Ryan's Rules
Page 1
Table of Contents
Cover Page
Excerpt
About the Atuhor
Books by Alison Kelly
Title Page
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
EPILOGUE
Copyright
“Your trouble is, you worry too much about me.”
“Tell me something I don’t know, Kirrily,” Ryan replied.
“I’m no longer a naive sixteen-year-old. You
have to stop regarding me as some kind of bimbo who’s going to fall into the arms of the first smooth-talking male who comes on to her.”
“I don’t wish to encroach on your love life, but I do have strict rules about you bringing men home.”
“Oh, goody, more rules! And they are…?”
ALISON KELLY, a self-confessed sports junkie, plays netball, volleyball and touch football, and lives in Australia’s Hunter Valley. She has three children and the type of husband women tell their daughters doesn’t exist in real life! He’s not only a better cook than Alison, but he also isn’t afraid of vacuum cleaners, washing machines or supermarkets. Which is just as well, otherwise this book would have been written by a starving woman in a pigsty!
Alison Kelly has a warm, witty writing style you’ll love! Bubbly heroines, gorgeous laid-back heroes…romances brimming over with sex appeal!
Look out this month for Boots in the Bedroom! by Alison Kelly in THE AUSTRALIANS.
Books by Alison Kelly
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Ryan’S Rules
Alison Kelly
PROLOGUE
‘GOT a minute?’
The sound of his sister’s voice drew Ryan’s concentration from the quote he’d been working on all afternoon, while the sight of the two steaming mugs she carried drew his smile.
‘Kid, if you’ve got coffee, I’ve got more than a minute!’ He accepted the cup from her hand. ‘Thanks. This Emmerson project looks like being an even bigger pain in the rear than I expected.’
‘You’ll cope, Ryan. You always do.’
‘Coffee and flattery! You’ve not only got my attention but my curiosity too. What’s up—a delinquent account causing you problems?’
‘Er, no. No, everything is fine in that department, which is why I’ve decided to fly over and join Mum and Dad in Europe.’
Shock removed Ryan’s ability to swallow the mouthful of coffee he’d just taken until the need to question his hearing forced him to gulp it down; he opened and closed his mouth twice before he could even think of a response, let alone voice one. Had Jayne announced she could walk on water, he wouldn’t have been half as stunned.
‘You’re doing what?’
‘You heard me,’ she said, looking as if she wasn’t sure she could repeat the words. ‘I’m thirty-four years old, Ryan; it’s time I got my life together.’ She smiled. ‘At least, that’s what everybody’s been telling me and…well, I decided yesterday they were right.’
On one level Ryan wanted to cheer with joy. On another the suddenness of his sister’s decision worried him. Ever since the death of his best friend, Steven, Jayne’s fiancé, fifteen years ago, he’d wondered if she’d ever put the past behind her; until this minute there’d been no noticeable indication that it would happen. Apprehensive about the suddenness of the decision, he searched her face for an answer.
‘Don’t look at me as if I’m having another breakdown, Ryan.’
‘I wasn’t!’ Yet despite his denial the possibility had drifted through his consciousness. Trying to smile away his guilt, he rounded the desk to take his sister’s hand. It was soft, fragile and surprisingly naked.
‘You’ve taken your ring off.’ His observation drew a weak, shiny-eyed smile.
‘Last night. I think that was the hardest part. Flying to Europe is the easy stage.’
The admission was made in little more than a whisper, but the subdued strength behind the words swamped Ryan with a mixture of love and relief so great that it was easier to wrap his arms around her and draw her close rather than speak. Finally, after more than a dozen years, his little sister was ready to push free from the shadows which had cocooned her, her mourning was over. When he finally held her away they were both smiling.
‘Have you told Mum and Dad?’ he asked.
‘Yeah, I rang them before I came into work.’ She laughed. ‘They were stunned, thrilled and relieved, in that order!’
‘I’ll bet.’ He hesitated before adding, ‘And the Cosgroves?’
Jack and Claire Cosgrove were their folks’ best friends and currently touring Europe with them. They were also Steven’s parents.
‘They were pleased too…’ There was a slight break in her voice. ‘Claire said Steven would’ve been glad to know I was getting on with the business of living.’
Ryan nodded, then immediately steered the conversation back to lighter topics. ‘Well, from what Mum said when I spoke with her the other night you’ll love Italy! So—’ he leaned across his paper-scattered desk and retrieved his coffee ‘—when do you fly out?’
‘Sunday.’
‘Sunday! But today’s Friday. What about a passport and visa—?’
‘They’re up to date. Remember, I nearly did this a couple of years back?’
He remembered. K.C. Cosgrove, Steven’s younger sister, had all but convinced Jayne to take a vacation with her, but at the last minute Jayne had backed out and nothing anyone had said had been able to change her mind. If nothing else, perhaps the very impulsiveness of this decision would prevent Jayne from having second thoughts this time.
