Simply Irresistible

by Deborah Cooke

  “I can’t come to another fitting tomorrow, but I’ll see you at the rehearsal. And you can always call me.”

  “For all the good that’ll do,” Brittany sniffed, then ended the call.

  Amy ate her leftovers and marveled at the change in her own attitude. “For a nice guy, Ty is remarkably dangerous,” she told Fitzwilliam. “I feel a bit mean, but not as mean as I would have on Thursday.”

  Fitzwilliam was busy eating.

  Dangerous.

  Hmm. Matteo was dangerous.

  And the perfect inspiration for Lothair. Amy finished her dinner and sat down to write some more. It was going to be a late night.

  * * *

  Ty parked outside the office building where he worked. On a Sunday, no one would much care if his car was at the curb for a few minutes. He got out and stood on the sidewalk, waiting for Amy.

  He was still agitated and he didn’t like it. The class at F5 had shaken his assumptions—both about Amy and about desire. Her reaction had heightened his awareness of her, and awakened some urges in himself that he saw as ungentlemanly. He felt unsettled.

  He was never agitated about a date.

  But Ty stood on the sidewalk and even paced a little, jingling his keys in his pocket. Amy had liked that class. He knew it. He told himself that he was more troubled about the perils of her reaction than his own. How could he warn her away from men like Matteo? She could go down a path that led to a very nasty place, and his protective urges were roaring that he intervene.

  Even though he had no right to do so.

  Except as a concerned human being.

  Maybe a friend, but that was stretching it. They worked in the same building. She said he wasn’t her type, a detail that he found more irksome with every passing day. She wasn’t one of his sisters, and he might not see her again after they officially broke up.

  But Amy needed a protector, and Ty was inclined to volunteer.

  Would she be offended if he said anything?

  How could he say anything? He didn’t officially know that she’d been to the class at F5, and if he revealed that he did, it would sound like he’d been spying on her. Or following her.

  And—not to forget—lying to her by pretending to be Matteo so he could be the one to teach her about bondage.

  It was all true that one lie led to another. He’d lied about Giselle. He’d proposed this deception of a fake date, and now, he had an alter-ego who had been to prison. Ty paced, feeling as if he’d slipped down a rabbit hole to a place where all the things he knew about himself were being turned inside out. Kyle had started it, with bad advice, but Ty had chosen to follow it and wasn’t going to abdicate his own responsibility.

  This recent run of celibacy, his dry spell, wasn’t helping. It shouldn’t have mattered. He was in control of his desires, but yesterday’s class had shaken everything free. He wanted—but the only woman he wanted was Amy.

  Ty itched where he’d shaved off his chest hair and he hated that he had a dusting of stubble. His skin was rubbed raw where he’d removed the tattoo—it might have been temporary, but it hadn’t come off very easily either.

  Complicated had nothing on this. Ty shoved a hand through his hair and practically walked a trough in the sidewalk, his train of thought doing nothing to diminish the turmoil.

  At least it was a beautiful day. A little cool but the sun was out, so if Aunt Teresa had planned to let the party flow into her garden—which she probably had—that would work out well. He guessed that his aunt might have been ambitious with the guest list and miscalculated the number of people who would easily fit in her living and dining rooms, so the weather was a bonus.

  He hoped Amy wouldn’t be late. He’d checked the traffic and there were no accidents. He checked his phone for messages, then remembered that Amy didn’t have his number. His mom hadn’t called since the night before, which had to be some kind of record.

  Or a portent of doom.

  Ty glanced up to find Amy flying down the street toward him. He held up a hand even as relief flooded through him. “You don’t have to run!” he called. “There’s lots of time.”

  “I don’t want to be late.”

  “You’re not!”

  “But you’re waiting.”

  “I’m always early.”

  “Me, too! I’m never late.”

  Something else they had in common. “You aren’t late now.”

  It was irrational, but Ty felt better because Amy was hurrying toward him.

  Because she was in sight.

