Page 5 of The Love Destroyers

Haven’t I spent many of those sleepless nights trying to find a way out? But every person I’ve reached out to has stonewalled me and refused to help.

“Well…” He takes out the flask for another sip, his expression thoughtful. Then he leans back again, one leg propped against the wall behind him in a pose that’s so effortlessly sexy I’m immediately suspicious he practiced it.

“Well, what?” I ask.

“It’s certainly not a boring story.”

My laughter is so fake it might as well be canned. “It’s certainly not about love and devotion.”

He sets his other foot down, watching me intently, in a way I feel everywhere. “You’re interesting.”

“I’d repay the compliment, but you haven’t told me any stories, boring or otherwise.” I glance toward the front of the restaurant, which is bright compared with this side alley. “Maybe we should get out of here. They’re so happy they probably won’t even notice.”

Damn, I shouldn’t have said that, but I don’t regret it. Maybe I need to have some mindless fun. Make some bad decisions that’ll give me something else to regret for a change.

Seamus grins at me, then removes the stubbed-out cigarette from his pocket and sticks the filter into the side of his mouth. “I only tell stories to women I’m trying to sleep with. And you’re right, you know. It would be pretty stupid of me to try to fuck my sister’s sister-in-law.”

I’m not sure what I expected from him, but his response feels like a slap to the face. A bucket of cold water poured over my head.

“Smoking is disgusting,” I comment coldly.

“I know.” He watches me, his eyes lingering on my mouth before chasing downward to my very well-covered chest. “Are you disappointed I’m not trying to sleep with you, Emma?” He purrs my name in a way that quakes through me.

“No,” I scoff, trying to act unaffected. And then I say something that’s a bold-faced lie: “I wouldn’t sleep with you if you were the last man alive.”

“I guess not,” he says, with that lazy grin. “You like to call them daddy.”

Rage tears through me, but he’d probably get off on it if I slapped him. No, if he wants to tease me, he deserves to be repaid in kind.

I step closer to him and run my fingers lightly over the zipper of his jacket, taking in the way his pupils dilate as he watchesme. Then I press my hand to the black thermal shirt he’s wearing beneath it, trying not to notice the definition I feel under it. He angles his head to the side, almost in question, and I give him a flirtatious smile. Right before I reach in quickly and snatch the flask out of his inner pocket. He doesn’t try to stop me, or do anything but watch me with that cocky look on his face.

For half a second, I imagine splashing the whiskey on him, but why waste good whiskey? I slip it into my purse and head toward the front of the restaurant to rejoin the party, leaving Seamus out with the trash.

I can hear him chuckling as I walk away.

CHAPTER TWO

SEAMUS

I can’t sleep.

I’m kept up by a chorus ofYou could be inside of Emma Rosings Smith right now, you absolute idiot.

The voice in my head is right. Iaman idiot. Emma is sexy as hell—from her thick, glossy, dark hair and moss-green eyes to her curvy ass. But it’s her smart mouth that’s got me twisted up in knots. She’s all sharp edges and razor wire, and it would be something indeed to be the man she lets in.

It would also be a stupid-as-hell mistake to sleep with a woman who’ll be at every family event from now until I die.

Or until the forty percent chance Rosie gets divorced comes to pass.

Besides, where would I have even brought Emma? She’s staying with her mother. I’m sleeping in my brother’s guest bedroom, next door to his fiancée’s father, Chuck, a man whose sense of direction is so poor he’s already tried to enter my room twice, thinking it’s his.

I made the drive down from New York City with Chuck. It would be impossible not to like the guy. He’s like a marshmallow made human, but I’m jumpy enough that I’ve started using my lock.

I sit up in bed and run my hands through my hair, silently abusing myself. I should have stayed in a hotel. I couldstillstay in a hotel. If I’d had a hotel room, maybe I could’ve risked it…

After Emma stole my flask, she spent the rest of the night drinking from it, always making sure she was in my field of vision. I’ll be damned if it didn’t make me crazy.

She’s something, all right, and that ex of hers is a piece of work who deserves to be bludgeoned over the head with karma. I think I’d probably enjoy being the one who did it. Or at least standing by and watching.

---