Fairground Attraction Read online

  Table of Contents

  Legal Page

  Title Page

  Book Description

  Dedication

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Epilogue

  New Excerpt

  About the Author

  Publisher Page

  Fairground Attraction

  ISBN # 978-1-78651-101-0

  ©Copyright Raven McAllan 2016

  Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright November 2016

  Edited by Ann Leveille

  Totally Bound Publishing

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Totally Bound Publishing.

  Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Totally Bound Publishing. Unauthorized or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

  The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

  Published in 2016 by Totally Bound Publishing, Newland House, The Point, Weaver Road, Lincoln, LN6 3QN

  Totally Bound Publishing is a subsidiary of Totally Entwined Group Limited.

  Warning:

  This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Totally Sizzling and a Sexometer of 2.

  FAIRGROUND ATTRACTION

  Raven McAllan

  If Raig has his way, this particular fairground attraction is one Vairi will not forget in a hurry. Her inner cougar is out to play, and Raig’s going to do his best to keep it there.

  All the fun of the fair—and a hot woman to share it with.

  What could go wrong?

  Raig thought he was merely helping to give the mum of a friend a good time at the fair.

  However, it was obvious Vairi didn’t want to be there, or have a good time. She’d rather be at home with a book boyfriend and a cup of coffee.

  They both soon found out, there are good times and good times. How was Raig to know Vairi McQueen was such hot stuff?

  Their time together was explosive, but with both of them having secrets nigh on impossible to share, would they ever be able to get together and see where their attraction took them?

  Sometimes, Raig decided, you just had to take a chance on life—and love. This was one of those times.

  Dedication

  To Debra. Thank you for your support and our wine awaydays.

  To Ann for such great editing

  And to Paul as ever. Love you x

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Lady Chatterley’s Lover: D.H. Lawrence

  Wuthering Heights: Emily Brontë

  The Story of O: Pauline Réage

  Greased Lightnin’: Jim Jacobs, Warren Casey

  Rolex: Rolex Design Studio, Inc.

  Levi Strauss: Levi Strauss & Co

  Tarzan: Edgar Rice Burroughs

  Tarmac: Titan America LLC

  BMW: Bayerische Motoren Werke Aktiengesellschaft Corporation

  Red Shoe Diaries: Showtime

  Phantom of the Opera: Gaston Leroux

  Psycho: Paramount Pictures

  The Twilight Zone: CBS

  Miami Vice: Universal Television, NBC Universal Television Distrubtion

  Star Trek: CBS Studios, Inc.

  All Things Bright and Beautiful: Cecil Frances Alexander

  I Heard It Through the Grapevine: Norman Whitfield, Barrett Strong

  Perfect: Mark E. Nevin

  Takin’ Care of Business: Randy Bachman

  Human: Brandon Flowers, Dave Keuning, Mark Stoermer, Ronnie Vannucci, Jr.

  Smile: Charlie Chaplin, Geoffrey Parsons, John Turner

  I Will Survive: Freddie Perren, Dino Fekaris

  Sorry Seems to Be the Hardest Word: Elton John, Bernie Taupin

  Miss You Nights: Dave Townsend

  Magic Moments: Burt Bacharach, Hal David

  iPhone: Apple, Inc

  Da Ya Think I’m Sexy: Rod Stewart, Carmine Appice, Duane Hitchings

  Return To Sender: Winfield Scott, Otis Blackwell

  Saturday Night’s Alright for Fighting: Elton John, Bernie Taupin

  Tia Maria: Illva Saronno S.p.A. Joint Stock Company

  Twister: Milton Bradley Co

  The Vagina Monologues: Eve Ensler

  Calendar Girls: Touchstone Pictures

  Bisto Kids: Premier Foods

  Womble: Elisabeth Beresford Unknown

  Money, Money, Money: Benny Andersson, Björn Ulvaeus

  Mamma Mia: Universal Pictures

  This Is Your Life: NBC

  Fifty Ways to Leave Your Lover: Paul Simon

  Gordon is a Moron: Jilted John

  Blinded by the Light: Bruce Springsteen

  James Bond: Danjaq, LLC

  Your Song: Elton John, Bernie Taupin

  Jacuzzi: Jacuzzi, Inc.

  Babylon: David Gray

  Girl Guide: The Guide Association

  Chapter One

  Tinny music blared from all directions, multicolored lights flickered, teenagers shrieked, pushing past families and older couples arm in arm. Generators—their cables snaking across the ground, ready to trip up the unwary—added noise, plus their particularly oily smell, to the other odors of grease and popcorn. All the fun of the fair. He loved it. Every last screaming child or puking teen. Each was a part of the whole.

  His world. Even if he had to leave it and go back to his other life soon, for now this was all he wanted.

  Raig stood and watched the crowds, always on the alert for anything untoward. Kids on their dad’s shoulders, mums pushing prams, couples holding hands as they decided where to go and what to do. A group of teenage boys, all swagger and bravado, stalked by and similar groups of giggling girls nudged and shoved one another. A normal evening at the fair.

