Hot Male Page 9

  Between wheezing Michael whispered, “Nope, fine. Just a tickle from the cold air.”

  She turned her focus back to Meg. “I’m guessing she’s no ballerina. Too fat for any man to lift off the ground without a winch.”

  Meg opened her mouth but was silenced when Michael sliced his hand backward and forward across his throat.

  “She works backstage, and it’s just the coat. Underneath she has a lovely figure.”

  Aunt Rosalie chuckled. “I’m sure she does. And I’m also sure it would be safer if she stays in the house with me. I’ve heard the rumors of your reputation, young Michael. That summer ya spent with me never did cure ya of the sex, did it? You boys can have the cottage together. I won’t be having any hanky panky. No one will be going to hell on account of me.”

  Meg turned a panicked face toward Sam, and he toward her. “She’s my sister and she’s a lesbian.”

  Michael nodded sagely. “Aye, and she likes older women.”

  Rosalie frowned. “How come they’ve got different names?”

  Sam glanced at Meg and then back at Rosalie. “Different fathers. Our mother was a woman of ill repute.”

  “God save us, you poor things. Your mother a whore and the two of ya have the gay?”

  Meg nodded. “We do.” She stepped toward Rosalie and lifted a hand toward the older woman’s dark hair. “You know, if you undid your scarf and let the curls loose you’d look positively darling. Wouldn’t she, Sam?”

  Sam nodded, happy to play along. “How about a makeover. With new makeup and a whole new outfit she’d be simply scrumptious.”

  Rosalie tugged her headscarf tighter over her hair and turned tail. “No one will be doing any making over. Bring your things. I’ll show ya to the cottage.”

  Chapter 16

  Meg shivered despite her new sweater, coat, scarf, gloves, hat, and boots. The snow looked pretty fluttering and dancing in the wind when you were in a warm car, but she was beginning to hate the cold wet stuff already. In the moments since Michael’s aunt had told them to follow her, the precipitation had gone from a pretty dusting to a full-on blizzard. If the weather got much worse they would need a Sherpa guide and rope to lash themselves together before one of them wandered off the path and got lost, only to be discovered stiff and very dead when the spring thaw set in.

  Not willing to be the one left to die, Meg grabbed the back of Sam’s jacket and followed in his footsteps, bumping into him when he suddenly stopped.

  “Now, before we go inside, there’ll be no boots on in the house. I won’t abide with mud. Cleanliness is next to godliness.”

  Michael grabbed Meg’s elbow and pulled her to stand in the front. The boys waited patiently as she hopped around tugging off her boots and then stood them side by side on the porch before following Rosalie inside. Once they were all in the front hall, with the door firmly closed, Rosalie marched through the cottage.

  “The kitchen is this way. I got in some supplies. Usually guests take care of their own food but as the weather is closing in I took the liberty of stocking the fridge and pantry.” She turned her gaze on Michael. “That will be another seventy-five Euros on top of the cost of the cottage hire.”

  When she kept staring, he took out his wallet and pulled some notes free. She took them and tucked them in her dress pocket.

  “Lounge is through the doorway and firewood is stacked around the back. Bedroom and bathroom are in the attic upstairs. I’ve been up already to light the fire. I’d show ya but my knees are not what they once were and I’ll not be climbing those stairs again today. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve dinner to cook for Father Donnelly. I’ll be over in the morning around eight to do for ya. I don’t abide nudity, and don’t leave dirty dishes in the sink.”

  Once the front door slammed shut, Meg slid down onto one of the hard timber chairs and pulled off her hat. “Tough lady.”

  Sam dropped the cases on the floor, folded his arms and glared at Michael. “And why did I have to be gay? Why couldn’t you be gay?”

  “Because it’s bad enough I’m a bleedin’ ballerina.”

  Meg giggled. “Are you going to show us your tutu later?”

  “Darlin’ you can see my tutu any time, you only need ask.”

  Meg felt her face flush. Her comment hadn’t been sexual, but the way Michael looked at her left her in no doubt his answer was. She needed to keep away from him. Forbidden fruit.

