Getting Lucky Page 6

  “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” he muttered, even though he’d never been a particularly religious man.

  But he was still Irish, and by rights superstitious, so he made a quick sign of the cross anyway—maybe half in the hope that God or Jesus or somebody would help him keep his hands off of her. Because at that particular moment, all he wanted to do was stand behind her and slide his palms slowly up those firm, shapely thighs until he discovered whether or not she had knickers on underneath.

  And that was such a bad idea for so many reasons. Not the least of which being that anyone he became involved with became a potential target for the mob too if he was discovered, and his conscience simply wouldn’t let him allow that.

  But it was beginning to feel like, one way or another, something was going to kill him. Mickey O’Banion, one of the boss’s thug hit men—or Shannon’s delicious body.

  Before he lost willpower and tortured himself with another view of Shannon’s legs, he mumbled a quick good-bye and headed down the stairs with one thought on his mind: death by incredibly sexy legs didn’t sound nearly as bad as it probably should have.

  What the bloody hell was wrong with him?

  SHANNON HASTILY DRESSED in her only change of clothes—a pair of jeans and T-shirt—thinking she would need to order some clothes to be delivered there, sooner rather than later. If this plan took more than a few days to execute like she was beginning to worry it would, she’d definitely need a few changes of clothing. She’d wanted to bring more but her father had insisted that she travel as lightly as possible, leaving as little to trace back to the Charlemagne name as she could, even though she’d pointed out the absurdity of worrying over whether or not her Banana Republic jeans could somehow be traced back to him. But he’d flat out insisted, so of course she’d ended up doing what he’d wanted.

  After dressing, Shannon pulled her hair back in a quick braid and dashed across the wide-open expanse of grass that separated one barn from the other. The day had dawned clear and sunny, with a gentle breeze rustling the trees in the distance. She’d made it about halfway across when the view opened up for her and her step faltered, forcing her to a stop.

  It was exquisite.

  Now that she was between the two barns, she could see the property clearly. Right behind the buildings the world opened up. Fields upon fields of split-rail fences sprawled out in a flower-filled meadow that gently down-sloped away from her until it came to an end against a densely tree-covered mountain on the other side. Its main peak jutted high into the deep blue sky and had a small cap of bright white snow on top. And to the left a river flanked the fence line, paralleling it about halfway until it forked left again and wandered down a valley between two pine-covered foothills and disappeared out of sight.

  Shannon had never seen anything like it before. The wild beauty was almost overwhelming, it was so bold and dramatic. It called to her in a way that was new but deeply personal. Moved profoundly by the view, tears welled in her eyes and she blinked them back.

  Why did this place pull at her emotions so strongly? She almost could swear that something inside of her had said HOME the instant she’d laid eyes on it. But she’d told herself she was simply being silly and fanciful and put it out of her mind. Because it was ridiculous, really. Her home was in Saratoga Springs.

  Wasn’t it?

  Absorbed by the breathtaking view, Shannon didn’t hear the person approach until he spoke. “You must be our new stable manager Sean told me about. I’m Tim Hopkins, his yearling trainer.”

  Bringing her focus back, she smiled and held out a hand to the aging man with the pleasant face and kind eyes. “Nice to meet you, I’m Shannon.” Because she’d been wondering it, she gestured around and asked, “I didn’t get to see much yesterday after I arrived and I’ve been wondering: Where’s the main house?” Though she’d looked when she’d first arrived yesterday, it had been nowhere she could see.

  The trainer smiled and chuckled. “It’s not so obvious, is it?” Then he raised a hand and pointed to the thick stand of trees behind her. “It’s behind that grove there a ways, tucked out of the way from everything.”

  Why that was fascinating, she didn’t know. But she was intrigued by Sean’s choosing to live so privately. If her dad was right, it was because he had something to hide. She would rather like to think he simply preferred some personal space.

  Better get on with it then. Assuaging her curiosity about Sean’s house was going to have to wait. “It’s great to meet you, Tim,” she said with a smile intended to be friendly and unassuming. “How about we chat longer over coffee soon and you fill me in on the farm?”

