Between Love and Loyalty Page 8

  She scribbled the information on a scrap of paper and looked at the clock. She had a few hours, which was plenty of time to pick out an outfit and take a nap. She set two separate alarms to make sure she didn’t oversleep. As she closed her eyes, she thought of sitting by a campfire in Connor’s arms.

  * * *

  Connor’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He cut the power to the saw. Checking the screen, he did a double take. Dermott rarely called. “What’s up?”

  “You at home?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “Turn on the TV. Channel twenty. Your boy Cavanagh and his daughter are on.”

  Connor dusted off his hands and turned on the TV he kept near his workbench. The picture waved on the screen since the TV was old and reception far from great, but Fiona came into focus good enough. The reporter pretended to be deeply invested in Brady’s answers, so Connor turned the volume up.

  “Your opponent has accused you of living off your past success. We’ve covered all of the great things you’ve accomplished over your career in serving the city, but tell us about your plans for the future, Mr. Cavanagh.”

  Brady Cavanagh adjusted a perfectly straight tie before speaking. “I plan to continue to serve my constituents. I’ve been working closely with many businesses looking to expand. I want to bring those jobs, that revenue, to my neighborhood. To my people. My opponent can throw any accusation out he wishes to, but the fact remains, my track record proves my ability to serve the people. All he has is a list of wishes with no real means of accomplishing the tasks.”

  The reporter settled back in his chair. Connor’s eyes were glued to Fiona, who sat stiffly beside her father, smile frozen in place. Anyone who knew her would recognize the false pleasantry.

  Brady continued to drone on. “I’ve always put my constituency first. Nothing more needs to be said.”

  The reporter leaned forward again, this time zeroing in on Fiona. “In bringing up Patrick Neale, I don’t think it would be fair to ignore his statements last week. Ms. Cavanagh, would you care to address that?”

  Fiona’s eyes fluttered. “There isn’t anything to address. I met Patrick when he worked with my father. We dated for a while and things didn’t work out. We haven’t dated in over a year. Last week, he approached me about a possible reconciliation, which I promptly turned down.”

  What? How had Connor missed that bit of information? He’d checked for new stories daily. After a quick thought about the timing, he realized it was when Fiona had been looking to escape by going camping with him. While his brain processed this information, he watched as Fiona reached out and covered her father’s hand with hers.

  “Regardless of what some blogger chooses to say, my father knows he has my full and complete support.” Now the last vestiges of phoniness melted away as she looked at her father and offered a warm, genuine smile. “I’ve always believed in my dad, and nothing Patrick Neale says is going to change that. Brady Cavanagh works for the city because he loves the city. I’ll stand by him because I know he makes things better.”

  Connor stood, tension bunching his muscles. He stabbed the power button on the TV and stomped upstairs. He needed to find out what had been said about Fiona. Max met him at the top of the stairs and followed as Connor made his way up the second flight.

  Fiona’s words turned over in his head. She believed in her father. He saw the look on her face and knew she meant it. She’d spent so much time trying to escape her family that he’d been sure she wasn’t like the rest of them. That she was different.

  At his computer, he did his usual searches, but this time, added in Patrick Neale’s name. Sure enough, a blog post popped on the first page. Connor clicked and his stomach clenched. Picture upon picture of Fiona and Patrick Neale. Some were obviously old, but the top photo had been taken last week, the night she’d showed up at his house and they hadn’t fucked. She’d been upset and turned to him. He hadn’t offered her any comfort, yet when he called her drunk the next night, she came over.

  Even then, she’d let nothing slip. Her family must’ve applied pressure because of this. Maybe her family even told her to go away. Brady had a habit of sweeping problems under the rug.

  And then they trotted her out on TV days later.

  God, how he hated her family.

  Fiona’s smiling face, beaming up at her father intensified his anger. He didn’t know what to believe.

  One thing he knew for sure: never trust a Cavanagh.

  Later that night, Connor sat at Dermott’s bar getting drunk. Fiona had called and he ignored it.