  He got the odd admiring glance, and ignored it. Something he found easy to do. One couple in particular caught his eyes. They were resolutely dragging an older woman in his direction. She looked as if she’d prefer root canal treatment. Ah, show time. Suck it up, Raig. Whether he liked it or not, a promise was just that—a promise. He didn’t make many, but those he did, he honored.

  “Come on.” He heard Lorna, the younger woman, urging the older lady. He looked down at the other lady’s feet to see them encased in sensible ballet flats, albeit with something sparkly across the toes. Go figure. Semi-sensible then.

  He glanced up at her face and his heart missed a beat. More than just a beautiful woman, she reached out to his soul, making him ache to know her in every way. What the fuck? That jolt of recognition, the electricity in his body, scared him. Was this what his da had meant? Recognizing a woman as his? Shit, if it were a film, the violins
would be playing.

  He’d always thought that his da had just been fanciful, making up the love-at-first-sight thing because it sounded so romantic and made his mum laugh, blush and poke Da in the ribs. Now? Well, now he wondered if maybe all those romance writers had hit the nail on the head. Shit, never mind the nail, he felt as if he had been hit on the head. With a sledgehammer. Him, a normally straightforward, hard-talking, no-nonsense businessman, thinking of roses and champagne, soft music and…yeah, and sex. Okay, so the sex bit was normal, the rest wasn’t.

  “Mum, stop lagging.”

  Mum? Oh fucking shit. This vibrant, sexy woman was Vairi, Lorna’s mum? The woman he was going to give a good time? Whew, ‘give a good time’ just took on a whole new meaning. It was unfortunate, but he suspected it was not the one Lorna and Denny wanted him to give her. The woman sighed deeply.

  “I need to lag. You go on without me. I’ll sit and…smell the daisies.”

  Raig chuckled. The stare she gave him should have withered his balls. He winked. She scowled, leaned on one of the security fences around the galloping horses and looked in the other direction.

  “What shall we go on first?” Lorna shouted, her voice pitched above the noise. She sounded eager as she looked toward the chair-o-planes, the longing expression on her face there for everyone to see. The older woman rolled her eyes, raised her eyebrows and took a deep breath before exhaling heavily.

  “You two can go on that torture ride. I’ll be here watching you and not losing my tea.”

  Time to make his presence felt. He moved closer to her. “Ah, pretty lady. Sure, you’ll not lose your tea, but you can’t be at the fair and not have a ride.”

  She whirled around, her long curls—the color of a raven’s wing—flipping across his face. He saw chagrin in her eyes and something else. Attraction? He and his ever-tightening body hoped so. His mind went to those classic novels his sisters had force-fed him. Lady Chatterley’s Lover, Wuthering Heights, The Story of O. Okay, that wasn’t a classic per se, but he could imagine them both in it. He wondered what she saw when she looked at him. Six foot three tall. Inky, almost black eyes, overlong, dark, curly hair, one earring. Tattoos almost hidden with just one tantalizing bird’s wing showing. Tanned and toned.

  He chuckled as she put her nose in the air, but not before she stared at him as if to reach into his soul. The sort of stare he would bet had nailed lesser men than him to the floor and kept them there and reduced them to babbling wrecks before they slunk away defeated. Not him.

  His tone teased, low and husky as he leaned in a little closer. “So, what will your pleasure be?”

  Did he really hear her say, ‘You naked’?

  “Pardon?” Say that again.

  “I’m sorry I need to go.” Pure frost. “My son-in-law is waiting for me.”

  His smile was, with a bit of luck, wickedness personified. “I see him.” He raised his voice to be heard over a distorted rendition of Greased Lightnin’. Even John Travolta had trouble beating a fairground’s volume. “Are you well then, Denny?” He waved. “I have her. You and your lovely lady have a good evening now. As we will.” A laugh, a wave, a swift hug of her shoulders. “Now then, Lorna’s mum. What will be your pleasure?”

  Vairi rolled her eyes. “For you to cut the crap and that phony Irish accent, to be sure.” She mimicked him. “‘Tis as fake as that Rolex you’re wearing. Own up to whatever shit you and your co-conspirators have thought up, find me a taxi and pay for the bloody thing.” There was the stare again. “Give me a break and don’t follow their well-meaning but unwelcome footsteps and try to”—she mimed quote marks—“make sure I have a good time, and show me what I’m missing. Seriously, I’m happy with my life and would be a lot happier without well-intentioned people trying to change it,” she finished with a snap. “So thanks but no thanks whatever you’re about to suggest. Unless it’s to escort me to the taxi rank.”

  Oh ho, feisty. “Ouch. Oh, a chuisle, you pain me, indeed you do.” Did he sound as wounded as he felt? “Not shit at all. The Rolex is as real as those deep blue eyes of yours.”

  “Bugger.”

  Her stern expression relaxed and he swore he could see how she fought with herself not to give in to humor. Hopefully she wasn’t so annoyed as she’d tried to project.

