by Ally Blake
‘I told them all that, and I could feel the relief sweep through the room. As it turns out I can be rather persistent when I want to be and since damage control is my area they’ve agreed to keep mum for my sake all this time.’
‘So it’s all okay? With your family, I mean? They’re not angry with you?’
‘It’s better than okay. Because I also told them that I hadn’t come to that conclusion lightly. I told them that Garry Sloane, of all people, had forced me to prioritise my life in a split second. And it had been so easy it was ridiculous.’
He made sure he had a good grip. He’d had time to process all of this. Still his voice was very slightly shaky as he said, ‘I told my family that I realised in that split second that I had met the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. That I would do whatever it took to make her see that, despite the many things I had done in a foolish effort to prove otherwise, I am the man she thought I was. I told them that woman was you.’
He was glad he’d held her tight as her knees gave way. He hauled her into his arms. Her hands rested on his shoulders so that the length of her was pressed against the length of him. Now he was ready to get to the good part.
‘Wynnie Devereaux,’ he said, ‘I am in love with you. I think I have been in love with you since the moment I saw you hooked up to that ridiculous sculpture, smiling, laughing, trying your dandiest to look comfortable while nickel burnt your wrists.’
Tears filled her eyes as if she’d turned on an inner faucet. As he always had the moment those eyes of hers gleamed, he went into protector mode. His hands cupped her face, as gently as possible.
‘You love me?’ she said on a gulp.
‘I do love you. So deeply it hurts. But the hurt is so far overshadowed by the good I barely notice it.’
She put a hand over his and leant into his palm. ‘I love you, too.’
He nodded. ‘I know you do, beautiful girl. I know you do.’
She smiled, radiantly, and the brightest of lights burst inside him, filling him with so much pleasure, so much happiness he wasn’t sure he’d ever know what to do with it.
‘Now back to that statue,’ he said. ‘I’ve been thinking all morning about tearing the thing down so I can mount it in our front yard. It would be the kind of talking piece the neighbours would hate.’
‘Our front yard?’ she repeated.
For the first time since she’d come looking for him, Dylan faltered. Not having ever been in this exact place before, where he knew his heart was on the line and he was deliberately putting it there anyway, he wasn’t sure if he was moving too fast. Or if it was even possible to move too fast.
He slid his hand into the back of her hair, and let her see the full truth of his feelings. ‘I’m not sure the CFC would approve of you sticking it up in front of their cottage. And my place has so much room.’
‘How many rooms?’ she asked, her cheek lifting into a soft, sexy smile that slid through him like molten lava.
He wrapped an arm tighter about her waist and pulled her closer. Her head lolled back and her breath released on a sigh. His body temperature went up two degrees.
‘Too many,’ he rasped. ‘But there’s only one you need to familiarise yourself with for starters.’
She slunk closer still, her knee sliding between his, her breasts pressing in against his chest until he was certain she wasn’t wearing a bra. ‘If you say the kitchen we have issues, my friend.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘There is a perfectly good bench in the kitchen, which might serve our purpose one day. But for starters I thought we might try out the bed in my room. I had the mattress shipped over from the Four Seasons in Paris. You have never felt anything like it.’
‘Your room?’
He wet his suddenly dry lips. ‘If you’re game, how about we go ahead and make it our room?’
‘Our room. I don’t think you have any idea how much I love the sound of that.’
‘Yeah,’ he said, nudging her nose with his. ‘I think I do.’
She tilted her head, he tilted his and they kissed. Slow, sensuous, disarming.
Being that they were them it soon dissolved into something hotter, harder, deeper. Dylan slid his hand between them, unbuttoned her jacket and groaned as his hand closed over her breast. If any boats had chosen to sail on past at that moment they would have been in for quite a show.
Wynnie pulled gently away and said, ‘Now this all works out just beautifully for me, you know, considering I’m probably about to lose my job, and therefore my house.’
He slid his hand down her back to cup her buttocks, pressing her against his rising hardness. She didn’t seem to notice. His beautiful tease.
But then she pushed away far enough that she could look him directly in the eyes, and so that she could make sure he was doing the same. ‘In the spirit of full disclosure—’
‘You were once a man and your real name is Kevin. I knew there was a reason why you didn’t throw yourself at me the moment I unshackled you and your hands were free.’
