Heated Rush Part 6

Without a moment's hesitation, Sean spun around, caught their waitress's eye and said, "Be a love and bring us two of whatever's first on your dinner menu."

The woman frowned. "We don't have a dinner menu. Just appetizers and finger foods."

Her mouth twitching as she tried to contain a smile, Annie murmured, "Too bad."

"Bring one of each of those, then," Sean told the woman. Once she'd gone, he turned to meet Annie's eye. "It's dinnertime, and even if it's naught but a bit of cheese on a cracker, I'm counting anything you put in your mouth."

The way his stare zoned in on her lips, Annie suddenly thought of a number of things she'd like to put there. Starting with his tongue. And moving on down his body to the many varied and interesting parts she couldn't see beneath the table.

"All right," she admitted, amus.e.m.e.nt now tempered with a very thick layer of physical awareness. "This is number one."

Nodding in agreement, he lifted his drink in salute. "Brilliant. Two to go."

She lifted her winegla.s.s as well, watching him over the rim of it. Wondering if he could take a little torment as good as he could give it, she murmured, "But I'm busy tomorrow night, and Friday I have to work late."

"Thursday then." He grew serious. "Let me take you out on the intimate dinner date I had offered at the auction."

"You don't have to do that," she insisted. "I know I put you on the spot about the weekend. I don't expect you to really take me out to some fancy restaurant, too."

"I want to." He reached across the table and covered her hand with his. "If for no other reason than the chance to see you in that pretty yellow dress again."

She stared at their hands on the wooden bar table, noting the coolness of his skin, the elegance of his fingers, the perfect manicure, the expensive-looking watch.

How he managed it on a paramedic's salary, she didn't know. He looked like some rich, foreign prince. Judging by some of the things he'd said about his family, she had to wonder if he came from money, and merely chose to do something none of them had ever expected. As she she had. had.

Then she glanced down at her clothes-the uniform s.h.i.+rt, the spit-up stain, the finger paint-and sighed. How incredible might it be to actually throw off the ident.i.ty she wore here in Chicago-the nice, nurturing, small-town girl who took care of rich people's kids-and become a worthy companion to this worldly, sensual man?

"Say yes," he insisted, realizing she was waffling. "Please, Annie. I agreed to this weekend. The least you can do is join me for dinner."

Dressing up and going out somewhere special with Sean sounded irresistible. Especially when he appealed to her in that low, intimate tone, with his s.e.xy accent taking those sultry bites out of every one of her defenses.

"Come."

"All right," she finally murmured, wondering if she'd have time to go out shopping for yet another dress. "Thursday it is."

Before he could respond, their food began to arrive. Annie deliberately met Sean's eye as she lifted a quesadilla to her mouth. Licking her lips, she bit into it, and saw his huge grin in response. Now Now it was official. it was official.

But she wasn't ready to let him completely off the hook yet. "Sean?" she murmured after she'd finished it.

"Yes?"

"You do realize that if this is number one, and Thursday is number two...our third date is going to be back on the farm where we're surrounded by my entire family?"

The man's mouth opened and quickly snapped closed. His broad shoulders slumped the tiniest bit as he sat back in the booth, eyeing her across the expanse of the table. He mumbled something under his breath, reached for his beer, then obviously noted the sparkle in her eye. "Brat."

"Hey, don't shoot the messenger."

He didn't give up. "How late do you have to work Friday?"

Seeing right through him, she replied, "Late. I'll be at the center, surrounded by lots-and lots-of screaming babies."

This time there was no mistaking the words that came out of his mouth.

"b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l."

4.

"FATHER SAW YOUR picture on the Chicago paper's Web site. Do you pay off reporters to splash your face in the society pages, just to infuriate him?" picture on the Chicago paper's Web site. Do you pay off reporters to splash your face in the society pages, just to infuriate him?"

Sean's twenty-year-old sister hadn't even said h.e.l.lo when he'd answered her call Thursday afternoon. She'd simply gone straight to the point, amus.e.m.e.nt lacing her tone.

"h.e.l.lo to you, too, Moira."

"A charity bachelor auction? I thought he was going to choke on his morning biscuits."

"He's all right, though?" Sean asked, grudgingly concerned. The old man was a pain in the a.r.s.e, but he didn't actually wish him ill. He just wanted him to concede that simply because he had supplied the sperm to impregnate Sean's mother, and had then paid her off to stay out of Sean's life, that didn't mean he owned his son, mind, body and soul.

"He's fine. Ranting and raving about the house, wondering why you haven't given up this foolish playboy lifestyle and come home to 'take your rightful place' in the family."

"That's never going to happen," Sean said, running a frustrated hand through his hair. He sat on the edge of his bed, a huge, king-size monstrosity only to be found in America. It dominated the bedroom of the elegant hotel suite. "You'd think he'd have figured that out after all this time."

"Oh, I'm sure he has. He misses you dreadfully. dreadfully. He's just too proud to say so." He's just too proud to say so."

No doubt about that. Their father was old school, all the way, and refused to admit defeat. Ever. Ever.

