Inappropriate by Vi Keeland
Chapter 17
Grant
I’d taken to recording the morning news and watching it at my desk.
I had a pile of work stacked up, a shitload of emails waiting for responses, and yet here I was, sitting at my desk on a Saturday watching yesterday morning’s show for the second time. Ireland looked good in turquoise. It brought out the color in her eyes. Though I didn’t get a good look at the full dress because she was always behind that desk. Maybe I should suggest the anchors get up at some point in the show, change things up a bit.
Jesus Christ. Was this really what I was doing? Analyzing a woman’s wardrobe choices to decide what outfit complements her eyes more? And debating calling down to the director of broadcasting to demand that the anchor stand so I can get a better look at her body? I needed my head fucking examined.
Blowing out a stream of hot air, I forced myself to X out of the video recording. I had work to do. Shitloads of it. Before Ireland Saint James, I couldn’t have even told you the name of the station we owned, much less what anyone wore. To say the woman had me distracted would be an understatement.
I picked up a file and started to go through a prospective investment that had been sitting on my desk since last week. But two pages into it, my phone buzzed, and though I’d normally ignore it while working, I dug it out of my pocket.
Ireland: Thank you for the flowers. I had a good time last night, too. Especially the end part up against my car.
She’d included a little winky face at the end of her text. Normally, people who used emojis in their texts pissed me off. Yet I found myself smiling at the little yellow face. I texted back.
Grant: Dinner tonight?
Ireland: Can’t. I have plans.
Since I had plans on Sunday, I texted back suggesting next weekend, but she was busy then, too. An hour later, the text exchange was still bugging me.
She has plans.
Did she have a date? I’d had drinks with her once, so her having dinner with someone else wasn’t exactly off limits. Yet the idea of her going out with another man made me crazy.
I forced myself back to work and tried to ignore thoughts of her out with some other guy tonight. But I reread the same page three times and still had no idea what the words said. So I tossed the file aside and picked my phone back up.
Grant: Are your plans tonight a date?
The little dots started to jump around and then stopped and started a few times.
Ireland: Would that upset you?
Answering a question with a question was right up there next to how much I disliked emojis. This woman was screwing with me. I didn’t play games. I didn’t have damn time for games. Which reminded me…I needed to get back to work.
I tossed my phone to the side and dug back into the investment prospectus I had been trying to digest.
But twenty minutes later, I had my goddamned phone in my hand again. I was completely distracted by just one simple text. I wasn’t sure if I was angrier at myself for needing to know her plans or her for not answering my question.
Grant: Just answer the question.
Her response was immediate.
Ireland: Boy, someone’s cranky.
I took a deep breath, which did little to help me relax.
Grant: That would be because I’m still waiting for an answer to my question…
Ireland: Is the muscle in your jaw flexing right now?
I read her text and looked up at the ceiling. This woman was going to be the death of me. And I was starting to get a headache from how hard I’d been clenching my teeth. So she wasn’t wrong about the muscle in my jaw.
Grant: Ireland…answer the damn question.
My phone started to buzz for a call, rather than a text. Ireland’s name flashed on the screen. I swiped to answer.
“Why must you be so difficult?” I said in greeting.
Ireland laughed, and the sound instantly softened the muscle in my jaw. “You’re fun to screw with.”
I leaned back in my chair. “I’m much more fun to screw. How about we move on to that phase of the relationship instead of you making me fucking nuts?”
I could tell she was still smiling when she spoke. “I do have a date tonight, but you don’t have anything to be worried about because he’s married.”
“Come again?”
She giggled. “I have the rehearsal dinner for my best friend Mia’s wedding, which is next weekend. My partner in the wedding is her brother, who is married to a man. So technically, I guess he’s my date tonight.”
Great. Now I’m jealous of a gay, married man…
“How about Sunday?” she said.
I decided to see if turnabout was fair play. “Can’t. I have a date.”
Of course, that date was with my grandmother to play Santa Claus at the annual Pia’s Place party…
She was quiet for a long moment and then said in a curt tone. “Well, if you have a date, you don’t need a second one with me.”
I smiled. “You see how that feels, Ireland? It’s not very pleasant, is it? Especially not while I’m trying to get work done. My date tomorrow is with my grandmother.”
“Oh.”
“Next weekend, then?” I said. I really didn’t want to wait that long.
Ireland sighed. “Next weekend is the wedding. Mia and I are going to spend the last night in our apartment together Friday night and then Saturday is the wedding and Sunday is a brunch with the wedding party. I don’t usually go out on weeknights because I get up so early for work. But maybe we can have an early dinner or something one night?”
“I’m leaving Monday for a business trip to the east coast. I’ll be gone until Thursday evening.”
“Oh.” At least she sounded as disappointed as I felt. “Well, maybe the weekend after, then. Or maybe…would it be too weird if I asked you to come with me to the rehearsal dinner tonight? Spouses are coming that aren’t in the wedding. So it’s not just the wedding party.”
I’d been thinking of our date as being a nice quiet evening with just the two of us, not a night with all of her friends at some wedding rehearsal. But waiting two weeks to see her was not an option. So I’d have to take what I could get.
“What time should I pick you up?”
“Really? You’ll come?”
“Apparently that’s the only way I’m going to get to see you, so yes. But, full disclosure, I’m only coming because I can’t wait to push you up against the car again and suck your face.”
