Megan

By the time Devon parked in front of Finnegan’s Megan was practically panting with desire. Zander had taken their casual flirting to a whole new level, and not having physical distance to buffer between them was starting to take its toll on her.

Their attraction was combustible. It was January in Ireland and Megan felt hot enough to strip down to her florescent pink Minnie Mouse underwear. She was basically in Zander’s lap for most of the ride to the infamous Dalkey pub, and now that they were there she didn’t know how she’d be able to control herself.

Zander had her so wound up she was likely to drag him into the first bathroom stall she could find and jump his gorgeous bones. Just the thought sent a thrill of exhilaration through her so strong she felt a tightness ratcheting inside her. Shit! She hadn’t even kissed the man yet and he was already giving her a mental orgasm.

Megan’s eyes followed Zander’s finely sculpted ass strolling ahead of her. Her inner goddess raced after him. She wanted to shout, ‘Look, ma! No hands!’ because she was one strong breeze away from having a hell of a mindgasm.

Luckily, Sam showed up to reel Megan back in. “Ya might want to put that thing away,” Sam said not trying to hide her shit-eating grin.

“What? My winning smile?” Megan asked sarcastically.

“I was gonna say your lady boner.”

Megan snorted. “Am I that obvious?”

“I could hear your ovaries cheering in the front seat.”

Megan laughed. “You’re sassy in Ireland,” she quipped. “I like it.”

“Just don’t get too carried away. I mean you should at least be in the country for twenty-four hours before you get yourself deported for dry-humping their youngest billionaire.”

“Yeah, yeah. How long did you wait before making out with Devon at this very bar, ya trollop?”

Sam lifted her chin. “I have no comment.”

Sam scurried away, catching up to Devon, who slung his arm over her shoulder, before turning back to face Megan. “She didn’t make it past the first day,” Devon commented, with a wink, eliciting a playful swat from Sam.

Megan smirked, and tried uselessly to shove the hope filling her chest away. But as she watched Zander hold the door to Finnegan’s open for her, she felt like she was looking into her future, and she very much liked what she saw.

Zander

The pub was busy, packed with the usual Friday night crowd. Zander gave a nod to Pete at the bar and held up four fingers before ducking to his favorite room tucked away in the back. Zander wanted to be somewhere he could carry on a conversation. He worried if it was too loud to talk he’d have nothing to distract him from how much he wanted to throw Megan over his shoulder and haul her back to his place.

If Zander had a type, Megan was it. She was built like a gymnast—tight and curvy, just the way Zander liked his women. Megan had curves for days and an arse to rest a pint on. He was itching to get his hands on it the minute he watched her sashay off the plane.

Zander had always known he was attracted to Megan. They’d video chatted often enough that he knew she was gorgeous, but he hadn’t expected her body to be quite so vivacious. Though he shouldn’t have been surprised that Megan’s body matched her sassy attitude. That’s what had caught his attention in the first place. He loved that she was confident and went after what she wanted. And from the way she was looking at him now, there was no denying that he was on her radar.

It was refreshing to know that for once a girl wanted him just for him. Not because he had arse-loads of money or could get them media exposure or a deal with Cor-Tec. Ever since he’d become the face of the company and assigned a PR team, his dating life had become a nightmare. He couldn’t remember the last time he just picked up a jersey chaser at a pub or skipped off with a lass he’d been chatting up all night. He missed the thrill of the chase, the adventure of the game.

Now it seemed like every damn piss he took had to go through Cor-Tec’s public relations department. And Rita Barns, the old cow Cor-Tec assigned him, seemed to think the right women for Zander were all high-maintenance, skeletal types. He had no idea how much of a kickback Cor-Tec was getting from the mind-numbing number of appearances he was clocking with his so-called ladies of the moment, but if Zander had to sit through one more salad-picking, tonic-sipping, selfie-obsessed snooze-fest, sham of a date, he was going to lose it.

Maybe that was why he felt such an instant attraction to Megan? She was real and she knew him. Both of those things normally would scare the piss out of him, but as he watched her marvel gleefully at the pub’s chaotic scene he knew it was more than lust. Finnegan’s and Dalkey were home, and that’s all Zander truly wanted—someone to share the things he loved with. Someone to bring home.

Maybe Megan could be that girl.

Before Zander could think much more on the subject, the last person he wanted to see rounded the corner—Tabitha Hall.

“Shite,” he muttered under his breath as the leggy, blonde model sauntered over to him.

The room cleared a path for her and she walked it like a runway until she snaked her bone-thin arms around him, air-kissing him on each cheek. “Zander, darling. I’m so glad I caught up with you.”

