The Lost Sheenan's Bride (Taming of the Sheenans Book 6) (7 page)

“I don’t have anything else lined up, and it is interesting. And challenging.” She grinned and the shadows in her eyes disappeared. “And when I’m not stressed out of my mind…fun.”

It was that
moment her expression lit up, light dancing in her eyes that Shane realized he just might be in trouble.

He hadn’t wanted to like her, but she was impossible to dislike.

She was, to be precise, rather irresistible.

Manhattan was filled with sleek, smart, gorgeous young things, but Jet had something he rarely encountered.

Sincerity, coupled with magic. It was a rather dazzling combination, and it lit her up, made her shine, making him think of fairy lights strung in the limbs of a gnarled oak tree. She had roots and strength and yet she also had light…a pure, shimmery light, and right now, sitting across from him, she sparkled and glowed in the night.

If she wasn’t Harley Sheenan’s sister, he would have leaned across the table and kissed her.

He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to feel her mouth and breathe her in and taste her. Her lips were full and soft…the darkest pink…and he wondered how her lips would feel against his.

He didn’t want to use her, either. Didn’t want to.

He wished he could protect her. From himself. As well as the rest of the dangers in the world.

She didn’t know he was a danger. He hoped she didn’t trust him. He hoped her small-town upbringing had prepared her for wolves in sheep’s clothing.

“Who was the liar and cheat?” he asked.

The light in her eyes immediately dimmed. Her lips compressed, her expression shuttered. “And the scoundrel?” Her tone was mocking. “My boyfriend. Of two years.”

He hadn’t planned on asking the question. It just popped out. But maybe it was the right thing to say. She was leaning back now, her shoulders rigid, her guard back up.

“So he cheated on you?” he asked.

“Worse than that.” She looked past him, gaze fixed on a distant point across the restaurant. “He knew what I believed. He knew how I felt about something. We’d both agreed.” Her head turned and she looked Shane in the eye. “But it was a lie. He didn’t mean it. He had no integrity. None whatsoever.”

“Had he promised to marry you?”

She laughed out loud. Shaking her head, she tucked a long tendril of glossy brown hair behind her ear with the delicately beaded hoop earring. “
No
.” Still smiling she reached for her water glass, took a quick sip. “We’d been together, as I said, two years, and I thought I was pregnant. I told him. And before I could even go to the doctors and get it confirmed, he gave me an ultimatum. It was him, or the baby, not both. I had to pick.”

Her lips curved up, high, even as fire blazed in her blue eyes. “And that would be fine, if he hadn’t agreed before we ever slept together that abortion was
not
an option, at least, not for me. He knew how I felt, and he said those were his same beliefs.” She drew a quick breath, cheeks pink, eyes still flashing. “Thankfully it was a false alarm. I wasn’t pregnant. But it showed me who he really was, and I was crushed. I loved him. I’d thought we were going to be together forever.”

“And then what happened?”

“We broke up, and I decided to take a year off, and go have an adventure. Here I am.”

“Here you are,” he murmured, chest tight, body aching, thinking her boyfriend had been a fool. And not just a fool, but a liar. A cheat. A scoundrel. She was right on all accounts. “How’s your heart doing now?”

She smiled faintly. “Still a little banged up. But better. Stronger.”

“Good.” It was all he could do not to keep his hands to himself. He wanted to kiss her badly. He was hard and hungry and restless in a way he hadn’t been for a very long time.

He signaled to the waiter. The waiter approached quickly. “The check?” he said to Shane.

“No. The dessert menu.” Shane glanced at Jet. “Feel like dessert?” he asked, wanting her to say yes, if only to keep her in a public place, out of arm’s reach and relatively safe.

“Not really,” she answered. “Not unless you want something.”

He did want something. But it wasn’t on the menu. “Check is fine,” he told the waiter, blood thrumming through his veins. He was so hard he was uncomfortable, his jeans now far too tight.

Outside, he walked her to his rented car. He unlocked the passenger side door for her and swung it open but before she could climb in, he reached for her, one hand cupping her cheek, lifting her face to his. His head dropped and his mouth brushed hers, once, and then again. Teasing. Tasting.

