Книга - Ryan’s Rules

Ryan's Rules
Alison Kelly


Breaking all the rules Since Ryan Talbot had become Kirrily's self-appointed guardian, he'd been determined to make her live life by his rules:Rule 1: Never date any man Ryan wouldn't approve of.Rule 2: Find a respectable job and don't wear too much makeup - or dresses above the knee!Kerrily had always rebelled and enjoyed shocking him. Until she had to share his home. Suddenly she was in danger of wanting to seduce a man Ryan definitely wouldn't approve of - himself!









Table of Contents


Cover Page (#ucddf7870-66d1-5e9b-b43a-314008ae8c1a)

Excerpt (#udff7a057-47dc-565d-8e51-9eb909a697ce)

About the Atuhor (#ub1c22bb7-c396-5bd5-a1bc-11cccd7a91fd)

Books by Alison Kelly (#uad668c72-69bc-536f-8ecd-4cba1ed705e0)

Title Page (#ueef7ec5f-b46c-5728-bfe8-ce057c624297)

PROLOGUE (#u761f0626-f257-5d12-a609-9ef0d540b912)

CHAPTER ONE (#ucf8bad5a-5b22-5570-a260-377061a0b200)

CHAPTER TWO (#u46c67bce-817b-5bf6-8558-20cbbe05321b)

CHAPTER THREE (#u073706b1-b421-54ac-8f9c-8523f5b07878)

CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)




“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


HARLEQUIN PRESENTS®



1903—YESTERDAY’S BRIDE

1975—MAN ABOUT THE HOUSE



Don’t miss any of our special offers. Write to us at the following address for information on our newest releases.



Harlequin Reader Service

U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269

Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Ene, Ont. L2A 5X3




Ryan’s Rules

Alison Kelly















www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




PROLOGUE (#ulink_6ff1c5b2-9185-5d61-9bb9-6cf102797a93)


‘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.’

‘Jayne, honey, I’m not trying to be difficult. I’m trying to be practical. As much as K.C. is like one of the family, asking her to do this isn’t a good idea.’

‘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 (#ulink_6b7e6233-2c47-53b0-88fe-a3017af9919b)


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-’

Don’t tell me you’ve locked the keys inside?’

K.C.’s impatient tone dragged him from his troubled thoughts; automatically he checked his pockets. ‘No.’

‘So why are you standing there scowling at the car? Trying to terrify the doors into opening? Hurry up, will you?’ she urged. ‘I’m dying to talk to Jayne.’

‘You’ll have plenty of time. She’s not flying out until Sunday.’

‘That’s if she doesn’t change her mind’

‘You think she will?’

She shrugged. ‘It wouldn’t be the first time.’

Kirrily forced herself to slide into the the passenger seat of his car without commenting, but she had to bite her tongue, hard, to maintain her assumed indifference. Ryan’s passion for Jags was no secret and over the years he’d restored more than a few. Now apparently he didn’t need to satisfy himself with second-hand ones; this beauty was the latest in the XJ series and Kirrily knew that it wore a six-figure price tag. The look on Ryan’s face told her he was waiting for her traditional request to be allowed a test drive, so he could give his traditional answer—no. Perversely she bit down even harder. Besting Ryan, even in such a small matter, was worth permanent teeth marks in her tongue!

Kirrily managed to keep stubbornly silent until Ryan had steered the sleek vehicle into the evening traffic, then she shifted in her seat, smugly satisfied by the puzzled frown marring his forehead. Gotcha! she thought gleefully before speaking.

‘This decision of Jayne’s was awfully sudden,’ she said. ‘The first I knew of it was last night.’

‘The first I knew of it was a couple of hours ago.’

‘You’re kidding. She didn’t sound you out on the idea first?’

‘Nope. Just walked into my office this afternoon, told me she was going and you were covering for her at work.’

The response startled her. Ryan was every bit as pedantic about protecting Jayne as he was Kirrily, but while she’d started bucking ‘Ryan’s Rules’, as she tagged them, at sixteen Jayne’s fragile emotional state had made her more compliant to her brother’s wishes. In fact Kirrily had never known her to make a big decision without ‘running it by Ryan’ first.

‘Have you spoken to Jack and Claire?’ he asked, without taking his eyes from the road.

‘Yeah, last night. I phoned them straight after Jayne called.’ She smiled. ‘They’re thrilled, of course—like your folks.’

‘Mmm.’ The glance he tossed her was too quick to read. ‘And what about you, K.C.?’ he asked. ‘Are you thrilled?’

‘Well, sure!’ she said. ‘Of course I am. Who wouldn’t be? It’s about time Jayne started to do normal stuff. Not that I think she hasn’t been normal!’ she amended hastily, knowing how Ryan tended to be sensitive about references to Jayne’s past emotional problems. ‘Just withdrawn. But…well, she’s only thirty-four and an attractive woman. And—’ She broke off in the face of the cynical look Ryan gave her.

