clutched in both hands. She lifted it to her lips and sipped, the strong spirits almost taking her breath away. How did Maeve drink this stuff? Give her a nice Pinot Noir any day.

  She studied the vibrators arranged on shelves. Rabbits, pocket rockets, bullets. Waterproof. Dual ended. Good lord, there was quite a variety. She’d left her own trusty rabbit back in LA. Along with her love of clothes, shopping and dining out, another thing she’d lost interest in over the last six weeks was orgasms.

  She moved along the wall to the lubricants. Another large selection. She studied lotions flavored with strawberry, pineapple and coconut, chocolate body paint and honey dust. Now that was intriguing…

  She paused in front of a display of lingerie, fingered the silky fabric of a cami set that was surprisingly pretty. Real silk in a rich gold color.

  A rap on the glass door had her whirling around, whiskey sloshing out of her glass over her hand, her heart surging in her chest. She gave a small cry, eyes searching at the dark window. Jesus, was someone out there?

  She saw movement, a dark head then a face at the door peering in.

  Her feet froze to the floor, skin prickling as every hair on her body rose, pulse skittering. Dear God, the place was being robbed. Run. She had to run. But as in her nightmares, when she tried to move her feet it felt like she was dragging them through thick mud, her legs heavy. She stood there paralyzed, blood pounding in her ears.

  Chapter Four

  “Keara!”

  Oh for— It was Shane. She pressed a hand to her racing heart, the adrenaline rush making her legs go mushy. With the l
ights on, she had to be clearly visible in there, so ducking out wasn’t an option.

  She cautiously moved to the door and glared at him, putting a hand on the door frame to steady herself. In the wake of the adrenaline rush, weakness slid through her.

  “What are you doing?” he asked, and she could hear him through the glass as well as read his lips. “Let me in.”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  He scowled. “Are you all right?”

  “No! You scared the crap out of me!” Now she slumped fully against the wall. She sucked in a long breath.

  “Keara, let me in!”

  “I’m not letting a strange man in here in the middle of the night.”

  “Keara. I’m hardy a stranger.”

  So he did remember. Her body tightened. Her eyes met his through the glass.

  “I’m also a cop, for Chrissake. I’m just trying to make sure everything’s all right.”

  “I don’t care if you’re Jesus himself,” she replied. “I don’t really know you.”

  He rolled his eyes.

  With a sigh, she punched in the numbers to disable the alarm system Maeve had showed her how to use so she could come and go as she pleased. She unlocked the door and Shane stepped into the store, closed the door behind him and flicked the lock again.

  “What the hell are you doing down here in the middle of the night?” he demanded.

  “I couldn’t sleep. I decided to come down and look around.”

  He stared at her and she realized he had a smear of something on his jaw. She gazed at it. “Uh…you have something…” She lifted her hand point at it and realized what it was. Lipstick. “You have lipstick on your face,” she said. “Guess the date went well tonight, huh? Make use of all those condoms?”

  Shane blinked at her, lifted a hand to his cheek.

  “Other side,” she said. He scrubbed at his stubbly jaw.

  Date? Condoms? Oh yeah. Considering he’d only rolled out of Laila’s bed an hour ago, he’d forgotten her pretty damn quickly. Maeve’s niece had knocked him off balance.

  She seemed a lot different than the passionate, vibrant girl he remembered. The girl who’d driven him wild with lust. Now she was pale, with dark shadows under those sparkling emerald green eyes that had bewitched him. Now, she could freeze whiskey with a glance of those witchy eyes.