As Bad As Can Be (11 page)

“Not so much as you'd expect,” Shay said easily. “They're proud to have a lawyer in the family, and anyway, there was me to take over the business.” He plucked a spiral of puff pastry wrapped around olive tapenade from a passing tray and handed it to her.

“You had to start it so young, though.” She took a bite of the hors d'oeuvre and almost swooned at the flavor.

“Lots of kids have jobs at seventeen and eighteen,” Shay observed, watching her single-minded enjoyment of the food. She'd relaxed in the past half hour, he thought, though he doubted she noticed. The edginess that had stood out all over her when they'd walked in had smoothed away, no doubt helped by the champagne.

“They don't take responsibility for entire businesses,” she argued. “Couldn't one of your dad's siblings have taken it over?”

“No other sons to pass it to,” he said simply.

She raised a brow. “And daughters weren't good enough?”

“Grandda wanted it to be in the O'Connor name. Besides, he was raised to be big on the eldest son inheriting.”

“Chauvinist,” she sniffed.

Shay smiled. “You're talking about a man born in 1922.”

“Sounds like he stayed there.”

Shay turned his head across the room. “Well, you can tell him that yourself, because here he comes.”

Mallory watched Shay's grandfather make his way across the room, leaning jauntily on his silver-topped cane.

“Hello, young Shay. Good to see you've finally joined us. You've had your mother worried.”

Shay put a hand on Mallory's back and urged her forward. “I had to find my date. Mallory Carson meet my grandfather, Padraic O'Connor. Grandda, meet Mallory. She runs a bar on Washington Square.”

“Woman running a bar?” he asked, looking up at her suspiciously. “What do you do if a fight breaks out? You need to be able to break it up.”

Given that he was a head shorter than she was, Mallory doubted he was much more effective at stopping brawls than she was. “I have a couple of hired bruisers to keep the clientele in line.”

“Good,” he nodded vigorously. “You'll need it to stop trouble, especially dressed half naked as you are.”

“Padraic O'Connor, you old coot, stop diviling the girl,” said a woman's voice behind them. Mallory turned to see a silver-haired woman about Padraic's size behind them. “She's a friend of Shay's and a guest. Remember your manners,” she said sharply.

“Ah, Mallory, meet my great-auntie Lillian, Grandda's sister.”

Mallory found her hand taken in a surprisingly strong grip. “It's nice to meet you, dear. You'll have to forgive Padraic. We tried to raise him right but it didn't take, and he's just gotten worse with age.” She shuffled a step closer to her brother. “The way she's
dressed is the style these days. If you ever opened a magazine or newspaper, you'd know that. Join us in the twenty-first century, will you?”

“At my age, I don't have to do anything I don't want to,” he retorted, a mutinous look on his face.

“With you, that's been any age,” she retorted.

“Let's just leave them to it,” Shay whispered, drawing her away. “They entertain each other for hours this way.”

Mallory followed him bemusedly. “How much older is she?”

“Six years. She practically raised him, to hear her tell it. He says he'd sooner have been raised by wolves.”

“I can imagine,” she said, a smile quirking her lips and she watched the bickering pair.

Shay rested a hand on the small of her back. He had a way of touching her like that, lightly, casually, so that it never felt suffocating. It didn't feel like something he was doing before making a pass. It felt…friendly, she realized with surprise. Companionable. It had stolen over her the same way as his small courtesies.

“Let's go meet the guests of honor,” he said, steering her through the crowd.

Her stomach tightened a little as Shay's mother caught sight of them. Here it came, Mallory thought. Here was where the evening got unpleasant. The quick look up and down, the little hesitation before she came toward them, Mallory had seen it all before.

What she hadn't seen, though, was a mother who stretched out both arms and took her hands in a warm grip. “You must be the Mallory that Colin's been going on about. You're as beautiful as he let on,” she
said, nodding to herself. “I'm Gillian, Shay's mother. It's so nice to meet you.” She released Mallory's hands. “I've heard so much about you from Shana and Colin. I can't get Shay here to tell me a thing.”