‘Don’t try and kid me, K.C.; we both know Jayne’s existence has been more than “withdrawn”. It’s been positively ritualistic.’

‘I’ll admit it’s been routine—’

‘Stop soft-peddling round the facts,’ he muttered. ‘She’s spent the last fifteen years like a mouse on a treadmill: going through the motions of life without living it! Now this comes from right out of the blue.’ He thumped the steering wheel. ‘Wham! Six weeks ago, she was commemorating Steve’s death with her annual pilgrimage to Kiama and today she announces she’s flying to Europe.’ He shook his head. ‘Believe me, much as I’d like to be able to relax and feel good about her breaking out of her rut, the truth is, I can’t.’

Having braked at a red light, he looked across at her, the rhythmic flashing of a nearby neon sign alternately highlighting and disguising the concern in his face. What had started out as an angry outburst ended in weariness. ‘You’re as uncomfortable about this as I am. So don’t sit there telling me what you think I want to hear.’

‘I’m not,’ she insisted. ‘I’m really thrilled she’s decided to…to get her act together. Everyone’s been praying she’d do it for years and now, finally, it’s happened. It’s a good thing and we—’ She stopped under his disbelieving glare.

‘Oh, OK! OK!’ She sighed. ‘I admit a tiny part of me is worried because, like you said, this came from out of the blue. But there’s a difference between saying you’re going to do something and actually doing it. You’re worried Jayne hasn’t thought things through; I’m worried she might start, that she’ll begin wondering if she’s acted too hastily and back out.’

His frown prompted her to add, ‘A person who makes up their mind quickly can change it just as fast. If Jayne senses we have doubts about her decision, she’ll have doubts. So I think it’s important we don’t reinforce the negatives in this. The bottom line is that she needs to do this; why she’s decided to shouldn’t be an issue.’

There were a few seconds of silence as Ryan obviously mulled over what she’d said, then he turned a bemused smile in her direction.

‘You know, K.C., you surprise me at times. That’s a very astute observation.’

The praise had been too patronisingly bestowed for her to accept it graciously. ‘Well, you know what they say—out of the mouths of children…’

His grin did things to her insides that she both loved and hated. ‘Actually it’s out of the mouths of babes.’

‘I know.’ She gave him a sickly sweet smile. ‘But I hate being called a babe. Besides, I’m trying to wean you off the image of me with a teething ring.’

‘You could try wearing a muzzle,’ he suggested. ‘You’d not only present an alternative image but I’d stop worrying that you were going to bite my head off every time you misconstrued an innocent remark.’

‘You know, Ryan, this will probably be beyond the realms of your imagination…but there are some men who find the idea of me sinking my teeth into them very appealing!’

A wave of nostalgia swept through K.C. as the car swung into the driveway of the house which had been so much her second home in her teenage years that when people had asked for her phone number she’d given them the Talbots’ as well. However, in the five years since Ryan had bought the house from his parents, when, like hers, they’d retired to Victoria, she’d made only a handful of visits and never stayed more than a few hours. For the next three weeks at least, this would be where she was staying.

‘What’s up?’

She smiled in response to Ryan’s curious stare. ‘Nothing. I was just thinking how everything looks exactly as I remember. I always expected you to do some kind of renovations.’

‘Why?’ He frowned. ‘What’s wrong with the house?’ ‘Well, nothing! It’s…it’s just that I’d expect, you having been an architect and having access to building equipment at cost, you’d be tempted to make changes.’ She smiled. ‘I mean, I love the little house I’ve bought, but boy, if I had the money I’d really do something with it! You, however, do have the money.’

He raised an eyebrow.

‘Oh, stop looking like that,’ she chided him. ‘All I ever hear from Mum is how incredibly successful you are and how you’ve quadrupled the company’s profits since taking over from your father.’

‘Claire exaggerates,’ he said.

‘Claimed he, sitting behind the wheel of the latestmodel Jaguar,’ she responded drily.

He grinned. ‘I didn’t think you’d noticed.’

‘Not a chance!’ She laughed, letting her fingers caress the dashboard and no longer bothering to hide her appreciation of the vehicle. ‘So…do I get to drive her while I’m here?’

‘Like you said…not a chance. I’ve seen you drive, K.C.’

‘Huh! You’re the one who taught me.’

‘Don’t remind me. Jayne said you can use her car while she’s away.’

The reference to his sister caused her to glance across to the house. ‘You know, Ryan, maybe now that Jayne’s finally putting Steven’s death behind her it’ll let the rest of us do the same.’ She looked back at the man who had been her late brother’s best friend and almost his brother-in-law.

His gaze narrowed. ‘Meaning?’

‘Meaning maybe now someone will tell me all the facts surrounding the night he was killed.’

‘K.C.—’

‘No,’ she said, raising a hand to stop his words. ‘I know the things that happened after he was killed: about Jayne’s phantom pregnancy and her subsequent breakdown. I even think the real reason you’ve never let me drive one of your cars is because Steve was driving yours when he was killed.’