‘OK. Then I’ll ring Mrs Phillips right away and organise for her to come in and cover for you in Accounts and—’
‘Mrs Phillips isn’t available, but it’s OK,’ Jayne assured him. ‘I’ve arranged for Kirrily to cover for me.’
‘You can’t mean that!’ Even as he said the words Ryan knew the worst. ‘Aw, Jayne! Please tell me you didn’t ask K.C..’
‘It’s all arranged; she’s arriving tonight.’
‘Then unarrange it or I’ll be courting a nervous breakdown.’
‘Oh, stop it, Ryan!’ she chided him. ‘It’s the perfect solution. Kirrily’s currently out of work—’
‘She’s a soap actress, not an accountant!’
‘I’m not an accountant either. Besides, she did two years at business college.’
‘K.C. did two years because she flunked out the first! What’s more, she’s only a kid—’
A chuckle interrupted him. ‘If you still think of her as a kid you obviously missed the episode of Hot Heaven where she was practically nude and—’
‘Spare me the run-down on that soap opera,’ he said drily; his body was reacting to the scene he unfortunately hadn’t missed.
‘Ryan, what’s the problem? It’s only for a few weeks.’
He grunted. ‘Earthquakes occur in mere seconds.’
‘I should’ve guessed you’d be difficult about this.’
‘Why?’
‘Why?’ he echoed, feeling as if he’d been hit from behind by fate in a ten-ton truck. ‘Because…well, because she’s so damned flighty. Heck, a person never knows what she’s going to do from one second to the next! And she hates being told what to do. Especially by me,’ he added ruefully. ‘Hell, she’ll question every decision I make. Plus her face is so well known that she’ll have every person who walks into the place wanting her autograph or trying to hit on her. How much work do you think she’ll manage to get done?’
‘Look, Ryan, this trip is important to me, but I’ll cancel if—’
‘What? Uh-uh…no way!’ The thought that he might provide Jayne with an excuse to back out of her plans overrode the instinct to preserve his sanity. ‘Put that idea right out of your head! You’re going. You’ll be on that plane Sunday and K.C. will be sitting at your desk first thing Monday.’ Glancing down at the quote which had been giving him so many headaches, he sighed. Compared with living and working with K.C. for the next few weeks, everything else was going to seem like a picnic!
As a kid K.C. Cosgrove had always had a knack for throwing him off balance, one minute tugging at his heartstrings and making him putty in her hands and the next grinding away at his patience until his hands had wanted to tighten around her cute little neck. Then, during her rebellious teen years, she’d done her best to develop her ability to manipulate Ryan into an art form, which had caused numerous heated debates between the two of them. But what bothered him the most was that now, at the ripe old age of twenty-four, K.C. had unexpectedly acquired yet another unsettling trait—the ability to send his thirty-six-year-old hormones into a frenzy.
CHAPTER ONE
KIRRILY spied his tall frame waiting by the luggage carousel at first glance. Even if his black jeans and leather bomber jacket hadn’t contrasted with the business suits of late, Friday-night commuters, Ryan Talbot would have stood out in a crowd. Six feet six of solid male athleticism and rugged blond good looks weren’t easily overlooked—at least, not by any red-blooded woman with a pulse.
Unfortunately, Kirrily was forced to concede that not only was she red-blooded but her pulse was positively rabid! Anxious to gain some control over its excited thumping, she stopped dead in her tracks and took a deep breath. Aside from its causing several fellow passengers to cannon into her, nothing happened. Great!
Up until Bob and Pam Talbot’s fortieth wedding anniversary a few months back, she’d been convinced she’d outgrown the teenage crush she’d had on their son, but now, at the age of twenty-four, she’d relapsed into a severe bout of the hots for one Ryan Talbot! As if she didn’t have enough problems!
She sighed. After what she’d left behind in Melbourne, being in Sydney was a godsend, even if it meant exposure to Ryan.
An impatient shove and a frosty look from a wellgroomed matron reminded her she was impeding people’s progress. Muttering an apology, she again started moving towards the waiting Ryan, wishing she could quash the tingle of adrenaline which increased with each step she took. It wasn’t fair! A grown woman wasn’t supposed to react like this to a man who still saw her in pigtails and braces. Realising the male in question had now spotted her, she fixed a serene smile on her face, determined not to let him rile her. She was an adult; she could control both her tongue and her temper. And this time while she was around Ryan she would control them simultaneously! Even if it killed her! No matter what he said!
‘G’day, short stuff!’
The term would have been an insult even if she hadn’t been five feet six, but her vow of self-control and maturity demanded that Kirrily wait until he actually did pat her on the head before she hit him! No pat was forthcoming. Instead Ryan bowed from his superior height and brushed his usual kiss across her cheek before stepping back and studying her from head to toe. Though irritated under his detailed, blue-eyed scrutiny, she forced herself to relax—at least as much as it was possible for her to relax around Ryan; it seemed these days whenever they got within sight of each other the air around them thickened to a point where she could almost chew it.
