by Heidi Rice
Cal’s temper snapped as the guilt he always kept strictly leashed flared to life. He pulled his arm out of Rye’s grasp. ‘Back off. My relationship with my sister is none of your business.’
Rye gave a harsh laugh. ‘Think again. She’s my wife. I’m the one has to watch her fight to hold the tears back when you say you’re coming and don’t show. Or give her some stupid excuse why you can’t make it at the last minute. Do you have any idea how much that hurts her, knowing you don’t give a damn about her?’
The dart hit home, but Cal refused to let it show on his face, his expression rigid. ‘It was never my intention to hurt her.’
Rye’s eyes narrowed, then his brows rose. ‘Damn. You really don’t get it, do you?’
‘Get what?’
‘That she’s never going to stop caring about you. Maddy’s not made that way. She never gives up on people—even you.’
‘Thanks for the lecture. I’ll bear it in mind.’ Cal turned to walk away, an emotion burning in his chest that he didn’t recognise or understand. He never lost control, because he’d spent so much of his childhood despising his parents for always losing theirs. But when Maddy had told him about the new baby, he’d been frozen in place, unable to congratulate her, unable to voice his joy at her announcement—or deal with the crushing sense of inadequacy. Maddy had always asked so little of him. So why did he feel incapable of giving her even this much?
As he opened the door Rye’s parting shot stopped him dead. ‘Don’t hurt my wife again. Or I’ll hurt you.’
It was an empty threat. Maddy would be devastated if her husband and her brother came to blows and Rye had to know that. But even so, Cal glanced back. Seeing the anger and the turmoil in Rye’s face, he was forced to acknowledge the truth.
Rye was right. His sister wasn’t going to let him go, however much he might want her to.
He gave a stiff nod. ‘I’ll talk to her tomorrow.’
CHAPTER TWELVE
ENTERING the large attic bedroom, Cal came to an abrupt halt as he spotted Ruby on the opposite side of the room. The sight of her sitting in the window seat, her legs curled under her and her head buried in a paperback novel was so unexpected and so beguiling, it momentarily wiped the ugly scene with Rye from his mind.
With her riotous hair tied back, her face scrubbed clean and a pair of spectacles perched on her nose, she could easily have been mistaken for a solemn, thoughtful schoolgirl.
An unsettling picture formed in his mind of her as a child, valiantly struggling to cope with her mother’s death and her brother’s rejection—and was swiftly followed by the feeling of hopelessness and futility that had dogged him throughout his own childhood. But then his gaze dipped, and he took in the outline of her nipples through the sheer material of her nightgown.
The familiar pulse of heat had him shaking off the thought as he crossed the room. Any common ground he and Ruby shared was cosmetic and purely coincidental.
And the problem at the moment wasn’t her family. It was his.
He hadn’t set out to hurt his sister, but he had. Which meant he’d have to figure out a way to apologise tomorrow. Not a conversation he was looking forward to.
‘At last, we’re finally alone,’ he said, tension tightening his shoulders as he kicked off his loafers and lay down on the wide bed.
Ruby’s head lifted. She took her glasses off and put her book down. Slipping the band out of her hair, she shook out the mass of curls as she stepped off the window seat. As if by magic, any traces of the studious little girl disappeared and she evolved into the voluptuous take-no-prisoners virago he had come to know.
Cal heaved out a sigh as he watched her stroll towards him, the muscles in his shoulders beginning to loosen as he took in the seductive sway of her hips and the way the nightgown slid over her curves. A new, more sublime tension tightened his groin.
Thank God he’d brought her along. Sinking into Ruby’s lush, responsive body was the perfect way to forget the ordeal he had in store for tomorrow.
‘Come here.’ He patted the mattress, then folded his arms behind his head and fixed his gaze on the fascinating glimpse of cleavage displayed by her wispy nightgown. ‘And prepare to be ravished for the rest of the night.’
She gave a throaty laugh. ‘Forget it,’ she purred. ‘No ravishing allowed tonight.’
He grasped her wrist, tugged her on top of him. ‘Stop playing hard to get.’