He tensed noticeably at her words and reached for the doorhandle. ‘Don’t go formulating a lot of half-baked ideas about something that happened when you were nine. Let it go, K.C. It looks like Jayne finally has.’

‘Have you?’

It wasn’t until he wrenched open the driver’s door and activated the car’s interior light that his irritation was visible.

‘I don’t know what kind of fantasies exist in that overimaginative mind of yours, but keep them to yourself! I don’t want Jayne upset.’

‘Is that the reason why, when your parents wanted to sell this house and Jayne didn’t want to move, you bought it?’ Without answering, Ryan got out of the car and slammed the door shut. ‘I’m right, aren’t I?’ she persisted as she, too, climbed from the car. ‘That’s why you haven’t done any alterations to it, because you didn’t want to do anything that might upset Jayne.’

His jaw tightened as if he was clenching his teeth. ‘I thought out-of-work actors waited tables and drove taxis. I had no idea they dabbled in psychoanalysis.’

‘You know me,’ she said, shrugging. ‘I’ll try anything once. As a matter of fact I’m looking forward to doing the accounts for Talbot’s.’

Moving to the open boot, he grunted, ‘That makes one of us.’

‘Ryan?’ she said, coming around to lean against the boot of the car as he removed her luggage. ‘There’s one thing I’ve never been able to understand…’

‘How to quit while you’re ahead?’ he suggested.

‘Why you gave up a partnership in one of Sydney’s most prestigious architectural firms to take over running a building-supply business? I mean, all you ever wanted to be was an architect; you graduated top of your class from university—’

‘Well, of course you don’t understand that, K.C.!’ He slammed the boot closed. ‘The reason is based in responsibility—family responsibility! Our fathers and Steven worked damned hard to build up the business and I for one had no intention of watching their efforts ruined at the hands of outsiders out to make a quick buck.’

‘So you don’t miss architecture?’

‘At the moment all I’m missing is the peace and quiet that existed before I picked you up at the airport. Now, will you just shut up and let me get these bags inside so I can go hunt up the Prozac I got last time you were here?’




CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_d725de11-c073-51d2-9996-4c33d4665d04)


ON SUNDAY Kirrily was again at Mascot airport; this time, though, she was in the International terminal watching Jayne’s plane roll down the runway. Fighting to keep her emotions in check, and unsure how much longer rapid blinking would continue to keep tears at bay, she slipped her sunglasses from the top of her head down onto her nose. The action drew the attention of Ryan, standing beside her.

‘You want to go?’ he asked.

‘No…not unless you do.’

The hope that he’d missed the slight tremor in her voice evaporated as he deftly removed her sunglasses.

He swore. ‘Aw, you poor kid. Don’t cry.’

She jerked away from the touch of his hand on her shoulder and lifted her chin. ‘I’m not crying!’ she insisted as two huge tears rolled down her cheeks. ‘Nor am I a kid.’

‘Fine. But in that case I think you should know your eyes are melting.’

She tried hard to muster some anger towards him-she really did—but the wealth of understanding and gentleness shining in his eyes negated her efforts. This was one of those times when kindness was the hardest thing to take.

‘Damn it,’ she muttered, a sob rising in her throat. ‘I…I had no intention of crying. It’s stupid. I…I…’

Kirrily wasn’t sure which she surrendered to first, the flood of her tears or Ryan’s strong, comforting embrace, but it was a relief to give in to both. It was as if the warmth of his body and the sensation of his hands stroking her head and back were releasing all the emotions she’d kept penned up for months. Crying felt good. It mightn’t be constructive, but it felt good!

‘Shh, honey,’ he whispered. ‘Jayne’s going to be fine. It’s not as if she’ll be on her own; the folks will be there for her.’

Though she nodded against Ryan’s chest, Kirrily knew she was reacting to more than just the significance of Jayne’s leaving. With the stress she’d been under in recent weeks and the disappointment of leaving the cast of Hot Heaven she’d been a prime candidate for a serious bout of waterworks.

She considered telling him about the turmoil she’d been going through during the past few months, but thought better of it. The last thing she wanted to invite was a dose of Ryan Talbot’s brotherly sympathy, which was as suffocating as his over-protectiveness; better to let him think her tears revolved entirely around Jayne’s departure.

She drew a deep breath with the intention of trying to stop the half-sobs still raking her body, but instead of regulating her respiration it made her dizzy. Not the light-headed dizziness which preceded fainting, but the fuzzy, blurry, aroused kind, caused by inhaling the earthly masculine scent that was uniquely Ryan. She shivered as a shower of electric sparks erupted in her bloodstream. Crazy as it was, she couldn’t stop herself from nuzzling closer. Just a few seconds longer then she’d step away from him…

Ryan knew he had a problem the moment K.C.’s arms locked around his waist, but when she went limp in his arms and shivered a part of him told him he was in deep trouble. And unfortunately his brain hadn’t been the source of his intuition.