  Obviously pleased, he rolled back on the heels of his cowboy boots and grinned. “Sounds great.”

  Spotting Sean emerging from the stallion barn out of the corner of her eye, Shannon began backing toward him as she bid farewell to her new coworker. “Until then, Tim. See you later.” Then she turned around and went to meet up with Sean.

  It didn’t escape her attention that he looked incredibly comfortable standing there on his property with his feet spread and his arms crossed all casual-like. But he didn’t look like any of the horsemen or jockeys she’d grown up around, especially now that he had that wool cap back on.

  “Why, don’t you look the part?” she blurted out when she reached his side.

  His liquid green eyes lit with amusement and he laughed, the sound deep and rich. “Which part would you be referring to?”

  Shannon was suddenly exasperated and not sure why, only that everything was different than she’d expected it to be and way more complicated. Maybe that was enough to set her on edge. She exclaimed, “Everything! Your horse farm—you.”

  Creases wrinkled the corners of his unbelievable eyes when he smiled, fast and full of wicked humor. “It’s a conundrum, isn’t it?”

  “Yes! Where I come from, horse farms don’t look like sprawling cattle ranches in the mountains, and horsemen don’t wear jeans with frayed knees and wool caps—and look all, I don’t know, hot. They wear baseball caps and cowboy hats and sport gross mustaches—and they certainly don’t have a body that’s built like yours!” She finished on a high note, completely flabbergasted and just plain in over her head with the whole damn thing.

  And then she realized what she’d just said and wanted to find a really big hole to go hide in. Just long enough for her to get over the humiliation. Which shouldn’t take long. Only maybe, oh, a year or three.

  Next thing she knew, Sean’s hand was covering hers and he was tugging her along beside him toward the barn entrance at a pace fast enough to make her jog to keep up. “Just because things look different than you expect, lass, doesn’t make them less legitimate, worthy, or good.” He came to a stop at the door and said in a tone that was all business. “I’ve got a meeting in town I have to go to and one of my stable hands called in sick. Normally, you wouldn’t have to do this, but there’s five stalls inside that are already late for their morning clean and I can’t do it.”

  Good God, was he asking her to do what she thought he was? Teddy’s was the only stall she’d ever mucked out in her life! Not that she was squeamish or considered herself elitist given her family, but there’d been some things she was happy to pay her horse’s boarding farm to do, and shoveling out poop was one of them.

  Wanting to protest, but knowing she couldn’t, Shannon brushed past him and entered the clean, simple wooden barn with its row of stalls on each side. “No problem,” she boasted and grabbed a pitchfork that was leaning against the wall by a bale of hay, inhaling the familiar scent. “It’s what I’m here for.”

  He smiled and her insides turned to jelly. “Great. It’s those five stalls behind you there. I’ve got to warn you that Zeke can be a pain sometimes, so it’s best that you put him in the paddock before starting to muck it out. Otherwise, he’ll pester you incessantly for treats.”

  “I thought his name was Something Unexpected.”

  Sean nodded. “It is, of
ficially. But when I first got him as a foal he didn’t have a name. His baby coat was bay before it changed, and his mane shot up all over the place on his head and neck like a wild banshee, so I thought he looked like a Zeke. And before you ask why that name, I don’t know. He’s just always been that to me. Once you get to know him, you’ll see it suits.”

  Shannon glanced behind her to the powerful gray stallion Sean was referring to, trying to picture him as a bay colt with a wild mane. It would have been hard to do if she hadn’t grown up on a horse farm and witnessed firsthand how they could change coat colors as they matured. Sometimes it was nearly impossible to tell they were the same animal as adults. She imagined it was that way with Zeke, especially since he had no distinguishing white markings.

  But boy, he must have been cute.

  The horse’s eyes were bright with curiosity and locked on her, his nostrils flaring as he caught her scent and waited patiently for her to stroll on over. “We’ll be fine.” Horses were one thing she knew how to handle.