She laughed again, but drew back. ‘I’m serious. We’re not making love when there’s a three-year-old sleeping down the hall.’
His shoulders tensed right back up again. ‘Since when did you become a prude?’
She smiled that superior smile that women only ever used when a guy was desperate. ‘Ever since you turned me into a screamer.’
There was that.
He let her go. Frustration making the muscles in his neck bunch.
Terrific.
This trip kept getting better and better. Swinging his legs to the floor, he ploughed his fingers through his hair. ‘We should never have come,’ he growled, to no one in particular. ‘I knew it would be a disaster.’
‘What exactly is the problem with your sister?’
Cal looked over his shoulder. ‘Huh?’
‘Why did you react that way when she told you about the baby?’
He groaned. ‘I’m tired. It’s been a long day. Can we talk about this another time?’ Like never.
‘But you were so—’
‘Look, Ruby,’ he interrupted sharply. ‘You’re here because we amuse each other in bed, not to make observations about my family relations.’
She flinched as if she’d been struck. ‘Gee, thanks, Cal.’ She got off the bed, glared down at him. ‘Perhaps I should just tattoo “Cal’s Tart” to my forehead, so I don’t get confused.’
He stood up and grabbed hold of her waist. ‘Don’t get upset,’ he said, feeling like a heel. He’d seen the hurt in her eyes, right alongside the temper. ‘I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t think of you as my tart. That’s not what I meant.’
She pulled free. ‘So what did you mean?’ she snapped, not sounding all that forgiving. Who could blame her? He’d made a mess of things. This was getting to be a habit.
‘Nothing,’ he said wearily. He sank back onto the bed, raked his fingers through his hair, the frustration starting to choke him. He was usually so eloquent with words. He made a living from advocacy, from being erudite and compelling when he was addressing a jury, or outlining a mitigation plea to a judge. Why couldn’t he say a single thing right tonight?
‘I’m afraid you’ll have to do better than that,’ she said, her hands now perched on her hips. The stance was combative, but the fire in her eyes had dimmed.
He blew out a breath. He’d expected tears or a tantrum. He had to be grateful he’d got neither. ‘I guess I’m feeling kind of tense tonight,’ he said grudgingly. ‘And I took it out on you.’
She didn’t look mad any more, she looked intrigued. Somehow he wasn’t sure that was necessarily a good thing. ‘Why does their happiness make you so uncomfortable?’
‘What?’ he croaked. Where had that come from?
‘You said yourself you were tense. And the way you reacted when Maddy told you about the …’ She paused, her eyes lighting with knowledge. ‘You feel excluded. Is that it?’
‘Excluded?’ Why the hell would he feel excluded? Rye and Maddy had the exact opposite of what he wanted out of life. ‘From what exactly?’ he said, the tension starting to band around his temples now like a vice.
‘Because they love each other. You feel left out.’
‘Give me a break,’ he scoffed. ‘What does that even mean? Love’s just a word people use to justify lust or dependency or both,’ he said.
‘That’s ridiculous. How can you say that? Haven’t you ever been in love?’ She looked even more astonished, but what annoyed him was the distinct note of pity.
‘Are you telling me you have?’ he counte
red.
‘Of course, I have.’
‘Who with? Who have you been in love with?’ he challenged. What kind of guy would be able to trick Ruby into thinking she was in love?
‘What? Do you want a list or something?’
‘Yeah, I guess I do,’ he said, surprised by the twinge of jealousy.
‘All right, then. Fine.’ She plopped down on the bed and crossed her legs. ‘Jackson Dalton was my first love. He lived across the road from us and had these dreamy brown eyes and incredibly cool dreadlocks. And …’
‘You see, that’s lust, pure and simple. You fancied this Jackson guy.’ Like all women, Ruby had fallen into the trap of thinking her baser instincts had to be justified by purer, more altruistic emotions.
She cocked an eyebrow. ‘So suddenly now you’re an expert?’
