Between Love and Loyalty Read online

  “Here.” He reached into the slot on the dashboard and grabbed a business card. “You call me if you’re interested.”

  He handed her the card and threaded his fingers into her hair pulling her across the seat toward him. He kissed her breathless and then whispered, “Be interested.”

  She nodded slowly and climbed out of the truck. He waited until she entered her building before driving away. Fucking a Cavanagh probably wasn’t his wisest move, but he saw no other way to get close. While she’d been looking for a fuck, he hoped he’d be able to get more.

  Fiona had been an unexpected but very welcome addition to his night.

  * * *

  Fiona let herself into the condo with a smile on her face. She tossed her keys on the kitchen counter, grabbed a bottle of water, and headed for a shower. She felt limber and relaxed, but energized.

  While rinsing the shampoo from her hair, an idea for a new necklace struck her. She’d been in a slump and needed to create some new pieces. She dried quickly, pulled on shorts and a T-shirt, and went to her office. Her mother thought the spare bedroom was a luxury, but it turned out to be a great workspace. She had room for all of her tools and the odd stuff she bought simply because it looked cool.

  Her mother had little patience for Fiona’s love of things. In some ways, Fiona was a bit of a pack rat, but she’d been able to use that quality to her advantage. She made jewelry from all the trinkets she came across and bought just because. Mom had mostly ignored Fiona’s jewelry designs until her mother’s friends took notice. After all, who wouldn’t want a one-of-a-kind piece?

  Sheila’s friends helped launch Fiona’s business, and although she could open a storefront of her own, she preferred to stay small. She had an online store and did some pieces on consignment at a few Chicago shops. Her money was steady, but because she was still relatively unknown, Sheila wasn’t happy.

  Fiona didn’t want to use the Cavanagh name to get places. She just wanted to be herself. As she pulled out her tools, she thought about Connor and the way he’d whispered her name while they had sex. He had no idea who she was and he wanted her. He required nothing other than the night. She wondered how long that could last.

  She began sketching her ideas for work and toyed with the concept of leading a double life. Could she be with Connor and keep her family a secret? Would he get suspicious?

  Fiona pushed everyone from her mind and set to work. She worked through the night and hadn’t realized it until her phone rang. When she focused on the window, sunlight crept around the edges of the blinds. The phone stopped and started again.

  Mom. She was the only one who called until Fiona picked up. Rubbing her eyes, Fiona grabbed her phoned and answered. “Hi, Mom.”

  “Hi, honey. I’m calling to make sure you haven’t forgotten about the fundraiser tonight.”

  “Huh?”

  “I knew it. I’ve told you about this repeatedly. We need the entire family to attend. You probably haven’t purchased a dress, either. Goodness. Be ready in an hour. I’ll be there to take you shopping.”

  “Mom, I have clothes in my closet. I’m sure I have something appropriate.” She mentally scanned her closet and knew it was nothing more than a prayer. She usually donated the crap her mother made her wear.

  “Fiona, we’ve been over this. You cannot walk around like some artsy hobo. The constituents have expectations.”

  “The constituents should be more concerned about Dad’s policies than where I bought my dress.” Fiona went to the kitchen and poured a glass of orange juice.

  “An hour, Fiona.” Then she hung up.

  It looked to be one hell of a day. She changed into a pair of ripped jeans to make her mom crazy and paired them with a comfy gray sweater. She finger-combed her curls and lay on the couch to wait.

  Sheila Cavanagh was never early nor late. If she said an hour, she would arrive in exactly sixty minutes. By Fiona’s estimation, she had fifteen minutes for a power nap.

  When her doorbell rang, she didn’t bother to answer. Fiona stumbled off the couch, grabbed her purse—the giant one which held everything she could ever need—and went down to meet her mother.

  When the elevator door opened, Fiona saw her mother tapping her feet. “Hi, Mom.”

  “Why didn’t you buzz me in?”