She was wearing a light floral scented fragrance that made him think of spring just before it turned to summer, and he breathed her in…lilacs…gardenias…something delicate and fresh…

She tasted just as fresh and sweet. He wanted more. Shane deepened the kiss, the pressure of his mouth parting her lips ever so slightly. He stroked the seam of her lips and her mouth parted wider. She gave a little sigh of pleasure as his tongue explored her mouth and he pulled her closer, an arm low on her waist, his hand in the small of her back. They were standing between patches of dirt and ice-crusted snow and yet the night blazed, hot and bright.

He held her against him, a hand tangling in her thick, glossy hair. His kiss drank her in. Her taste was intoxicating…addictive. He couldn’t remember when he last wanted anyone this much.

When he finally lifted his head, she was clinging to the lapel of his coat, her blue eyes cloudy, expression dazed. “Um, wow,” she whispered, dropping her hands to bury them in her coat pockets. She took a step back. “Not bad. Apparently you’re quite good at a couple things.”

That kiss.

Wow. Just uh, wow.

It’d been five minutes since he’d kissed her,
at least
five minutes, as they’d left Livingston behind and were traveling south on 89, back to Marietta.

And yet her lips still tingled. Her whole body tingled. Every little nerve seemed to be awake and dancing.

Maybe the kiss wasn’t really that good.

Maybe it just seemed that good because it had been ten months since she’d last kissed anyone.

Maybe Ben was a lousy kisser and she’d forgotten that kissing could light her up like a Christmas tree.

Or maybe Shane was just damn good.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Shane said, breaking the silence.

“I was just trying to figure something out.”

He shot her a swift glance. “And what would that be?”

She shouldn’t say it. She shouldn’t. “Are you that good of a kisser, or was Ben just bad?”

For a long minute Shane didn’t say anything and her question just hung in the air between them. And then his hard jaw eased, and he smiled at her, the smile knowing, and more than a little wicked. “I’m just really good.”

She didn’t know if it was his smile or his words but she went hot all over, so hot it was like jumping into a boiling pot. “That’s pretty confident.”

His lips quirked. “Or honest.”

She looked at him, her gaze sweeping from the top of his dark head to the length of his sinewy thighs. The man was seriously appealing. “Girls must just fall at your feet.”

He didn’t answer right away. “I don’t have a problem meeting women, no.”

“So what are your rules when you date?” She saw the lift of his brow and hurriedly added, “You know what I mean. You obviously have them, because you’re thirty-something and single.”

“That’s because I’m married to my career. There is no time for a wife or kids.”

“Do you want kids one day?”

He shot her an indecipherable look. “Not planning on a family, but having grown up bounced from place to place, I’d never do that to a kid. If I made one, I’d raise him.”

He returned his attention to the highway and they drove in silence for a mile or two before Shane added, “I’m not a fan of abortion. I wouldn’t dictate to anyone else. We each have our own beliefs, but for me, life is life, and it needs to be protected.”

“You really mean that?” she whispered after a moment. “Or are you just saying what I want to hear?”

His laugh was low and rough. “I’m not a kiss-ass, no.”

She flushed and crossed one leg over the over, thinking the inside of the Range Rover suddenly felt far too small and warm. “I didn’t mean that.”

“Good. Because I’d never tell someone something just because I thought it was what they’d want to hear. If you ask me something, I’ll tell you the truth.”

“I’m glad.”

He shot her a cool glance. “Do you want to ask me something?”

She gave a tug on her seatbelt, trying to loosen it, feeling as if she couldn’t breathe. “No.”

“You can. Is there anything about the book, or the Sheenans—”

“No.” But she’d said it fast, too fast, and they both knew it. Jet swallowed hard, gathering her thoughts, and courage. “But if something comes up, if there is something I want or need to know, I will ask. I promise.”

“Good. Far better to ask, than to assume.” He flashed her a smile, his hard jaw easing, his teeth white in the light of the dash, and just that quick, lazy smile made her pulse drum and her chest ache with an emotion she couldn’t define.

She liked him, and she was going to have to be careful not to let herself care too much. Jet had a problem of caring too much…falling too hard. It was why she’d been avoiding dating. Better to keep men at arm’s length than let one close and risk getting hurt again.

Finally the lights of Marietta glowed in the distance. “Almost there,” she said.

Shane put on his signal as they approached the turn off for Marietta. “You mentioned rules earlier,” he said, braking for the off ramp. “And I guess I do have them. In my world, a man never turns his back on his woman, or his child. Ever. So if you want rules, those are mine. Other than that, everything else is negotiable.”