Placing his hands on her hips, he gently eased her away from the lower half of his body. The last thing he wanted to do was embarrass her.

‘Er…K.C…?’ he said hesitantly. ‘Are…are you all right?’ Her face remained pressed into his chest, but there was a slight nodding movement of her head. ‘You’re sure?’ he urged, hoping that the more inane he kept the conversation, the quicker his body would settle down. But, given its slow rate of recovery at present, Ryan figured he’d have to start reciting nursery rhymes pretty soon. Another attempt to withdraw further from her had her arms tightening. He sighed, torn between the need to comfort the distraught woman in his arms and the need to save what little dignity he had left; God knew, his self-respect was right out the window!

Comfort the distraught woman? K.C. wasn’t a woman! Yeah, right, mate! his brain chided. So how come you’re in such bad shape, then, huh?

OK, so technically and physically Kirrily was a woman, he rationalised, but she was also Steve’s kid sister! Why the hell was he having such a hard time remembering that lately? Why, after more than two decades of thinking of her in a wholesome, brotherly way, was he suddenly being plagued by constant speculation of what it would be like to make love to her—the kind of hot, heavy love which left both participants hungry for more of the same?

I’m sick! he thought with disgust. I’m really, really sick!

‘Yeah, you do look a bit pale.’

Ryan groaned when Kirrily’s observation made him realise he’d spoken his thoughts aloud. Yet as he looked into her frowning, concerned face he couldn’t help smiling. Even with red-rimmed eyes and her face mottled the tell-tale pink of a crying jag Kirrily Claire Cosgrove was beautiful; he took a perverse sort of comfort in knowing that there was no way he’d be the only man to make a fool of himself because of her.

A suspicious light came into her green eyes. ‘What are you grinning at?’

‘Nothing I want to talk about. What say we head to the bar?’

She knew her face reflected confusion, but she couldn’t help it; Ryan usually pushed the teetotaller ideal at her. ‘The bar?’

‘You look like you could use a drink and I know I need one.’

‘I thought you felt sick.’

‘It’s mental not physical,’ he said, taking her arm and steering her towards the lifts as she shot him an impish smile.

‘Oh, that’s OK, then! For a minute there I thought it was something unusual.’

Schooling his face into a look of disappointment, Ryan shook his head. ‘Too predictable to be witty, K.C. I’ve come to expect better from you.’

‘I’m sorry. I keep forgetting that, unlike yours, the precedents I’ve set are of an exceptional standard.’

‘Better!’ he praised her, a slow grin spreading across his face. ‘A load of absolute rubbish, but that, too, is typical of your standard!’

Despite the elbow she jabbed in his ribs, Kirrily smiled, glad to discover they were back to their familiar banter-and-bicker relationship. It was, she’d decided, the safest way of dealing with her recent feelings towards Ryan. Though the short time spent in his arms had been wonderful, knowing that from his perspective it was purely platonic was murder on her feminine pride. Not being into masochism, Kirrily resolved to cure herself of this latest bout of ‘Ryan fever’ before she ended up making an idiot of herself.

When they reached the bar Ryan steered Kirrily to a corner table and pulled out a chair for her.

‘Scotch straight up, isn’t it?’ he queried.

‘Er, yeah…Thanks,’ she said, feeling incredulous when he merely nodded and went to place the order. At his parents’ anniversary he’d been openly disapproving of her drinking spirits, not because he rarely drank anything except the occasional light beer but because he’d assumed she was drunk. And he’d started verbally tearing strips off her without giving her a chance to explain that the reason she’d been stumbling her way around the dance floor had been that Aidan had been so damn full that he’d barely been able to stand, much less dance as he’d insisted! But by the time Ryan had finished admonishing her Kirrily had been too angry with both men to care about offering a defence.

She sighed. While there had been times in her teens when Ryan had been justified in thinking the worst of her, she wished he’d stop judging her on her prior record. Irritated to realise she’d been staring at him ever since he left the table, she redirected her attention to her surroundings.

The bar, designed in a relaxed, open-lounge style, wasn’t crowded. Laughter rang out from one table occupied by a group of foreign flight attendants. At another what was obviously a family group seemed to be passing the time before an awaited arrival or departure and at the far end of the room two couples chatted in animated whispers.

It struck Kirrily that this was the first time she and Ryan had socialised together as adults without either their parents or Jayne being present. In the years since she’d attained the age of eighteen they’d only interacted at family functions and traditional celebrations such as Easter and Christmas.

The friendship between the Cosgroves and Talbots stretched back to the childhoods of Kirrily and Ryan’s fathers; they’d grown up next door to each other, married local girls and then proceeded to raise their children within a few blocks of each other. Later it had been friendship rather than economic sense which had prompted Kirrily’s father to inject funds into Bob Talbot’s financially strapped business when the banks wouldn’t; thus a personal relationship had expanded into a professional one.

Ryan slid into the seat opposite, interrupting her thoughts.