‘I’m just stating the—’
‘Yeah, I know what you were just stating, Westmore. Get your mind out of the gutter. I was eleven. At that age even I didn’t know about the joys of sex. He walked me home every day after school. He told me about how he was going to play for Spurs and I told him all about my plans to open the best Italian restaurant in London. We never even kissed. It was the least lust-inspired love affair I ever had.’
‘What you’re talking about is puppy love.’ He thrust a finger at her. ‘Where’s Jackson now if he was so important to you?’
She grasped his finger. ‘Quit cross-examining me, barrister. He moved to Manchester when I was twelve.’
‘How convenient,’ he said.
‘God, Westmore. Cynical, much?’ She huffed. ‘Are you seriously telling me you never loved any of your girlfriends? Ever? How is that possible? According to your sister you’ve had billions.’
‘Billions is a slight exaggeration,’ he said laconically. ‘But I can safely say, I have never been in love and I intend to make damn sure I never will be.’
She didn’t say anything for the longest time. ‘Cal,’ she whispered. ‘That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.’ The sympathy in her eyes made him stiffen. ‘Why not? Why wouldn’t you want that in your life? To have a connection with another human being that matters? How can you reject out of hand the one thing in human existence that can make you feel fantastic and doesn’t cost a thing?’
‘Doesn’t cost a thing?’ he sneered, the bitterness he’d thought he’d buried years before scolding his throat. ‘It costs plenty. What about pride and dignity and self-respect?’
Wow, someone had really done a number on him. That was the only explanation, Ruby thought sadly. How could anyone want to close themselves off from all the wonderful things that went with falling in love?
The companionship, the sense of connection, the sweet comfort of familiarity and routine when you’d been dating someone for a while. Of course, there was usually a price to pay when you fell out of love again, she thought, remembering the sense of failure when she’d finally had to admit to herself that Johnny, like Ty, her teenage boyfriend, and even her first love Jackson before him, wasn’t the one after all. It had hurt, but that cruel moment of disillusionment and disappointment had never been anywhere near as bad as the wrenching pain of losing her mother or her brother.
‘Who was she?’ she asked, unaccountably angry with this unknown woman.
‘Who was who?’
‘The woman who destroyed your faith in relationships?’
His brows lowered, his confusion clear. ‘There wasn’t a woman. I told you, I don’t fall in love. That’s for fools and romantics. I’m neither.’
The flat defensive tone tugged at something deep inside Ruby. The hard expression on Cal’s face reminded her of Nick, and all those times she’d seen him try to hide his hurt and vulnerability behind a scowl.
She pressed her palm to his cheek, sympathy for him overwhelming her. ‘Cal, there has to be a reason why you don’t trust anyone. Is this something to do with your parents—and the disastrous marriage you told me about? Is that why you’re so cynical?’
He drew back. ‘It’s not cynicism. It’s realism,’ he said, the bitterness making his eyes glitter. ‘They put Maddy through hell with their constant rows and reconciliations.’
‘And they put you through hell too.’
‘No, they didn’t. Because I knew their marriage was a sham. I knew he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants. That he made promises he couldn’t keep.’
‘How did you know?’
‘Because I was his alibi.’
‘His what?’
‘His alibi.’ Cal pushed the words out past the hot ball of resentment and disgust. ‘Every Saturday morning, he told my mother he was taking me to a judo class. Then he’d go bang one of his mistresses, while I sat outside in the car.’
‘He took you with him?’ The look of horror that crossed Ruby’s face had guilty knowledge clawing up his throat. He swallowed it down. He’d got over that years ago.
‘But that’s appalling,’ she said.
‘Yeah, well … It certainly opened my eyes to the sanctity of marriage. And the truth about true love. That it doesn’t exist.’
He gave a grim laugh. As a kid, he’d always wanted to tell someone. So he could stop it somehow, but he’d never had the guts. How pathetic that he should finally break his silence when it couldn’t make any difference any more.
‘Cal, that’s dreadful. What did you do?’
He heard the outrage in her voice and wondered who it was for.
