a little extra cash. He hadn’t taken the time to listen to the CD provided of her music and he was surprised by how much he enjoyed the sound of the Celtic-infused rock band that pulled from all nations. Or maybe he was just intrigued by the lass and wasn’t really hearing the music.
All the other band members fell silent as she worked the pipes.
A spotlight hit her. He recognised the Kelly tartan…from her mother’s side of the family. The Kellys were one of the few Irish clans entitled to wear a tartan—the same as the royal house of Stewart.
Because of the distance and the way she held the bagpipes, he couldn’t quite read the writing on her white T-shirt. The distance and dim lighting made it impossible to see her eyes, even though the information he had on her said they were green.
Then again, the file said she had blonde hair. It hadn’t mentioned the fiery highlights that seemed to ignite in the overhead lighting. It hadn’t mentioned that the lengths fell in bedroom-like disarray across her forehead and around her face and shoulders.
It looked the way it might after a good, long, hard screw.
“Got your eye on that one, have you, mate?” the barkeep asked, pocketing the tip Jack had left on the bar. “She’s been in here half a dozen times in the past year. A right handful, she is. Won’t be having none of the likes of you.” He glanced at her then back at Jack. “She won’t be having any of us for that matter.”
“We’ll be seeing about that.”
“Good luck. She vanishes after the show. She doesn’t stay at the same place the rest of the band does. She’s talented all right. But she ain’t interested in any socialising. She’ll cut any man to the quick.”
Jack nodded, considering himself warned. “Fetch me another pint, mate.”
The bartender nodded and moved off.
Jack returned to watching the woman. It could be worse, he supposed. She was passionate, if her music was anything to go by. In need of taming, if the bartender’s words were anything to go by.
Her passion turned him on.
He’d want Sinead, no matter what his máthair Chríona, grandmother, said. The way Sinead moved her hips made his cock harden. He could almost imagine the way she smelt, of musk and desire.
He joined the applause as she ended her solo and she moved to the back of the stage.
He drank his second stout and enjoyed the rest of the set. Part of him wished she would dance again. Another part of him was relieved she hadn’t. He wasn’t sure his libido could take seeing her underwear and bare midriff.
At the end of the set, the gathered crowd gave a lukewarm applause. He watched Sinead place the pipes on the wooden planks, then plop herself down on an amplifier.
Her skirt rode even higher and she didn’t sit like a lady. Now he knew why Yanks drank their beer so damn cold. ‘Twas to cool the flames of ardour.
He watched—or more like it, stared—as she e Heuncapped a bottle of water, tipped her head back and drank deeply.
The band’s lead singer said a few words to Sinead then nodded and moved off, leaving her alone.
Jack seized the opportunity.
In a few steps, he was on the stage. A couple more brought them face-to-face, or, in this case, her face to his crotch. And wasn’t this his lucky day? It wouldn’t be long before he’d have her on her knees, hands secured behind her back as she sucked his cock. “Great show.”
She smiled. It wasn’t a warm and welcoming smile. It was more the smile of a princess. It was polite enough, dutiful, but it sure as hell wasn’t inviting.
The houselights came up a little more.
This close to her, he saw a few beads of sweat on her brow and across the sweet curve of her upper lip. And he was also close enough to read the writing on her in-your-face T-shirt: You’re not rich enough. Smart enough. Or man enough. Don’t even try.
They’d be seeing about that, as well. “Do you intimidate most men, Sinead?”
“All men,” she corrected, recapping her water bottle. “I don’t have time for men.” She levelled a gaze at him. “Even if I wanted a quick toss, it wouldn’t be with an anonymous man. You groupies are all the same.”
The way she talked about sex, with her brogue and feminine sensuality that nothing could disguise, made his cock throb. He wasn’t just hard now. Not