“I don’t know. You’re the writer. You tell me.”
He moved closer so she caught a whiff of sandalwood soap. The top buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing a slice of caramel-colored chest she’d had a hard time ignoring all evening. She could sense the heated aura rolling off him and wrapping around her, exciting her and dismantling her inhibitions one by one.
“Uncontain,” he murmured. “To set free, to unleash, to act without reserve.”
A shiver rippled through her. Luke had definitely unleashed something in her tonight. In the past she’d never encouraged a man in her own home while Chloe was there. It was a hard-and-fast rule of hers, one she’d never had trouble upholding…until tonight. Tonight Luke was making her break her self-imposed rule, and she couldn’t stop herself.
He stepped even nearer so his body was almost touching hers, the denim of his jeans brushing against her cotton skirt. She stared at the column of his throat before lifting her eyes. The soft glow of lamplight spilled over his face, highlighting his rugged, irregular features. There was something compulsive and exciting about him, something that went beyond his physical attractions.
His warm breath stirred the hair at her temples. “I’m uncontaining right now.” Lifting his hand, he brushed the back of his fingers across her cheek. “And all because of you.”
His feathery touch had her tingling. She gulped, amazed he could affect her so much with so little. The spark in the depths of his black eyes hinted he was experiencing the same response. She leaned back, moistening her lips, waiting for the inevitable—for him to lower his head and kiss her.
But he didn’t. Instead, he trailed his fingers through her hair, lifting the strands one by one. “Your hair…I’ve been racking my brain trying to find the right description for it. It’s like fire and marmalade and cranberry. So soft, too…”
His caress transfixed her, the sight of him fondling her hair more erotic than she could have imagined. “Um, most people just call me carrottop.”
“Huh. That doesn’t do you any justice.”
He tangled his fingers around the back of her hair, tipping her face up. He gently skimmed his lips down the length of her exposed neck. She caught her breath as hot sensations rolled through her, the feel of his lips exciting her. With his body pressing up against hers and his fingers twined through her hair, she was at his mercy, but instead of using his advantage, it seemed he wanted to tease her, tantalize her, control her and the situation.
She wasn’t used to the man calling the shots. If it had been anyone else, she would have tired of the game and taken over. But Luke was different. With him, it was exciting to allow him the upper hand. As he continued his leisurely exploration of her neck and earlobes, she felt herself melting, giving in to him. She coasted her hands over his chest and shoulders, aching for his mouth to crush hers, but willing to let him set the pace, for now at least.
Using his hips, he nudged her into a better position and wrapped his free arm around her waist, bringing the full length of his body against hers. She traced the outline of his torso, relishing the tautness of his muscle until her hands rested on his hips, the urge to pull his shirt out of his waistband almost irresistible. Luke licked the underside of her jaw, the wet flick drawing a gasp from her.
“What are you doing to me?” she whispered, her desperation growing, her rules against making out now a distant memory. “The way you’re nuzzling my neck, I could swear you’re a vampire.”
He chuckled, mouth still nestled against her throat. “Tyler, you have a very kissable neck. It’s enough to turn anyone into a vampire.”
She squeezed his waist. “I have other kissable parts, you know.”
Straightening a little, he gazed down at her, eyes brilliant as jet. “Are you telling me where I should kiss you?”
“Only if you’re looking for directions.”
“Angel, I’m not lost. I’m taking the scenic route.” The look in his eyes was enough to melt steel. He trailed his hands over her, slow and possessive, as if he had all the time in the world. She shivered at the thrill of it all, wondering where he would touch her next, and when his palms closed lightly over her breasts, heat enveloped her, scorching and shocking. A little moan escaped her before she bit her lip, blown away by her volcanic arousal. She didn’t just want a kiss; she wanted more, a hell of a lot more. She wanted to tear off Luke’s clothes, drag him into her bed, and not let him out until they were both satiated and exhausted. Which could take a lot of time, the way she was burning up.
“Tyler…”
The hoarseness in his voice made her glance up. He wasn’t smiling anymore. His body was tense against hers, and his eyes were dark and troubled. He could feel it too, she realized. The volatile, electric connection vibrating between them, pulsing with white-hot attraction and danger. He wanted what she wanted, but at the same time he was fighting the desire. As much as he lusted for her, he didn’t want to give in to temptation, and, realizing his struggle, she recalled her own rule.
She had to stop. Now.
She placed her hands against the muscled wall of his chest and gently broke them apart. “We’d better cool it,” she gulped.
His eyes flashed. Was it annoyance? “Tyler?”
She forced herself to ignore the insistent throbbing of her blood and said, “It’s not a good idea, is it?” she said. “Especially right now. You have your writing, and I have Chloe to consider.”
