“I’ll take her home.” Shane’s voice, deep and husky, spoke from behind her. She whirled around.
“Oh no, that’s okay…”
“Thank you, Shane! What a dear boy you are.”
He grinned. Keara opened her mouth to protest, but Maeve continued. “You should go say goodnight and thank you to Fiona and Declan before you go, Keara.”
Keara resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Of course she was going to thank her host and hostess before she left. She just didn’t want to leave with Shane.
His flirting earlier had thrown her off balance. What had he been doing? Trying to humiliate her? There was no way he was attracted to her after the barely hidden contempt he’d shown her every time they’d met. Which had now apparently changed to feeling sorry for her. Why, why had she blurted out that bit about Maeve thinking she needed sex?
She was so confused now, wondering what Shane really thought about her, wondering why she felt so mixed up inside, like she was attracted to him but afraid, reluctantly, surprisingly aroused—but nervous.
She allowed him to once again draw her away and lead her across the room. His parents sat in the living room, side by side, Declan’s arm around Fiona’s shoulders. Aw. Sweet.
“I’m taking Keara home,” Shane announced. “Say good-night.”
Keara shot him an exasperated glance. “Thank you so much for having me tonight, Mr. and Mrs. Dunstan. It was a lovely party, as usual. I always remember coming to your house and having so much fun.”
Friona stood and took both Keara’s hands in a warm, maternal gesture that made Keara’s heart go soft. “Thank you for coming,” she replied. “I’m so glad you’re here to visit Maeve.” She flicked her eyes toward Shane and then back, and Keara waited for some embarrassing question or comment. But none was forthcoming and Fiona just smiled. “I hope we’ll see you again while you’re here.”
Keara nodded, and after their farewells, she and Shane left through the front door. His car was parked on the street in front, beneath the orange glow of a street lamp.
“You’re leaving early,” Shane commented. “I hope not because of me.”
She studied him as he started the car. “What if I said it was?”
His eyes flicked sideways and he put the car in gear. “Then I’d feel bad. I didn’t mean to chase you away.”
She sighed. “You didn’t. I just find it exhausting being in a crowd like that right now.” And yet, she was afraid to be alone. Go figure.
“That’s not like you,” he said, and the fact that he remembered her, that they had a history together, warmed and softened her inside. “You used to love parties.”
“Yes.” She looked down at her hands clasped in her lap as light from a street lamp slid over them, faded to dark, then light again as they drove. “I did.”
“You will again.”
She sucked in her bottom lip to keep it from trembling. She wanted to believe that, but at times it seemed so hopeless that she would ever be the same again—fearless, independent, sociable.
Shane insisted on walking her inside, and she trembled as she unlocked the back door of the shop and disarmed the alarm, anticipating that he was going to try…something. A kiss, maybe. And when he saw her upstairs and said goodnight, then left—she was unreasonably, confusingly disappointed.
She wandered through the apartment, after having ensured the doors were all locked securely, turning on lights. She’d wanted to leave the party because she was exhausted, but now her body hummed with energy and a strange anticipation. She put a hand to the vague ache low in her belly and realized she was…aroused.
Dear lord. What was happening to her? Shane had gotten her all worked up. She washed her face in a trancelike state, changed into pajamas and crawled into her bed, drawing the covers up under her chin. She closed her eyes, but couldn’t ignore the liquid heat between her legs.
She slid a hand down over her stomach, under the elastic of the sleep shorts she wore, over her pubic curls. She cupped her pussy, holding it for a moment, feeling it pulsing against her fingers. She couldn’t believe she wanted this…wanted to touch herself like this. After the horror she’d experienced, sex had seemed so…trivial. So unimportant.
Her other hand slid up under her tank top and covered one breast. She squeezed gently. It felt good. She squeezed harder and a small moan leaked from her mouth. She parted her legs, let her fingers delve deeper into the folds there, and when she found slick wetness, she gasped.
Her tummy did a flip flop and images of Shane rushed into her head—his sparkling sapphire eyes, his deep dimples, his long, sexy fingers. His body had a perfect masculine shape—wide shoulders tapering to narrow hips, flat abdomen—and she pictured him without a shirt. She’d seem him shirtless, but that was thirteen years ago when he was still a boy. Now he was bigger, broader, more solid and she wanted to know what lay beneath the T-shirts he always wore.
She wanted to feel his long fingers on her body.
Her own fingers stroked, dragged wetness up to the bump that quivered and jumped when she touched it. Another flash of Shane, a young Shane with his face between her legs and his mouth on her pussy. She turned her head into the pillow, fingers of one hand rubbing her clit, fingers of the other pinching her sensitive nipple, tension coiling in her until she climaxed in a hard, shuddering orgasm.
Chapter Nine
“What can I do to help today?”
Maeve looked up from her paperwork. “Well, if you’re not too tired, I need a few errands done today. Or maybe you’d rather