  He told Dermott about Fiona, and Dermott let out a long, low whistle. “Shit, just like the rest of them. Liars, the whole lot.”

  Rehashing it didn’t make him feel any better.

  “Does she know you know who she is?”

  Connor shook his head. “Not that I’m aware.”

  “The publisher wanted newer stuff on them for the book. Use her and get the information. Think of the advantage you’d have.” Dermott wiped down the bar while he talked, but Connor saw the fire in the old man’s eyes.

  “I’ve been trying, but she says nothing about her family at all. Except to say her mother puts pressure on her to be something she’s not. When I ask questions, she ignores them or gets mad. Talk of family is off-limits.”

  Connor finished his beer and thought about Fiona. He should just walk away from her, but Dermott made a valid point. If the publisher wanted newer, fresher details, he had to get them from Fiona. Everything else he’d found would be as old as his story.

  Sliding off the stool, he waved at Dermott. This was one of those nights he was grateful he lived in walking distance of his favorite bar. That had been by design. He wanted to be near Dermott, the closest thing he had to family. Dermott had taken a chance on him after he’d gotten released from jail. Although he’d probably only done it out of loyalty to Connor’s mother, he’d watched out for Connor. Only Dermott knew the truth about him.

  Two houses down from his, he could hear Max barking and howling, and Connor stopped in his tracks. Fiona sat on his porch, huddled into her thin coat. Where was the woman’s brain? Why wouldn’t she have waited in her car? Or better yet, waited for him to return her call?

  She looked up and caught his gaze as he neared. Something shot through him, something he couldn’t quite name and didn’t want to figure out. He wanted to cling to his anger and resentment, which might lead him nowhere, but in his current state he didn’t think he could fool Fiona about his feelings.

  Fiona stood and met him at the bottom of his stairs. “Hi.”

  The single tentative word caused a storm of confusion in his chest. The breeze swept her hair across her face and she batted it away.

  “I’m sorry I showed up uninvited, but—”

  “It’s not a good time, Fiona.” The words snapped from this mouth. He sounded like a dick, but he couldn’t muster the energy to give a fuck.

  Max howled again and Connor attempted to move around Fiona.

  “Did I do something to make you mad?” She reached out and touched his arm.

  Although he couldn’t feel anything more than the pressure of her hand, he knew what her fingers felt like digging into his flesh, and his blood stirred in ways that weren’t safe for either of them. “No.”

  “Then what’s wrong?”

  “I don’t want to talk.” This time he succeeded in brushing past her.

  “Then let’s not talk,” she called from her place behind him.

  Connor paused, but forced his feet forward. Unfortunately, she took his lack of refusal as an invitation. He wanted to tell her to leave, but couldn’t. He pushed the door open and let Max jump on him. He ruffled the dog’s fur and hugged him. The simple act eased some of the emotion roiling in him. “Come on, boy.”

  Max ran ahead to the back door, smart enough to know there would be no walk tonight. When Connor returned to the living room, Fiona stood against the closed front door. Her coat hung on the
stair rail. Her nipples protruded through her thin shirt and he realized she wasn’t wearing a bra again. She didn’t speak, as he’d expected her to. She simply stared at him.

  He walked closer with the intention of telling her to leave. He wasn’t ready to deal with her on any level yet. And when he was, he’d be sure to be sober. “You should go.”

  Connor reached for the doorknob, but she slammed her back against the door to stop him from opening it. “I don’t want to. I thought we weren’t going to talk.”

  She hitched her chin up, her eyes defiant. She was looking for a fight as much as he was. She grabbed the waistband of his jeans and yanked.

  Her fingernails barely brushed his skin and his dick started to get hard. “I can’t give you what you’re looking for. Not tonight.”

  Fiona pushed off the door and cupped him with her free hand. His dick twitched with her groping. “I’m pretty sure you can.” Her hand left his waist and wrapped around the back of his head and pulled his face to hers.

