Night Games (5 page)

Ally's sigh was long suffering. “Okay, what
should
I do if I run into something unexplained, and what does this have to do with that cat?”

“You should say ‘yes' and embrace the moment. You don't know if you'll ever get a shot at something that special again.” She winked at Brian. “Or if another big old Tom will ever again choose your bed to sleep in.” With that cryptic observation, she left the wagon.

“Katy's a little outspoken. Says what she thinks even if she flattens everyone with the saying.” The love in Ally's gaze as she watched her great-aunt leave belied her words.

Brian watched distractedly as Ally poured him a cup of coffee then put it on the table. He'd like to know more about Ally's life, but right now there was something else he needed to think about.

Brian narrowed his gaze on the cat. It returned his stare with malevolent yellow eyes. He knew
those eyes. They were the eyes of . . .

“Shoo cat.” Ally made flapping motions at the cat. It stared at her, unmoved. “Why won't it get off the bed?” Exasperation sharpened her voice.

She sat on the edge of her bed and tried to shove the animal out of her way. Fixing her with an unblinking stare, it hooked its claws into her bedding and stayed put. “Okay, give me some ideas here.”

Brian glared at the cat. What did a man have to do to get some peace? All he wanted was to be left alone for a few weeks, to relax away from all the stresses of his job. Was that asking too much? “It's not a
he
, it's a she. This is the Old One. She's my cat. Probably wandered in here because it was warm and comfortable. She's big into comfort.” May as well claim her. If he didn't, she'd make his life a living hell when he got back. Probably give Jupe a hassle over the incentive clause they were negotiating.

Ally cast him a puzzled glance. “You brought your cat with you?” She looked back at the Old One. “What a strange name.”

“Yeah. I call her Boss for short.” He stared into the Old One's self-satisfied eyes as he sat next to her on the bed. He'd have a few things to say to her once they were alone.

The Old One rose, arched her back and yawned, then climbed into his lap and curled up. Great. You couldn't just dump your team owner onto the floor.

“So what other kinds of books do you write?”
He ran his palm across the sheet that separated him from Ally, smoothing out the wrinkles.
Too bad he couldn't slide his hand across her bare stomach, her breasts.
Now that was the kind of thinking he should lose for the next three weeks. He had to learn to think in terms that didn't include sex.

She cast him a thoughtful glance. “I wrote a few successful books on how to be the perfect wife. What's a man's perspective on the subject?”

Absently, he rubbed his aching thigh. “A wife? Haven't thought about it much.” He wouldn't marry while he was with the team, but if he ever did marry he'd want a woman who could match his passion. He'd probably have to search the poorer planets to find a woman who didn't have all the sensuality leeched out of her. But there was something more he wanted. . . . “I'd like a woman who'd try to please me.” He'd never had a woman who wanted to do little things for him. Not his mother, not the women he satisfied during competition. Maybe a girlfriend would have, but he'd never had time for one.

Her narrowed gaze told him he'd said the wrong thing.

“I wrote books that taught women how to please men, but I was wrong. You try to please men and they leave footprints on your face as they walk out the door. From now on, men will have to do the pleasing.” She glanced down. “What's wrong with your thigh?”

“Muscle strain. Championship competition
puts a lot of stress on the thigh muscles. Right here.” Reaching over, he laid his palm high on her inner thigh, felt her muscles clench at his touch, felt his groin tighten in response, then felt the agony of red-hot needles stabbing a little too closely to his heavily insured, most valuable asset.

“What the hell!” Instinctively, he stood, dumping the Old One and her unsheathed claws onto the floor.

In a royal huff, she stalked over to the small fold-out table and leaped atop it, settling herself among the coffee cups.

“She's on the table.” Ally sounded horrified.

“Yeah, she pretty much goes where she wants.” Brian scowled at the Old One. He understood her game now. She was going to run interference with anyone in this time who might mess with her highest paid player. She'd better think again if she thought she could dictate what he did with his free time.

“You should break her of that habit.” Ally's expression indicated she was smart enough not to offer her services. “I'll be right back. I need to see how Katy's coming with the horse.”

