The Morning After (16 page)

“I was having a drink, with Suz,” she started.

Sean jotted down notes. “How much did you have to drink?”

“I’d had a couple,” she admitted. “Soda and limes.”

“No booze?” Sean’s eyebrows rose.

“I was driving,” Cara explained. “I don’t drink and drive.”

Sean scribbled something. “Right. So, you weren’t under the influence of drink, then.”

“No.” She was under the influence of love. “This man stalked up to the table and plonked himself down. He didn’t even ask if we minded him being there.” She rubbed the side of her jaw line, irritation blooming again at the journalist’s cheek. “He told me he’d found out I was back from America, and that he’d been doing some
asking around
.” The words tasted foul, contaminated by the thoughts that accompanied them of a stranger questioning her friends and neighbors. “And he said he’d discovered that my relationship with Ethan was
on-the-rocks
.”

“Hardly a reason for assault, Cara.”

Cara gazed into eyes so like Ethan’s her heart clenched. “I didn’t hit him, then.”

“Go on.”

“He started calling Ethan names. He said he was a heartbreaker, a ladykiller.”

Sean nodded.

“I told him our parting was a mutual decision. I thought that would be the end of it.” She glanced down at the pock-marked Formica desktop. “And then he called Ethan a tough bastard.” Cara’s hands clenched into fists as the moment replayed in her mind. “He sneered it, as if inviting me to agree with him.” Her gaze flicked to Sean again. “I lost it. Before I knew it, blood was pouring from his nose.”

She clasped her hands in her lap. “I’m sorry, Sean. But I don’t regret it for a moment. That slimeball deserved it. He
can’t
say that about Ethan, I—”

“You won’t let him?” Sean put down his pen.

“No. I won’t.”

Sean crossed his arms. “Do you love my brother?”

Cara felt her eyes widen. Surely that wasn’t on the list of regular garda questions? She swallowed, and faced the question head on. “Yes.”

Sean grinned. “Thought so. Now, let’s work out how to get you out of this. The last thing I want to do is arrest Ethan’s woman.”

Half an hour later, Cara walked free from the garda station. Apologizing to the journalist was one of the hardest things she’d ever had to do, but there had been no alternative. She was genuinely sorry she’d resorted to violence—but he
had
deserved it. Luckily, the man had enough brains to know he’d crossed the line, and her apology had been swiftly followed by one of his own.

Her parting conversation with Sean replayed in her head as she climbed into her car to drive home.

“Ethan doesn’t need to know about this, right?” she’d said, eyeing Sean.

He shook his head. “Too late. I spoke to him last night.”

She started the engine. After she’d had a bath, and a grilling from all members of her family, she’d have to call him.

****

Ethan rang the front door bell again. Still no answer. He clenched his hand into a fist and hammered on it instead, feeling the wood shudder.

“Okay!” a shout, followed by the sound of someone rushing down the stairs full pelt. “Ryan, I was in the bath…”

The door jerked open.

Cara stood wrapped in a towel and covered in soapsuds. Her hair was tied in a messy updo, dripping at the ends. Her mouth gaped at the sight of him.

“Step back.” Ethan stepped forward as she obeyed. He tipped her chin up. “What’s this I hear about you getting arrested?” He frowned, playing the part as easily as he played Crash Carrigan.

“How did you—”

“An airplane, sweetheart.” Ethan held back the grin that wanted to escape at the sight of her. He breathed in her familiar scent, itched to pull her into his arms, but not yet…not yet… “You didn’t answer me.”

Her tongue swiped across her lips. “I had an…
altercation
, in the bar.”

Ethan tsked. “That’s not like you. I thought you had a reputation to uphold in this town.”

Her face scrunched up. She looked awkward, embarrassed. “Someone said something I didn’t like.”

“Violence is never the answer.” Keeping a straight face was too hard, Ethan felt his mouth twitch.

Cara’s gaze was on his mouth. “You know…” she breathed.

“That you hit him for saying something bad about me? Yes.” Ethan reached out and pulled her into his arms. Her wet skin slipped beneath his hands, suds from her arms dampened his jacket, and he didn’t care. “You deserve a kiss for that.”