Her husband was behind her, his hand held out. “Aidan O'Connor,” he said. “Good to meet you.”

Mallory shook his hand in bemusement. Impeccable manners for both of them, she thought. She figured they had to be nonplussed, at the very least, but they were doing a good job of covering it up.

“Gilly, we should go say hello to Miss Hanover before she goes home. You can grill the girl later,” Aidan said, patting Mallory's shoulder.

They drifted off with smiles, leaving her pleasantly puzzled. She'd been prepared for icy politeness if not the cold shoulder. Instead they'd treated her like she was anybody else. Perhaps it was genuine.

Or perhaps Shay's mother was merely biding her time.

Shay handed her another glass of champagne. “To running the gauntlet,” she said, raising her glass to his.

“Oh, come on, they were fine.”

“They were nice,” she confessed. “I was surprised.”

“I don't know why. What did you expect?”

Mallory shrugged. “Disapproval, I suppose.”

He laughed. “They've got five of us running around getting in trouble. There's not a whole lot that alarms them anymore.”

“So there's you, Colin, and Shana. Where are the rest of them?” she asked.

“My brother Ian is a firefighter out in Pittsburgh.
Megan is over doing her year abroad at Dublin University. She wants to be a biochemist.”

“And Colin wants to be a rock star.”

“This week.”

“What about Shana?”

“Shana wants to be a kept woman and never work another day in her life,” said the woman in question as she walked up. “Don't look so shocked, Shay, it's a perfectly fine career move. Look at that Hollywood madam who made all the headlines.”

“You're out of your mind, you know,” Shay told her.

Shana turned to Mallory. “You've monopolized her long enough, Shay, it's our turn.” Shana gave Mallory's arm a tug. “Come on over and talk with Fiona and me. You can meet the cousins.”

Mallory gave a desperate glance to Shay before letting herself be walked away. “I'll never keep all these people straight.”

Shana waved it away. “You don't have to. We don't stand much on ceremony. ‘Hey you,' usually works.”

Mallory laughed. “I suppose you know you've completely scandalized your brother.”

“I wouldn't say stuff like that if it weren't so easy to get him in an uproar,” Shana confided with a laugh. “I'm loving watching him around you. He has no idea what to do with you and he can't stay away.” She clicked her glass against Mallory's. “Here's to you for giving my brother someone to worry about besides Colin and me.”

 

T
HE TIME DRIFTED BY
in a confusion of stories and laughter, names and faces she'd never remember. Al
ways, Shay was there, either at her elbow or warming her with a glance across the room. When the music started, she danced with uncles, Shay's father, the fire marshal and the head of the Chamber of Commerce. And much to her surprise, she found herself having fun.

She opened the door to the ladies' room, only to find Shay's mother, Gillian, in front of the mirror. No point in pretending she opened the wrong door, she thought. Might just as well get it over with.

“Well hello again,” Gillian said, fluffing her hair. “Having fun?”

“Of course. Congratulations. Thirty-five years of marriage is something to be proud of.”

“It is, isn't it?” Gillian smiled. “Does it count against me that I've wanted to murder him in his sleep on more than one occasion?”

In spite of herself, Mallory laughed. “No, I'd say it would count against you if you'd managed to live with someone all that time and
not
want to murder him in his sleep.”

“That's a relief,” Gillian said and leaned against the sink to look at Mallory appraisingly. “So you're the one with the dancing girls.”

She'd known this part was coming sooner or later, Mallory thought and raised her chin. “People need entertainment. We just give them what they want.”

“I miss letting off steam like that,” Gillian said wistfully.

At Mallory's startled glance, Gillian laughed. “I might be fifty-eight but I'm not a fossil. You didn't invent wildness, you know.”

For the life of her, Mallory couldn't think of a thing to say.

Gillian smiled. “Nineteen sixty-eight, boy, that was a time. I was a go-go dancer when I met Shay's father, you know.”

Mallory's jaw dropped. “You were a…”

“A go-go dancer in a wire cage,” Gillian finished for her. “Complete with white patent-leather boots. It was at a club up in Providence. We watched Goldie Hawn every week on
Laugh-In
and tried to rip off her moves.”

