“Oohh, I don’t know…” Scary thought. Tantalising, too. Didn’t really sound so bad, but wow, big leap. From sexy hot man to The One?
“Seriously? You invite this man into your home, you want sex, and you don’t know if he’s The One? Geez, Del, get a clue.”
“Wow, I’m so glad you’re letting me in on this gently.”
“Gentle my arse. I’ve seen the way you two look at each other. When you’re around Moz doesn’t notice any other woman. Hell, he doesn’t notice a beautiful woman even when you’re not around, because he’s so into you that you’re all he can see. And sister, you’re exactly the same.”
Well, it was true, Moz was the only man Del was interested in watching. Hell, she even sneaked peeks at him when he walked away. Man had a fine bum.
“So what are you worried about?” Dee queried. “You want him, he wants you, there’s something special between you. If you want more, go for it.”
“You make it sound so simple.”
“It is simple.”
Del nibbled a nail. “But after I basically told him I didn’t want to do anything until we got to know each other better, to then turn around and rip his clothes off so soon might be startling.”
“I’d suggest you tell him first.”
“Uhhh…”
“He’s not a bloody mind reader. He’s probably got blue balls from walking around with a donger as stiff as a dead donkey.”
“What a delightful image.”
Dee leaned forward. “You called me here to talk about this and ask advice, right?”
With a sigh, Del nodded.
“You want Moz?”
Another nod.
“He wants you.”
“Apparently.”
“The go buy a box of condoms, bail him up at home tonight, tell him you’re ready for sex now, then drag him off to your bedroom to have your wicked way with him.”
Sounded good. But what if she stuffed it up?
Dee’s face softened. Getting up, she walked over to Del. “You know, you come across as such a tough sheila.”
“I am tough,” Del said defensively.
“You’re pretty, you have a knock-out figure, you have so much confidence.”
Aw, that was sweet to say. Del ducked her head, a little embarrassed.
“Who’d guess you could be so shy when it comes to intimacy with a bloke you have the hots for? With all the sex advice you give friends, anyone would think you were a sexpert.”
“Don’t you dare say anything to them. Molly would never let me live it down.”
“As if.” Dee sniffed.
Del sighed. “I just thought it would be easier.”
“For some women it is easy. For others, not so much.” Dee gave her a hug. “Welcome to reality.”
“Thanks.” Del hugged her back.
“Best advice ever?” Placing her hands on Del’s arms, Dee looked her right in the eyes. “Be honest with your man. Doesn’t matter if you stutter or stumble about it, just be honest.”
Del felt a little better. “Really?”
“Yeah. They can be dumb bastards sometimes without a little direction.”
“Is that what you do with Ryder?”
“In the sack he’s a god. As an ambo he’s the best. As a man he’s awesome. Other times he can just be a real dumb arse.”
Del grinned.
“Not to mention a pain in my arse.”
“Yet you love him.”
“I couldn’t live without him.” Dee’s eyes got a little dreamy. “I waited for him all my life.”
Looking at her cousin, Del knew Dee never had to worry about Ryder leaving her. The man was besotted with her. Ryder and Dee were made for each other, it had just taken him a little longer to realise it. Dumb arse.
“Thanks, Dee.” Del gave her another hug. “I’ll think about what you said.”
“You do that.” Dee started for the door. “Anything else?”
“Nope.”
“Good. Go shag the living daylights out of Moz and come back here tomorrow with a smile on your face and the worry lines gone from your forehead.”
Del’s hand went to her forehead. “I have worry lines on my forehead?”
“Yeah, they make you look old.”
“Dee?”
Her cousin turned. “Yeah?”
Del flipped her the bird.
With a snort of laughter, Dee walked out.
Staring unseeingly at the far wall, Del resumed nibbling her nail. Okay, she’d give the same advice to any of her friends who asked her the same question. So why was it so hard to do herself? She did a mental eye roll. Because she’d never had to actually do it herself, of course. Plus, truth be told, she’d been kind of hoping that Moz would make the move, saving her from having to do it.