It had been too long. Too damned long since he’d kissed her. And if the way she sighed and wrapped her arms around him were any indication, too damned long for her too.

When he finally pulled away, they were both breathing fast, and the blue of her eyes was swallowed up by the black lagoons of her irises.

“I’m here…”

She breathed in and held it.

“To post your bail.”

Her body shook. She laughed so hard she almost fell over. “I thought you were going to say something else,” she said, when she finally could. “God, I’ve missed you.” Her hands cupped his face. “I’ve really missed you,” she added in a husky voice.

“I’m also here to fetch you.” Ethan considered teasing her again, maybe something about not being able to leave such a loose cannon alone, but gave up on it as the warmth of her hands and the slow caress of her fingers drove all coherent thought from his head.

“I love you,” he murmured. “I can’t stand being without you any more. When Sean called, I had to come, had to tell you how I feel.”

“I love you too.” The truth shone from her shimmering eyes. “These past weeks have been torture without you.”

“You had things to do… If you need to—”

Cara shook her head. “All I need is you. Nothing else matters. I thought I needed to have a life, rather than just live in yours. Thought I needed a job, something that I’d created, rather than just be another hanger-on girlfriend. But being without you hurt so much, I realize none of that is important.”

“I don’t want you to be another hanger-on girlfriend either. Which is why I tracked down that reporter and gave him an exclusive.” He kissed her soft upper lip, loving her familiar taste. “No doubt it’s trending on twitter as we speak—will she, won’t she?”

Cara frowned. “What?”

“Ethan Quinn can’t live without Cara Byrne – will she accept his proposal of marriage?”

Her smile was like the sun breaking through the clouds. Her entire body seemed to glow as her arms tightened around his neck. “She will. She does.”

And as she went up on tiptoe to kiss his lips, the world had its answer.

THE END

Be sure to check out these other great romances also by Sally Clements.

New Beginnings – Short stories

Catch Me a Catch

Marrying Cade

Bound to Love

To contact Sally Clements, or to be placed on a mailing list to receive updates about new releases, click the ‘contact me’ link on my blog.
http://www.sallyclements.blogspot.com

I love twitter, even when I should be doing other things like writing, so do follow and say hi! I’m
@sallywriter

If you enjoyed The Morning After, here’s the first chapter of Bound to Love…

Chapter One

The lift doors slid shut. Tempest MacKenzie rooted for her cell phone.

‘I got it, Skye.’ She grinned at her sister’s whoops of joy. ‘I know. I’m so relieved.’ She traced the edge of the stiff plastic folder, happiness within soaring like a bird.

‘You were lucky.’

Skye had a flair for understatement.

‘I know.’

Without the contract, Tempest’s mother would have had a field day, citing it as yet another example of her foolish, impetuous nature. And her usually friendly bank manager would be demanding a meeting when her loan expired.

‘It was risky, making the bracelets before I got the contract. But I knew it would all work out.’

It wasn’t the first time she’d let her intuition be her guide, and it wouldn’t be the last. Thank goodness everything had turned out all right. The alternative was too ghastly to contemplate. She’d be broke, with a couple of very expensive bracelets all she had to show for it. Tempest pulled in a breath as the elevator counted down to G, and glanced at her watch.

‘I’ll be home soon. I’m heading for the six o’clock train.’

Tempest stowed the phone safely in her bag and gazed at her reflection in the lift’s mirrored wall. She smoothed a hand over the rippling wave of red hair falling to just below her shoulders. She had spent ages taming it and the results were well worth it. The short-sleeved white shirt teamed with the grey pencil skirt looked professional too.

Tempest had always wanted to be a jewellery designer, and her fascination with Egypt had fuelled her direction of specialization. With this latest job, she’d achieved the high profile commission which would launch her as one of the world’s foremost master jewellers; what’s more, the museum had offered a ten percent bonus to complete the bracelets to a tight schedule. She hadn’t done the sums yet, but she’d soon be out of the red and into the black with money to spare.