“But…” Mallory looked around the staid surroundings. “I don't see how…”

“How I wound up somewhere like this?”

“Isn't your husband a family lawyer?” Mallory asked faintly.

Gillian took a lipstick from her purse. “It's that terminally conservative O'Connor blood. Aidan was a student and needed some shaking up. Those O'Connors all need some shaking up,” she confided.

Mallory watched her redden her lips. “Now I know where Shay gets his wild streak,” she murmured.

“The boy's finally showing a wild streak? Good,” Gillian said in satisfaction. “I've been worried about him.”

Mallory turned to look at her, well and truly befuddled. “Why are you telling me all this?” she asked.

“Shay's different around you,” Gillian said simply. “He's always worked too much. I keep wishing that he'd learn to take things less seriously. The other kids have inherited some of that from me, but Shay's a sucker for the O'Connor responsibility gene. He needs to learn how to enjoy his life before it's past him.” Her look was wistful. “Maybe you can help him with that.”

Mallory tried to absorb the irony of being welcomed
precisely because of, not in spite of, who she was. “Does Shay know what you used to do?”

Gillian smiled. “It's never come up, exactly.” She dropped her lipstick back into her purse and snapped it closed. “I need to keep some mystery, you know. Have fun, dear.”

She winked and walked out the door.

T
HE WHINE OF A SAW
and the rhythmic pounding of hammers on wood echoed into her apartment from Bad Reputation below as Mallory sat working on her accounting program. More rapidly than she'd expected, the stage on which bands would perform was taking shape. First up—Colin's band. She'd briefly considered trying to save some money by making the stage herself, but quickly decided that some projects were best left to professionals, especially when they involved the safety of others. Still, the red entry in the capital expenditures column made her wince a little. It was so much more pleasant to focus on the revenues she'd been bringing in over the previous weeks.

“And how do your numbers look?”

She glanced up to see Shay walking toward her from the open door that led down to Bad Reputation. “Not nearly as good as you do.”

“Same goes.” He gave her a hello kiss that stretched out into long, decadent moments of pleasure. Finally he pulled away. “So you still want to go to the warehouse club?”

She smiled. “Honestly, Shay, you plan the most romantic outings.”

“Just trying to impress you,” he said modestly. “Are you about ready to go?”

“In two shakes of a lamb's tail.” She shut down
her computer and pulled out her shopping list. “I want to check on the construction before we go,” she said.

They went through the door and down the stairs that opened out just inside the front door of Bad Reputation. A discreet door, locked during business hours, protected it from prying eyes and hands. It was a convenient, if somewhat noisy, living space for someone just starting a business, and it was included in the lease. If there were problems when she had a night off, she was around. Eventually, Mallory supposed, she'd want to move, but right now it worked.

They wandered over to the dance floor, where a crew was building the low stage.

“Hey, isn't that one of your bouncers?” Shay asked.

Mallory nodded. “Randy's trying to get a carpentry business off the ground. I figured it wouldn't hurt to give him a try.”

Just then, Randy looked up and set his tools aside. “Hey, Mallory.”

“Hey. You know Shay O'Connor, right?”

“Sure. So, how does it look so far?” He waved at the framed-out stage, his florid, blunt-featured face eager to please.

“Great,” she said truthfully, circling the sturdy, squarely built structure.

“We should be done with it by this afternoon and we'll paint it tomorrow. You said it was okay if we took two days, right?”

“Absolutely. Hey, you didn't have steps in the original estimate, did you?”

He shrugged and blushed. “I just thought it might be easier to use that way.”

“How much more does that add to the estimate?” she asked.

“Nothing. It's a first-customer discount.”

“A first…” She raised an eyebrow. “Is this really your first job?”

Randy shifted his feet and looked over at his buddy. “Well, yeah. I mean, Bill and I, we've both worked on crews for four or five years. This is the first job on our own, though. Except for a deck we built for Bill's mom. It's tough to break in this town. You were the first one to give us a chance.” He hesitated. “I don't suppose you'd write us a recommendation when we're done, would you? If you're happy with it, I mean.”