“Ye are?”

“Didn’t Rita tell you I was in town?”

Zander had purposely left his phone in the car to avoid this exact kind of interruption. He just wanted to spend some time with his friends. Was that too much to ask? Shite!

Tabitha smiled her practiced smile, waving away his confusion. “No worries, darling. I’m here now. We must catch up before the gala this weekend.”

Double shite! Zander had completely forgotten to touch base with the PR team about his date for the gala. He’d been so busy with contracts and sponsorship appearances he’d run out of time to reply to Rita’s pestering emails about choosing a date to escort before he’d had to run off to the airport.

Zander preferred to go to the gala alone so he could work the room. And since Megan and his friends had flown in specifically for the black-tie event, he was even more adamant that he not be tied down by the additional obligation of escorting some new eye-candy for the press.

But apparently his plan had backfired if Tabitha Hall thought she was Zander’s date to the gala. They’d only gone out a few times, but the girl was an utter nightmare. She was a popular fashion model and thought she could get away with murder. Zander had never met someone who acted so rude to people she didn’t deem worthy of her attention. She was a complete social-climber and Zander couldn’t stand her.

Of course, he didn’t find any of that out until their fourth date when she threw a drink in a bartender’s face because, according to Tabitha, he made it wrong.

Zander’s first three dates with Tabitha consisted of them jumping each other’s bones in her limo. And until the drink-slinging incident, he’d been blinded by her beauty and thought he’d actually seen potential with Tabitha.

She was the only one of his PR set-ups that he’d had any interest in. But after everything he now knew of her, Zander felt ashamed he’d ever felt anything for the superficial fembot. But Zander was only human. He couldn’t deny that Tabitha was stunning. She was of the long-legged, thin-boned variety, but she’d paid good money to enhance some of her best assets and Zander could attest that they’d been worth every penny. Plus, he was a man for Christ’s sake. Only a total prat would turn down a woman who graced the pages of just about every lingerie magazine on the planet.

But Tabitha’s brand of drama was the last thing Zander needed right now. Especially with Megan within earshot. Zander had thought he’d seen the last of Tabitha when she told him she was jetting off to Milan on a photo shoot. But from the way she was cozying up to him maybe she’d thought otherwise.

Megan

Megan watched in disbelief as Tabitha Hall slinked up to Zander and wrapped her gorgeous mile long limbs around him. Her heart was split between jealousy and envy. Tabitha Hall was a world-renowned super model. And she was here, in the same bar as Megan! Ireland was the shit!

All kinds of celebrities lived in Boston, yet Megan had never met one, and she’d lived there her whole life. Just a few hours into her trip to Ireland and she was rubbing elbows with the stars. And it wasn’t just that Tabitha was stunningly beautiful and famous, but she’d been in one of Megan’s absolute favorite horror films.

“Omigod,” Megan exclaimed walking up to Tabitha, her hand outstretched. “I’m one of your biggest fans. I just loved you in 1922.”

The model took a step back and smiled tightly. “Right, thanks. I’ll have a gin martini, dry.”

“Oh,” Megan laughed, stuttering a bit. “No, I-I’m not the waitress. I’m here with Zander.”

This time, Tabitha laughed, giving Megan a condescending once over. “You’re here with Zander?”

Megan felt her cheeks burn. She could never hold a candle to Tabitha Hall, even on her best day—which was basically today, since Megan had tried to look her best to impress Zander. Megan was wearing her favorite vintage black leather moto jacket, a pair of skinny jeans that hugged her curves and the new black ankle booties her mom had gotten her for Christmas. But from the look Tabitha had given Megan, she might as well have been wearing her giant Weasley sweater and fuzzy pajama pants.

It killed Megan how much Tabitha’s haughty look slayed her. But Megan was the master of her domain and she never let catty bitches get to her, even if they were world-famous super models who were trying to embarrass her in front of the man of her dreams.

“Yep, I am,” Megan said pluckily. “I’m Megan Fields, Zander’s friend from Boston.”

“Funny, he’s never mentioned you,” Tabitha remarked.

“I was just thinking the same thing,” Megan shot back.

“She’s hilarious,” Tabitha purred, turning her attention back to Zander. “Where on earth do you find these people?”

“These people are my friends, Tab,” Zander replied taking a step away from her.

Tabitha turned back toward Megan, seeming to notice Devon and Sam for the first time. “Really?”

“Yes, this is my business partner, Devon James, his girlfriend Samantha Connors and my friend Megan Fields. Megan is shooting Cor-Tec’s new film campaign.”