‘I kept my mouth shut.’ He could still remember the sting across his cheek of the back-hander his father had given him when he’d threatened to tell. He’d got over the urge pretty quickly. ‘It wasn’t so dreadful,’ he added dryly. ‘I was never a big fan of judo.’
‘How long did it go on?’
He shrugged. ‘I can’t remember.’
Had it been a year? Two? However long it had been, it had felt like for ever at the time. Being trapped in a lie he had no control over. He could still remember the fear every Saturday, the terror that his mother and Maddy would find out. And the way the fear had curdled in his stomach, until it had turned into a lead weight of loathing. By the end of it, he had a knowledge of adult relationships he didn’t want and had despised both his parents. His father for the lies and the cheating, and his mother for her weakness in never facing the truth. He’d promised himself he’d never get into that situation again. Forced to protect something that wasn’t even real.
‘Did he eventually stop?’ Ruby asked, the hopeful question making him bark out a hollow laugh.
‘No, she eventually found out. They had a row and she kicked him out.’ He paused trying to blank the memory of their angry shouts and Maddy’s gulping sobs. ‘She took him back again a few weeks later.’ And it had started all over again. ‘Because, you see, she loved him.’
He could hear the cynical edge in the words.
Ruby stared at him, the combination of warmth and understanding in her eyes making him desperately uncomfortable. Why was she looking at him as if any of this mattered?
‘No wonder you don’t believe in love,’ she murmured at last.
He wanted to say I told you so. But somehow the words wouldn’t come, because instead of acquiescence he saw defeat in her face.
‘Let’s go to bed,’ he said, deliberately changing the subject. ‘I’m shattered.’
‘You look it,’ she said, then threaded her fingers into his hair and tugged his mouth down to hers.
The kiss was soft, tender, but had hunger coiling in his gut. ‘I guess we both need some sleep,’ she whispered.
She was probably right. He was tired. So tired he could feel his bones melting as he kicked off his trousers and settled onto the bed beside her.
He took a deep breath of her sultry vanilla scent but kept his hands to himself. She snuggled against him, her bottom brushing over the erection.
He hissed out a breath as blood pounded into his groin.
‘Stop torturing me and lie still,’ he growled, anchoring her
to him when she wriggled again. But then his arm brushed against the swell of her breast, and he captured the warm flesh in his palm without thinking, outlining the hard bud of her nipple through the silky fabric of her nightgown.
‘It’s okay, Cal,’ she murmured softly. ‘Sometimes losing yourself in sex helps. Maybe if we’re careful …’
He didn’t need to lose himself. What was she talking about? But he felt as if he were teetering on a high ledge, the urge to leap off overwhelming him.
To hell with this.
He ran his free hand up her thigh, found her naked bottom beneath the thin gown. ‘You’ll just have to keep the noise down,’ he murmured, nipping her ear lobe as he massaged the plump, downy skin.
She gave a soft groan and rolled onto her back. ‘I’m not sure I can be quiet with you,’ she whispered, brushing her fingers across the cotton of his boxers.
He gritted his teeth, her clever touch torturing him. Then gave a low groan as his fingers found the wet, swollen folds of her sex.
His breath rasped out as he stroked and circled the nub of her clitoris with his thumb.
She stiffened, moaned, spurring on the hunger, the need.
‘Don’t come,’ he said. ‘Not yet.’ He had to be inside her, the demand clutching at his gut like a wild beast as he levered himself up, settled over her. Dragging off her nightgown, he flung it aside. ‘Are you on the pill? I’m safe.’
She nodded, her eyes wide.
Thank God. He couldn’t stop, couldn’t take the time to find the damn condoms and put one on.
Clutching her hips, forcing her legs wide, he impaled her in one long, solid stroke. She sobbed, bit her lip, as her sex clenched and released, then tightened around him.
He established a rhythm, pressing his hand to her mouth to catch her muffled scream as she arched under him, her muscles convulsing as she came. He struggled to cling on, to keep a stranglehold on the need, but then the last thin thread snapped. The vicious orgasm slammed into him with the unstoppable force of a runaway train—hard and fast and explosive.
Cal waited for his heartbeat to ease out of the danger zone.
