by Annie O'Neil
Kirri threw a questioning look at Ty. If he showed even the slightest sign of not wanting to go she’d back out faster than he could say boo. But his dark eyes twinkled as he glanced at Marina then shrugged at Kirri. His happy, contented face said one thing: resistance is futile.
“I think my mother is making a very long-winded attempt at ensuring I ask you out on the date I said I was going to take you on.”
What? Date? That had been his plan all along?
“Oh, Ty, you weren’t meant to put it like that,” Marina scolded, then turned apologetically to Kirri. “I was trying to make it look more casual, but you looked so sad just now, and whenever I mentioned Ty you brightened up. The pair of you both work so hard, and you haven’t had any quality adult time in just about forever, so I thought—”
“Mother!” Ty held up his hands for her to stop, his eyes all crinkled with laugh lines. “I was going to ask her!”
Really? Kirri felt as though she was sixteen all over again. A bit shy, very full of hope, and ridiculously happy.
“Well, you were being a slowpoke, Ty.” Marina leant toward Kirri and stage-whispered, “Slow and steady wins the race, but sometimes I question that logic.” She turned back to her son. “I’m just looking after Kirri’s best interest, is all. And yours. Now, if you don’t want to go out I’m happy to leave the two of you here with some supper, so you can watch a movie or something. Perhaps Kirri could show you a documentary on Australia?”
“Mama!” Ty was out-and-out laughing now. “We’re going out!” He turned to Kirri, his eyes flickering with fun. “That is if you’re happy to join me?”
Oh, she was. More than anything she was. But she seemed utterly tongue-tied and unable to say as much.
Then came the moment their eyes connected. And Ty had his yes.
* * *
Kirri and Ty handed in their shoes and took the bowling shoes from the teenage clerk.
“Date night?” The lad winked at Ty, then said to Kirri, “Be careful. This guy’s a demon on the lanes.”
What the—? Was everyone in Atlanta intent on setting the two of them up? Not that Kirri was exactly resisting, but...the bowling alley clerk?
Ty rolled his eyes at the boy, then pointed toward their lane. “My mother must’ve called him.”
Kirri whipped around and shot the boy a look. He was already busy chatting up some pretty teenage girls.
She looked back at Ty. “Seriously?”
“No!” Ty laughed. “But I wouldn’t put it past her.”
He gestured to a chair at the top of lane number twenty-three. She sat down and began to put on the colorful bowling shoes.
“You sure you’re up for a night out?” he asked.
“Of course—why?” Insecurity flickered in her eyes.
“It’s just been a busy day, is all. Don’t want to tire you out.”
“You’re not. Honestly, the day has been completely energizing.”
“Well, hats off to you for surviving the Sawyer Clan. It can get a bit OTT for some.”
“Don’t apologize. They’re a whole lot better than my insane family,” she said with feeling.
She picked up a bowling ball and threw him a quick smile, but he could see the same flash of hurt that had flared when she spoke of her brother.
If there was one thing his family had never made him feel it was pain. Quite the opposite, in fact. His family were the ones he and Gemma had gone to when they’d been to the obstetrician and then the oncologist for that soul-destroying appointment. His parents and sisters were the ones who’d picked him up off the ground when his wife had been buried. They were the foundation of his existence, and it hurt him to see that Kirri didn’t have the same.
He made a feeble stab at offering her a bright side. “I’m sure growing up with your brother wasn’t nearly as bad as growing up with four sisters.”
“Oh...it wasn’t so much my brother that was the problem.”
For the first time that night she refused to meet his eye. Ah. Complicated parents.
She didn’t offer any more details. Instead she bounced on the balls of her feet, as if testing her bowling shoes for buoyancy.
“Anyway... As you’ve no doubt gleaned, Lucius comes with his own set of ‘interesting.’” She barked out a mirthless laugh. “He probably would’ve paid cold hard cash—and a lot of it—to have parents as proud of him as yours are of you.”