  Her mother had finally accepted that Sam was her lover, she would never accept adding Michael to the mix. Oh no, not what she meant. She didn’t want Michael. Didn’t like Michael. He was a persona non grata. Sam was her man. She would never let him go. One man was enough for any woman. No way was she ever going to let herself be led astray by the family affliction. So what if the women in her mother’s family had a reputation for having a voracious sexual appetite? Sam had reanimated her libido, and she would not be wasting it by inviting the likes of Michael Monaghan to join them. So why did the image of being naked and squished between Sam and Michael float into her head? Jet lag. She turned her attention back to the boys who looked to be squaring up for a fight, again.

  Sam glared at Michael. “No one wants to see your tutu or anything else.”

  Michael grinned. “Afraid your own tutu won’t measure up?”

  “I don’t have a fucking tutu.”

  Michael laughed. “Sure you do, you’re a ballerina, remember?”

  Sam put his fists on his hips. “So, back to my question, why am I gay and a ballerina? If she thinks you’re a ballerina you should have been the gay one.”

  “I figured my ma would have told her if I was, and as she knows about my success with the ladies, I guess I was right.” Michael opened and shut some cupboards and let out a whoop of triumph when he came up with a bottle of Irish whiskey. “Stop complaining, it’s better to be gay than staying with Rosalie and the Father. Very devout couple. Always praying, and she has a saying, the devil makes work for idle hands. She’d have you scrubbing everything until they shone and then she’d make you scrub some more.”

  “When you say couple, you don’t mean…” Meg left the question hanging in the air.

  After taking three cups from the cupboard and filling each of them with a generous slug of booze, he looked at Meg. “Aunt Rosalie wouldn’t know what to do with a man if he lay spread eagled naked on her bed with an erection the size of a prize bull. And I don’t believe Father Donnelly has ever had an erection in his life. Truth be told, I’m not even sure he has a dick.”

  Meg took a sip from her cup and coughed as the whiskey caught in the back of her throat.

  Sam slapped her on the back. “You okay?”

  “Sure. Fine.” She waved him off and got to her feet. Her bladder was fit to bust and all the coughing had made the need for relief all the more urgent. “I’ll only be a minute.”

  Not bothering to wait for a reply, she scooted from the room and took the narrow staircase two at a time. Her steps faltered when she reached the top. Instead of a hallway and doors as she expected, a room spread out before her. The ceiling sloped down, and tiny windows in the roof filtered dim light into the open space. Two timber double beds stood at one end of the room, a door the other. The whole place looked like something from a fairytale. A cream and pink rug covered the floorboards, matching the bedspreads and curtains. The room was simply furnished with pine bedside tables, a full-length mirror, a wardrobe and chest of drawers. An open fire in the corner radiated heat.

  Unless the door at the other end of the room led to another bedroom, this was all they had. Michael’s aunt had said bedroom not bedrooms, but surely they couldn’t all be expected to sleep in one room? Meg padded across to the door and flung it open. Her heart sunk even as she sighed at the enticing bathroom complete with a huge clawfoot bath and double shower.

  Meg used the bathroom before making her way back to the landing. “Guys, you need to come up here.”

  They both appeared at the bottom of the stairs.
Sam took a step up. “Problem?”

  “See for yourselves.” Once they were both at the top she put her hands on her hips. “There’s only one bedroom.”

  Michael scurried across the floor and landed with a thump flat on his back on the double bed closest to the fire and the window. “I claim this one as my own.” He rolled over and grinned. “So, where do you two gay people plan to sleep?”

  Despite Meg’s protests, Michael wouldn’t agree to take the sofa downstairs, claiming it was too short. He’d tried to soften her up by reheating the stew his aunt had left in the fridge, but dinner was a silent affair. She shoved her empty plate away and glared at him.

  “I don’t know why you can’t sleep down here. You’ll be lovely and warm.”

  “If you like the sofa so much you sleep down here. Don’t worry, I won’t watch you going at it. I’ll even cover my eyes until you’re finished. Shouldn’t take more than two minutes.”