‘Here you go,’ he said, putting his orange juice on the small, low table separating their chairs and placing her drink in her hand. ‘Scotch straight up; no ice, no water, and, I promise…’ he smiled, sheepishly ‘…no lectures.’

His subtle reference to the incident at his parents’ party caused Kirrily’s stomach to flip. Then again, the cause might have been the sensation of feeling his fingers close over hers.

‘Don’t tell me you can read my mind now?’ she asked, the idea scaring the hell out of her.

‘God, I hope not!’ He looked aghast. ‘What you do gives me enough headaches, let alone knowing what you think about doing!’

‘Your headaches are self-inflicted. No one’s asked you to keep sticking your nose into my life.’

‘Your big brother did.’

The blandness of his response didn’t disguise the emotion in his eyes and Kirrily lowered her lashes as her mind flashed to the memory of Ryan walking into Steven’s room after the funeral and discovering her sobbing her nine-year-old heart out. She remembered how he’d sat down on the floor next to her and quietly started to tell her that he missed Steven too, that he’d loved her brother every bit as much as she did and that maybe it would be better if they were sad together. It was then that he’d said she was to think of him as her brother now, because Steven had asked him to take care of her for him.

‘And Jayne, too?’ she’d asked.

‘Yes, Jayne too,’ he’d said. ‘We’ll both have to take care of Jayne, K.C..’

That was the first time he’d called her K.C.; until then no one but Steven had ever called her that. Now only Ryan did.

Kirrily stared into her drink and sighed. Strange how Jayne’s decision to get on with her future had made everyone else so much more sensitive to the past…It was the first time in years that Ryan had made reference to her brother’s dying request.

Ryan changed his mind and began wishing he was able to tap into K.C.’s thoughts!

The lines marring her brow bothered him, nearly as much as his urge to reach out and stroke them away. In the past he’d taken pains to avoid mentioning Steve in front of K.C., never again wanting to see her hurting as she had been the night of the funeral, when he’d found her crying, curled up in the corner of Steven’s bedroom clutching his football jersey, all alone. It had ripped his heart out, and with hindsight he’d often wondered if Steve hadn’t somehow foreseen that his little sister would be almost overlooked in the emotional turmoil that had enveloped the adult members of both families. It was cruelly ironic that when Jayne had taken the final step in letting go of the past he’d been the one to toss it carelessly in the face of an already distressed K.C.

But had it really been done carelessly?

Ryan’s gut churned at the unbidden question, but before he could examine where it had sprung from K.C.’s voice distracted him.

‘What?’ he said, trying to refocus his mind. ‘Sorry, I missed what you said.’

‘I know.’ She smiled and lifted her glass. ‘I suggested we drink a toast to Jayne. I think it’s kind of appropriate, don’t you?’

‘Very,’ he agreed, raising his glass. ‘To Jayne. May this be the start of a happier life.’

She touched her glass to his. ‘And may I remember everything she told me about the Talbots’ accounts.’ And she added cheekily, ‘I’m certain you’ll drink to that, Ryan.’

‘K.C., I won’t only drink to it,’ he said, ‘I’ll pray for it.’

The way she sipped her drink then let the tip of her tongue creep across her lips as she savoured the Scotch caused Ryan’s stomach to clench. Desperate to douse the fire erupting there, he tossed his juice back in one swallow.

‘You know, Ryan…’

He told himself that her smile wasn’t intended to be sensual. Nor was the way she hooked a long strand of dark hair behind her ear and exposed the soft young skin of her jaw and neck to him.

‘I might surprise you,’ she continued. ‘But knowing you expect me to stuff up will stop me from feeling guilty if I do.’

Ryan merely grunted. She wouldn’t feel guilt because right now he held the monopoly on it!

When they returned from the airport Ryan dropped Kirrily at the house then went to the office to catch up on some work. He wasn’t back by the time she took herself off to bed at the puritanical hour of eight o’clock and he was gone when she arrived in the kitchen, showered and dressed, at seven-ten on Monday morning.

Which was a good thing, Kirrily decided, picking up the kettle, because even on her best days no one had ever accused her of being a morning person, and after the sleepless night she’d endured she wasn’t in the mood for a bright-eyed, bushy-tailed and invariably dry-witted Ryan Talbot She did, unfortunately, find evidence of his regrettable existence in a note shoved under a magnet on the refrigerator.

Expect you on the dot of nine and not a minute later! Try not to dress theatrically—i.e. NO BASKETBALL CAPS! If Jayne’s car needs petrol go to the garage at the intersection—I’ve a company account there.

PS—I’ve already fed Major. But don’t forget to activate the house alarm.

Kirrily screwed up the note and hurled it across the room, her actions sending Jayne’s usually sedate Persian rocketing from the kitchen in a blur of blue fur.

‘Why, you arrogant, patronising, smart-alec jerk!’ Unable to satisfy her pre-caffeine rage with a civil vocabulary, she resorted to a stream of expletives and another shout of frustration. He seemed to delight in treating her like an imbecile!