Geez, talk about double standards. She was skimming along on both so much she could just about put a foot on each standard and yodel. She hated double standards. If she was hoping Moz would make the first move, yet he was being decent and waiting for her to say she was ready, then hell, she had to man - or woman - up and tell him she was ready.
Right.
Gah! She did a palm to forehead smack. So glad Molly can’t see me now. Ash would be sympathetic, Elissa would be surprised, Dee would be rolling her eyes so much they’d fall out of her head and Molly, holy crap, Molly would be having a field day.
And meanwhile Moz would still have blue balls and she’d be on heat.
“Get a grip. You’re going to do this. You can do it. You will do it.” Before she could hesitate further, she grabbed her shoulder bag, locked the shop and headed home.
The late afternoon sun was just starting to cool down a little from the hot day, but it was still a little too warm. Moz’s work ute was in the yard, his own car parked to one side. Del pulled her Commodore in beside his work ute.
Refusing to think about anything, because, after all, doing was better than fudging around like a ninny, Del locked the car and strode up the steps, opening the door to - wait a minute.
She tried the door again. The bloody thing was unlocked. Geez, after all the grief he gave her about locking the door, he had the cheek to keep it unlocked?
Opening it, she strode inside, dropping her bag on the hall side table. “Hey! Moz!”
“Yeah?” His voice trailed back from the depths of the house.
“What the heck, man? You give me grief over not having the door locked but you have it open yourself?”
“I’m in the kitchen!”
“Don’t think cooking me food will save your arse.” Entering the kitchen, she promptly forgot what she was going to say.
Moz turned from the oven holding a baking tray full of scones in his hands, muscles bunching powerfully in his arms as he moved. Dressed in a pair of old boardies, long, muscular legs braced apart, big bare feet planted firmly on the floor, his chest bare, all those mouth-watering dips and swells naked to her gaze, his hair was pulled back haphazardly in a ponytail, a smudge of flour was on his cheek, and his smile was warm and welcoming.
God, the cook was something else.
“Hi, baby. What’s wrong?”
“I’m on heat.” He nearly dropped the tray at the same moment she stammered, “I mean, I’m hot.”
A little startled, he brought the tray to the bench, using his oven mitts to take the hot scones off to rest on a rack. “It is a little warm still. Hope scones are okay?”
“Sure. Fine.”
He looked at her. “Everything all right?”
“Oh, absolutely.” Going to the ‘fridge, she took out a Diet Coke, popped the tab and took several swallows before rolling the cold tin against her forehead.
“Rough day?”
“You have no idea.”
“Poor baby.” Coming up behind her, he bent down to press a kiss on her cheek, big hands on her shoulders smoothing down her arms before he moved away. “Want to talk about it?”
Turning to watch him, Del noticed that he’d fe
d Missy and Mozart already. Man made a good house husband.
Rinsing the tray, he set it in the draining rack and turned to face her, flicking the tea towel over one broad shoulder and leaning back against the sink.
How hot was that? How could a half naked, deliciously dishevelled man look so downright sexy when he had a smudge of flour on his cheek, a tea towel over his shoulder, and smelled like fresh baked scones?
Wait, he was half naked. And the scones did smell good.
One dark brow quirked inquiringly. “Something wrong?”
No more mucking around. She was definitely feeling the heat now.
Curiously, he watched as she crossed over to him.
Del placed the can of Diet Coke on the bench, stopped in front of him, hooked her fingers in the front of his boardies and breathed huskily, “Come here.”
Both eyebrows shot up but he did as bidden, leaning down so she could kiss him.
Del put every nuance of what she felt into that kiss - attraction, heat, passion, desire, downright lust, really.
By the time she lifted her lips from his, looking up into his eyes while her breath feathered across his mouth, he was looking down at her with answering heat. Definitely answering lust. Downright carnal lust.