  Amy laughed and slowed to a brisk walk. She was wearing her raincoat and carrying that familiar black tote bag. He saw a flash of navy when the raincoat parted to reveal a bit of her dress.

  The loafers, regrettably, were present and accounted for.

  He admired her legs all the same and recalled how trim and tight she’d been in her yoga gear the day before. Amy was hiding all the good stuff away.

  Ty smiled and opened the passenger door when she got closer. She was wearing pink lipstick, which drew his attention to her lips. He remembered how soft they had been beneath his thumb and wanted to touch them again.

  No, he wanted to kiss her.

  What would she think if he acted like one of the guys in those books, if he locked her into his car and drove her to a sanctuary and made love to her all day and night long? It was a seriously appealing notion, even if it challenged everything he believed about consent.

  No doubt about it, Amy had Ty all tangled up.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, as calm as if he’d been a doorman or a remote acquaintance. “The train was held up for something on the tracks. I didn’t have your number, so I couldn’t let you know.”

  “We have plenty of time,” Ty said. He pulled out one of his business cards and wrote his cell phone number on the back. He handed it to Amy and she smiled.

  “Thanks. I’m usually more organized,” she said, then paused to look at his car. She was obviously impressed. “New?”

  “Not really.” He shrugged. “Pampered a little.”

  “Just a little?”

  “Okay,” he admitted. “A lot.”

  Amy smiled. “It’s beautiful.”

  “Thanks. I don’t drive it much. A little run will be good for the engine.”

  “Don’t you drive it to work?”

  Ty shook his head. “I live downtown, just a couple of blocks away.”

  “Oh.” Amy slid into the passenger seat. She was reaching for her seat belt when Ty closed the door. He went around to the other side, got in, and started the engine.

  He indicated the controls on the dash. “Too hot, too cold, feel free to change it.” There was classical music playing and he turned it down a little, then glanced at her. “Or I can turn it off.”

  “It’s nice,” she said. “I like Mozart.”

  Ty nodded, biting back a comment about the word he was starting to hate, and pulled away from the curb. He was aware that Amy was digging in her tote bag and assumed she was going to review her notes. She was twisting around too much for that, though. He spared a glance her way when he could and saw that she was stuffing the loafers into her tote bag.

  Hallelujah. Someone upstairs was on his side.

  On his second glance, he discovered that she was wearing cute and feminine pale pink shoes.

  “Thank God,” he said, without meaning to do so.

  Amy froze. “You don’t like loafers?”

  Ty winced that he’d spoken his thoughts aloud. “You’d probably be insulted if I admitted that I consider them a crime against humanity.”

  Amy laughed. “How so? They’re just innocent little loafers. They haven’t slaughtered the masses or dropped any nuclear bombs.”

  “But you have great legs. It’s just wrong.”

  He could almost feel her smiling.

  “But they’re practical. I can run in my loafers.” She indicated her pink shoes, turning her feet so she could admire them in a way that was very dist
racting. “I’d sit down and cry if I stepped in a Manhattan puddle in these, or if I caught the heel in a grate.”

  “I’m going to sit down and cry when you put them away,” Ty dared to say.

  Amy laughed again. “Maybe I won’t, then.” He knew she was looking at him. “Or maybe I will, just to see you cry. Do you?”

  Ty held up four fingers, knowing what her reaction would be.

  Her burst of laughter gave him more pleasure than he’d expected. “Right, four sisters. I bet they taught you well. How many chick flicks have you been compelled to watch?”

  “Dozens. Pride and Prejudice is the universal balm.”

  “Which one?” she demanded, but Ty knew the right answer.

  “Colin Firth.”

  “Excellent choice.”

  “I know his lines better than he ever did.”

  Amy laughed a little. “I’ll bet.” She was switching out her bag, and he realized she meant to leave her big tote bag in the car, with the loafers. When she was done, she had a small pink purse in her lap, one that matched the shoes. “Do you cry at weddings?”

  “No. But I always bring five handkerchiefs even so.”

  She thought about that for a second. “Your mom?”

