“How did you find this place? It’s very romantic.”
Padraig grinned. “Ryder told me about it. No shock there, right?”
They shared a laugh. Ryder was now married to Padraig’s cousin, Darcy, but the couple had had a rocky start to their relationship due to Ryder’s assertion that he didn’t possess the love/romance gene. He’d been in an unhappy marriage prior to dating Darcy, and it had convinced him he wasn’t “good husband material.”
Darcy had taught him how wrong he was, and now he was the king of romance, always wooing his wife with flowers and candy and impromptu weekend escapes. Lately, most of the Collins males had begun complaining to Ryder about how he was making them look bad with their own wives.
“Of course he did,” Emmy joked. “Well, be sure to thank him for the recommendation. This place is lovely.” She looked around again, cataloging what she was seeing, certain this would be the perfect setting for a chapter in the book she was currently writing.
“You’re mapping the place out, aren’t you?”
She looked back at Padraig and giggled. “Guilty.”
Padraig had been around her long enough that he understood her writer eccentricities, the way she would snap random pictures of places with her phone so that it would help her word her descriptions.
“So you’re putting this place in a future book?”
“Actually, it will work great in my current story.”
“Oh yeah? What’s the book you’re writing about?”
Emmy flushed. “Um…you know, the usual.”
“You’ve never let me read one, so you’ll have to spell out the usual part for me.”
Emmy blew out a long breath. It was time to just rip off the Band-Aid and tell Padraig her pen name. The silly game had gone on long enough. The problem was…the more time she’d spent with his family, the steamier her stories had gotten.
Like off-the-charts hot.
“This is your family’s fault,” she murmured.
“My family?” he asked, confused by her comment. “What do they have to do with your books?”
“The last two years? Everything. I haven’t exactly lied when I’ve mentioned certain things were going in my books. Your family has the greatest love stories. I haven’t struggled for a plot since the day I first walked into Pat’s Pub.”
Padraig chuckled, clearly amused to know that. “So you’re not hiding your pen name as a joke. You’re doing it because you’ve been stealing all of their stories.”
“Stealing is a strong word,” she said with a wink. “I’ve just been borrowing bits and pieces. I mean, the stories are definitely fiction, but I’ve borrowed some romantic lines, some dark moments, some of their meet-cutes.”
“Dark moments and meet-cutes? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Take Sunnie and Landon, for example. The way they’d been friends forever but found each other after that viral “hot cop saves sexy nurse” video. That was a brilliant storyline. So I took that concept and wrote a romance with that as the meet-cute. Basically, it’s a fun and clever way to introduce the hero and heroine to each other.”
“Gotcha. And the dark moments? I’m assuming that’s a breakup or something?”
“It doesn’t have to be a breakup, necessarily. Sometimes it’s as simple as a misunderstanding—sort of like Colm completely screwing up his proposal to Kelli by listing a bunch of logical reasons why they should be together while totally forgetting to tell her that he loved her.”
Padraig chuckled. “He really did fuck that up.”
“And sometimes the dark moment is because of outside influences. Like how Fergus almost lost Aubrey to that crazy stalker.”
“Dark moments. I get it. So have you written a stalker story?”
Emmy nodded. “That was the latest book to hit The New York Times best seller list.”
“You realize my family would love to read these books. They sound awesome,” he said.
“Well, the problem isn’t the plot lines. It’s the other things they’ve inspired me to write.”
Padraig’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Other things?”
Emmy felt the heat creeping up her neck, and she didn’t need a mirror to know she was blushing.
Padraig’s face cleared as he put two and two together. “And now we’re getting to the good part. Tell me exactly who’s been inspiring the other stuff.”
Emmy rolled her eyes but answered him anyway. “Sunnie, Darcy, Yvonne…even Bubbles.”
Padraig snorted. “Jesus. Not sure I want to know what you’ve learned from Bubbles.”
“What? Are you serious? She’s one of the most fascinating people I’ve ever met. She’s influenced quite a few secondary sidekick characters in my books.”
“You’re killing me, Em. You gotta let me read one of these books.”
She shook her head. “Nope. Too embarrassing.”
He studied her face. “Embarrassing or enlightening?”
Padraig knew her way too well. Because she had written out a lifetime of sexual fantasies in her stories. “Touché.”
“All the more reason you should let me read one, wouldn’t you say?”
She lifted one shoulder, unwilling to answer that question. Not that it helped. Padraig wasn’t ready to change the subject.
“Who gave you the idea for your current story?”
Emmy hesitated for a moment, then said, “Caitlyn.”
Padraig’s brows rose. “Caitlyn? Em…are you writing about BDSM?”
“You know about her relationship with Lucas?”
Padraig nodded. “Lucas and I have talked a bit. I wasn’t aware you knew.”
“I mentioned doing some research for this book to Sunnie. She suggested I talk to Caitlyn or Keira. I was too embarrassed to bring it up to your aunt, so I contacted Caitlyn. We met at her place while Lucas was at work. We split a bottle of wine and had a fascinating conversation.”
“I’m sure you did.”
“Why were you and Lucas talking about it?” she asked.
“Let’s just say we have some similar…kinks.”
Emmy’s eyes widened. “You do?”
“We do. Tell me, Emmy. Do you have an interest in BDSM?”
Emmy took a sip of her wine, considering her answer. “Some parts of it, I suppose.”
“Like?”
She grinned. “If I confess my sexual fantasies to you, I’m going to expect you to reciprocate.”
“I think I already started. But this seems like a fun game. Why don’t we go back and forth, fantasy for fantasy.”
She put her wineglass down. “Fine. I’d like to be tied up in bed.”
A sexy smile emerged on Padraig’s face. “That’s good. Because I’d love to tie you up.”
“You would?”
He nodded.
“Have you ever…” She waved her hand around, letting him fill in the blanks.
Padraig chuckled. “For a sexy romance writer, you never seem to be able to say the words.”
“It’s easier to type them.”