  “Lovely,” Sean said and turned to go. He disappeared out the door and she leaned with a huge sigh against Zeke’s stall door. She shut her eyes, thinking to take a moment and find her calm center.

  That’s when she heard, “Oh, and I’m flattered you like my body, Shannon. I’m fond of yours as well.”

  There went that plan all shot to hell.

  Chapter Seven

  SEAN ARRIVED BACK home and entered the stallion barn just in time to hear a commotion down at the far end. “Is everything all right?” he called out and moved quickly down the main aisle, peeking into each stall as he went.

  A grunt came from Zeke’s stall, then a thump and, “I said back, horse! You aren’t getting these.”

  “Shite.” He recognized Shannon’s voice. “I’m coming!” Guaranteed Zeke was harassing her for oats, and Sean knew just how pushy he could be when he wanted something. He was worried the heavily muscled stallion might hurt her just by being a nuisance.

  Arriving at the stall, he swung the door wide just in time to see his horse nudge Shannon with his nose, nickering and sniffing for treats in her pants. The Thoroughbred was so strong that the poor lass was flung backward and her flailing arm knocked the wheelbarrow full of fresh manure and straw over onto her as she hit the ground.

  “Ah, Christ.” He cringed and tried to wade into the stall to give her a hand up. The stench was pungent in its freshness and even though he was used to it, his eyes still watered. It was bad.

  Shannon squealed and cursed and wiggled around trying to get out of the messy, smelly pile, only to have her boot slip, making her fall back into it. Sean shooed the stallion away and reached out a hand to her, which she promptly recoiled from, and she squeaked, “Don’t touch me, I’m covered in horse shit!”

  Despite himself, he smiled and laughed. The poor lass looked mortified. “I’ve seen worse,” he said, though he actually hadn’t. Still, her face looked like it was about to crumple and he didn’t dare say something to cause it to fully collapse. He’d never been good with a woman’s tears. They made him feel like an arse, and he would do anything he could to make them go away.

  Saddest thing in the world was a beautiful woman crying.

  She refused his hand a second time by shaking her head firmly. “No, thank you. I’ve got this,” she ground out between clenched teeth and then started to get up again, this time making it all the way to her feet. Once in the clear, she looked at Sean, her face completely impassive and said in a modulated tone, “If you’ll excuse me.” And then she walked stiffly past him and out the barn, a large portion of her clothing covered in the stinky mess.

  He felt terrible. “Shannon!” he called out behind her, but not really expecting an answer. He spotted her through the open stall door out to the paddock and saw that she was marching past at a very fast clip. “Shannon!” he called again before darting out of the barn after her. By the time he’d caught up to her, she’d reached the tree line at the edge of the river and then disappeared into the stand of aspens and grass.

  “I wouldn’t recommend jumping into the river if I were you. It’ll be arse cold,” Sean said only slightly joking, pretty certain she wouldn’t but thinking he might want to throw it out there anyway just in case.

  But it was too late. By the time he broke through the trees and reached the bank, Shannon had stripped down to a pale pink bra and knickers. Heat pooled in his groin and he came to instant, painful alert at the sight of her beautiful, curvy body nearly naked and on full display.

  Try as he did, he couldn’t get his mouth to make any sound. It had gone dry as vermouth the moment he’d glimpsed her. Which was really too bad because right then she leapt from the bank and splashed feet first into the frigid Rocky Mountain river. Her scream of anguish when she surfaced brought him to his senses and he rushed to the edge of the bank, his heart pumping.

  “Are you crazy, woman?” he half-shouted as he began stripping off his favorite old shirt. “Get your arse out now before you catch cold.”

  Shannon dunked under water and resurfaced, stammering through chattering teeth as she moved back toward shore, “I had to do it, Muldoon. The stuff was in my hair.”

  Irritation rose in him, irrational and unwarranted. But damned if her jumping into the freezing fecking river hadn’t upset him. Careless lass. “We’ve showers in the toilet for that purpose, you know.” He growled.