Sean had always known that, growing up on the family estate in County Wicklow. Traditions ran as deep and thick as the stone walls of the Murphy family home. The air within it smelled of the building's two-hundred-year history and carried a weight of responsibility that had suffocated Sean from the moment he'd been old enough to understand the words "our family name."

But it wasn't until he'd turned twenty-one and learned just just how demanding the old man could be that he'd realized he had to get away. Because on that birthday, his father had informed him that he'd arranged Sean's marriage. Sean's father and his oldest friend had hatched up a union between their children before said children had even taken their first steps, like some pair of feudal kings out of the Dark Ages. how demanding the old man could be that he'd realized he had to get away. Because on that birthday, his father had informed him that he'd arranged Sean's marriage. Sean's father and his oldest friend had hatched up a union between their children before said children had even taken their first steps, like some pair of feudal kings out of the Dark Ages.

It still boggled the mind.

"Do you think he's learned his lesson?" Moira asked, sounding almost tentative. "I mean, I turn twenty-one in the fall. And Maureen's younger brother James is still single."

Maureen was Sean's supposed fiancee who, he heard, had married a few years ago and was living quite happily in Galway.

"James was such a bully when we were kids. Dad wouldn't wouldn't..."

"h.e.l.l, no, he wouldn't," Sean snapped. "He might not be able to admit that he was bullheaded and stubborn about me, but he's not foolish enough to push you out the door, too."

At least, Sean hoped.

"If he does...I can come to you, can't I?"

He had absolutely no place in his world for a twenty-one-year-old girl. Not even a real home-just a couple of apartments in different cities in the world, nothing resembling stability. Nor did he believe that would ever make Moira happy. While Sean might have been desperate to leave home, his younger sister was never happier than when riding her horses or socializing with her friends right there in Wicklow.

But he would never refuse her. "It won't come to that, but, yes, Moira. You'll always have a home with me if you need it."

She wouldn't need it. People learned from their mistakes, didn't they? Their father wouldn't risk losing Moira, too, not after he'd seen Sean kick off the ancient dust of their ancestral home three days after he'd turned twenty-one. Telling his father what he could do with the ugly antique ring Sean was supposed to give to his "fiancee," he'd stormed out.

In the ensuing seven years, his father had tried many different tactics to get him back under his patriarchal thumb. He'd used threats, bluffs, false health alerts. He'd even paid to have a d.a.m.ned engagement announcement put in the papers, hoping to embarra.s.s Sean into returning.

Sean hadn't relented. He'd had a small trust fund that his father hadn't been able to interfere with. It hadn't been a fortune, but it had been enough, at least, to start a new life, and that's what he'd been determined to do. He'd wanted to see the world, explore, experience everything.

Find his mother.

Funny, that was the one thing his father had most feared...yet the one that had softened Sean's att.i.tude toward his father more than anything. Once he met his mother in person, he'd understood the truth. Hearing from her own lips that she'd been incapable of thinking of anything except her own drug habit when he was a child, that she'd been a danger to everyone around her, he'd realized his father had done the right thing.

One day, he'd tell the old man that. If If he ever saw him again. But the way things were going, that wouldn't happen soon. he ever saw him again. But the way things were going, that wouldn't happen soon.

"I could come now," Moira said. "I love your apartment."

"I'm almost never there, darlin'." He said it gently so he wouldn't hurt her feelings, even as his brain numbed at the very idea. "And you'd be miserable in the city."

She'd seen his place in London, though she had no idea he had one in Paris and another in New York. That would just bring up too many questions about how he could afford his lifestyle. Ones he wasn't ready to answer.

He was well off now, now, but he certainly hadn't been rich at first. Merely determined to be independent and never go home. And Moira knew it. but he certainly hadn't been rich at first. Merely determined to be independent and never go home. And Moira knew it.

Living simply and being careful with his money, he hadn't needed his father's. So that bullying tactic had been easily evaded. The threats hadn't changed his mind, either, nor had the guilt, or any sense of familial duty. If he owed something to the moldering bones of six generations of Murphys lying in the family plot, they were welcome to come see him personally to call him on it. Until then, he owed nothing to anyone and there wasn't a thing his father could do to bring him back.

Except stage a health crisis.

Sean had been about to board a plane to return to Ireland a year after he'd left, having gotten word of his father's heart attack. Then his teenage sister had called and told him it was a sham, that if he showed up, he'd be walking into his own d.a.m.ned engagement party.

Manipulative old b.a.s.t.a.r.d.

That was the last straw, the thing that had finally pushed Sean over the edge. That his father would put him through h.e.l.l thinking he was on death's door just to get his own way proved proved Sean's demands for independence had fallen on deaf ears. The incident had made him realize that if he wanted his own life, he was going to have to separate himself so far from his old one that there would be no chance of Sean's demands for independence had fallen on deaf ears. The incident had made him realize that if he wanted his own life, he was going to have to separate himself so far from his old one that there would be no chance of ever ever going back. going back.