“I’m not doing much writing at the moment.”
She drew in a breath. “All the more reason for us to play it safe, then.”
He frowned. “You weren’t playing it safe a moment ago.”
The urge to kiss the living daylights out of him came surging back. She stepped backward, digging her nails into her palms. “Luke, you know I’m right.”
His frown deepened. “Damn. I didn’t even get to kiss you on the mouth.”
Oh boy, how much more temptation could she resist? “That—that’s what happens when you take the scenic route.”
“Huh.” He eyed her up and down, and a grin stole over his face. “Next time, I’m taking the expressway.”
The heat in his stare made Tyler swallow. All he’d have to do was follow the sizzle streaking down her body to reach his destination. “I’m not sure there’ll be a next time.”
He wound his fingers through her hair once more. “If there’s any justice in the world, there’ll be a next time.” He brushed his thumb against her lower lip, sending a hum through her entire mouth. “Good night, Tyler. Thanks for dinner…and everything.”
“Good night,” she replied, her voice husky.
He moved past her and left the house quickly, shutting the door behind him without a sound.
Chapter Four
On Saturday morning, Luke got a call from his eldest sister. “We’re coming over,” Helen said, and she hung up before he could protest.
“We” turned out to be all four sisters plus four nieces and one nephew. One minute his house was quiet, serene, and uncluttered—the next, it was a madhouse. The kids hugged him, shouted out their news, then made a beeline for the swimming pool, while his sisters ferried containers of food from their vehicles to the kitchen. Soon the counters were jammed with every conceivable foodstuff.
“We brought lunch,” Helen said, as if it needed explaining.
“Are you inviting the whole town over?” Luke asked.
“You can keep the leftovers for next week.”
“I do know how to cook,” he protested.
Karly, the second eldest, poked her head in the fridge and sniffed. “All you’ve got in here are eggs, milk, and bacon. That’s just breakfast, not proper food.” She shut the fridge and shook her head. “I bet you haven’t had a decent meal since you got here.”
He’d had paella. That meal had almost turned out
in
decent. Instantly he pushed the thought away.
Rosie and Mags, his nonidentical twin sisters, bustled in with cake and watermelon.
“Oh, I love the airiness in this house,” Rosie said.
Mags nodded. “Very Zen, Luke. Do you meditate in your rock garden every morning?”
“It’s like a museum in here.” Helen wrinkled her nose. “So empty and quiet.” She aimed an accusing look at Luke. “I still don’t see what this place has over Mum’s. It was quiet there. You weren’t being disturbed.”
Helen was wrong. If any place was like a museum, that would be Mum’s. How could he write when he was surrounded by exhibits trumpeting the success of a book he’d written for all the wrong reasons? He was a fraud, and the worst thing was only he seemed to know that, while everyone else insisted on the opposite. It was like living in Bizarro World.
But he couldn’t explain himself to his sisters, least of all Helen. She knew more than most the sacrifices their mother had made for him. How could he turn around now and say it was all for nothing?
“I needed a change of scenery,” he said. “You know I can’t stay too long in one place.”
Helen pursed her lips. Karly folded her arms. The twins cocked their heads. When his sisters were all lined up like they were now, the similarities in their looks were striking. All four women had inherited their mother’s petite build, freckled skin, and wispy, light brown hair. In contrast, he was tall and broad-shouldered, olive-skinned, hair and eyes practically black. From the family photo albums he knew he took after his father, who had deserted them when Luke was eight. Patrick Maguire was another man who couldn’t stay too long in one place. Luke hated to think what else he’d inherited from the man.
“You’ve been wandering around like a gypsy for years now,” Helen began, looking like she was settling in for a long argument. “It’s not good for you. You should quit your roaming and put down some roots.”
“Yeah, time you got married and popped out a few kids like the rest of us.” Mags winked at him.
Great, another allusion to Jennifer
. Luke pointedly ignored her.
“Mum wanted you to come home,” Helen said.
Irritation spurted in him at Helen’s officious tone. “You know that for a fact, do you?”
“She never said in so many words, but I could tell. I know she missed you, worried about you. She kept that old bedroom of yours spotless. Why can’t you finish your book at home?”
Luke felt his gut tightening. Damn. As if he didn’t feel guilty enough as it was, now he had his sister laying it on with a trowel. But he couldn’t go back to Goulburn. Here, he was away from the memories, the pressure. Here, he was a temporary visitor, the way he preferred it. And here, he was also next door to Tyler…
“I wasn’t getting any writing done at Mum’s house,” he said, keeping his voice even. “You know I have a tight deadline.”
“So you’re getting a lot of writing done here?” Helen looked skeptical.