  Because I didn’t want to hear the criticism of my place. Again. “I was ready and I want to get this over with as soon as possible.”

  Sheila stared at her for a moment. “You haven’t slept.” One eyebrow shot up. “Why not?”

  Fiona rolled her eyes. She and her mother had never had the kind of relationship where they shared personal details. “I worked last night.”

  She pushed through the exterior door and walked out onto the street. Sheila followed at a clipped pace. Fiona stood a good five inches taller than her mother and used her long legs to her advantage.

  Sheila walked around to the driver’s side door. At least she drove herself today. Fiona hated when her mother sent a town car with a driver. Once in the car, Sheila removed her sunglasses and stared at Fiona. “Are you seeing someone new?”

  Connor swept into her head and Fiona wondered what her mother would think of him. Hi, Mom. Meet Connor. I picked him up at a bar and all I know about him is that he makes furniture and he’s great at making me come. Fiona snorted to keep her laugh in. Lack of sleep was starting to get to her. She shook her head to dissuade any further questions.

  They drove to Michigan Avenue to hit all of her mother’s favorite stores. Sheila meant to keep it simple by sticking to the department stores: Saks, Neimann Marcus, Bloomingdale’s. Stores Fiona never stepped foot in. If Target was sufficient for the first lady, why the hell wasn’t it okay for the daughter of a lowly alderman?

  But Fiona knew it was useless to try to talk her mother out of it and so she paraded through the dressing rooms in whatever Sheila tossed at her. Three hours later, Fiona was the proud owner of five new dresses. Obviously, Sheila didn’t want to have to make any more trips to ensure Fiona dressed appropriately.

  Over the course of their shopping expedition, Fiona didn’t speak; she knew better and let her mother steer the conversation. She half-listened to the details for the evening and other upcoming events.

  “Don’t forget we have your cousin Kelly’s wedding next month. She said she’s keeping it small, but you know how that side of the family is. For the wedding, you can probably wear one of the dresses we bought today.”

  Fiona nodded. She’d forgotten about the wedding. She hated weddings. Correction, she hated being a single guest at a wedding. People would grill her about when it would be her turn. They’d quickly glance at her ring finger in search of a diamond, wondering why she wasn’t announcing her engagement. They’d question why she wouldn’t rush the crowd of single women to jump and catch the bouquet.

  Maybe she could conveniently get the stomach flu the night before.

  They pulled in front of Fiona’s building. She hefted her bags and hip-bumped the door.

  Her mother rolled down the window and called, “Take a nap. And do your hair.”

  After an incredibly long and restful nap, Fiona did as she was told. She struggled with the flat iron to straighten her hair into the sleek look her mother preferred. Half an hour through the process, she became frustrated. She grabbed Connor’s card and dialed, not quite sure what she planned to say.

  “Hello?” His deep, rough voice came across the line above noise in the background. He was working.

  “Hi, Connor. It’s Fiona.”

  “Hey. Hold on a minute.” A moment later the background quieted. “I’m glad you called.”

  “Sorry to interrupt your work.”

  “One of the perks of working for myself is that I can take a break when a beautiful woman calls.”

  She smiled, even though it was just a line.

  “Something on your mind?”

  She’d forgotten she’d been the one to call. “Um, yeah. I have this fami
ly thing I have to go to, but I was wondering if maybe you might be free late tonight.”

  “How late?”

  “Ten, maybe eleven?” It would give her enough time to make an appearance, have a crappy dinner, and shake hands with people who would vote for her dad. Nervous flutters in her stomach reminded her how much she wanted Connor to say yes.

  “You want to meet somewhere, or come over here?”

  “I can come to your house.” Yes. Something to look forward to during this dreadful night. “Should I call when I’m on my way?”

  “No, I’ll be here.”

  “Okay, see you then.”

  “I’m looking forward to it.”

  Fiona disconnected and went back to wrangling her hair into place. With thoughts of Connor undressing her, she chose an emerald-green bra and panty set to wear under the conservative gray dress her mother had chosen.