She held her hand over his mouth, and he was hard pressed not to nibble at her fingers. To slide them into his mouth and scrape his teeth along each and every one.
‘While you were giving your story to Sloane, I gave my story to another reporter. It had obviously been usurped by more pressing news. But it will come out.’
By the look in her eyes it was as though she thought that would make a lick of difference to him. Newfound strength made him stand up straighter as he planned on spending his life making sure she felt secure every day of hers.
‘Sweetheart, it’s time you realise that all you did was stand up for the brother you loved. The CFC are far too smart a bunch of people to let you go for something that was never your fault. And as for me, if that’s as dark as your secrets get then I’m hoping we can hurry up and start to forge some much darker ones of our own.’
He buried his nose in her hair. Her fingers gripped his shoulders hard. And he knew without a doubt that the best sex of his life, and hers, was yet to come.
‘I read the paper and I came straight here,’ she said, trying with all her might to find her way back to the subject. ‘I haven’t even showered.’
‘You smell great.’ Boy, did she smell great. Like cotton sheets, and spring flowers. So great he kissed her neck, and gave it a soft lick. God help him, she tasted even better au natural.
‘Your family—’
‘Aren’t anywhere near here, thank God,’ he said, moving to stoke gentle kisses along her décolletage.
‘But they are so important to you and—’
‘And what?’
‘And me.’
He pulled back so that he could look right into her beautiful brown eyes.
When he’d told them about how he felt for Wynnie they’d reacted with tears, hugs, phone calls to distant relatives, wiped brows, bets paid out, and wedding plans begun. Dylan thought it best to ease Wynnie into the hard, fast, no-holds-barred Kelly way of doing things. Now he’d enchanted her he wasn’t going to do anything to make her wish otherwise.
‘Brendan wants to hire you,’ he said. ‘Dad wants to adopt you. Mum wants to introduce you to everybody. Meg wants to know where you get your clothes. Cameron is pretty much still in a newlywed haze so might not even remember he’s met you before, but the odds are in your favour.’
‘I wish Felix was around so you could meet him. You’d drive one another crazy and it would be so much fun to watch.’
Dylan lifted his head and looked into her eyes, knowing that he couldn’t miss the chance at seeing again the love she had therein, even if this one time it wasn’t directed at him.
‘I had planned to save this bit for later…’
‘What bit?’
‘I might have a small addendum to add to your reporter friend’s story.’
Wynnie’s brow furrowed and he could feel the deepening of her breaths through his chest. Her hand gripped his shirt tight, and she nodded, just the o
nce. ‘Tell me.’
‘I’ve had conversations with a colleague of mine in the federal prosecutor’s office about Felix’s case. Over time, after tracking down several others involved in the caper, they downgraded his charge to an accessory. They have known for some time that he was a wide-eyed kid roped in at the last minute and that he had no say in the planning, and little in the execution, bar being a lookout.’
Her spare hand slapped over her mouth and tears welled in her eyes.
Dylan held her tight for the next part. ‘My friend agreed that if he comes back to town and turns himself in, he will be charged as a minor, given probation and his records will be sealed.’
‘He’ll be free?’
‘Wynnie, I’m hoping you’ll both be free.’
‘But we don’t even know where—’
‘Jack, my investigator mate, found him. He’s spoken to him. Felix knows the deal. He’s on a plane as we speak. He’ll be here tomorrow.’
The tears that had threatened to spill were suddenly gone. In their place, radiance. Pure unadulterated sunshine, and this time it was all for him.
She slid a hand through the hair above his ear, and he breathed in deep.
‘I told you that you were a good man,’ she said.
‘Yeah, you did. And for some silly reason I’ve begun to believe it.’
‘How can I ever repay you?’
‘My gorgeous girl, you’ll never, ever have the need.’
He leant in to kiss her and she pressed a hand to his chest. He rolled his eyes and growled at the sky. ‘What does a guy have to do to get some appreciation around here?’
Her voice shook with laughter as she said, ‘I was just about to thank you for signing KInG on with the CFC.’
‘Actions not words are the way to thank a man for such a thing.’ He nipped at her ear lobe and she shivered.