  He didn’t resist the movement, mostly because he enjoyed her hand on his crotch, but when she pressed her mouth against his, he didn’t open. He didn’t want to taste her. Didn’t want to feel the relief she offered.

  But she insisted. She wasn’t being gentle, nor was she asking him to be. She shoved her pants down and stomped on them until she was free from clothing. Then she set to undoing his pants. He said nothing, just let her do what she wanted.

  When his cock sprang free from his jeans, and her cool hand wrapped around him, he reached for her, but she shoved his hand away. She lowered and took him into her mouth. At first, the shock of her warm mouth and cool fingers startled his sensitive flesh. Connor braced one hand against the door and grabbed her hair tightly with his other hand. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensations of Fiona licking and slurping against him.

  Then he made the mistake of opening his eyes and looking down. At that moment, she chose to look up into his face, her lips wrapped around his cock, and he couldn’t stand her wide-eyed enjoyment. He shoved away from the door, dislodging her from her position and grabbed her by the shoulders, raising her to her feet.

  Connor bent and pulled a condom from his pants pocket. Fiona reached for both the condom and his dick, but he held her back. He rolled the condom on.

  “Connor, I don’t mind—”

  Before she could finish whatever she planned to say, he spun her around and pressed her against the door. He moved her hair aside with one hand and bit down on the soft skin of her neck while his other hand roamed down her front. She was already wet. When his fingers entered her, she rocked against him.

  He bent his knees and shoved his cock into her. Her sudden sharp intake of breath was the only indication of surprise. She didn’t push him away and she said nothing. He kept one hand twisted in her hair, arching her back toward him. She braced her left forearm against the door as he pounded into her. He wanted to use her the way he’d felt used. But not Fiona, she wasn’t going to let that happen. She guided his hand back to her and used both their hands to stimulate her clit. He tried to jerk away, but she held tight.

  Within minutes, they were both moaning and grinding against orgasm. He pumped into her angrily and felt her tremble. His mind saw black, he heard nothing other than Fiona’s soft, “Oh God, yes.” His muscles went rigid as he emptied into her.

  She finally released his hand, which was now wet and sticky with her come. He pulled out of her and kept one hand on her back, not wanting her to turn around. He didn’t want to look into her eyes and see any emotion. He removed the condom and yanked his pants up so he could walk to the bathroom.

  He cleaned up and avoided his face in the mirror. When he returned to the living room, Fiona had already redressed, the only sign of their fucking was the smell of sex in the room and the bite mark he’d left on her neck.

  She stared at him, but her eyes held none of the anger or resentment or hatred he’d expected. She simply raised one eyebrow. “Want to talk about it?”

  A loaded question. Fuck no, he didn’t want to talk, least of all to her. So he answered the one way he could to get her to back off. “Do you?”

  “Nope.” She looked over to where her coat hung. “Do you want me to leave?”

  * * *

  Fiona’s heart pounded and it shocked her to realize she feared the answer. Connor scrubbed a hand roughly over his face. He’d been drinking, but he wasn’t drunk. When she decided to show up at his door, she wanted escape. She wanted to be the Fiona she’d been this weekend, not the Fiona who’d had yet another fight with her mother over her lack of family commitment.

  No matter what she did, her mother wouldn’t be happy. Fiona thought the interview went well, but of course Mom found flaw with Fiona’s comments.

  When Fiona arrived and saw the shadows in Connor’s eyes, she knew he needed an escape as much as she did. She couldn’t explain what had just happened between them. She wasn’t quite sure, but it had been different. It wasn’t the rough sex. It was raw. Connor clung to something so deep, he didn’t want to let it go.

  His lack of answer was enough and she reached for her coat.

  “No.”

  He spoke the word quietly and she wasn’t sure she’d heard him right, so she stopped. She turned to face him. He looked a little beaten down, the same way she felt. “No, what?” She wanted to hear him say it, needed to hear it.

  “I don’t want you to go.”