  “Ha ha, funny guy. I am not having sex while you’re in the bedroom.”

  “Then your man here will be suffering a case of blue balls because I’m not going anywhere else.”

  Sam pushed his chair back and grabbed Michael by the front of his shirt. “How about you stop worrying about my balls and start worrying about how to get your teeth back from down your throat?”

  Meg squealed. Oh God. If they started fighting she would never be able to stop them. They had to make the best of it. Looking at the weather, they could be stuck together for days unless someone wanted to move in with Rosalie. No doubt Michael would spin the situation to his advantage and get to keep the cottage. Given the option of sharing a room with Michael or a house with Rosalie, Michael won hands down.

  Meg grabbed at Sam’s arm. “How about we toss for it? Winner chooses where Michael sleeps.”

  Michael grinned. “I’ve a better idea. How about a hand of poker? Winner takes all.”

  Sam tugged Michael higher so he was on his tiptoes. “We don’t need to play poker because you’re going to be a gentleman and let us have the bedroom to ourselves.”

  “Afraid you’ll lose?”

  Sam shook the Irishman and then shoved him back. “Nope, I’m afraid you’ll lose and then sulk like a big baby.”

  Michael smoothed the front of his shirt. “I’m no baby but you’re a chicken.”

  Sam’s grin was positively evil. She’d seen him play poker and he was no slouch. Maybe they would get the room to themselves after all. “Get out the cards. Are you in, Meg?”

  She guessed playing cards was better than the alternative. Besides, if they both took on Michael there was more chance of them winning, and then he could enjoy the luxury of the sofa.

  Chapter 17

  Meg frowned as Michael grinned and checked his hand again. He turned his attention to her and she sank lower in her chair, very aware of the fact she was only wearing her lacy pale pink underwear. Despite agreeing to play poker, she couldn’t help but feel the night couldn’t have gone any worse for her even if Michael had planned every hand. He was far too lucky for it to be coincidence. Michael had won the first game, and they had no option but to let him choose where he would sleep. Since then, Meg had refused to go to bed and the poker tournament had continued, moving to a whole new low.

  He had offered double or nothing with the sleeping arrangements pitted against clothing or dares. Even playing some debauched form of cards was better than sleeping in the same room as Michael Monaghan. Bad enough he was in the same house. She didn’t want to think about him naked in bed anywhere and certainly not a few feet away from where she slept. She had a flashback to him and Sian. The shiver that aroused was disgust, not lust. He was not her type. She chanced a glance in his direction, and he winked and ran his tongue along his bottom lip. Her nipples pebbled and she crossed her arms across her chest. The room was cool. There was no way her body would respond to the likes of Michael Monaghan.

  When they started playing she’d had no intention of ending up losing most of her clothes. She was sure she was about to win big and reclaim all her garments and put Michael on the sofa where he belonged.

  Michael lifted the bottle of whiskey and shook it. Empty. Sam lurched to his feet. “I’ll get another.”

  Sam banged around the room dressed only in his underpants. He was a hopeless drunk. Unlike her lover, she’d refused to let Michael top up her cup over and over again. She was feeling a nice buzz but still had all her wits. Her inhibitions and morals were firmly intact. The same couldn’t be said for poor Sam. He’d lost his fight to stay sober hours ago and seemed oblivious to her state of undress, never mind his own. He’d have the hangover from hell in the morning.

  Michael tapped her arm. “So, Maggie, do you fold?”

  “Never, you git. Give me another.”

  Sam arrived back and sloshed booze over the table as he refilled the cups.

  Michael passed Meg a card and then turned to Sam, who had carefully lowered himself into the chair. “Do you fold?”

  “Fold what?”

  “The cards, man.”

  Sam giggled and lifted his cards off the table. “Um, yeah. I fold.”

  Meg turned her fierce stare on Sam. They were supposed to be a team and Sam was a far better poker player than she was. Without his help all hope was lost. “Why do you keep doing that? No wonder you’re all but naked.”

  “Butt naked? You like me butt naked.” He reached out to grab her. She shoved him off. Sam was a horny drunk. However, she wasn’t about to play slap and tickle in front of Michael.