“A fair amount,” he lied. In the past few days, he’d written five thousand words, and yesterday he’d deleted all but a thousand of them. A yell sounded from outside. “Shouldn’t someone be watching the kids in the pool?” he asked, keen to drop the subject.
Karly and the twins headed outside, but Helen remained. “About Mum’s house…”
Oh jeez, not again. He opened his mouth to head her off, but Helen preempted him.
“I know I’m being a pain nagging you to come back, but”—she bit her lip—“the truth is, I’m dreading when you really do move out because—because you’ll want to sell the house we all grew up in, and we’ll have to clear out Mum’s things.”
He stared at her. “I’m not planning to sell Mum’s house.”
“You’re not?” She gazed back at him, still troubled. “But letting it stand empty doesn’t make sense, and it’s too small for us when the girls are with me, so surely you’ll have to sell?”
“Not if it upsets you that much.”
“You’ll have to do something with it eventually.” Helen prodded at a bowl of potato salad, her frown lingering. “And I’d still like to see you back home. You belong there, and I like having my kid brother nearby.”
He merely rolled his eyes in reply.
She nudged one of the food containers on the counter toward Luke. “Here, I brought you some soda bread, just like Mum used to make.”
Luke blinked and squeezed her shoulder, his irritation leaching away. “Thanks, sis. Haven’t had that in a while.”
“Remember how Mum would serve soda bread with sausages and onion gravy? It was such a treat for us.” Her eyes moistened. “She had it hard. It wasn’t easy raising five children on her own.”
He wasn’t used to the sight of his stoic big sister tearing up. Reaching out, he put his arms around her. She rested her head on his shoulder and sniffled a bit.
“She worked herself to the bone for us,” Helen continued. “I wanted to leave school and get a job to help out, but she wouldn’t let me. She made Karly and me finish high school.” Helen and Karly had both trained as nurses. Helen, now a widow, had two daughters studying at university, while Karly and her husband had two teenagers.
“Mum was very proud of you and Karly and the twins.”
“Yeah, but we all know you were the apple of her eye,” Helen said without a trace of rancor. “She used to tell me all the time what a genius you were. You were good at everything. You could have been anything—a doctor, lawyer, engineer.”
Yet he’d chosen to become a writer. If he’d studied medicine or law or just about anything else he would have been able to support his mother financially a lot sooner. With the success of his Kingsley Jeffers book, he’d planned to buy her a spacious new house, but the only property she wanted to own was the one she’d rented all those years, the humble home in which she’d raised her children. He’d bought her the house, but Fate, as if to mock his efforts, had snuffed out her life sooner after.
“She was in awe of your talent.” Helen squeezed his arm softly. “I’ll tell you something—she confessed to me that often she didn’t understand your writing. She could read the words, but she couldn’t make any sense of their meaning.”
Luke swallowed. He’d long suspected his mother’s bafflement at his writing, but to have Helen confirm it…
Helen continued, “I think she felt a bit, you know, intimidated.”
“But they’re just words. Why would she be intimidated by mere words?”
His sister shrugged and moved over to the sink to fill a glass with water. “Can’t you guess? It’s because Dad always made her feel inferior.”
He frowned. “I don’t recall anything like that.”
Helen drank her water slowly. “You were so young when he left. Of course you don’t remember much.”
“Some things I’ve never forgotten.” Like his father’s voice, mellifluous and lilting, as he read to Luke. The poems had made little sense to him, but in the cadence of his father’s voice he’d heard beauty and dreams and longing.
In Xanadu did Kubla Khan a stately pleasure-dome decree
… “He used to read poetry to me.”
“Typical.” Rolling her eyes, Helen set her glass down. “He was a fine one for reading books and drinking whiskey. Not so fine providing for his family or staying faithful to his wife.”
“What?”
“Oh, don’t look so shocked. He had numerous affairs while he was with Mum. Several times he went off with his floozies, only to come back when he’d tired of them, or more likely when they’d tired of him. And Mum—heaven knows why—always took him back.”
He shouldn’t have been so flabbergasted by Helen’s revelations, but he was. He felt as though a sledgehammer had punched into his stomach. “I never heard Mum say a single bad word against him.”
“Me neither.” The corners of Helen’s mouth pulled down. “He was a lazy, unfaithful liar, but he was also charming and handsome, and she found him irresistible. When I tried to rant against him, she would always stop me. ‘It’s just how he is,’ she’d say, as if that excused everything.”
Luke shook his head at his mother’s folly. She’d been in love with Patrick Maguire, and love made you do strange things, made you sacrifice your future, your dignity, even your children’s respect. And all for a man who wasn’t worth it. The older Luke got, the more he realized a fundamental truth—love was a crapshoot best avoided.