“Del…” The deep tones were filled with hidden meaning, his eyes already a little hot.
“Less talk, more action,” she managed, right before kissing him again.
Strong arms surrounded her, gathered her close, firm lips moulding to hers. His taste filled her, heady and all Moz, so welcome, so wanted, so needed. Fire danced along her veins, sparked deep inside her, flared hotly to dampen her secrets.
By the time Moz lifted his mouth enough to gaze down at her, they both were breathing heavily, his shaft was a hard press against her belly, and her nipples were pebbling and begging for his touch.
“Am I reading this correctly?” His breath puffed across her lips.
“Isn’t my hint strong enough?” Emboldened by the desire in his eyes, she slid her hand down to cup his hard, thick length in her palm. “How about this?”
Holy heck, his eyes went like dark chocolate, all hot and decadent. Next thing Del knew, she was swung up into his arms and being born across the kitchen in long strides.
Linking her arms around his neck, she grinned. “What about the scones?”
“Right now I have something else to put in the oven.”
“I love it when cooks talk dirty.”
“Del,” he said, voice a touch rough, “you do less talking, I’ll do more action.”
A delighted shiver went through her. “I thought this was a two-way affair?”
“Baby, you’re not going to have any breath left to talk.” He threw her onto the bed where she bounced a couple of times. Following her down to lean over her, all power and heat, hot eyes on her face, hands already busy divesting her of her clothes, he growled, “Save what you can.”
She thought he was kidding. Turned out he wasn’t.
Man totally rang her bells.
Hallelujah!
Chapter 11
In the shade of a big tree, relaxing back against the deck chair, legs stretched out before him, iced coffee in hand, Moz watched Kirk, Scott and Ryder deliberating over Scott’s big motorbike near the garage. Several parts had been placed carefully on a canvas stretched out on the ground. The carport provided shelter from the sun.
Moz looked at Simon swinging lazily in the hammock nearby, his cap over his eyes. “Are you going to help them?”
“Nope.”
“Feeling lazy?”
“Studying the backs of my eyelids.”
“Blank mind, then.”
“You’d be surprised.” The firies’s lips curved in a lop-sided grin. “The image of your sister is up there.”
“Don’t make me hurt you.”
“That’d upset your sister.” The grin grew more crooked. “She’d have to kiss me better then.”
With a grimace, Moz took a sip of iced coffee, his gaze wandering to where Grant was reading the newspaper, his glass of iced coffee on the step beside him. Raggedy shorts, old t-shirt, thongs. Pretty much the standard wear of the friends gathered in Scott’s back yard.
Tilly, Scott’s beloved tabby cat, had her fat little bum firmly planted on the step beside Grant, surveying her kingdom through narrowed eyes.
Dressed in frilly pink knickers covering a nappy, and a pink frilly dress which now sported a small oil stain, Lily was sitting at Kirk’s feet, her bottom bouncing on the ground in the way that babies sometimes did - totally weird - with one arm wrapped around her father’s leg. Her other hand gripped a clean rag that Ryder had given her. Her gaze was fastened on the motorbike.
“Bikie chick coming up,” Simon murmured, though how he could see with his eyes shut was anyone’s guess.
“Before you know it, she’ll be on the back of some hormone-ridden teen’s motorbike in no time.”
“No hormone-ridden teen in his right mind will take on Kirk. No way Daddy is going to let his little girl on the back of anyone’s bike.” Simon cracked one eye partly open, studied Lily, closed his eye again. “If Daddy isn’t around to sort out a hormone-ridden teen with sex on his brain, we sure as hell are.”
“Aw, ain’t that sweet.” Grant turned a page of the newspaper, gave it a shake and resettled it. “Three big uncles to see off the slathering horde of boys coming to court Lily.”
Lily chose that moment to squeal in delight as she reached for something that Scott immediately moved safely from her reach. She looked up at him with big eyes filling with tears.