“Absolutely. Maybe Shay can put the word around at the Chamber of Commerce, too, huh, Shay?”

“Consider it done,” Shay said, watching her.

Mallory nodded in satisfaction. “Good. Hey, I'm heading out to do a couple of errands. Will you take care of locking up if you leave before I get back, Randy?”

“Sure,” Randy nodded.

“Great.” Mallory started to turn away, then stopped. “And, Randy? No first-customer discounts. You charge me the right price. Run your business like a pro, okay?”

He gave her a bashful grin. “You got it, boss.”

On the highway to the warehouse club, Shay turned in his seat and watched her drive.

“You have something on your mind, sweet pea?”

“You, of course, but that's become chronic.”

His voice sent a little wash of pleasure through her. He had a way of looking at her, Mallory thought, a way that made her feel like he was touching her whole
body. She might have been wearing a sweater and jeans, but she felt naked.

“So, I hear from Colin that you're giving his band a gig. You specializing in mentoring start-up businesses?”

She smirked. “Hardly.”

“I don't know. A first-time carpenter, a band with no gigs…”

“Hey, they do a good job, they want to go somewhere. I respect that.”

He cupped her nape with his hand, smoothing the downy hairs back there with his fingertips. “You've also got a soft spot for the scrappers.”

“I don't know what you mean,” she muttered, a faint flush staining her cheekbones.

“Would you have hired Colin's band if he weren't my brother?”

“Of course,” she said promptly. “They play catchy stuff that's sexy to dance to. That's the kind of band I want in Bad Reputation. It's a business decision—if they work out, I can get a lock on them early and won't be fighting to book them.”

“I still think you have a soft spot.”

“I think you think entirely too much,” she countered.

 

T
HERE WAS NOTHING MORE
exquisite than the feeling of skin on skin, Mallory thought driftingly. The work-day had come and gone and they were finally wrapped together in her bed. Even now, after they'd spent hours making love, the smooth heat of his chest against her breasts sent little bolts of sensation shooting through her.

“There's something about this bed,” Shay mur
mured, stroking her slowly. “Every time I get near it, I get this insatiable craving for you.”

“Becka was right about it,” Mallory said.

“What do you mean? Who's Becka?”

“A friend of mine from Lowell. I needed a bed and she was moving in with her guy, so she gave me hers. She said it's magic, that it brings good luck.”

“Should we go to Atlantic City?”

Mallory bounced her fist lightly off his shoulder. “Not that kind of luck. Happiness, I guess. She said when her friend gave the bed to her, her life came together.”

He looked intrigued. “Any idea how long that takes?”

“I don't think it comes with a timer or anything. I'll just settle for a good night's sleep at some point.” She yawned. “All that dancing gets exhausting.”

“How did you ever get into that, anyway?” Shay asked, eying her lazily.

Mallory propped her chin on his chest. “Well, I didn't plan it, if that's what you're asking. It was about three weeks after we opened. One of the lights over the bar went out. There were only a couple of people in the place, so I figured I might as well deal with it.” She traced a fingertip over the line of his collar bone. “I was up on the bar changing the bulb and ‘Honky Tonk Women' came on the jukebox. I just started moving to it a little, and then a couple of the guys in the place started making noise, so I camped it up. Belinda jumped up with me. It was just kind of a lark.”

“But one that kept going.”

She laughed. “Hey, all the noise brought in a couple of people. The next night, we had people asking about it.”

“Instant traffic.”

“Far be it from me to look a gift horse in the mouth.”

“And the Bad Girls were born. What's with the bad thing, anyway?”

“It's catchy, it plays on the concept.” She tried to shrug it off.

“It's more than that, it's got to do with you. Were you the town bad girl when you were young?”

She pressed kisses on his chest. “I think you should start using your mouth for other things besides talking.”

“No, really.” He put his fingers under her jaw and turned her face to look at him. “Talk to me.”

Mallory sighed in resignation. “You probably know that when Dev and I were little, we lost our mom.” She kept her voice light, her expression calm. “We moved in with my dad's sister. Aunt Rue's second favorite thing to tell me was that I was a bad girl.”