…
Tyler waved good-bye to Ally and left Java & Joolz with Chloe in tow. Saturday mornings at the store were always busy, and Chloe had made things difficult, but Tyler had kept her patience. She’d investigated a few child-minding possibilities but none had satisfied her, so for the time being she had to take Chloe to work with her.
As she crossed the street toward the bus stop, Chloe piped up, “Mumma, look, it’s Mr. Luke.”
Instantly her heart leaped as she glanced around. “Where?”
“There.”
“Oh.” She realized Chloe was pointing at Fiona’s bookstore, where a large poster in the window advertised the upcoming reading and book signing by “internationally renowned Australian author Luke Maguire.” The professional photograph of Luke was impressive, but not representative of the man she knew, Tyler decided. In the picture, he was groomed and manscaped, his hair artfully messed, his stubble carefully trimmed. He looked totally foreign, especially in the black polo-neck sweater he wore.
Still, he was a fine-looking specimen, and the sensuous curl to his mouth brought the memories thundering back. Just a few nights ago, those gorgeous lips had wandered all over her neck, and that black stubble had rasped against her skin. The memory sent a shiver through her. She hadn’t seen Luke since that night, but he stubbornly occupied her thoughts, day and night.
“Hi, Tyler,” a man spoke from behind her. “Hi, Chloe.” She turned to see Nate, Ally’s fiancé, in his pickup truck idling at the curb. “Ally mentioned your car problems. Can I give you a ride home? We were minding Ally’s nephews the other day, so I still have a booster seat for Chloe here.”
“That would be great,” Tyler responded, glad for an interruption from her thoughts. She strapped Chloe into the booster seat before climbing in the passenger side. “Thanks, Nate.”
Nate cleared his throat as he pulled off. “Actually, I wanted to have a word with you in private. It’s about Ally and the wedding.”
Tyler shot him a sharp glance and caught his furtive air. What was going on here? All the evidence suggested Nate was fully committed to Ally, but what if he wasn’t? What if he was thinking of bailing on her?
“I don’t want Ally to know I’m talking to you.” Changing gears, he steered the vehicle around a corner. “You know how she’s getting nervy about the wedding?”
“I do, and who can blame her? She doesn’t want a repeat of the last debacle.”
“I keep telling her I love her and I’m busting to marry her. For Pete’s sake, the whole wedding was my idea in the first place!” Nate blew out a sigh of frustration. “But nothing I say is enough to reassure her, and it’s gotten to the point where she’s dreading the whole lead up. So I’ve decided to short-circuit the ordeal. I’m going to throw her a surprise wedding.”
“What’s a surprise wedding?”
“It’s a surprise party with the addition of a minister. Ally won’t know it’s coming. That way she won’t have time to worry if I’ll turn up. It’ll just happen, and she can enjoy herself. So what do you think?”
Tyler thought for a few moments before replying, “I think it’s a bloody brilliant idea.”
Nate flashed her a relieved grin. “It’ll still be at Clifton Gardens, but on Sunday, three weeks from now. I’ve already taken over all the wedding arrangements because Ally’s been dragging her feet, so it’s no hassle for me to change the dates and tell all the guests. But there’s one thing I need your help with. You have to get Ally to choose her wedding gown. I can’t do that for her.”
“I don’t know how I’ll get her into a bridal shop. She refuses even to look at any wedding magazines.”
“Tell me about it.” Nate rolled his eyes. “But if anyone can convince her, it’s you. Can I count on you?”
The anxiety in his expression caught her attention. She knew Nate was in love with Ally, but she hadn’t realized how much agony he was going through until now. And the same torture was tying Ally in knots as she fretted irrationally about being jilted once more. If this was what love did to happy, committed couples, then Tyler was glad she’d escaped its jaws. She didn’t need this kind of torment in her life. Not that she’d sworn off men. She was no nun, and she had all the usual urges of a sexually active woman, but she could satisfy those urges without putting her heart—and her life—on the line.
Once you succumb to love, your life is no longer your own
, she thought. She’d been burned once with Chloe’s dad; she wasn’t dumb enough to repeat the experience.
She reached over to pat Nate’s hand. “Sure. You can count on me. I’ll get Ally to a bridal shop if I have to drag her in kicking and screaming.”
“Thanks.” Relief spread across Nate’s face. “It’s good to know Ally has a friend with lady balls.”
Nate tooted his horn and drove off, leaving Tyler and Chloe outside their house. “Come on, chickadee,” Tyler said to Chloe as they walked toward the cottage. “I’ll make you a peanut-butter sandwich for lunch.”