The Irishman's Christmas Gamble
Page 7
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Her fingertips pressed into his arm. “Would I be your sister or a favorite aunt?”
“More like a very distant cousin, the kissing kind. There’s mistletoe aplenty this time of year.”
She leaned toward him and lifted her free hand to brush a hank of his hair back, the feel of her fingers against the skin of his temple sending a rope of heat straight down to his groin.
“I can’t decide if seeing you makes me feel old or young,” she said.
He gave her his best roguish grin. “You’ll find out tomorrow, I promise you.”
Chapter Four
Pure lust flashed through Frankie when she saw Liam standing in her office’s anteroom the next morning, his long legs wrapped in worn jeans that showed every contour of his powerful thigh muscles, and a cream Aran sweater that hugged the curves of his wide shoulders. His gaze skimmed over her, leaving a trail of heat. “You can’t wear that to go sledding,” he said. “Sledding!” Frankie had expected a trip to see the tree at Rockefeller Center at worst, so she’d worn tailored wool trousers and a cashmere sweater. “I’m not twelve years old.”
He grinned at her, a flash of straight, white teeth. “When I saw the fresh snow this morning, it brought out the kid in me. So the kid in you is coming along too.”
She considered refusing. But his smile pulled at something buried deep within her. “If I break a bone, you have to nurse me back to health.”
The blue of his eyes turned incandescent. “Gladly,” he said, his voice taking on a husky edge. “I imagine you’ll need lots of sponge baths.”
A vision of his hand wrapped around a wet, soapy sponge as he ran it over her bare breasts sent a ribbon of arousal twisting into her belly. “I’ll hire a nurse.”
Liam slanted a glinting smile at her. “And I was planning such a nice sled crash for us. Now, off you go to dress properly.”
It would be rude to leave him alone downstairs while she went up to her apartment to change, but she wasn’t sure she was ready to let him into her private sanctuary. However, he was Liam. “Come up with me in case you have further opinions on my attire.”
He nodded and followed her to the private elevator. His big athlete’s body took up more than half the space, so their shoulders and arms bumped together.
“Good thing I’m not claustrophobic,” he said, snaking his arm around her shoulders before he winked down at her. “We take up less space closer together.”
Oh dear God, she was pressed against him from knee to shoulder, his body a solid wall of heat and muscle, while the band of his arm fell strong and weighty across her shoulders. Through the thin cashmere of her sweater, his fingers seemed to burn their outline onto the skin of her upper arm.
She nearly gasped in relief when the doors opened onto her foyer. She stepped forward, but Liam kept his arm around her, matching her stride with his before he brought them both to a halt just inside the living room.
As he looked around her home, he exploded into laughter so uproarious she felt the vibration of it through her body.
She’d built her apartment on top of the ornate old brownstone that housed the Bellwether Club, but her place was all clean, modern lines, walls of glass, and soaring ceilings with skylights, so light poured in no matter what time of day it was.
“And here I was thinking that you had bought into all that English nob’s decorating downstairs, but no, you’re just making fun of it.” Liam squinted against the sunlight reflecting off the snow drifting on her rooftop terrace. “You always hated the grayness of Dublin.”
“Control, shades on half,” Frankie barked. The glass windows rippled into a tinted gray, cutting the glare of the winter sun.
Liam whistled and released her, strolling over to the quilted maple shelves that lined one wall. He stopped in front of a grouping of photographs, his hands tucked into the back pockets of his jeans. For a long moment, he surveyed the pictures. Then he pulled his hands free and picked up one framed photo.
When he lifted his head to meet her gaze, he had a strange, arrested look on his face that made her stomach twist. This was why she shouldn’t have brought him up here.
“I have the other half of this,” he said. “I didn’t think…didn’t expect…. You kept them.” He traced a finger over the two small photos of them, their faces pressed cheek to cheek, taken in a photo booth in Dublin the day he’d left for the soccer training academy in England.
“I’ve got a streak of the Irish sentimentality. I just keep it under control,” she said. In fact, she had an enlarged version of the photos in her bedroom, but he didn’t need to know that.
He set the frame down. “Bundle up. It’s going to be cold and windy beside the Hudson.”
“The Hudson? I thought people went sledding in Central Park.”
“Serious sliders go to Riverside Park at 91st Street.”
“I think I need a bunny slope.”
“We’re headed for Suicide Hill.”
His challenging smile made it hard to decide if he was joking or not, so she ignored him and headed into her bedroom. She hauled a pair of jeans out of a far corner of her closet and added a cotton thermal turtleneck layered under a heavy cashmere sweater. Her winter boots all had high heels, so she settled on a pair of pull-on paddock boots, left over from the days she’d ridden horseback in Central Park. She chortled with satisfaction over the fancy fur-trimmed ski jacket she’d bought before she realized she had no interest in skiing. She’d get some use out of it at last.
When she walked out of the bedroom, Liam was standing in front of the sliding glass door that led onto the terrace. He pivoted on his heel. “You’ve got a nice setup here.” He grinned. “Want to rent it to me?”
“You don’t have a place yet?”
“I’m staying at the Brownstone Inn on 82nd while I look for something.” He shrugged. “It’s got working fireplaces and a lobby with a Christmas tree. Speaking of which, where is your tree? You’ve got garlands and wreaths strung up all over the place in the club, but not a sprig of holiday cheer up here.”
“I don’t like clutter.” She hadn’t put up a Christmas tree in years. It seemed like too much work when the only person who saw it was herself.
“Now I know what else we’ll be doing today.” He let his eyes roam over her again, but this time she knew it was just to inspect her sledding ensemble, so she quelled any reaction.