She laughed. “That’s fair. How about six thirty? The rehearsal is at seven and dinner is right after. They’re getting married at the restaurant, so the rehearsal part won’t take very long.”
“I’ll be there at six fifteen. Because I won’t be waiting until after dinner for my kiss.”
***
That evening, my heart started to pump at an almost alarming speed the minute she opened the door. Ireland’s hair was pulled back from her face and pinned up. She had on another blue outfit; this one a powder blue, body-hugging dress with a wide, scooped neck that exposed her collarbone. It showed a hint of cleavage, which was sexy as hell, but something about that collarbone made me salivate. I’d teased her on the phone about picking her up early because I intended to get round two of the kiss, but I hadn’t planned on mauling her the minute she opened the door.
Though you know the old saying about the best laid plans...
Ireland smiled and said hello, stepping aside for me to enter, though I only made it halfway through. Backing her up against the open apartment door, I wrapped my hands around her cheeks and planted my lips over hers. She hadn’t been expecting it, but it didn’t take long for her to join in. She dug her hands into my hair and yanked, and I sucked on her sweet tongue. Reaching down, I cupped the back of her thigh and lifted so I could move closer. Before I knew it, her legs were wrapped around my waist, and I was grinding a growing erection between her legs. If I’d liked her a little less, I would have dropped to my knees and buried my face between her legs for a taste right there against the door. But Ireland deserved more respect than that. So, begrudgingly, I pulled back from the kiss.
She blinked a few times, and it made me smile that she seemed as lost in the moment as I had been. “Jeez. That was as good as the first time.”
I lifted my thumb to her mouth and wiped some of her smeared lipstick from beneath her bottom lip. “I haven’t been able to focus on anything but this mouth since you pulled out of the parking lot last night.”
She smiled. “I love how honest you are.”
I brushed my lips against hers again and spoke with them touching. “If you like my honesty, there’re plenty of things I’d be happy to tell you about—things I’d like to do to you.”
She giggled and gave me a playful shove. “Why don’t you come in so I can shut the door? I’ve already been fired for indecent exposure once. I wouldn’t want it to happen a second time.”
“Trust me. If you’d like to prance around naked right now, you most certainly won’t be fired.”
The inside of her apartment was filled with boxes. She pointed to an empty spot on the couch and said, “Take a seat wherever you can find one. I just need to grab my purse and freshen up my lipstick now that you’re wearing half of it.”
I wiped my lips with my thumb. “Take your time.”
While Ireland disappeared down the hall, I looked around the apartment a bit. There were a few framed photos on the bookshelf, two of her and another woman—who I assumed might be her roommate—one of Ireland, who looked to be about seven or eight with what I guessed was her mother, and another one of her taken recently with an older woman.
Ireland came up behind me while I had that one in my hand. “That’s my Aunt Opal. My mom’s sister. She raised me after my mother died. She’s like a mother to me. Three months ago she moved down to Florida. It’s odd not having her close by anymore.”
“You two remained close?”
She nodded. “She has macular degeneration, so she’s slowly losing her eyesight. She went to live with her daughter in Sanibel Island. Carly is twelve years older than me. She’d already moved out when her mom took me in when I was ten. But we’re close. We text every few days. I’m going down to visit next month.”
“I was five when I moved in with my mother.”
“Do you mind if I ask what happened that you wound up in foster care?”
It wasn’t something I spoke about often, but Ireland had been so open about her family history. “My mother was fifteen when I was born. My father isn’t named on my birth certificate and was never in the picture. She had a tough home life of her own, and we bounced around from place to place. Eventually, she got into drugs, and we were living in shelters. One night she snuck out and never came back. Haven’t seen her since.”
Ireland’s hand covered her heart. “Oh, God. I’m so sorry.”
I put down the framed photo. “Don’t be. I was lucky. The first family I was placed with was my parents. I was never bounced around like a lot of kids. I had a good childhood. Pia was the best mom in the world. My dad worked a lot, but he was great, too. They’re my parents.”
Ireland smiled sadly. “Yeah. I sort of feel the same way. Even though I have nice memories of my mom, I feel like Opal was my parent. Come with me. I want to show you something.”
I followed her into her bedroom, and she pointed to a sign over her bed.
No rain. No flowers.
“A lot of my mom’s death and everything that happened around that time is a blur. But I remember the priest coming to talk to me after her funeral and saying these words when I was crying. Somehow they’ve stuck with me over the years. Seems appropriate for your history, too.”
I looked into her eyes. Fuck me. This woman was something else. I was standing ten feet away from her bed, and all I wanted to do was wrap her in my arms. The fact that I didn’t want to bend her over the bed and fuck her sort of freaked me out a little.
I blinked a few times and looked away. “It’s a beautiful saying.”
Ireland grabbed a sweater from her closet and a purse from her dresser. “You ready to meet my friends?”
“I’d prefer to have you all to myself, but I’m ready to head out, if that’s what you’re asking.”
She smiled and took my hands. “You want to know a secret?”
“What’s that?”
“I’m a little afraid to be all alone with you. That’s honestly one of the reasons I insisted on drinks rather than a full date.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. I guess I sort of don’t trust myself with you. You make me…nervous. Not in a bad way, if that makes any sense.”
I took one of our joined hands and brought it to my lips to kiss her knuckles. “It makes a lot of sense. You know why?”
“Why?”
“Because you scare the shit out of me, too.”
