Irish Sex Fairy: Ellora's Cave by Kelly Jamieson (the lemonade war series TXT) 📕

closed cupboards, feeling a little like she was snooping. When she opened a cupboard and spotted the bottle of Jameson’s, she paused. With a little huff of laughter she recalled her aunt’s earlier insistence that they have a drink and toast Keara’s being there. “Sláinte chugat,” Maeve had said, lifting her glass.

Another shot of whiskey might be the answer. Why not? It didn’t look like Maeve had any chamomile tea. So she poured amber liquid into a glass and wandered back to the living room. She peered out the window overlooking the street, now quiet and deserted, light pooling in a circle around paving stones beneath the street lamp. Alone.

On a long inhalation, she turned and surveyed the room. Hey. She could go downstairs and look around the store. She could check out every single kinky thing there with nobody else around.

On bare feet, she padded out of the apartment and toward the stairs, feeling for the light switch she knew was at the top. She flicked it on, descended and pushed through the door into the front of the store. She debated whether to put the lights on. She didn’t want to attract attention from anyone passing by but…there was no one passing by at this time of night. And wandering around in the dark shop did not appeal to her. She looked at the small clock on the desk behind the counter. Ten minutes after three.

With a shrug, she flicked on the light and strolled over to a wall display, her glass of whiskey clutched in both hands. She lifted it to her lips and sipped, the strong spirits almost taking her breath away. How did Maeve drink this stuff? Give her a nice Pinot Noir any day.

She studied the vibrators arranged on shelves. Rabbits, pocket rockets, bullets. Waterproof. Dual ended. Good lord, there was quite a variety. She’d left her own trusty rabbit back in LA. Along with her love of clothes, shopping and dining out, another thing she’d lost interest in over the last six weeks was orgasms.

She moved along the wall to the lubricants. Another large selection. She studied lotions flavored with strawberry, pineapple and coconut, chocolate body paint and honey dust. Now that was intriguing…

She paused in front of a display of lingerie, fingered the silky fabric of a cami set that was surprisingly pretty. Real silk in a rich gold color.

A rap on the glass door had her whirling around, whiskey sloshing out of her glass over her hand, her heart surging in her chest. She gave a small cry, eyes searching at the dark window. Jesus, was someone out there?

She saw movement, a dark head then a face at the door peering in.

Her feet froze to the floor, skin prickling as every hair on her body rose, pulse skittering. Dear God, the place was being robbed. Run. She had to run. But as in her nightmares, when she tried to move her feet it felt like she was dragging them through thick mud, her legs heavy. She stood there paralyzed, blood pounding in her ears.

Chapter Four

“Keara!”

Oh for— It was Shane. She pressed a hand to her racing heart, the adrenaline rush making her legs go mushy. With the lights on, she had to be clearly visible in there, so ducking out wasn’t an option.

She cautiously moved to the door and glared at him, putting a hand on the door frame to steady herself. In the wake of the adrenaline rush, weakness slid through her.

“What are you doing?” he asked, and she could hear him through the glass as well as read his lips. “Let me in.”

She shook her head. “No.”

He scowled. “Are you all right?”

“No! You scared the crap out of me!” Now she slumped fully against the wall. She sucked in a long breath.

“Keara, let me in!”

“I’m not letting a strange man in here in the middle of the night.”

“Keara. I’m hardy a stranger.”

So he did remember. Her body tightened. Her eyes met his through the glass.

“I’m also a cop, for Chrissake. I’m just trying to make sure everything’s all right.”

“I don’t care if you’re Jesus himself,” she replied. “I don’t really know you.”

He rolled his eyes.

With a sigh, she punched in the numbers to disable the alarm system Maeve had showed her how to use so she could come and go as she pleased. She unlocked the door and Shane stepped into the store, closed the door behind him and flicked the lock again.

“What the hell are you doing down here in the middle of the night?” he demanded.

“I couldn’t sleep. I decided to come down and look around.”

He stared at her and she realized he had a smear of something on his jaw. She gazed at it. “Uh…you have something…” She lifted her hand point at it and realized what it was. Lipstick. “You have lipstick on your face,” she said. “Guess the date went well tonight, huh? Make use of all those condoms?”

Shane blinked at her, lifted a hand to his cheek.

“Other side,” she said. He scrubbed at his stubbly jaw.

Date? Condoms? Oh yeah. Considering he’d only rolled out of Laila’s bed an hour ago, he’d forgotten her pretty damn quickly. Maeve’s niece had knocked him off balance.

She seemed a lot different than the passionate, vibrant girl he remembered. The girl who’d driven him wild with lust. Now she was pale, with dark shadows under those sparkling emerald green eyes that had bewitched him. Now, she could freeze whiskey with a glance of those witchy eyes.

“The date was fine,” he said. “And yeah…” He eyed her and gave a deliberate smirk. “The sex was safe.”

“I’m so glad for you,” she snapped, taking a step back. Which was when he realized she was barely dressed. A thin, ribbed white cotton tank top clearly outlined her small breasts, shadowy nipples prominent, and the little shorts, white with pink hearts, revealed her long, sleek legs. Oh man. He’d touched those breasts. He’d had those legs wrapped around him. His