The doors slid open and Tempest stepped out into a concourse that swarmed with bustling people. They followed invisible trails across the huge open space, and the air hummed with voices and hurrying feet. Light streamed through the patchwork of glass triangles that studded the British Museum’s dome, flooding the space with light and painting patterns on the marble floor.

She barely registered a fast moving blur to her left, and then gasped as a body slammed into hers. Hard.

In slow motion, the file slipped and tumbled to the ground through her nerveless grasp, its contents fanning out onto the cream marble. Firm fingers gripped her upper arm, shooting a bolt of electricity through her. Tempest wobbled, and instinctively bent down for the folder.

‘Leave it, I’ll get it,’ a deep voice commanded. ‘Are you all right?’

Emerald-green eyes blazed from beneath black brows, frowning in concern. A strong, straight nose, killer cheekbones and a gorgeous mouth completed the package. Black hair curled over the neckline of his T-shirt, and he pushed an errant lock back roughly with a lean hand. The man’s fingers still grasped her arm, and her skin buzzed from the point of contact on her bare skin. She was only five foot two, but the stranger topped her by a good foot. He must be six foot three, maybe six four.

‘I’m sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going.’ The hand disappeared and he bent to retrieve her folder. ‘There you go.’

Warm fingers brushed hers as he handed it over, and the warmth of his smile melted her insides like ice cream left out in the sun. She blinked rapidly, fighting for breath as her heart slammed in her chest.

‘Are you sure you’re all right?’

Her face was hot.
Damn it, she was blushing again.
She swallowed, and forced out a breathless reply. ‘I’m fine, I wasn’t paying attention either.’

He reached down to pick up his briefcase, and her heart thumped in an erratic bongo rhythm as she scanned every gorgeous inch. She’d given up men as a bad idea after her last foray into love, but this man was challenging her decision.
Big time.

‘Well, if there’s no harm done.’ He glanced towards the exit.

‘None.’

Tempest smoothed a hand over her pencil skirt, wishing she could smooth her shredded nerves as easily. The clouds of fog in her brain started to dissipate.
The train
. She had to get going. Her feet, however, stayed glued to the spot.

‘Goodbye.’

Years of training in the art of polite conversation kicked in, and she automatically stuck out her hand. He grasped it, and stared into her eyes. Tempest’s heart thudded as his irises expanded and a slow grin transformed his features.

Gosh, this guy flirted as if born to it.

Her hand prickled, and the hairs on her forearm stood to attention. The tantalizing scent of sandalwood and citrus wafted from him, disturbingly male. Like a slow motion scene in a movie, the bustle around them faded away and the moment expanded. She should break eye contact, or at least pull her hand away, but couldn’t, mesmerized like a mouse before a cobra.

Jake raised her hand, and brushed his lips over it. She smelled of lemons, and for one wild moment, he wondered what her lips would taste like. He heard her quick intake of breath, and his gaze flickered up to hers instantly registering the flicker of arousal in her blue eyes.

‘I enjoyed bumping into you.’

The tip of her tongue swiped quickly over her lips.

‘Likewise.’

He should let her go. Holding on to her hand and staring into her eyes was crazily impulsive, and Jake didn’t do impulsive. Instead, he ran his thumb over the back of her hand and watched fascinated as her eyes darkened. He was in London for a few days; maybe he could take her to dinner. This feeling of enchantment was new, and if he let her go now, he’d never see her again.

He breathed in deep and squared his shoulders.

‘Would you…’

A sudden ringing shattered the mood, and he dropped her hand like a hot potato, grabbing for the phone holster clipped in his belt.

He frowned at the display. ‘I’m sorry, I have to take this.’

She held her hand close to her chest, and blinked rapidly.

‘Goodbye.’ Her voice was deep and husky. She glanced away, and the moment was broken. It was probably for the best, anyway.

Pushing down the lingering feeling of regret, Jake turned away and strode towards the exit.

‘Paul, what’s up?’

Jake forced himself to sound reasonable and laid back. It wasn’t Paul’s fault that he’d broken up the first real flirtation he’d had going on for months. He glanced back, but the concourse was busy with bustling people
and he couldn’t spot the redhead.