Tabitha’s demeanor noticeably changed once she learned everyone’s titles. She quickly shook Devon’s hand, flashing him a winning smile, while Sam got a curt nod and Megan a second glance. “Zander, darling, you should’ve told me your friends were coming out with us tonight. I would’ve dressed up.”

Megan snorted. “Do you own pants that are more sparkly?”

Tabitha was wearing a plunging black top that left little to the imagination, and there was no missing her in her silver sequin pants and stilettos. Megan couldn’t imagine what dressing up was if Tabitha thought she didn’t look flashy enough.

The super model gave Megan a snide look but before Tabitha could reply a waitress squeezed into the room carrying four nearly overflowing pints of Guinness.

“Thanks, Ali,” Zander said taking two pints from her and passing them to Sam and Megan. He grabbed the last two, handing one to Devon and keeping the other for himself.

Tabitha made a pouty face. “Darling, you know I don’t drink that stuff.”

“Right,” he said grimacing. “Ali, can I trouble ye for a drink for the lady?”

“Sure, Z. What’ll it be?” Ali asked in a rapid Irish brogue.

“Gin martini, dry. But only if you have Bombay Sapphire. Everything else is just piss.”

Ali raised her eyebrows, but turned back the way she’d come muttering angrily under her breath.

“Meg, let’s go to the ladies’,” Sam said linking arms with her as Megan drained half her pint in two long gulps.

“I don’t need to go to the ladies’ room,” Megan muttered eyeing Tabitha jealously. The leggy twat had snaked a long arm around Zander’s waist.

“I think you do,” Sam insisted, practically dragging Megan from the room.

* * *

“What the hell was that?” Sam asked when they were finally in the ladies’ room.

“I know, right? Freaking Tabitha Hall is a total bitch waffle!” Megan exclaimed.

“I was talking about you.”

“Me? What did I do?”

“Besides practically claw her eyes out?”

“I didn’t touch her.”

“You didn’t have to. You know your face is an open book. You looked like you wanted to punch her every time she opened her mouth,” Sam accused.

“Well that’s because I did. The girl’s a class-A fame-whore. Did you see the way she fawned over Devon when she found out who he was? I hate fake bitches and that ho is wicked fake!”

“I know,” Sam said. “And so does Zander, but if you don’t tone down your Boston brawler attitude, he’s gonna be pissed at you too.”

Megan wrinkled her nose in disgust, but she knew Sam was right. Zander and Megan had several conversations about how much they despised phony people, or pretenders, as Zander called them. She remembered because she had unknowingly accused him of dating too many of them, causing him to admit that Cor-Tec’s PR team had been setting him up with all these high-profile head cases to ride the wave of fame as long as they could.

Zander had seemed rather agitated about the subject so Megan tried not to press him when she saw tabloid photos of him with other women. Plus, it did her ego good to think he was only posing with them for press, not actually hooking up with these women who possessed unattainable levels of mortal hotness.

And what could she even say? Technically she and Zander were just friends who flirted online. If she thought that gave her the right to act like a jealous diva than she had bigger problems than Tabitha Hall.

“Fine,” Megan muttered. “But give me a sip of your beer so I can calm down.”

Sam handed it over. “What happened to your beer?”

“I chugged it on my way to the bathroom.”

Sam rolled her eyes. “Can you at least try to pace yourself? You know you’re a lightweight.”

“All is fair in love and beer,” Megan said after slamming what was left of Sam’s beer and burping loudly.

“And now you’re speaking in quotes. Just great,” Sam muttered following Megan out of the bathroom.

Megan tried not to let Tabitha ruin her night, but she couldn’t help being bothered by the fact that she’d never seen any photos of Zander and Tabitha together. Megan would’ve remembered that. Before meeting the model, Megan had been a big fan and she would’ve pestered Zander for details and at the very least an autograph if he was pretend dating her. Plus, he knew how much Megan loved 1922. She’d been nagging him to watch that movie for a few months now.

They routinely watched the same movies so they could argue each other’s points. Their conversations mostly consisted of Megan telling Zander his taste in film was abysmal, which it was, but she sent him a list of movies he needed to work his way through to improve it. It was the same list she’d been trudging through with Devon to get him up to the twenty-first century. Ireland really needed to get up to speed on their movies.

Zander had been surprisingly eager to watch nearly every movie on the list just so he could debate them with Megan. And now that Megan was thinking about it, it seemed strange that he had skipped over the one movie that Tabitha Hall happened to star in. It couldn’t be a coincidence. She really wished it were, but her gut was telling her something more was going on, and her gut was seldom wrong.