  * * *

  Fiona fidgeted at the banquet table. Her cheeks hurt from holding the same smile for hours. Her father stood to finally take the podium and her smile dropped. Watching him take command of a room always inspired her. She tended to get a little choked up when he went into full-on patriotic mode.

  The thing was, he believed everything he said. Despite the phoniness of the politics and the glad-handing, he made her believe. Over the years, he’d made a difference in the city and she wanted to think that even if he weren’t her father, she’d still vote for him.

  He started every speech in much the same way: Chicago is a great city, rivaled by no other. She leaned forward and held her chin on her fist to listen to her dad. God, she loved to hear him speak. Emotion swelled and she began to think about what kind of jewelry she would make for this election. Ever since childhood, she made something special for the election, a bit of a good luck charm for her father to have while campaigning.

  She remembered his first election. The flurry of activity around their family was overwhelming, but the first time she heard her dad speak, she’d recognized it as something special. Her chest filled with so much emotion, she had no way to explain it. Instinctively, she knew he was where he belonged—doing this. Most kids never understood that about their parents. They didn’t get to see them at work, doing something they were passionate about.

  Brady Cavanagh was as passionate about the city of Chicago as he was about his family. When Fiona made him a flower out of tissue paper for election night, she figured he’d keep it safely tucked in his pocket for good luck, but when he took the stage, her flower stuck in his lapel, having replaced the rose her mother had put there.

  Not only had Fiona felt special that night, but she also felt part of something bigger. For all of his faults, her father cared about many things. That caring reverberated every time he spoke to a crowd.

  The timbre of his voice reminded her of another deep voice, which had a much different effect on her.

  She closed her eyes and a picture of Connor popped in her head. The freedom of the night before took over. Her eyes flicked open and she realized if she bolted from her seat, it would cause a scene, so she leaned back and let memories of last night transport her to relaxation.

  Connor’s ragged breath echoed in her ear and she felt his rough hands stroke and rub and grab her in all the right ways. She shifted her hips as the thoughts turned her on. None of her father’s words penetrated the fantasy. Her skin warmed and her breath hitched.

  She shook her head to clear her mind, needing to focus on her dad for the evening.

  “This city needs experience and dependability. I stand before you today to ask for your support in keeping Chicago strong.”

  When her father wrapped up his speech, the crowd clapped and reporters snapped photos. Her mother called Fiona up on the stage, using nothing more than her eyebrows. As Fiona stood to join her family, she briefly wondered if all moms had that ability.

  Without grinding her teeth too much, Fiona managed to make it through another hour of listening to people stop her dad and ask questions about his policies. She couldn’t understand why they wanted her in attendance. She added nothing to the conversation. Her mother simply expected her to smile and be pretty.

  Her father spoke about utilizing tax breaks to lure more business to the city. Fiona needed a break. She eyed the door and wondered how far she’d get before anyone noticed her missing. She’d driven herself, which made escape even more tempting.

  She touched her father’s arm and leaned forward. “Excuse me. I need to go freshen up,” she said politely. Her plastered-on smile earned her a wink from the older man her father spoke with and a peck on her cheek from Dad.

  When she got to the hall near the bathroom, she waited to see if her mother would follow. Five minutes passed and Fiona snuck back to the edge of the banquet hall. Everyone carried on without her. Even her mother seemed to be in full party mode.

  It was now or never. She made a break for it.

  * * *

  Connor worked late trying to get caught up on an order for a dining room set. The table had been constructed for a while, but he was behind on getting the eight chairs done. He’d wanted to have the chairs finished so he could move onto staining them, but he was working slower than usual. Thoughts of a sexy redhead distracted him enough that he’d made some rookie mistakes.

  He brushed sawdust from his shirt before heading upstairs. The clock read nine, so he had time to eat a quick sandwich and take a shower. The anticipation of seeing Fiona again surged through him. He’d tried to do some more digging to understand how she fit into the family dynamics, but he came up empty. Other than usual campaign appearances, Fiona didn’t appear to have much to do with the rest of the Cavanaghs.