  “Now, now children. So, you want to show me what you’ve got, darlin’?”

  She laid her cards on the table with a triumphant grin. Michael stared into her eyes as he laid his own hand down. “Royal Flush beats your pair. So, what is it to be, dare or a piece of clothing?”

  She only had two items of clothing left and she wasn’t giving up either of them. “Dare.”

  “Kiss me.”

  “What?”

  “I dare you to kiss me and if you refuse I’ll be having your bra in payment.”

  “You’re a cheat.”

  He laughed. “Now, now, you can’t be accusing me without proof. Do you have proof, Maggie?”

  She turned to Sam. “Sam.”

  He lifted his head off the table and forced his eyes open. “What, what did I miss?”

  “The Irish git’s cheating and now he wants a kiss.”

  “I don’t want to kiss him. I don’t kiss men.”

  “Not from you stupid. From me.”

  Michael chuckled. “I can’t help being better at cards than you two. Now pay up.” He held out his hand.

  Maggie chewed her bottom lip. “I don’t want to play anymore.”

  “Tough. You lost, you pay, and then you can run your pretty arse up to bed.”

  “He’s right. You have to pay. That’s the rules.” Sam slurred his words.

  “Some boyfriend you are. Why aren’t you protecting me?” A quiet snore was Sam’s only response. Meg got to her feet and took a step toward Michael. He started to rise from the chair but she shoved him back. “Keep your hands to yourself. No touching.”

  She leaned forward and pecked him on the cheek. Before she could escape he grabbed her arms and held her fast. “Not good enough, my pretty. Kiss me or I get the underwear. Your choice.”

  “There were no conditions about the kiss, and I did kiss you.”

  “Afraid you might enjoy it too much?”

  “Nope, I’m afraid I’ll vomit.”

  Before she could move away he buried one hand in her hair and tugged her face toward him. When his lips met hers, Meg melted into the kiss. Michael teased her lips with his tongue and she opened to him. Her body drooped and warmth flowed over her skin where it touched Michael’s naked chest. Nothing existed beyond the exquisite embrace. He drew her deeper, his tongue teasing and probing, making her head spin and her body tingle in places that had no business responding to the likes of Michael Monaghan.

&nb
sp; Suddenly aware that once again she had been tricked into kissing him, she slid her hands down his back, making him moan softly into her mouth. If he wanted to kiss her, why the hell not use the opportunity to finally win the game? With a triumphant yell she pulled free and held up a handful of playing cards she’d discovered tucked in the back of his jeans. “Evidence. You cheating bastard.”

  Apparently her yelling had woken Sam up. He slammed a hand on the table. “You cheated and stole that kiss. I demand satisfaction.”

  “You want a duel? Pistols at dawn?” Michael tipped back his head and roared with laughter.

  Meg collected up the cards and began to shuffle. “No, we want one more hand of cards, but this time the game is Black Jack and I’m the dealer so no one can cheat.”

  “What’s the prize?”

  “Winner takes all. They can choose their prize. Everything is on the table, including them having the option to decide where you sleep tonight.”

  “Agreed. Are you playing or sleeping, Sam?”

  Sam grinned as he propped his head up with his hand. “Playing.”

  Meg dealt out two cards to each of them and then looked at her hand. Not the cards she had hoped for but they were a start.

  “Sam?”

  “Hit me.” She slid another card along the table and he lifted it and chuckled.

  “Michael?”

  “I’ll take another.”

  He lifted the card she passed to him. “Bollocks.” With a flourish he threw them face down, and she laughed in triumph.

  “Bust. Ha ha. Cheaters never prosper.”

  She took a card for herself and totted up the total in her head. Eighteen. Too close to risk another, she laid her cards face down. “Sam? You want another card?”

  He shook his head and laid his cards face up, revealing a perfect twenty-one. Meg did the same and Sam let out a whoop of delight.

  She reached over and tugged his arm. “Think carefully about what you want as a prize.” He stared at her and she prayed he would choose for Michael to sleep on the couch.