A dark and doubtful seed began to take root in Megan’s chest. It worried her that Zander had kept whatever he and Tabitha were from her. They told each other everything—secrets, worries, fears, hopes, dreams. The fact that he hadn’t told her about Tabitha meant it was big. And maybe more of an obstacle than Megan’s resilient optimism could handle.

Suddenly Megan wasn’t ready to face Zander and Tabitha again. She quickly changed course and veered toward the bar, easily losing Sam in the crowd. She quickly caught the attention of an old barkeep and held up two fingers.

“Jägermeister,” Megan yelled.

The old man eyed her suspiciously. “Ye got ID?”

“Sure do.” Megan slapped it down on the counter and the bartender coughed a laugh.

“Christ, ye look like yer sixteen.”

Megan grimaced. “Yeah, yeah, I’m short and I’ve still got my baby fat, I’ve noticed.”

The bartender laughed again. “Two Jägers?”

“Yep?”

“Both of ‘em for you?”

“Maybe.”

“Why don’t ye tell me who ye suppose the other is for, lass?”

“Because the other might be to throw in the face of the slutty giraffe trying to steal my man.”

“Aye, now if ye tell me dat I can’t be serving ye any Jägers, lass.”

“But I’m old enough to drink. Look,” she said waving her ID at him again. “Megan Fields. Date of birth, August—”

“Shite! Megan Fields, did ye say?”

“Yeah?”

“Well why didn’t ye say so?”

“I just did. Do you know me?”

“Of course. I’m Pete,” he said excitedly.

“Pete?”

“I’ve known Zander since he was a wee lad. Still acts like one from time ta time but he’s turnin’ a new leaf it seems.”

“So it seems.”

“I’ll be,” Pete said slapping the counter. “Megan Fields.”

“So Zander talks about me?” Megan felt like a schoolgirl asking such a question but she couldn’t deny the rush of relief that flooded her when Pete nodded enthusiastically.

“All the time. He talks to ye here a lot. I’m sure ye know dat, but ye probably didn’t know I was privy to yer conversations. Hazard of the job I s’pose. But don’t worry, my lips are sealed.”

Megan grinned. “Well maybe my second shot of Jäger is for you.”

Pete made a face. “Nah, I don’t drink that shite.”

“Well what do you drink?”

“Whiskey, but not while I work.”

“Ah come on Pete, you’re the first friend I’ve made in Ireland. We should celebrate.”

“Dat we should.” Pete winked and poured two shots of Jäger for Megan and a nip of whiskey for himself.

“Cheers,” Megan said shooting both shots in a hurry.

“Sláinte,” Pete murmured.

“So he really talks about me, huh?”

“He certainly does.”

“What does he say?”

“Ah no ye don’t. Yer in Ireland, lass. The pub’s as good as any confessional and dats cause us barkeeps keep our yaps shut.”

Megan grinned and nodded to the bottle of Jäger. “One more?”

Pete poured her another shot and Megan drank it slower.

“Did you know I’ve wanted to come to Ireland my whole life?”

“I didn’t,” Pete said, leaning onto the bar, ignoring the throng of patrons clamoring for drinks.

“Did you also know that I’ve had a crush on Zander for three years?”

Pete gave her a toothy grin. “Dat I might’ve guessed.”

“Three whole years, Pete! That’s crazy. I’m not usually crazy like that. Well, okay, I’m a little kooky but in more of a cute, artsy way. Not like a stalky way.”

“I see.”

“And ya know something? I think Zander likes me back.”

“I’d say he’s quite smitten wit ye, lass.”

Megan grinned. “Wanna know a secret, Pete?”

“Always.”

“I think he’s the guy I’m gonna marry.”

“Is dat so?”

“Yep.”

“Do ye plan on lettin’ him in on dat dar secret?”

“Maybe.”

“What’s holdin’ ye back?”

“Oh just a six foot gazelle in sparkly pants.”

“Aye, he’s brought another of ‘em ‘round, has he?”

Megan finished her shot and slumped against the bar, nodding.

“Don’t look so glum, they don’t hold a candle to ye, Miss Megan Fields.”

“Thanks, Pete. You’re a good friend. Has anyone ever told ya that?”

“Aye, s’pose a time or two dat’s been said.”

“Well it’s true.”

“Look here, lass. Ye don’t seem like the type dat lets these paper girls stand in yer way.”

“Paper girls?” Megan asked arching her eyebrow.

“Aye, the pressed-thin kind dat look like they’re liable to blow away in a strong breeze.”

Megan barked a laugh. “You’re right, Pete. You know me so well. I’m gonna go get my man.”

“Ye do dat, lass.”

“Bye, Pete! Good talk,” Megan called as she pushed her way back through the crowd.