He nodded. Probably he should offer to help, but he had some pressing business right here.

As soon as Ally left, he swung to face the Old One. “Bad choice of forms. Sure, it gives you an inconspicuous way to stick your nose in my business, but it has limitations. Know what I mean?” He grinned, and the Old One's eyes glittered angrily.
“For example, you can't talk. Tough.”

The Old One swatted at a cup, then watched as it crashed to the floor.

Brian shook his head. “Temper, temper. Everyone knows Serans are powerful shape shifters, but changing shape takes lots of energy.” Ignoring the Old one's slit-eyed glare, he cocked his head to study her. “How can I say this without insulting you? Got it. You're into minimal effort and conserving energy. Both of those are great things, but I guess you're stuck with being a cat for the month. Have fun.” He didn't stick around to see what else she'd break. He climbed from the wagon to join Ally.

Ally watched him walk toward her, and no matter how hard she tried to concentrate on grooming the horse, her mind insisted on imagining scenes from his fantasy.

“Where'd your great-aunt go?”

Don't pay attention to what he looks like. Remember, he wants a woman to please him. You've already tried the please-your-man thing, and it didn't work
. “She walked up to your keep. Says she isn't leaving until she finds a ghost or fairy.” Ally cast him a tentative smile. “Got any white sheets handy?”

He shook his head and drew her gaze to his hair. Thick and soft, it invited a woman's fingers. . . . Uh-Uh. She wouldn't go there. No touching any part of Brian Byrne. “Then I guess we're here for the long haul with a few day trips
thrown in for variety, unless you decide to throw us off your property.”

“You're not bothering anyone out here.”

His eyes said “lie” before he shifted his gaze from her. She smiled. Knowing that she bothered him made her feel . . . good. Go figure.

“So tell me about the book you're writing.” He sat on a nearby wall, legs spread.

His jeans were tight, but her throat was tighter. She coughed to clear it. “I'm trying to help recently divorced women adjust to single life by sharing my own experiences and my reaction to them.”

“And those experiences are?” He rubbed his aching thigh. Probably wasn't even aware he was doing it.

She
was aware. “Zip so far. Unless you count meeting a man who's traveled here from 2502.”

Ally waited for him to laugh. He didn't.

“No wild sex? Wild parties?” He drew his lower lip between his teeth. Another unconscious gesture.

His lips must ache, too. Overuse. Probably had RKS—repetitive kissing syndrome.

“I'm not a wild sex kind of woman.” Not that she was against wild sex. Too bad Dave had been at the tame end of the sex spectrum. Wild would have made for a refreshing change.

“If wild means unplanned, then I don't do wild either. I've had a long career because I think about each move, each word I say. That way, I maximize my results.”

Ally knew her mouth must be hanging open. He was seriously into his fantasy. “You sound so . . .”
Insane.
“Calculating.”

He shrugged. “To be a success in the sex games, a man has to make sure he has everything in control, timed perfectly. Sort of like your football pass. The quarterback has to know exactly where his receiver is and put the ball right on the money or else no score. It's all about timing.”

Right. Ally didn't have a clue what he was talking about, but she couldn't imagine sex being anything but wild with Brian Byrne.

Maybe they needed to get away from this topic. “I'm beginning to enjoy the research for Katy's book. I never knew there were so many varieties of supernatural beings associated with Ireland. I'm keeping a list according to physical appearance so if Katy thinks she sees one we can catalog it. Did you know the O'Neills are one of the few families that have a banshee?”

“Banshee?” He looked puzzled.

Strange. Everyone had heard of the banshee, even people who didn't have a drop of Irish blood. “She's supposed to appear in the guise of a woman, sometimes wearing a hooded gray cloak. According to tradition, she cries to warn members of certain ancient Irish families of their time of death. Let's see, I think they're the O'Neills, the O'Briens, the O'Connors, the O'Gradys, and the Kavanaghs.” Just call her Ally, the repository of useless facts. Maybe Dave was right about the boring part.