Now, that was strange... “I thought Lucius was Australia’s number one—?”
“Baby Whisperer,” they finished together.
Kirri scrunched up her nose and finally met his gaze. What he saw in those clear blue eyes of hers was a world of complication. Love, sadness, pain.
“He is. But, honestly, I think he’d rather be called anything but the Baby Whisperer.” She scuffed at the floor with the toe of her shoe. “I hate it, too, to be honest. No one can ‘whisper’ babies into existence.”
She looked like she was going to say something else, then changed her mind and waved it off.
“Anyway. He’s amazing at what he does.”
She gave her lower lip a grating with her teeth, making her appear utterly vulnerable. It was all Ty could do not to pull her into his arms and tell her it would be all right.
It was what his family had told him again and again after Gemma had gone. It’ll be all right. But they were just words, and they hadn’t changed what had happened. But day by day, month by month, year by year...they had eventually proved to be mostly true.
The sun still rose each morning. His daughter was a blossoming testament to his wife’s gentle spirit and his own family’s fiery drive to pursue happiness above all. And, of course, there was his work. Work which had unexpectedly led him to Kirri.
As embarrassing as it was to have had his mother ask Kirri out for him, the nudge hadn’t been ill-judged.
Sometimes he wondered if he used his grief as a cloak for being plain, old-fashioned chicken. He’d never really had to ask anyone out before. Face rejection. Figure out how to shield his daughter to ensure she was the last one who could be hurt by his inevitable false starts on the dating front. So he’d simply closed the door on all of it.
Until now.
Maybe it was still a cowardly attempt at dating—choosing a woman he knew was going to leave. But...how had Stella put it? A trial run? Maybe she was after something short-term, too. A hot, feverish romance the pair of them could lock up safe as a good memory when their lives returned to normal.
Who wanted normal when you could have sublime?
He pulled on his bowling shoes, keeping a casual eye on Kirri as she eyed up the bowling ball rack. She was a beautiful woman. Even in the awful fluorescent lighting of the bowling alley it was impossible to ignore the effect being near her had on him.
If he was being entirely honest, Kirri was awakening all sorts of feelings in him that he didn’t know what to do with. Have a fling and consider himself officially cured of the grief that had shrouded his life in the wake of his wife’s death? Or lose control and fall in love only to have to say goodbye.
There was always the other option. Do nothing and stay stuck in the same holding pattern he’d been in for the last five years.
He dismissed the thought. It seemed everyone in his world had long since recognized it was time for a change apart from him. His parents were pushing him toward it, and his sisters. Hell, even Stella at work. And he felt himself become more...alive...when he was with Kirri. Something clicked into place there and then. Kirri was definitely the one he should be taking the risk on. Whatever happened it would be worth the fallout.
He watched as she put down the first bowling ball she’d selected, then picked up a sparkly red one instead and gave it a grim nod. As if she planned to use it to blast away the unhappy memories he’d unwittingly brought up. He glanced across to the bar and wond
ered if he should offer to buy her a beer and sit down and talk instead.
She suddenly jabbed her finger into the air between them. “And don’t think just because he’s my big brother I’m blowing smoke up his ass or anything. He’s a right royal pain and working for him is no walk in the park.”
He couldn’t help it. He clicked his heels together and saluted. “Yes, ma’am.”
He was rewarded with a snort and a giggle that perfectly broke any remaining tension between them.
Ty’s chest warmed with a long-forgotten sensation. Pleasure. Pleasure at bringing a spark of joy to someone. And not just to any someone. A someone whose arrival had metaphorically crashed into his very set routine and given it a good shake.
Vulnerable and strong. Funny and fierce. What other layers were there to this woman?
Unpeeling them could be one of the most enjoyable things he’d ever done. And there was nothing like a brisk bowling match to literally get the ball rolling.