‘No basketball caps’! Huh! It was bad enough that he considered her brainless, but for him to have the audacity to question her dress sense as well! He whom his mother had practically had to sedate to get him into a dinner jacket so he could escort Kirrily to her debutantes’ ball! He who considered ties as something one put on a garbage bag so stray dogs couldn’t rummage through it!

Why was it that all her life Ryan had felt it necessary to dish out advice to her, to vet her boyfriends, to watch over her like some sort of guardian angel? What did he think she had parents for? A mental picture of her mother asking, ‘Well, what does Ryan think about all this?’ popped into her head and she swore again.

That particular image was only a couple of months old, the comment coming when she’d told her parents that she was donating her acting services to a condom commercial in the interests of safe sex. Kirrily, of course, hadn’t discussed the matter with Ryan, but remaining silent hadn’t protected her from his opinion. Recalling his terse phone call to her after the commercial had been screened was enough to make her cringe…

‘K.C., don’t you make enough on that soap you do without broadcasting your sleeping habits to all and sundry?’

‘I didn’t get paid for doing it,’ she’d hastened to explain. ‘Well, except for the hundred free samples the company sent me!’

Unlike her, Ryan hadn’t seen the funny side of that. She just wished she could have seen his face when the courier had delivered the fifty condoms she’d sent him! She’d included a note stating that she doubted she’d get through all one hundred by the use-by date so she was generously splitting her profits with him! Visualising Ryan’s reaction to that was amusing enough to dampen her anger.

Trying to be objective, she looked at what she was wearing. OK, so her black ankle-length skirt and boots were this winter’s latest fashion, but surely even the most conservative of dressers wouldn’t find them theatrical? And as for the polo-necked bodysuit she’d teamed them with…Well, admittedly it was a vibrant red, but she intended wearing a black blazer, so she needed a bright contrast to stop her from looking too severe.

‘Stop it, Kirrily!’ she ordered. She knew she was more than acceptably attired for work in an office, but as usual Ryan’s habit of expecting the worst from her had caused her momentarily to question her own judgement. She really hated it when she did that—hated him for having such influence over her! A desire for retaliation tempted her to march back to her room and don the shortest, skimpiest dress she’d brought with her! Thinking of the emerald Lycra number hanging in her wardrobe, she giggled.

‘Now, that, Major,’ she said as the cat waddled back into the room, ‘has what I’d call an Academy-award shock rating.’ The animal turned its squashed-in face towards her and miaowed. ‘You’re right,’ she said, proceeding to organise some breakfast for herself. ‘Much too obvious a response. Not to mention childish. I’m staying as I am. But boy,’ she vowed, ‘am I going to rattle his cage when he least expects it!

* * *

‘Kirrily, this is Ron Flemming. He’s our senior sales rep and my second in charge. Ron—Kirrily Cosgrove, Jack’s daughter, she’s covering for Jayne while she’s away.’

As Ryan introduced her to the last of Talbot’s Building Supplies’ thirteen full-time employees Kirrily smiled and extended her hand.

‘My wife and kids aren’t going to believe me when I tell them the star of Hot Heaven is working with me,’ Ron said, a friendly smile and a slight flush spreading over his chubby thirty-something face.

‘Thanks for the compliment,’ Kirrily said, ‘but I wasn’t the star.’

‘You were as far as my mates are concerned!’ Ron countered. “Specially after the episode with you and what’s-his-name in the bath.’

Kirrily rolled her eyes at Ron’s teasingly lecherous grin. ‘I don’t think I’m ever going to live that down! People are still asking me if I was really nude or wearing cover in strategic places.’

‘Were you?’

‘Ron,’ Ryan interrupted, ‘aren’t you due out at the Perrelli site?’

‘Yeah, but not for—’

‘Then I suggest you get out there.’

Sympathetic to anyone on the receiving end of one of Ryan’s glares, Kirrily produced her brightest smile. ‘We’ll have heaps of time to talk, Ron. I’ll be working here for at least three weeks.’

‘The operative word being working,’ Ryan muttered, guiding her away from the salesman’s desk. ‘I’m not running a Kirrily Cosgrove fan club here.’

‘I’m sure there’s some union rule which stipulates employees must be allowed to talk to each other in their lunch hours,’ she retorted.

‘I wouldn’t know. I’m not up on union rules; round here I make the rules, and number one is, Don’t go flirting ing with my male employees! Especially the married ones.’

Kirrily was genuinely shocked. Oh, sure, the general public tended to perceive the acting fraternity as being morally corrupt, but in reality she’d not found actors any worse or better than people outside the industry. That someone who’d known her as long as Ryan had would make such a comment, even light-heartedly, irked her.

‘For your information, Mr Morality, I would never hit on a married man!’

His mouth twitched. ‘Good. Then we won’t have a problem with rule number one, will we?’

‘No, but, knowing you, there are probably another hundred or so I’m expected to keep.’

‘Hard to say,’ he said, looking pensive. ‘It’s an openended sort of thing. But don’t worry—as they occur to me I’ll give them the next sequential number and pass them on to you.’