  Her heart slowed and she finally inhaled fully, but now she wasn’t sure she wanted to stay. Whatever had happened left them in a tentative place, awkward in a way they hadn’t been over the past week. She wasn’t ready to lose the freedom she had with him. So if he wouldn’t talk about his problems, she would help him ignore them. For her, life as usual.

  “I skipped dinner. Any chance of getting some chocolate chip pancakes?”

  And with the simple question, the darkness in his eyes lightened and he nodded. Connor led the way into the kitchen and he let Max back into the house.

  The dog rushed to her for attention and she gave it willingly. When Max was satisfied, he wandered off. Fiona pulled her hair into a ponytail and hopped onto the counter to watch Connor cook. He beat the batter and set the bowl beside her thigh while the pan heated. He reached up and brushed a finger gently over the spot where he’d bitten her. The soft stroke sent a shiver through her.

  He cleared his throat and said gruffly, “Sorry about that.”

  “I’m not.” She slid from the counter and wrapped her arms around him. At first he stood stiffly, but she didn’t care. She rested her cheek against his chest. Finally, he wrapped his arms over her shoulders and around her back and held her. She sighed.

  They were okay.

  She gently extracted herself. “Get cooking. I’m hungry.”

  He smiled, and although it didn’t make it all the way to his eyes, it was a start. He swatted her ass. “Then get out of my way.”

  They shared a meal and spoke quietly about Connor’s work. He didn’t ask about her family issues, and she knew he understood she only came to him to get away. She wondered how long she could keep it up without him wanting more.

  While they washed dishes together, Connor asked, “Doesn’t your family wonder where you disappear to when you come here?”

  Fiona shrugged. In all honesty, she hadn’t given it much thought at all. “It’s not like I live with my parents. As long as I fulfill my familial obligations, they don’t notice me and what I’m doing.”

  The little snippets of truth she let slide around him offered her so much relief. She wished she could let it all loose.

  “I have a hard time believing anyone could not notice you.” His arms circled her, his hands leaving wet prints on her shirt. He nuzzled her neck and licked the bruised teeth mark. “Are you spending the night?”

  “No.” She couldn’t. As much as she loved the escape he offered, she couldn’t pretend her life didn’t exist.

  His warm sigh brushed
her skin. “So I’m still the late-night booty call.”

  She didn’t know how to explain why he couldn’t be more. Then she had a thought. “You could come to the Halloween party at the outreach center. It’ll be fun.”

  “A Halloween party?”

  Excitement filled her. No one paid attention to her work there. “Yeah. We all dress up in costumes and play games with the kids. We could go out afterwards.”

  “What about your family?”

  “They never come to the party. I stopped inviting them a long time ago.” But this was a tricky election year. As a heavy contributor, her dad might want to make an appearance. If Dad brought it up, she’d ask Aiden to come as the family representative. Problem solved.

  “Maybe.”

  “You need a costume. Those are the rules.”

  “I’ll come as a carpenter.”

  “That’s not a costume—it’s what you are every day. Although I really like the sight of you in a tool belt.” Her words created the image in her head. Maybe she could stay a little while longer.

  “Send me the information and if I’m not working, I might stop by. Are you going to wear a sexy outfit?”

  “It’s a party for kids, so no, but I’m willing to change for you after.”

  He tugged her closer and she felt his erection poke her. His hands edged under her shirt, and she knew she wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon.

  Later that night, while she slid a beautiful antique button onto a wire, Fiona examined what happened with Connor. Something had shifted between them, but she didn’t know what. He’d been angry and she’d felt like it had been directed toward her, but he didn’t explain. While anything in his life could’ve caused the raw emotion, Fiona felt responsible. He’d taken her up against the door like he wanted to punish her. Unfortunately for him, it only turned her on more. If he’d expected her to run away screaming, he’d been wrong.

  She didn’t know what she was doing with Connor or where she’d expected it to go, but she couldn’t stop. She’d only known him a short time, and she felt best while with him. Even when he was angry and bent out of shape. She suddenly wished their relationship had started under different circumstances. What would happen when he found out her real identity? Would he ever be able to see her as a girlfriend instead of a booty call?