  Getting details from her without causing suspicion would be a challenge. In the meantime, he’d enjoy the other benefits of being with Fiona Cavanagh. In the back of his mind, a little voice told him he should feel guilty for sleeping with the girl, but his dick quashed that noise.

  He stood barefoot at the kitchen sink chomping on a ham sandwich with Max sitting at his feet, waiting patiently for a bite. Connor tossed the dog the last bit of bread and drank from a bottle of beer. The doorbell rang. He checked the time and went to see who was there.

  On his front porch stood a very dressed up, sleek, and rich-looking Fiona. She definitely looked like a Cavanagh tonight. When he swung the door open, her face brightened with a huge smile.

  “You’re early,” he said by way of greeting.

  “I can go drive around the block for a while if you want.”

  “Hell, no.” He reached out and pulled her into his living room. “What happened to your hair?”

  Her wild curls were gone. She touched it self-consciously and he realized it sounded more like a criticism than a question. And in a way, it was. He preferred her crazy curls. “It looks good, just different.”

  She sighed. “I had to go to a fancy dinner and my mother likes my hair tame. Tomorrow it’ll be back to a frizzy mess.”

  “I like the frizzy mess.” He ran his hand down her sleek hair. The same silk he’d tangled his fingers through the night before, but so different.

  She leaned in and kissed him. It was a quiet, searching kiss.

  He tried to pull away, but she followed. Against her lips he said, “Hold that thought. I worked late and I’m covered in sawdust. I was on my way to the shower.”

  Her lips curled into a smile. “Mind if I join you? The minute water hits my hair, the curls spring back.”

  Her offer had him hard and he nodded.

  On the way up the stairs, she asked, “Do you have some clothes I can borrow? A shirt and some jogging pants or something? I have your sweatshirt but forgot it in my car.”

  “You’re one of those women, huh?”

  “Those women?”

  He smiled and went to the bedroom to find her something to wear. “The ones who like to borrow a guy’s clothes.”

  “Actually, yes, I am one of those. A man’s shirt makes a woman feel sexy. It’s big and s
mells like him. But I hadn’t planned on stealing your clothes tonight.”

  He grabbed a T-shirt for her. If he had his way, she wouldn’t need anything else. “What was your plan?”

  She stepped out of the heels she wore and turned so he could unzip the dress. “My plan was to taunt you with my sexy underwear, have sex with you, and then leave the way I came.”

  He dropped the shirt he held. His breath hissed along with the zipper as he caught a glimpse of green satin. He kissed her back on the path left bare by the gaping material. She smelled as soft as she felt.

  She turned and dropped the dress. The stiff material stood a little on its own and she stepped out of it. His mouth watered looking at the green satin cupping her pale breasts. He would’ve been better off waiting to undress her until they were in the bathroom; they might not make it that far.

  Fiona took another step toward him and kissed his cheek and then his neck while tugging his shirt away from his jeans. He grabbed her shoulders. “Wait. I’m all sweaty and dusty.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “I like the way you smell.” She tucked her nose to his neck just below his ear and sniffed, her soft lips grazing the sensitive skin. It was the one spot on his body a woman could use to bring him to his knees and he never shared that tidbit of information.

  Leave it to her to find it without trying. Again, she pulled his shirt, allowing her nails to scrape against his stomach and then chest. He yanked the T-shirt from her hands and whipped it over his head. Her fingers were already busy at the button of his jeans. His dick strained against the seam and instead of freeing it, Fiona stroked him through the denim.

  “I don’t think a shower is what’s really on your mind, Connor.”

  “It was until you showed up. Now, the only thing filling my head is you.” He stared into her big blue eyes and saw the heat and desire. She was easier to read than a picture book. “Come with me.”

  She giggled. “I’d love to come with you. A couple of times maybe.”