“Please, don’t start with another of your politically correct rants. Just because you chose to hide your only good features doesn’t mean you have to make those who are attractive feel like less.”
There was something in her tone that made me lose my rag. “Christ, you’re condescending.”
“I’m speaking the truth. Now hush, you’re embarrassing us and making a scene,” she said, casting her eyes down to a group of women at the other end of the steamy room.
“Well, God forbid I do that.”
“Lucy,” she said in warning, her eyes demanding I shut the hell up.
“Do you know what, Mam? Sometimes it feels like my very existence is an embarrassment to you, so I think I’ll just do you a favor and get out of your hair for the rest of the day. And don’t worry, I’ll be returning to New York after the wedding, so you won’t have to put up with me at all for much longer.”
Having said my piece, I stood and shot Annie a look of apology before walking out of the sauna. Yes, I was being a tad hysterical and overly contrary, but my mother was a trigger and it was just one of those days.
“Lucy, come back here,” Mam called, her aggravation barely concealed. I ignored her.
I was completely anxious and tense as I walked to the showers. The warm water and lemon-cucumber-scented soap did little to ease my discomfort.
Once I was clean and dressed, I checked my phone for messages. I’d been checking it constantly, like an addict looking for her next fix.
I didn’t expect anything, but I hoped. And when I saw there were several spanning over the past hour and they were all from Sean, my heart pounded. A rush of hot nerves flooded my system as I hit the button to read them, remembering our loaded, needful glances from two nights ago, when the stags and hens had collided.
We hadn’t exchanged a single word, yet the look he’d given me had expressed his want more than a thousand sonnets could have. I was certain my own looks had reflected that want right back at him.
Sean: Just checked in to the hotel a day early. I’m in room 206 if you find yourself at a loose end…and I’ve got a jersey in my suitcase with your name on it ;-)
Sean: Actually, it has my name on it, but you know what I mean. I’d really like to see you, Lucy.
Sean: You looked beautiful the other night, even in that God-awful costume. I hated that we couldn’t speak or touch. It was the worst kind of torture…
I swiped my thumb over the screen, biting my lower lip as I considered how to reply, my heart still thundering and my chest tight and achy. I wanted to see him, God how I wanted to, but I was here for my brother’s wedding. Having any kind of intimate encounter with Sean right now would be completely disrespectful.
And by intimate encounter I meant lots and lots of hot, satisfying, sweaty sex.
Ronan didn’t deserve my disloyalty. With that in mind, I decided to ignore the text messages even though they had me all aflutter with nervous excitement and unbearable longing.
On the other hand . . .
Sean was going to keep asking to see me.
Going to his room to clear the air would be good.
I needed to set him straight, let him know he wasn’t to try anything this weekend.
No more longing looks.
No more suggestive texts.
I didn’t want to ruin a single moment for Ronan and Annie.
Yes. Smart plan. I must see him to tell him I can’t . . . see . . . him . . . Right?
With new determination, I shot off a text.
Lucy: Be there in 5. We need to talk – Just talk.
I went to the suite I was sharing with Annie and dropped off my things before heading to room 206. The entire way there my heart was in my throat, as I prepared a speech in my head. Lifting my hand, I knocked on the door, and seconds later Sean opened it.
I caught my breath slightly at the sight of him. Seeing him the other night had been nothing compared to this. Here we were alone, with nothing to stop us from touching, just like Sean claimed he’d been dying to.
“Lucy,” he said, like my name was an answer. He smiled and his expression was open and hopeful, excited and pleased.
And, crap, crap, crap, crap! My heart leapt. A wistful kind of warmth traveled up my spine, down my limbs, and curled around my brain, making me forget the speech I’d been practicing.
“Sean,” I said, and it was the sound of my voice—all dreamy and full of anticipation—that snapped me out of my stupor.
“Been out on the yacht with the fam, have we?” I asked with shaky confidence. He wore a navy long-sleeved rugby shirt with a white collar, beige chinos, and boat shoes. I smirked at the outfit, wanting to disarm the moment with humor.
He grinned, as though he thoroughly enjoyed my teasing, but said nothing. Just continued to stare at me.
I cleared my throat, my attention snagging on the phone he held in his hand. A video played on his screen. It only took me a second to recognize it was footage from the karaoke session the other night and I winced.