  “Now if only I could say I wore colored lenses. However, like George Washington, I cannot tell a lie. So Mister…”

  “O’Shea. Padraig O’Shea. And you?” He bent over her hand and kissed it. A soft kiss, full of promise. Theatrical, but what the hell, he meant it. He, who had always steered clear of commitment, of ladies who clung, demanded attachment and wanted more than this. He had no idea why, how or when. Just that he did. Her laughter surprised and delighted him.

  “Vairi McQueen.” Her voice held an absent tone. “Oh my God. Never. Paddy O’Shea. Next you’ll be telling me ‘indeed and there’s a leprechaun on my shoulder’.”

  He contrived to look wounded. “Never, ever would I be joking about leprechauns, lovely lady. Also, no, I’m not Paddy O’Shea.”

  “Told you.” She huffed, her eyes glittering in triumph. “I knew it. Lies, all lies. So who are you?”

  “Paddy O’Shea is my da,” he continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “I’m Raig.”

  “Rake? That sounds about right.” She shook her head. “I don’t half get them. Any oddball or weirdo and they come my way. And there’s something else. How do you know Denny?”

  He chose to ignore her. “Now, I cannot be escorting a lovely lady and be calling her ‘Lorna’s mum’. I’ll be calling you Vairi My Queen.”

  She glared. “You’re not escorting me anywhere long enough for that.”

  “Now that’s where you’re wrong, love. God knows what’s in the water around here, but I can’t help it.” He bent his head and kissed her cheek, hoping to hell he wouldn’t end up with a black eye for his trouble. “You’ve bewitched me.”

  Vairi shook her head. “You’re well-named, Rake O’Shea.”

  In reply, he put his arms under hers and swung her around until the lights swirled. As he slowed she staggered and he held her close for a second, liking the way she felt as she rested against him. “How’s your dinner?”

  “Bastard. My stomach wishes it had never met you. I can’t say it’s a pleasure to have done so.”

  He could. His stomach was so churned up, a brass band could had taken up residence and was fighting the fairy folk for space. She was all woman, and his gut told him she should be all his woman. There was no rhyme or reason, just a certain ‘this is it, I’ve found her’ feeling. Something he accepted did happen to people, but never to him—until that moment. “Well then, Vairi My Queen. Tonight is yours. Requested, arranged and plotted by Lorna, who says you don’t get out enough. Denny and I were at school together, almost six months of every year when the fair overwintered. He knew I’d be more than happy to escort a lovely lady and show her the…sights.” It might have started as a favor to someone who’d helped him out of more scrapes than anyone could imagine, but now? Oh now, thank you, Denny!

  She waited, and watched him with close attention. He had no idea why. Her reaction was most perplexing. If he wasn’t mistaken though, Lorna and Denny would get a piece of her mind when she saw them next, which left him wondering what would be her follow-up move.

  “All mine? To choose or discard things?” she asked and licked her lips.

  Oh fuckety fuck. His dick tried to thrust through denim. Sweet lord, did she know what that did to him?

  “Use or loose as I please? And you’ll not argue?”

  Shit. “I’ll try not to,” he said honestly. “I’m not saying I’ll succeed.”

  “Honesty. I like that.”

  She did that bloody arousing lick over her lips again.

  “Okay then. The galloping horses. Then the big wheel.” She laughed up at him. “A hot dog and onions and some candy floss. So, Rake, you game?”

  “Oh, Vairi My Queen, more than gam
e. A woman after my own heart.”

  She giggled. “That’s one thing I’m not. After your heart,” she elaborated as he stared at her blankly. “I have enough trouble with mine, let alone anyone else’s. I’m just after your fairground rides for a wee while.”

  Raig tucked his arm inside hers and executed a mock bow as he led her across the grass toward the ride she’d requested. “That can be arranged. Let’s go.” He interspersed the short walk with a few words of caution—‘mind the cable now’ and ‘sure, and don’t be falling over the bin’.

  As he was at least seven or eight inches taller than her, Raig found it easy to maneuver Vairi tight up against him, as he enjoyed her subtle scent and feeling her soft body next to his. If he had his way, there’d be a lot more feeling and soon. It was a strange sensation. Usually he kept his distance with any woman. With his other employment it paid not to have anyone around who the alleged opposition could use as leverage. Raig was invisible and intended he and his stayed that way.

  So, no long term lovers.

  Oh, he’d enjoyed his share of affairs, but no one had managed to get through his social mask and into his mind. Until now.

  When they reached the side of the first ride, he turned her into his arms and lifted her effortlessly onto one of the painted horses before he stepped up after her.

  “Now then, that’s you seated on Sword.” Oh, so aptly named. With luck, he’d have her seated on his sword before long. “Scoot forward so there’s room for me tucked in behind you.”

  He imagined his eyes twinkled and dared her to disagree, as she scowled and rose to the challenge.

  “Oh, Mr. Rake, I’ll show you. I may be way into my forties, but hey, I can flirt and enjoy, if I can remember how to do it.”

  Interesting. She looked about thirty. Impossible, he knew, if she was truly Lorna’s mum. “So, how old are you?”

  Vairi narrowed her eyes, very wary and on the defensive. “Why does it matter?” Her tone was full of suspicion. “Is there an upper age limit to riding these things?”