He gave his hands a quick clap and a rub. “Right! Want to throw a few practice bowls?”
She swept her hand over her bowling ball, then licked her lips. “You sure you’re up for playing a maverick like me?”
His eyes stayed glued to her lips as they curved into a teasing smile just ripe for a cheeky kiss.
Instead of breaking the tension that hummed between them, Kirri’s sassy approach to bowling only served to heighten them. She threw a few practice runs. All of them pitched straight into the gutter. Ty tried to offer her advice, but each time she leant in to her chosen bowling position he kept going cross-eyed, trying to keep one eye on her technique and the other on the way the fabric of her clothing swept along her curves.
She still had that chic biker girl aesthetic going on. Everything fit her as though it were tailor-made. Her light leather jacket had been casually discarded on a plastic seat by the rack of bowling balls. Figure-hugging jeans with a tactical rip or two swept along her long legs. Her dark auburn hair was free tonight, flowing across her shoulders and down her back to where her waist-skimming T-shirt cinched in then swept out toward her hips.
It was jeans and a T-shirt, really, but on Kirri they oozed attitude and panache. She even made the bowling shoes look cool.
No one’s asking you to fall in love or elope...just have fun.
Could he do that after all these years? Just have fun?
He’d married his high school sweetheart. Loved her until the day she’d died. Just as they’d promised one another at the altar during their white wedding. Longer, even. To this day he’d never known another woman’s touch.
But he felt vital and alive in a way he’d never experienced before. It was as if a part of him had physically died along with his wife and an entirely brand new part of him had come to life when Kirri arrived.
It was an entirely different sensation from the way he’d felt with Gemma. Loving her had been as natural as breathing. They’d been through all the important firsts together. Had known each other inside out. This—whatever it was he was feeling now—was more raw. An unrefined, unfettered, uncheckable attraction that felt too dangerous to give freedom to and too serendipitous to let the chance for happiness pass him by.
And just like that a core-deep need to sweep his hands along Kirri’s waist, hips, curvy ass and anywhere else she’d let him touch her took hold of him. He wanted her.
He strode to her spot beside the bowling ball stand, turned her around and cupped his hands on either side of her face. One look told him she was feeling the exact same thing. An instant need not to be in the bowling alley anymore.
And when their lips touched...?
Fire.
CHAPTER EIGHT
KIRRI WAS HUMMING INSIDE. So much so she didn’t think she could bear the tension anymore. So she tried one of her least marketable skills: casual chit-chat.
“This is a nice neighborhood.”
Ty glanced at Kirri and nodded. He hadn’t said a word the entire twenty-minute drive from the bowling alley. Normally she’d be kind of freaked out by this sort of behavior. A crazy mad snog in the middle of bowling alley and then...mute driving. But in Ty’s case it was kind of sexy. Like sitting next to a lion before he decided to pounce. No. A panther. Any sort of sexy beast, really. Because whatever it was, it was making her feel more dangerously desirable than she ever had. Taut with pent-up lust.
She pressed her forehead to the window, enjoying the cool of the glass. It was actually a nice neighborhood. Not too different from his parents’. Leafy. Beautiful manicured gardens. Wide inviting porches wreathed with flower baskets offsetting beautiful pastel-colored homes. It screamed family neighborhood.
“I know it sounds ridiculous, but I didn’t expect to see so many traditional houses so close to the city center. For some reason I thought all the old ones would be out in the countryside. There are loads out in the countryside in Oz. I mean, obviously there are some old buildings in Sydney, but... Anyway. I like your neighborhood.”
Kirri cringed. She sounded like an idiot. The handful of intimate liaisons she’d had over the years had been little more than fleeting flares of lust. After the Crusher of Dreams had dumped her cold she’d made sure her emotions remained in check. But this...? This felt different.