  “Weeps inconsolably at weddings. My dad’s handkerchief resources are always exhausted. You’ll see.”

  “I’m looking forward to it.” She was watching him closely again, so closely that he could almost feel her gaze upon him. Her voice softened. “Are you? Or are you dreading the performance?”

  Ty smiled to reassure her. “The only thing I’m dreading is you winning that hundred bucks today.”

  “Then you shouldn’t have made the bet.”

  “Are you letting me back out?”

  “No way. I have plans for that money.”

  Ty liked the sound of her confidence. “You haven’t won it yet,” he teased.

  “Just watch,” Amy said with resolve, and Ty knew that he would. “I studied,” she admitted, and he wasn’t surprised this time that they thought similarly “Go ahead and quiz me.”

  “Sisters, youngest to oldest.”

  “Easy,” Amy replied. “Katelyn, Paige, Stephanie, Lauren.” She took a breath. “Married to, respectively, Jared—well, not for another month—Derek in 2015, Trevor in 2016 and Mark in 2014. Only Paige and Derek have a child, Ethan born last November. I’ll bet your mother gave thanks for that.” Before Ty could ask, she continued. “Parents, Colleen and Jeffrey; helpful aunties Teresa and Maureen. Teresa has nine grandchildren but you didn’t tell me about your cousins, except Maxine, Maureen’s daughter. And uncles. Wait.” She turned to him and touched his hand, the brush of her fingertips sending a thrill through him. “You never told me. Are the perilous aunties widowed?”

  * * *

  Amy had never been in such a gorgeous car.

  Ty’s car was sleek and silver, a two-door sports car with a throbbing engine. The upholstery was black leather and every bit of the car gleamed. He could have just driven it off the showroom floor of a dealership. It had a teeny tiny back seat, but it was really built for two.

  It was comfortable, too. Amy felt insulated from the world as Ty drove. She could almost hear her dad saying “Well, this is how the other half lives,” and smiled at the memory.

  Ty was a good driver, too—but then, she wouldn’t have expected otherwise. He drove with a confidence she knew was characteristic, born of knowing the vehicle and its capabilities as well as his own. He didn’t take chances, and she felt safe riding with him. She relaxed by the time they were on FDR Drive, headed north. He chatted easily with her, filling in some of the gaps in her knowledge about his family, and Amy realized she was enjoying herself.

  It didn’t hurt that she was in the company of such a handsome man. He could have stepped out of a GQ ad—for Italian suits. Ty was wearing a dark suit that was as perfectly tailored as the ones he wore to work. His white shirt looked crisp and he was wearing a tie, too. Amy was glad she had her new dress. At least she looked as if she might visit his zip code sometimes.

  The car, however, had nothing on his aunt’s house, which was in the old part of Greenwich.

  Aunt Teresa’s home was an enormous Shingle-style house, set back from the road with massive gardens. It had to have ten times the square footage of Amy’s house in Brooklyn, and her entire lot would have fit in that front perennial garden. Every inch of the yard was perfectly tended, and the driveway was filled with luxury cars. They were parked on the street, too, and Amy realized it was going to be a really big party.

  Her confidence faltered, just a little.

  Ty idled beside the driveway for a moment, considering the cars. “So, how comfortable are those shoes?”

  “Not bad,” Amy said because they were new. She’d worn them for exactly thirty minutes, in the car. “Why?”

  “We have two choices. I can let you off here, then go park the car somewhere between here and Boston. That will toss you to the wolves for at least ten minutes, maybe more, and there’s no telling how hungry they are.” His eyes widened in mock horror of that prospect, and Amy fought a smile, knowing he was trying to make her feel better. “Or, you can stay with me while I park, but then we’ll have to walk back.”

  Amy looked at the full driveway and the silhouettes of people in the doorway. She was really tempted to stay with Ty, but his family would be nice. She didn’t need a bodyguard to enter a bridal shower.

  “I’ll go in,” she said before she could change her mind.

  “Are you sure that’s wise?”

  “How bad can it be?”

