Page 11 of Naughty Irish Liar

Or in this case. My vagina. She wanted one man so bad she was weeping with anticipation.

I was in the middle of packing my bag for school when my phone rang. It was too early to deal with mom’s charity talk. She was obsessed like a Kardashian was with her own reflection. I commended her, sure. She was doing great things putting together galas for the rich and obnoxious of New York to attend and part with their well-earned money. But I didn’t want to hear about yet another occasion she just had to have me attend when I could read about it in the showbiz news like everyone else.

It was wrong of me, but I ignored my own mother.

Only, it rang again right after the first time and that wasn’t her style. She would usually leave me a voicemail (who even still does those? My mom that’s who) laying on the guilt so thick she would have needed to use a cake spatula, letting me know how badly neglected she was by her one and only daughter. I loved her so much. I’d decided long ago I was going to be my mom when I grew up.

She was a ball buster and a sweetheart all in one.

My dad adored the very ground she strut on.

But it wasn’t mom calling. I frowned seeing an unknown number.

Usually that was my cue to cut it off. What kind of psycho just rang a person like that? But now I had it in my head it must be mom related somehow so I answered.

“If this is a telemarketer you should know I have a particular set of skills….”

“It’s Ronan.”

No nonsense. Voice like hard candy.

Oh, hell. I lost the power of my legs, when mine went out from under me and I fell to the couch with a thump.

He’d called me.

He had my number.

Wait.

“How did you get my number?”

“The same way you stalked my pub.”

I loved his accent in my ear.Me pub. Often times, back when I would ask him all kinds of stupid questions I’d keep him talking, because if sex had a voice then it belonged in the mouth of Ronan MacNamara.

Be cool, be calm.Oh my god, what did I do?

“Hello, Ronan. Can I help you?” I gave back his own words.

If I were trying to get him to react I sadly failed. Not a growl nor a sigh came back.

I picked at the hole in my jeans. Whittled the soft skin on my lip. Counted the thousands of heartbeats thundering through me.

“You wanted a job. You have a job. Don’t fuck it up, Catherine. Be atMacNam’sat six.”

Holy shit. Was he serious? I expected a bigger battle than him giving in by handing me lots of time to charm his socks off with my lusty wiles.

“Really?”

“I didn’t stutter. Six o’clock sharp. I don’t like tardiness.”

“But…”

“Six.” And the asshole hung up.

My smile crept slowly and then all at once. I popped to my feet and danced on my tip toes, shimmying on the spot. “Gabby! I can’t go out to dinner with you tonight, ask the mafia don to take you. Looks like I have a new job.”

With my future virginity-taker. Yay me!

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