‘And why is Eric the contact at KInG?’
‘Did I know you could talk this much?’
‘You did, you just love me so much you forgot.’
‘Hopefully we can continue in that vein.’
‘So why Eric…?’
Dylan let Wynnie go. Holding her so close but not getting any closer was pure agony. He took a step back and held an arm between them when she stepped his way. ‘Now you’ve closed the deal will you be the contact at the CFC?’
‘If they let me keep my job, then still no. My job’s to ring ’em in. It’s someone else’s job to follow through.’
‘Well, that was the first reason. The second reason is that Eric called me a cretin.’
She took another step towards him, her shoes crunching in the purple flowers. His hand landed upon her waist. She slid until his hands slunk beneath her jacket, opening it to reveal the sheer lace top, and the naked gorgeousness beneath.
‘He said that to your face?’ she asked.
‘To my face,’ he growled.
‘Why? I mean, not why did he say it to your face, but which of the thousand asinine things you do each day finally made him crack?’
He dragged his eyes from her beautiful torso to look her in the eye. ‘I let you go.’
The sass dissolved into sweetness as she said, ‘Oh.’
And if possible he loved her all the more.
‘Mmm. So I fired him as my assistant and moved him into development. More money. More autonomy. He sent me flowers. Crazy kid.’
‘Not so crazy,’ she said, her voice a husky whisper as his thumb grazed the edge of her breast.
As her body grew pliant and soft he slid his hand around her back, drew her close and let himself just revel in the fact that this woman had come bursting into his inert world, clearing the mist from his eyes, showing him how to breathe deep of life, and now he would get to touch her like this, feel her, be near her, joke with her, kiss her, make her melt as long as he remained smart enough to realise what he had.
His last secret was that he hoped that would be for the rest of his days.
Wynnie blinked up at him, then into the bright sunlight. Her brow furrowed and she glanced down at the purple flowers sticking to their shoes, and through the bright yellow wattle and across the river, and only just seemed to realise where they were. ‘Now how on earth did we end up—?’
Dylan silenced her with another kiss. The kind of hard, fast, thorough kiss that ought to give her something else to think about for a few minutes.
When he pulled away it took her a few moments to open her eyes. They fluttered up at him, all liquid and dreamy.
He loved this woman. He loved her vivacity, her bravery, her impudence. It was so obvious, now the light had been switched on he knew it would never turn off again.
‘This spot is so romantic,’ she said, her voice husky as all get out. ‘Who knew you had it in you?’
‘Complete accident, so don’t get any ideas that I’m the romantic type.’
She held a hand to her heart. ‘I’m shocked to hear it.’
His cheeks warmed. He could actually feel them turning pink. What other changes could this woman possibly bring to his life? If he started singing Pavarotti songs in the shower that was the end of him.
He cupped her cheek, and looked into those eyes that always told him so much. ‘But in a funny kind of way telling my family’s story was my version of a love letter to you.’
‘On the front page of the paper?’
He grinned. ‘I’m a Kelly. I don’t know any other way.’
Wynnie slid a hand through his hair, making a mess of the slick ’do. ‘I do love you, Dylan Kelly. And not because you stood up for me, but because I always knew you would.’
‘Even though I’m insular, jaded, a workaholic, am ruthless and self-serving?’
‘Save that for the paying public,’ she scoffed. ‘You are a marshmallow. My marshmallow. My beautiful, generous, bighearted, loyal marshmallow.’
Every word out of her mouth sank in and stuck until he began to really believe she was right.
He held her chin between his finger and thumb and waited until she was looking him in the eye. ‘You once said to me that if one person can make a difference, a hundred people can change the world.’
‘That sounds like something I’d say.’
‘Well, I’m thinking perhaps you underestimated people.’
‘I did?’
‘Mmm. There’s only one of you and yet you managed to change my world all on your own.’
He pulled her to him, or maybe she leant towards him. Either way, they kissed. It was beautiful. It was melting hot.
And Wynnie was not the only one to take a sickie that day.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-4275-7
GETTING RED-HOT WITH THE ROGUE
First North American Publication 2009.
Copyright © 2009 by Ally Blake.
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and TM are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.
www.eHarlequin.com
>