  “You’ll probably have to face the Mommy Test,” he said, looking solemn.

  “I’m not afraid of mummies,” Amy said, deliberately misunderstanding him. “I’ve been to the Metropolitan Museum.”

  Ty laughed and she liked that she’d surprised him.

  “Suit yourself.”

  “What’s the Mommy Test?” she asked, but Ty had already gotten out of the car. He opened her door and offered his hand. She liked that he was always a gentleman. It made her more aware of the sensual possibilities.

  Even though officially there weren’t any.

  When he looked at her the way he had when she’d met him today, though, she wondered. There’d been something in his eyes. Relief. Appreciation. Awareness. It had been very sexy, for as long as it had lasted. Had she just imagined it?

  “What’s the test?” she asked again, and knew her suspicion showed. She took his hand and got out of the car, pleased by the way his gaze swept over her legs. His appreciation was obvious and that made her flush a bit.

  She hadn’t imagined it and she was glad.

  “I tried to defend you,” Ty said. She knew it wasn’t anything that dire, thanks to the twinkle in his eyes. He was just teasing her. “But you want to be a hero and go it alone. I salute you.” He opened the trunk and removed a large parcel wrapped in silver and white. “Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised that you’re so fearless, since you do have excellent taste. Presenting her heart’s desire to Katelyn would give anyone confidence.”

  “What did you get them?”

  “We,” Ty corrected as he gave her the box. It was heavier than she expected. “Don’t you remember? It was your idea, just another sign of how perfect we are for each other and what an intuitive understanding you have of my sisters.”

  Amy laughed. “You can’t do this. You can’t change the rules and introduce new information without giving me time to prepare.”

  “Why not? It’ll be more fun that way. More risky. I thought you liked risk.” He leaned closer, his eyes gleaming in a way that made Amy’s heart skip and her mouth go dry. “Haven’t you introduced any new information?”

  Amy bit her lip. “Guilty as charged. I told my cousin last night that we’d been seeing each other for months.”

  Ty grinned. “Technically true,” he agreed. “But thanks for warning me.”

  Another car honked behind them and Ty w
aved. “Cousin Maxine,” he said under his breath.

  “But what’s in the box?” Amy demanded.

  Ty strode around the car and winked at her before he got back in. “I’ll be as quick as I can.” He winced. “Whatever you do, don’t drop it. And please, don’t fail the Mommy Test. It’ll unleash a storm of meddling if you do, one that will ensure we never make it to the wedding.”

  And then he drove away, leaving Amy standing at the end of a stranger’s driveway holding a large, elaborately wrapped gift. Maxine slowed down to take a good look at her, and Amy smiled before the other woman drove on, presumably also looking for a parking spot. She looked down at the gift. There were glittery silver butterflies on the top, and they looked like they were fluttering around the massive bow.

  Either Ty had unexpected talents or the shop had wrapped it

  She shook it a little and wondered whether it was an appliance of some kind. Why had Ty said she’d chosen it? It must be practical. A coffeemaker? A toaster?

  Amy turned and looked at the door, noting the sound of many people laughing and talking.

  It was no big deal. They were having a good time.

  She could do this.

  Amy walked up the driveway and wondered about the Mommy Test. She reviewed her mental summary of her notes about Ty’s family. By the time she rang the bell, she was pretty sure she knew what the dreaded challenge would be.

  Ty’s mom had one grandchild and wanted at least nine more.

  Amy had a good idea which member of the family she was going to meet first—and who Ty’s mom would introduce her to next.

  When a tall woman with silver hair answered the door, Amy could see the resemblance to Ty in her eyes. “Amy?” she asked. “Could you be Amy, dear?”

  “I am,” Amy replied. “Ty’s parking the car. Are you his mom?”

  “I am, dear, and I wanted to make sure that you felt welcome. You can call me Colleen. It can be a little bit daunting to step into a family gathering as large as this, so I’ll just introduce you to a few people to get you started.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Teresa? Could you take the gift, please? Amy, this is my sister, Teresa, and now where is Paige?”