And then they were on Bramble, passing the high school, traveling the dark street to Kara’s.

Pulling up in front of Kara’s yellow house, Jet saw that the front porch light was on, and more lights shone from the inside. Kara must still be up.

“Here we are,” Jet said, reaching for the seatbelt buckle.

Shane shifted into park. “I’ll walk you to the door.”

“You don’t have to. It’s right there. I’m not—”

But he turned the engine off, and swung the door open and stepped out, ignoring whatever else she was going to say.

Jet frowned as his door slammed shut. She swung her door open, not about to sit and wait. She didn’t do helpless. She hadn’t been raised to be dependent. “Thank you for dinner,” she said crisply, meeting him on the pavement. “I had a great time.”

“Thank you for joining me,” he replied, matching her formal tone before his hard jaw eased and he flashed a crooked smile. He walked with her towards the porch. “I just hope it won’t get you into too much trouble with the Sheenans.”

The sidewalk was narrow and her shoulder brushed his chest as they walked. “It’s fine. Don’t worry.” She was so conscious of him there, next to her, as she reached into her purse, fumbling for the key. “Good luck with your book. I can’t wait to read it.”

“Is that it?” he asked, his voice husky, as if amused. “This is goodbye?”

“Well, you never know…we’re both busy. I might not see you again.”

“Marietta has a population of eleven thousand—if that. It’s kind of hard not to bump into people here.”

She flushed and hoped it was dark enough that he couldn’t see. “That’s true. Our paths will probably pass. Again. Sometime.”

“Or, we don’t wait for our paths to cross, and we make a plan. Set a date. Say for brunch on Sunday? I’ve been told the Graff does a very nice Sunday brunch.”

Her pulse jumped. The Graff, being the Graff Hotel, also known as Troy Sheenan’s hotel. He’d bought the abandoned turn-of-the-century hotel and spent a decade restoring it. Today it was the finest four-star hotel between Three Forks and Yellowstone but it was also a place that she probably shouldn’t go with Shane. “I usually go to church with Harley and the kids on Sunday. It’s kind of our tradition.”

“Brock doesn’t go?”

“The Sheenans aren’t big on attending services, but they say a blessing at dinner, and prayers with the kids.” She looked up at him. “Do you attend church?”

“No.”

“I guess you fit right in then.”

“Except that I’m not a Sheenan,” he retorted.

“Obviously. I didn’t mean that. I just meant—” She struggled to find the right words, and then shrugged. “Never mind. Doesn’t matter.”

“So no to brunch,” he said.

“If we care about what others think,” she said.

“I don’t care, but I know you do, and I respect that.” He reached into his coat pocket and withdrew his car keys. “I’ll see you when I see you. If not at the diner then maybe at Java Cafe.”

Disappointment flooded her. His tone was kind. His words had been kind. He’d said nothing offensive and yet her heart just fell, toppling all the way down. She didn’t want to wait days, or weeks, to see him again. She didn’t want to leave everything so open ended.

She’d loved tonight. Even the uncomfortable and awkward parts.

“I’ve never been to the Graff to eat,” she said hesitantly, feeling her way through this. “I’ve had a drink in their lounge, and I understand at Christmas they do this festive holiday tea on weekends, and a Santa Brunch a week or two before Christmas—” She broke off, gulped air. “Do you think it’s terrible that I want to go to brunch with you?”

“No. But I don’t think you’re someone who can handle disappointing her family.”

“We’re not getting married. We’d be having brunch.”

“This is true.”

She looked away, frowned as she remembered how upset Cormac had been tonight. If he didn’t like her having dinner with Shane in Livingston, he definitely wouldn’t like her meeting Shane for brunch at the Graff. But Cormac wasn’t her brother or her father, and he wasn’t the easiest of men, either. He had a stubborn streak a mile long and tended to do what he wanted to do…regardless.

“The hotel’s history is fascinating,” she said after a moment. She turned her attention back to Shane. “Do you know it?”

“A little. I stayed there for a few days when I first arrived in town. Met Dillon Sheenan in the hotel bar for lunch to discuss leasing the Sheenan place. The bar was nice. It looked like a pub, very masculine but stylish.”