And that's exactly what he'd done. City by city. Job by job. Woman by woman.

Starting in Singapore.

Along the way, Sean had discovered a few other other things he was good at, aside from entertaining wealthy females. And he'd outgrown his need to shock his father out of his life. If the old man cared to know the truth, he'd discover that businesses from any number of countries around the world hired Sean to interpret, to make deals, to negotiate, to see to it that local customs were followed. He was an international businessman, plain and simple. things he was good at, aside from entertaining wealthy females. And he'd outgrown his need to shock his father out of his life. If the old man cared to know the truth, he'd discover that businesses from any number of countries around the world hired Sean to interpret, to make deals, to negotiate, to see to it that local customs were followed. He was an international businessman, plain and simple.

Let the old man think Sean had wh.o.r.ed his way into his first million. Sean knew it wasn't true. And he no longer gave a d.a.m.n about trying to convince anybody.

"So how much did you sell for?" Moira asked.

"Five thousand."

She yelped. "Dollars?"

"Well, they don't use Euros in Chicago, little sister."

Her snort of laughter said her surprise hadn't come because of how high the figure had been, but rather how low. low. "You're losing your touch. She mustn't have known who she was bidding on, Mr. International Man of Mystery." "You're losing your touch. She mustn't have known who she was bidding on, Mr. International Man of Mystery."

"Yes, that's me, James Bond," he said, a smile widening his lips as he thought of his first conversation with Annie.

"I was thinking more along the lines of Austin Powers." Her snicker held no malice, just little-sister heckling. And maybe a hint of curiosity.

Moira didn't know much about Sean's life, which was exactly the way he wanted it.

Fortunately, their father didn't seem to realize Sean wanted to protect Moira from the truth. That was one piece of blackmail that might have worked. Which was why he'd made Moira keep their frequent phone calls, friendly correspondence and occasional out-of-town meetings a secret from the man.

"How's your mother?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Rich, miserable and hitting the martinis by noon. Yours?"

"Poor, happy, clean and sober." Finally. Finally.

"Sounds about right. Money doesn't buy happiness."

Knowing his sister's love of all things designer, he laughed. "No, but you wouldn't last a day without your limitless gold card." And neither would Sean's stepmother. While his own mother, who'd once allowed herself to be bought out of her only child's existence because of her screwed-up choices and lifestyle, now wouldn't take a penny he offered and was perfectly happy living as a starving artist in San Francisco.

There was a lesson in that.

After chatting a few more minutes, Sean finished his conversation with his sister and hung up. Glancing at the clock, he sent up a mental thank-you to Moira for the call. At least she'd distracted him for a while.

But how was he going to fill the rest of the day, waiting to see Annie again? Yesterday had been hectic with business meetings-financial stuff only, not any kind of social social business. Though he could probably have found plenty of women eager for his company on this trip, the only one he was interested in seeing was the s.e.xy blonde who'd business. Though he could probably have found plenty of women eager for his company on this trip, the only one he was interested in seeing was the s.e.xy blonde who'd bought bought him for the weekend. The one he wasn't going to see for another few hours. him for the weekend. The one he wasn't going to see for another few hours.

Sean leaned back on the plush bed, knowing how he could fill that time if she were here with him.

Glancing around, he found himself wis.h.i.+ng he'd stayed at another hotel-the one he usually frequented when in Chicago, which was older and had a lot of character. Though impeccable and tastefully decorated, this room was cold and impersonal.

And it instantly made him think of hot, sweaty s.e.x.

He'd come here on impulse, having visited previously just after New Year's. On that occasion, he'd been asked to come by a friend he'd met in j.a.pan. That friend-Brandon-had wanted to give his girlfriend the kind of kinky fantasy women often whispered about but seldom actually went through with.

A night with two men.

Sean had agreed, with some preestablished rules about how far things could go. They'd gone pretty far, but not all the way. Which, he sensed, had been a great relief to Brandon.

"Better you than me, my friend," he muttered. Because while the night had been incredibly erotic-and pleasurable-there wasn't a chance in h.e.l.l that Sean would ever share a woman he loved with another man. Not even to fulfill her own fantasies, selfish b.a.s.t.a.r.d that he was.

He didn't share. And the very idea of seeing another man put his hands on Annie made him want to do violence.

"Jaysus, man, you're losing it," he muttered. He sat up on the bed, dropping his legs over the side. "You barely know her."

Why on earth her her name-and face-would come to mind, and would inspire such a reaction, he honestly didn't know. Nor was he sure that he liked it. That kind of reaction hinted at some kind of emotional connection between them, when all Sean had any interest in was the physical. name-and face-would come to mind, and would inspire such a reaction, he honestly didn't know. Nor was he sure that he liked it. That kind of reaction hinted at some kind of emotional connection between them, when all Sean had any interest in was the physical.

So back out, a small voice in his brain whispered. a small voice in his brain whispered.

It might be wise to retreat, now, before things got any more heated between them. He couldn't stand her up this weekend...he knew how important that was to her. But tonight?