“More like a very distant cousin, the kissing kind. There’s mistletoe aplenty this time of year.”
She leaned toward him and lifted her free hand to brush a hank of his hair back, the feel of her fingers against the skin of his temple sending a rope of heat straight down to his groin.
“I can’t decide if seeing you makes me feel old or young,” she said.
He gave her his best roguish grin. “You’ll find out tomorrow, I promise you.”
Chapter Four
Pure lust flashed through Frankie when she saw Liam standing in her office’s anteroom the next morning, his long legs wrapped in worn jeans that showed every contour of his powerful thigh muscles, and a cream Aran sweater that hugged the curves of his wide shoulders. His gaze skimmed over her, leaving a trail of heat. “You can’t wear that to go sledding,” he said. “Sledding!” Frankie had expected a trip to see the tree at Rockefeller Center at worst, so she’d worn tailored wool trousers and a cashmere sweater. “I’m not twelve years old.”
He grinned at her, a flash of straight, white teeth. “When I saw the fresh snow this morning, it brought out the kid in me. So the kid in you is coming along too.”
She considered refusing. But his smile pulled at something buried deep within her. “If I break a bone, you have to nurse me back to health.”
The blue of his eyes turned incandescent. “Gladly,” he said, his voice taking on a husky edge. “I imagine you’ll need lots of sponge baths.”
A vision of his hand wrapped around a wet, soapy sponge as he ran it over her bare breasts sent a ribbon of arousal twisting into her belly. “I’ll hire a nurse.”
Liam slanted a glinting smile at her. “And I was planning such a nice sled crash for us. Now, off you go to dress properly.”
It would be rude to leave him alone downstairs while she went up to her apartment to change, but she wasn’t sure she was ready to let him into her private sanctuary. However, he was Liam. “Come up with me in case you have further opinions on my attire.”
He nodded and followed her to the private elevator. His big athlete’s body took up more than half the space, so their shoulders and arms bumped together.
“Good thing I’m not claustrophobic,” he said, snaking his arm around her shoulders before he winked down at her. “We take up less space closer together.”
Oh dear God, she was pressed against him from knee to shoulder, his body a solid wall of heat and muscle, while the band of his arm fell strong and weighty across her shoulders. Through the thin cashmere of her sweater, his fingers seemed to burn their outline onto the skin of her upper arm.
She nearly gasped in relief when the doors opened onto her foyer. She stepped forward, but Liam kept his arm around her, matching her stride with his before he brought them both to a halt just inside the living room.
As he looked around her home, he exploded into laughter so uproarious she felt the vibration of it through her body.
She’d built her apartment on top of the ornate old brownstone that housed the Bellwether Club, but her place was all clean, modern lines, walls of glass, and soaring ceilings with skylights, so light poured in no matter what time of day it was.
“And here I was thinking that you had bought into all that English nob’s decorating downstairs, but no, you’re just making fun of it.” Liam squinted against the sunlight reflecting off the snow drifting on her rooftop terrace. “You always hated the grayness of Dublin.”
“Control, shades on half,” Frankie barked. The glass windows rippled into a tinted gray, cutting the glare of the winter sun.
Liam whistled and released her, strolling over to the quilted maple shelves that lined one wall. He stopped in front of a grouping of photographs, his hands tucked into the back pockets of his jeans. For a long moment, he surveyed the pictures. Then he pulled his hands free and picked up one framed photo.
When he lifted his head to meet her gaze, he had a strange, arrested look on his face that made her stomach twist. This was why she shouldn’t have brought him up here.
“I have the other half of this,” he said. “I didn’t think…didn’t expect…. You kept them.” He traced a finger over the two small photos of them, their faces pressed cheek to cheek, taken in a photo booth in Dublin the day he’d left for the soccer training academy in England.
“I’ve got a streak of the Irish sentimentality. I just keep it under control,” she said. In fact, she had an enlarged version of the photos in her bedroom, but he didn’t need to know that.
He set the frame down. “Bundle up. It’s going to be cold and windy beside the Hudson.”
“The Hudson? I thought people went sledding in Central Park.”
“Serious sliders go to Riverside Park at 91st Street.”
“I think I need a bunny slope.”
“We’re headed for Suicide Hill.”
His challenging smile made it hard to decide if he was joking or not, so she ignored him and headed into her bedroom. She hauled a pair of jeans out of a far corner of her closet and added a cotton thermal turtleneck layered under a heavy cashmere sweater. Her winter boots all had high heels, so she settled on a pair of pull-on paddock boots, left over from the days she’d ridden horseback in Central Park. She chortled with satisfaction over the fancy fur-trimmed ski jacket she’d bought before she realized she had no interest in skiing. She’d get some use out of it at last.
When she walked out of the bedroom, Liam was standing in front of the sliding glass door that led onto the terrace. He pivoted on his heel. “You’ve got a nice setup here.” He grinned. “Want to rent it to me?”
“You don’t have a place yet?”
“I’m staying at the Brownstone Inn on 82nd while I look for something.” He shrugged. “It’s got working fireplaces and a lobby with a Christmas tree. Speaking of which, where is your tree? You’ve got garlands and wreaths strung up all over the place in the club, but not a sprig of holiday cheer up here.”
“I don’t like clutter.” She hadn’t put up a Christmas tree in years. It seemed like too much work when the only person who saw it was herself.
“Now I know what else we’ll be doing today.” He let his eyes roam over her again, but this time she knew it was just to inspect her sledding ensemble, so she quelled any reaction.
