Page 11 of Hot Irish Halloween

“Ah, charity balls. I’ve attended a few in my time.”

“The purpose of the ball isn’t exactly for charity.” Jack drank more coffee. He finished and tossed the cup in a waste bin. Penny loved that he did that. She hated litterbugs. “When people with money get to talking, get some drinks in them, they tend to be more generous than if you cold call and say, ‘give me yer cash.’”

Penny laughed, then squinted at him. She was getting into the groove of how he spoke, that deep bass still somehow almost musical in his cadence. “And someone decided to invite a guy who runs a gym for kids to a party where rich people hang out. Does that happen a lot?”

“Jack Valentine really doesn’t ring a bell?” he asked. He turned that direct gaze back on her like a floodlight.

“Should it?” she asked with an upraised palm. “Alright, let’s see.” Penny pulled out her phone and did a quick search. And there it was. “Lucky Jack Valentine, former MMA heavyweight champion of the world. Retired undefeated five years ago. Net worth…” She laughed again at the ridiculousness of this discovery. “And I was wondering if I should offer to pay for my coffee.”

Jack grinned with wry amusement. “You’re welcome to treat me next time, if you like.”

“Alright, now I have to ask. Why does a rich, successful former pro athlete go on an app to find a date for a high society party? You seriously don’t have, like, a hundred women waitin’ on you?” Penny asked, giving him plenty of side eye.

“Been on a few dates to find someone to go but they didn’t work out.”

His blunt honesty that she hadn’t been his first choice was a bit of an ego blow. Never mind he hadn’t been her first choice for a date either. And now that she knew that he’d pounded people into the ground for money, she had somewhat less interest in letting him pound her into a mattress. Which he seemed not to want to do anyway since they started actually talking. Shaking off the disappointment, Penny drank the last of her own coffee and disposed of her cup in the next bin they passed.

“Why would anyone say no to a ball? They didn’t want a whole night out with your sparkling personality?” she teased with a raised eyebrow.

Jack glanced at her, and a hint of a smile formed in the corner of that mouth. The sudden urge to kiss it struck her again. Penny’s pulse fluttered at that grin, along with other body parts. Only now she had to tell those parts to hush and calm down as her hopes for this meeting were now in freefall.

“It’s not just a night out. It’s overnight at a country estate. We’ll have to share a room. And a bed.”

4

WE DON'T TRUST YOU

JACK

Somewhere between her discovery that he’d been a pro fighter and his mentioning that they’d have to sleep in the same bed for the night, Jack could sense that he’d fucked up. At the café she’d seemed interested – very interested. But right now, she wasn’t looking very pleased. Her face had changed when he’d mentioned Brendan, a bit of the sparkle in her eyes dimming. It had grown more serious when he started talking about the party. And his last words had stopped her in her tracks.

Fuck. So much for Lucky Jack. More like Clueless Jack. Shitshow Jack.

“Waimint. An overnight ball? I’ve read my share of English classics, but who has overnight parties in country estates anymore?”

“Simon FitzGerald does. I’m going to assume you don’t follow the high society pages.”

“Musical society is more my jam.” She went quiet for a minute and then blurted out, “Are you inviting me to an orgy?”

Stunned, Jack stared at her. “An orgy? No! The FitzGerald’s are old money. Lands, titles, butlers and peasants. They’re totally stiff cunts that wouldn’t do anything like that. And if theywereinto that, I’d have heard about it.”

Now was the time to mention that the real reason he’d most likely been invited was at the whim of Simon’s wife Clarissa, who did have a reputation for having flings right under her husband’s nose. They’d met a year ago at a Christmas fundraiser. She’d flirted shamelessly with him all night, and since then, she more or less wouldn’t leave him alone. She’d made it clear she expected Jack to fall into bed with her. He’d kept saying no. He was pretty sure that was the only reason he’d been invited to their soiree. Thugs typically weren’t welcome, even a gold-plated one like him.

But he had a feeling telling Penny about that now would make things worse. And he had to see her again, one way or the other. Nothing could be allowed to fuck this up.

“If you’re concerned I’ll try anything, I promise I’ll be a gentleman the entire time.” Yeah, that was a lie. “I’m after the donations only. As my ‘girlfriend,’ all you have to do is chat up the dryshites like they’re actually interesting, have a good meal, and drink their wine. We leave in the morning with a little hangover, hopefully, a bag of coins for the foundation, and the gym stays open another year.”

Penny’s mouth fell open with a short laugh. She shook her head at him. “Why do you need to do any of this? According to your bio, you’ve got more than enough money to keep the lights on.”

“That’s not how it works,” Jack said patiently. “The gym is a legal charitable entity providing a service to underprivileged youth. I had to establish a foundation in order to accept and administer the donations. The initial investment was all my own money but after that, mingling personal assets with the charity isa bad idea, legally and financially. We get some funding from the Arts Council and a UK sports federation, but it’s not enough.”

It didn’t bother him that she probably presumed he was a meathead and maybe hadn’t expected him to know anything about how businesses were run. People had a habit of thinking there was wool between his ears because of his size and his former occupation. And they underestimated him every time.

“I don’t know…an overnight party with strangers in the country…it’s always that one chick who goes to hang out with a group of strangers and then turns up missing.”

He gave her a minute to say something else, but she only shook her head and gave another sarcastic huff. It was fucking deflating. Another failure. This time, from the one woman he actually needed to say “yes” for reasons that had nothing to do with the ball. Penny walked beside him in silent thought, probably contemplating how to be polite and end their meeting.

“Judging from your response, I guess this means you don’t want to go,” he said tersely.

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