What she’d felt when they kissed hadn’t been the temporary flicker of a lighter’s flame. No, this heat burnt brighter. Stronger. To the point where it was driving her to talk pure nonsense, when all she really wanted to do was flip up the SUV’s irritatingly wide armrests and start tearing Ty’s clothes off. Not safe driving practice, of course, but...that kiss!
She hadn’t thought he had it in him. Well, she had thought he had it in him—she just hadn’t thought he had it in him to give to her!
He was reserved. Losing his wife would definitely account for that. And brilliant. He had, after all, recognized the merits of her own research. Not to mention he was an adoring father whose family clearly thought the world of him. They had been the ones to push them out the door to the bowling alley after a scrumptious seafood pasta dinner.
And more than any of that? He’d kissed her as though the rest of the world had faded away and the only thing on this great big blue marble they lived on was the two of them.
Her belly fluttered afresh at the thought.
Yes, she wanted to kiss him, all right. Kiss him and rip off that plaid shirt and those walnut-colored chinos of his so she could see what else he had going on beneath that calm, cool exterior of his.
Or... She slipped her hands along her thighs. Perhaps he would take the lead. Start slow. Real slow. Just as slowly as his fingers had slipped along her jawline as millimeter by millimeter he’d lowered his full mouth to hers for one of the most sensual kisses she had ever experienced. It had been an extraordinary combination of tenderness and passion. Far better than the rooftop kiss. It had literally weakened her knees.
A tickling of glittery warmth whispered all the way through to her toes and right back up again, until it took a naughty heated swirl round the magic spot between her thighs.
Before she could travel down memory lane too far, he pulled the car into a driveway in front of a beautiful Victorian house tucked back from the street amongst a nestling of mature oak trees.
“Oh, Ty. It’s gorgeous.”
His lips tightened for a microsecond. It definitely wasn’t the move of a sexy panther about to pounce on his sexy prey.
Then it hit her. This was where he had lived with his wife. It had to be. It was the perfect family home.
The house was two-story, a lush sage-green with white-edged windows, some of which were curved or made of beautiful multi-colored stained glass. There was a sprawling porch dappled with cushioned rocking chairs. It was clearly kept with a loving attention to the details that had no doubt made it shine back in the day when it had been built.
Were they details his wife h
ad put into place?
“It was built in 1891 for a local physician. It even has a turret.” Ty spoke mechanically. As if he’d memorized the description the real estate agent had used to lure in buyers.
“How amazing. And...” She hesitated, because she knew what she was going to say would ask more than one question. “How long have you lived here?”
Ty leant forward, looped an arm across the top of his steering wheel and gave the house a long, hard stare. “Just about five years now.”
The way he said it tore at her heart. Five years ago—shortly after his wife had passed.
She knew straight away that she wouldn’t be going through that beautiful front door where a stained-glass posy of wildflowers was set into the center of the pale blue window. The same eggshell color as the birdbox that was sitting in the back of his car.
No. She wouldn’t be walking through that door. Not tonight. Perhaps not ever.
The look in Ty’s eyes was such a tangle of confusion it obliterated the taut sensual atmosphere that had been buzzing between them. Which was probably just as well. He was her boss. She was here to focus. Not to—Well. Not to do other things.
She tugged up the zip on her leather jacket and pulled her handbag onto her shoulder.
“If it’s all right, I think I’d better get a taxi back,” she said just as Ty started to say something else.
They false-started a couple more times, stumbling over their words, talking over each other, until Ty finally held up his hands and said, “I think I owe you an apology.”
“What for?”
“Kissing you the way I did and then manhandling you into the car.”
She actually laughed. “You didn’t manhandle me. I was a willing participant.”
He arced an eyebrow.
“Seriously?” she said. “Number one: if I’d been scared or unhappy we were in the middle of a bowling alley. Help was just a scream away. Number two: you’re practically made of honor. Any fool can see that.” She tapped a third finger. “More to the point, if you had pulled the car into any vacant lot on the way here I would’ve happily steamed up the windows with you.”