“Oh, baby girl, don’t look like that.” Scott scooped her up to blow raspberries on her belly.
Tears forgotten, she squealed and kicked. Scott mock threw her to Ryder, who waltzed her away, dipping and swirling as she giggled and waved her arms. Straightening, he came back to the blokes surrounding the bike, Lily perched on his hip, where she leaned down to study the parts with interest. When she couldn’t get down, she held her arms out to Kirk, who took her, kissed her cheek and snuggled her against him. Lily laid her head on his shoulder.
Then they all went back to discussing motorbikes and whatever the heck was wrong with Scott’s bike.
“You know they’ll end up calling Ben,” Simon said.
“Oh, I don’t know.” Grant turned another page. “They got Old Jack Stanton’s ute going the other day.”
“Really?”
“Yep. And Scott got Mrs Preston’s lawnmower going again, too.”
Simon turned his head to glance at the vet. “How do you know these things?”
Grant shrugged.
“He sees things.” Simon looked at Moz. “Like ESP or something.”
“Like being observant,” Moz replied. “Man has his eyes open and mouth shut. Total opposite of you.”
“I’d give you a rude gesture but I’m way too comfortable to move.”
Figured. Simon in a lazy mood was a total sloth.
Grinning, Moz tipped his head back to study the blue sky. It had been a wonderfully lazy Saturday. No phone calls, no call-outs.
“So, how’s it going with Del?” Simon queried.
“Good.” Fantastic. Hot. Woman was a ball of hot ardour and funny comments.
“Mozart settled in well, I hear.”
“Mozart’s the happiest I’ve seen him since we came here.”
“Missy doing well?”
“Growing fast. Growing sassier.”
“She belongs to Del, what did you expect? A demure little maid?”
“Definitely not.”
Simon grinned, the hammock swung, and the voices of their friends drifted in the air. The sound of newspaper rustling as Grant turned the page. Kids’ laughter in the distance, a car passing the house, a dog barked.
Closing his eyes, Moz took a deep, satisfied breath. It was perfect. The only thing better would have been if the girls were there, their laughter and wry comments joining the men’s, Del by his si
de. Yeah, especially Del by his side, her blue eyes sparkling with mirth, her mouth shooting off off-colour quips. The banter of friends and lover.
Several months ago he’d never have thought his life would take such a turn, but it had. Shifting away from his rarely-seen and uncaring parents, seeing Elissa so happily married to Simon, making good friends, a job he loved, Mozart settled, and most of all the woman he loved at his side, to wake up with, make love to, share the day. Life was good.
Except for the dog fighting ring. The investigation seemed to have stalled, nothing happening, no dogs barking from Harding’s place, no trucks at night, no gathering of men. Not unexpectedly, really, considering the local RSPCA inspector had moved in right across the road.
One thing, though, Del was safe. That was important.
Grant laid the newspaper down, whereupon Tilly instantly parked her bum on it and looked around in satisfaction. “Your arse is huge.”
Scott looked up from where he was bent over the parts.
“Not you,” Ryder said. “Tilly.”
“Tilly’s not fat, moron.”
“Hey, Grant said it, numb nuts, not me.”
Scott shot Grant a look.
“Slip of the tongue,” Grant assured him. “I meant cuddly. Tilly’s cuddly.”
With a grunt, Scott returned his attention to the spare parts.
Kirk grinned at Ryder.
“Wow,” Grant said. “Touchy.”
“Tilly’s his pride and joy,” Simon murmured. “Cast slurs on her if you don’t value your life.”
“I get that.” Grant stroked Tilly. “Cute little skinny girl.”
Ryder snorted.
Scott shoved a bunch of oily rags at him. Ryder had no choice but to grab them, only to hold them away and scowl. “Jesus, Preston, now I’ve got oil on me! You have to learn not to be so sensitive about that fat, furry, little fart.”
“What if I said your Jezebel was a tart?”
“Was. Was a tart. She’s sterilised now.”
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