  Then she stood up in the river, the water rushing past at her waist, her cotton bra and knickers clinging transparently to her skin, and Sean’s brain went on strike as all the remaining blood in his body went straight to his already stiff cock. Now his balls began to ache too as he couldn’t help himself and raked his gaze hungrily over her body, soaking up the sensational sight.

  Shannon was like a siren, her wet hair glimmering copper under the midday summer sun, her glorious body soft and curvy in all the right places. Her rounded hips and her small, trim waist had him almost ready to toss his deeply held convictions for just one taste of her.

  Then he noticed the blue-purple tint of her lips and the spell was broken. Broken, but not gone. It’d be a very long time before he’d forget the sight of Shannon standing in the middle of the river like the Lady of the Lake.

  Only he wasn’t Arthur, and she could catch the death of her if she didn’t get out immediately. He finished yanking his shirt off and thrust it out toward her. “Here, take this and put it on.”

  By the time she reached shore and took the shirt from his outstretched hand, she was visibly trembling and didn’t argue, only said, “Thank you,” and quickly slipped it on. And that’s when a funny feeling overcame him at the sight of her in his faded, worn-out shirt as she worked it like a tent and removed her wet bra underneath. It was a feeling of rightness that wasn’t entirely unwelcome—but it was pointless.

  Because that thought frustrated him and he was still recovering from the shock of her jumping right into an icy river, Sean began searching for her soiled clothes and scooped them up by their edges. It was either that or he was going to snatch her up in a kiss that would leave them both stupid and breathless. And as great as that sounded at the moment, he knew in his heart it would be a terrible idea to follow through on.

  It didn’t mean he was ready to let her go yet, though. “You need to wash these clothes and the flat you’re in doesn’t have a machine. I’ll fix that, but for now you’ll have to use mine. Come with me now and I’ll get them cleaning while you change into other clothes.”

  Shannon smiled gently as she walked past him, and he couldn’t help noticing the way her nipples puckered against the thin worn fabric of his shirt. It was killing him—this was the second time that day she’d been braless in front of him.

  “My only other change of clothes is dirty,” she said as she found her boots by a nearby tree and gingerly picked them up. He noticed they were the tall English style ones.

  “You can borrow mine,” he replied automatically and began moving back through the t
rees toward his house. Shannon followed closely and they made their way across the property. It was only a few minutes before they were standing on the front porch of his house and even fewer before they were inside and he was filling the washing machine with laundry detergent.

  Sean left the laundry room and found Shannon looking unhappy in the foyer. “What’s wrong?” he asked, instantly worried that she didn’t like his place and then pissed at himself for caring so much to begin with.

  Her small pert nose was wrinkled and her expression uncertain when she asked him, “Do you mind if I shower while I wait for my clothes? I still feel pretty gross.”

  She might feel gross, but she looked wonderful to him—especially in his T-shirt. Why that was such a turn-on, he had no idea. “Of course,” he replied and quickly grabbed her a change of clothes from his room. “Down the hall and to the right. Towels are in the cupboard.” She might look like heaven, but the smell could definitely be better.

  Knowing he needed to go before he did something dumb, Sean went and put on another T-shirt, then headed into his kitchen, where he started a pot of water to wet some tea and mentally talk down his hard-on. He spent the time he had to wait for the kettle to heat trying to think of anything other than Shannon wet and naked in his shower. Turned out it wasn’t an easy thing to do, but he finally managed to get his thoughts and body under control through sheer force of will. Something about Shannon made both tasks much harder than he was used to.

  The pot of tea had just finished steeping when she entered the kitchen, looking better than she had any right to in his pair of navy blue sweatpants and a light gray hoodie that was big and baggy on her—and something lodged in his chest. Coughing in response to the increased pressure, Sean busied himself with pouring the tea into two mismatched ceramic mugs. He gave Shannon the citrus orange one and brought the brown-flecked stoneware mug to his lips, taking a cautious sip. He liked his tea just this side of scalding.