“That leaves me out.” Brian's gaze grew probing. “Do you believe in things you can't see, Ally?” He wasn't smiling.

She shook her head. “Sorry. I don't believe in things that go bump in the night.” Distracted, she noticed his cat had jumped from the wagon and was wending its way toward them. It wore a cream mustache that it was leisurely licking off. What nerve. The Old One had guzzled down the cream from their pitcher.

“Things that go bump in the night? I like that.” He slanted her a smile that hinted at a secret he wasn't going to share. “So I guess there's no way you'd believe in a time when contact sports don't exist, sex is the biggest game in town, and where white stags can travel into the past?”

“Not a chance.”

“Figures.” He stood and stared beyond her toward the castle.

She narrowed her eyes. “Exactly what does ‘figures' mean? And I've told you a lot about me, but I haven't heard any reciprocal dialogue here.” She amended that. “Okay, so I've heard a lot, but nothing too truthful.”

He ignored her. “Looks like your great-aunt has brought some company.” He didn't look happy about it.

She turned to watch Katy as she hurried toward them with a thin red-haired man in tow. “That's Mr. McDermott. He's the man who told us that if we walked around your keep at midnight
we'd meet Black Liam. I didn't believe him. Dumb me.”

He knew she expected a reaction from him, but he couldn't drag his attention from Capricorn Wilson as he approached wearing a sly grin.

Brian didn't know why he hadn't been knocked flat and ground into the dirt by the herd of stags stampeding to get their clients here before he arrived. He wondered who else was lurking in the bushes.

“Will you look who I found wandering up by the castle.” Katy grinned at Brian. “This here is Sean McDermott. He's the one who told us about this place. And would you believe he's a fan of American football. He's even wearing a Tennessee Titans jersey.” She pointed to the blue shirt with TITANS emblazoned across the front. “I told him those Titans should've stayed the Houston Oilers.”

“Not the Tennessee Titans, Katy.
Testosterone
Titans.” Brian glared at Cap.

Katy didn't miss a beat. “Well, that's okay, too. A man would be a sissy without some of that stuff.” She frowned. “Don't recall a team with that name, though.”

Cap stepped forward, the grin still pasted on his face. “Ach, sure-and-begorra 'tis himself returned to the ould sod to claim his rightful home. It warms the cockles of me old heart.”

“Feel that shaking?” Brian stepped closer.

Cap's grin slipped a little. “No.”

“That's every dead Irishman from the beginning
of time turning over in his grave.” Brian wondered if he could get a stag to take him back home. Since everyone he knew was here in 2002, he'd have peace back in 2502.

Katy wasn't one to be kept out of the conversation for long. “You know, Sean, you talk sort of different from the other Irish people we've met.” She cocked her head to study him. “You sound a little like a Saint Patty's day card.”

Cap cast her a wary glance.

Ally had been silent for too long. Probably thinking. Thinking was bad. He'd already told her too much.

She stirred beside him. “Maybe I'm wrong here, but I get the feeling you two know each other.”

Stupid. He'd let his anger at Cap goad him into saying more than he should have. “Nope. Never met him, but I've seen the jersey in stores around here. The Testosterone Titans are a local soccer team.”

Ally cast him a doubtful glance.

Help me here, Cap
.

Cap suddenly seemed to realize the value of discretion. “Sure and I've never met the lad, but I knew his father well. 'Tis the spitting image of his father, he is.”

Brian didn't get time to feel any deep relief because Cap was off and running.

“ 'Tis me prayer the lad'll stay here where he belongs for the rest of his life.”

Brian could almost feel the air vibrate as a low
growl started behind them. The growl rapidly grew in volume then exploded in a furious feline yowl of outrage.

Great. Just great.

 

 

 

 

Ally watched in horror as the Old One launched herself with claws unsheathed at Mr. Mc-Dermott. Every hair on the cat's ample body stood on end, puffing her up to frightening dimensions. A pit bull in feline form.

Wrapping her paws around McDermott's leg, she sank her teeth into the part of his ankle exposed by his too-short pants.