“What was the first?”

“That I was just like my no-good mother.” The words came out before she could stop them. Mallory rolled away from him onto her side and stared out into the dimness of the room, swallowing the sudden bitterness in her mouth. “I decided pretty early on that if she was going to give me the label, I might as well have fun earning it.”

“Didn't your father say anything?”

Mallory hesitated a moment, then sat up on the edge of the bed. “You know what? I'm starved. Why don't we go see what's in the kitchen?”

“Don't shut me out,” Shay returned. “Let's finish talking about this.”

“About what? There's nothing to say.” She ignored
the roiling in her stomach. “It's ancient history, over with years ago.”

“No it's not. It's here in this room with us right now. It's part of everything you do.”

“Spare me the psychoanalysis, Shay.” She rose to her feet and crossed to get her robe. “Let's go find some food. I think I have a frozen pizza.”

Shay looked at her and his jaw slowly tightened. “Great. First we'll eat and then you'll kiss me good night and put me out on the street again.”

“Don't give me that.” She slid her arms into the silk robe. “I'm giving you food and sex and zero demand for commitment. You should be in heaven.”

Abruptly Shay got out of bed. “Thanks for being so accommodating,” he said shortly, crossing the room to jerk his jeans off the dresser.

“Come on, Shay, you're making a big thing out of nothing,” she said persuasively, ignoring the uneasiness that twisted in her stomach. “We've got a good thing going. Let's not screw it up by getting mad.”

“Why should I be mad?” he bit off, buttoning his shirt. “I'm getting laid and I'm getting fed. Why should it bug me that you shut me out any time we get close to going beyond that?”

She blew out a breath. “I told you, I don't sleep well with someone else in the bed.”

“And I'm not talking about beds and sleeping.” His sudden fury left her blinking in shock. “I'm talking about keeping me out of your life and your mind. You do it all the time. You're so damned proud of those walls, you never even bother to look around and see how empty it is inside. Why won't you let me in?”

“Where did this come from?” Mallory swallowed
through a suddenly tight throat. “We agreed to have a fling, Shay, remember?”

“Yeah? Well, I've changed my mind. I want more.” Frustration vibrated in the tense lines of his body.

It was par for the course with men, she thought, fighting the surge of alarm. This was how it always happened. They said no-strings sex, great, then sooner or later they'd pitch a fit about wanting more. That was her cue to say thanks and see you later, and then they'd be out of her life.

But she didn't want Shay out of her life. Panic rose up to choke her. It felt too good to have him around. It felt right. But there were places inside, dungeons in her mind where she couldn't let him go. Couldn't let anyone go, except Dev, who'd been there when they were built. “What is that supposed to mean? Are you handing me an ultimatum?”

“Call it what you like. I want more than just sex, and if you're not willing to give it, then maybe it's best that we figure that out now.”

“You can't walk out now, the orgasms are too good,” she said with an attempt at flippancy that failed miserably.

Shay stopped and turned to her. “So I can only go when you want me to? I'm only around when I don't crowd you too much? That's not the way it works, Mal. It's a two-way street.”

She reached out and brushed her fingers against his face. “Don't ask me for things I can't give, Shay. There's only so much I can do right now. You matter to me, though.” She was horrified to hear her voice tremble.

“Then let me in.” His voice was passionate in its quiet intensity.

“I can't,” she said. At the sight of his face closing up, she rushed onward, her words tumbling over one another. “It's the way I'm built, Shay. Things have happened.”

“None of which you'll tell me, right?” he snapped. “You know, the mystery thing might have sucked me in when I was nineteen or twenty. Now it just frustrates me. I don't understand why you won't even try, because I know you're stronger than that.”

“I can't change who I am overnight,” she cried out. “And I can't change it to please you.”

The silence pressed against them both.

“Then I guess we know where we stand.” For a moment, he simply stared at her. Then he took two quick strides and seized her face in his hands. The kiss he pressed on her was a mix of fury, frustration, passion, and regret. Before she could react, he'd pulled away. “Goodbye, Mallory.”