His inscrutable expression made her wish that she could think of something witty to say. Heck, she’d settle for something inane, if only for the reassurance of knowing she was still capable of thinking of anything besides how damn good Ryan looked! Good? Ha! The guy was as sexy as sin!
‘So how was the trip?’
It took a second for Kirrily’s hormone-corrupted brain to register the question, but, grateful for the nudge back to reality, she rallied quickly.
‘Lousy. We took off from Melbourne in a storm and it stayed with us most of the way. Still, it was worth it to escape another Melbourne winter.’ Not to mention everything else, she added silently.
‘I didn’t know you were a baseball fan.’
Her confusion was caused as much by the question as the effect of his dazzling grin.
‘Your cap, kiddo,’ he said, coming dangerously close to having his orthodontically correct teeth knocked in as he patted her on the head. ‘By the way, you put it on backwards. Now, tell me which bags are yours and let’s get out of here.’
‘I didn’t “put it on backwards”. I’m wearing it backwards intentionally! And for your information it’s a basketball one.’
He raised a surprised eyebrow. ‘Your bag?’
‘No, my cap!’ she snapped, yanking it from her head and holding it so that the Sydney Kings insignia was visible.
‘Good to see living in Melbourne hasn’t swayed your home-town loyalties. Now, if you’ll rein in that temper I see flashing in your eyes,’ he said, ‘and tell me which bags are—’
Spying her two pieces of luggage, she reached to grab them but missed when another commuter pushed past her. Only Ryan’s steadying hand prevented her from ending up spread-eagled on the carousel and vanishing from sight as her luggage now was.
‘K.C., I said to tell me which was yours, not try and crash-tackle the thing yourself.’
The amusement in his tone didn’t do much to lessen her irritation and embarrassment. She refused to look at him as they waited for the bags to reappear.
‘Next time they come around,’ he said tersely, ‘just point at them. I want to get out of here before you’re recognised and we’ve every starry-eyed soap fan in the place stampeding for an autograph.’
‘Ryan, this is Sydney, not Hollywood; I’m hardly going to cause a stampede. Besides, I’m sure you’d protect me to your dying breath—whether I wanted you to or not!’
‘Don’t bet on it,’ he said drily. ‘Now, quit acting like a spoilt brat and tell me which bags are—’
‘That one and that one!’ she snapped, annoyed that he had no difficulty in snaring them as they came past. ‘And don’t blame me if I live down to your low expectations!’
He frowned. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘It means that maybe if you stopped treating me like a petulant child I’d stop acting like one!’
‘Well, that’s one thing we agree on,’ he said.
‘Alleluia! We agree I’m an adult!’
‘No.’ He smirked. ‘We agree you’re petulant.’
K.C.’s expression, before she pivoted and hurried towards the exit, told Ryan that if she’d brought her trademark sense of humour with her from Melbourne it was packed in the bottom of one of the two suitcases he held. Great! K.C. riled up was the last thing he needed.
Had time travel existed, Ryan would have booked a trip back to the day when K.C. had gone from being cute to sexy and stopped it happening. But of course there was no such thing as time travel and, what was more, he couldn’t pinpoint the transformation of Kirrily Claire to any set event.
He suspected that the evolution had been a gradual thing, and it was only irritation at finding himself physically attracted to her
which caused him to feel as if she’d actually catapulted from one to the other. Still, it seemed as if one minute he’d been chaperoning her sixteenth birthday party, dressing her down for spiking the punch, and the next he’d been at his parents’ fortieth wedding anniversary, mentally undressing her! Not that the clingy creation she’d worn that night had left much to a man’s imagination! Even the tight jeans and polonecked bodysuit she wore now were an improvement on that, though they, too, hugged her subtle young curves to the point of distraction!
Her pursed-lip silence continued all the way to the car and Ryan felt like a heel—not because he’d upset her but because he’d welcomed the opportunity simply to look at her without having to listen to her. Prize bastard that he was, he’d even gone so far as to walk behind her just so that he could study her cute, denim-clad butt! The fact that he’d found himself speculating on what it might look like minus the denim almost choked him with guilt.
She was his late friend’s kid sister, and he knew Steven Cosgrove hadn’t meant this when he’d made his dying request that Ryan ‘keep an eye on little K.C.’! Hell, if Steve had been alive today to witness Ryan lusting after his sister, he’d have knocked his so-called best mate’s teeth down his throat. And fair enough too, Ryan reasoned; he wouldn’t tolerate anyone leering at Jayne the way he had at K.C.!
Get a grip, mate! he told himself. She’s not your type at all. You like ‘em blonde, buxom and classically beautiful, not brunette and boyish with pixie-cute smiles and basketball caps—even if their legs do stretch into tomorrow!
But the way his feelings kept flipping from platonic caring to physical attraction worried the daylights out of Ryan. In the past he’d reasoned that much of the protectiveness and tenderness he felt for K.C. was accounted for by their families’ close bonds and the fact that he was twelve years older than she. So why was it that all of a sudden the gap between thirty-six and twenty-four seemed narrower than the one between sixteen and twenty-eight? It wasn’t-’