‘Gee, thanks! You know it was lucky for Moses that it was God and not you handing out the commandments, otherwise he’d still be carting them down the mountain.’

‘I know,’ Ryan said, holding open the door of Jayne’s office and motioning her through. ‘God and I considered that at the time.’

Annoyed because she couldn’t keep her face straight, she punched his arm as she walked past him into what would be her office for the next month.

The first thing she noticed was that the desk, which had earlier been clear except for a telephone, blotter and calculator, now had three stacks of paper on it, one of which was a very large stack. At a glance she identified it as invoices and statements; the other two were letters and promotional catalogues. Obviously Julie, the firm’s receptionist, had distributed the mail while Ryan had been introducing her around. Now it was time for Kirrily to ‘get down and dirty’, so to speak.

‘Look, when you feel like you’re getting snowed under just let me know, OK?’

Ryan’s words jerked her head back up. He must have picked up on the hint of apprehension she was feeling, but he hadn’t said, if you feel you’re getting snowed under…Oh, no! He’d said when because, as usual, Ryan thought she didn’t know what she was doing! And he-big, kind-hearted white knight—was rushing to rescue her without even waiting to see if she needed, much less wanted rescuing!

‘Listen, Ryan!’ she said hotly. ‘I can handle things!’

‘I know but—’

‘Jayne spent all Saturday explaining things to me and, contrary to what you expect, she was convinced I could cover this job without getting “snowed under”.’

For a moment she thought he was going to argue the point; instead he shook his head as if he were taking the biggest risk of his business life by just letting her into the building. Reaching for the typed list of duties that Jayne had left for reference, she studied it as if he wasn’t there.

‘I take it, then, you don’t have any questions you want me to answer?’

She racked her brain for one he wouldn’t be able to answer.

‘Well, then, K.C.,’ he said, and started from the room, ‘I’ll leave you to it.’

‘Wait! I do have one question.’ She produced an innocent smile.

‘Yes?’ he prompted, glancing at his watch as if calculating whether there was time to give her an answer in three one-syllable words or less. He frowned at her continued silence. ‘Well, what is it you want to know?’

‘How are you off for condoms, Ryan?’ Fighting to keep her face bland, she looked him right in the eye. ‘Be sure and let me know if you need any more.’

Apart from a minuscule tightening of his mouth, there was nothing to suggest she’d fazed him. His silky smile revealed even white teeth and superiority. ‘Thank you, K.C., but I’m well covered in that area—pardon the pun. I bought a new box last week.’

‘A new box!’ Kirrily felt her jaw practically hit the floor! ‘You’ve used fifty in two months?’

His ocean-blue eyes widened a fraction as if he himself was surprised by the fact, then he shrugged. ‘Who counts?’

Obviously she’d been under a misconception—she flinched at her own pun; she’d assumed that since busting up with the gold-digging peroxide blonde who’d adorned his arm last Christmas Ryan had been burying himself in his work. Apparently that wasn’t all he was burying himself in! Fifty in less than two months—what did that average out at? Mentally she couldn’t begin to work it out, but surely most people would be bedridden with RSI doing it that often? And she’d called him Mr Morality! Ha! More like Mr Amorality.

‘Now, K.C., if there’s nothing else…’

Mutely she shook her head.

‘In that case we can both get on with our work, then.’

The minute he was out of the door, Kirrily reached for both calculator and desk calendar. Fifty in two months?




CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_ef43cdbc-8ba2-5814-b9f8-392c01689613)


FOR Kirrily the first few days on a new project always passed quickly. She found the excitement of working with new people and the challenge of a new task pleasantly invigorating on a mental level. However, the first few days of working for Ryan passed too quickly! It seemed as if the eight hours a day she should have had to perform her duties had somehow shrunk, and by five o’clock on Thursday she was forced to concede that she was further behind with the accounts than she wanted to be and light years behind where she should be. Though she’d been as busy as a workaholic bee all week, there was no evidence of it, and when Ryan found out it wouldn’t be honey-sweet praise he’d heap on her!

Rats! Where had she gone wrong? She’d followed the instructions that Jayne had left to the letter, being careful to maintain the other woman’s rigid routine. Careful? She’d been downright pedantic!

The daily duties were simple enough: attach any incoming account statements to the appropriate invoices from the previous month, check the pricing of incoming invoices against the original quotes then input them into the appropriate creditors’ records on the computer. Jayne had said that the task could take anything from a few minutes in the middle of the month to three or four hours at the start or end of a month. With a glance at the mountain of paperwork sitting on her desk, Kirrily dropped her head into her hands.

‘Oh, no,’ she groaned, not even wanting to think about how far behind she might be by the end of the month. Already she could practically hear Ryan verbally tearing strips off her for her ineptitude. Unfortunately she could also hear the sound of the locks on the front entrance being thrown, which meant that any minute now hewho-was-her-boss would saunter into her office and tell her it was time to call it a day. Not that he practised what he preached.

Considering the hours Ryan put in, he must have set himself the goal of becoming a millionaire before the year was out. Who was she kidding? If he’d worked like this for the last five years he already had to be a billionaire. No wonder her parents marvelled at the dividends they received! He was gone from the house each morning when Kirrily got up and, so far, every night this week he’d not come back until after eleven.

After his remarks about the condoms, she’d thought that perhaps he was spending his time with a woman, until her cat-killing curiosity had led her to find the condoms she’d sent him, still in sealed boxes, in the upstairs bathroom cabinet. That she’d been flooded with relief at the discovery bothered her as much as his absence all week! Either he was a workaholic or he was avoiding her. Call me paranoid, she thought sourly, but I’d lay bets it’s the latter.

It wasn’t that she expected him to entertain her, but, after sharing her house in Melbourne with two friends, she was used to having someone with whom to exchange news of the events of the day. Spending the last four nights alone with only Jayne’s overfed, over-pampered Persian for company hadn’t been her idea of a good time; Major might be a willing listener, but his conversation left a lot to be desired.

‘K.C.!’

At the sound of Ryan’s voice, she grabbed ninety per cent of the unprocessed invoices and shoved them into a drawer, barely managing to shut it before his shadow fell across her desk.

‘Time to pack it in, K.C.. It’s gone five.’

She looked up, hoping her guilt wasn’t showing, and feigned a grimace. ‘Has it? Darn! I’ve still got a few invoices to get through,’ she said, motioning towards the half-dozen accounts still lying on her desk. ‘Sorry. I guess the day got away from me.’

‘No doubt while you were catching up on old times with Trevor Nichols,’ he said, his disapproval evident.

‘Look, they shouldn’t take me too long to get through,’ she said. ‘I’m sure I can have them done in no time.’

‘Really?’ Ocean-blue eyes regarded her with scepticism. ‘What did he come in for?’

She blinked. ‘Who?’

‘Nichols.’

‘Oh. He wanted to know what he owed on his account’

‘And how much was that?’

She scrambled to think. ‘Uh, less than two hundred dollars, I think.’ She pulled the computer keyboard closer. ‘I can call up the details for you—’

‘No need. Did he pay it?’

‘Well, no, but he’s coming in tomorrow.’ Ryan looked far from pleased. Obviously the Nichols account was a dodgy one. ‘If you’re worried I could put a “stopped credit” notation on his file—’

‘Don’t bother. I don’t have the slightest doubt he’s good for the money or that he’ll be back in tomorrow.’ His intent gaze, which moved from her by now less than neat French braid all the way to her skirt, which had ridden up way past what was businesslike, caused Kirrily’s stomach to flip-flop. Quickly she swivelled her chair around so that the desk could shield her legs and averted her eyes.

‘Um…well, I might as well get on with finishing these invoices,’ she said, wishing that her voice didn’t sound as if she was suffering the early stages of laryngitis. Swallowing hard, she reached for the offending papers. ‘Like I said, they won’t take me long.’

The intercepting touch of his hand on hers was so unexpected that for an instant she thought she’d been electrocuted; given the way her heart and lungs momentarily ceased functioning, it wasn’t an unreasonable conclusion. Looking up, she encountered incredible blue eyes; her heart went from still to turbocharged in nothing flat.

The heat rising through her body had nothing to do with guilt or embarrassment and everything to do with the fact that she was a normal, healthy woman and Ryan Talbot was sexy enough to reactivate the pulse in a dead one. She’d have liked to think that she didn’t appear half as rattled as she was, but common sense voted it a faint hope.

Then in a blink he was leaning nonchalantly against the filing cabinet, causing her to think that she’d only imagined his thumb caressing her wrist.

‘Leave them,’ he said, his voice gravelly. ‘A few invoices are hardly worth the bother of you staying late.’

Knowing there were about fifty more than a few, Kirrily cursed his generosity. Staying late was her only hope of catching up. ‘It’s no bother; I’ve got nothing planned tonight.’

‘Forget it!’ He straightened with the same abruptness as he’d spoken, then grimaced and massaged his neck. ‘I’m not leaving you here alone.’

‘Alone?’ she echoed. ‘Aren’t you working late?’

‘Yeah,’ he said, ‘but I’m ducking down the pub for a counter meal, then coming back.’

‘Oh.’ She smiled as the solution came to her. ‘Then I’ll go have dinner with you first and—’

‘No!’ With an expression of absolute dread he abandoned his neck massage to rake at his already much fingered hair. ‘K.C., I’m meeting with a local builder and plumber to discuss a project; it’s business. The last thing I need is you distracting them from it.’

‘Well, gee, Ryan, if you’re that worried I’ll burst into a song-and-dance routine in the middle of your sales pitch on downpipes and cistern cocks, I could always sit at another table.’

A smile tugged at his mouth as he gave her body a very male once-over. ‘No way,’ he said. ‘If I walked into that pub with you there’d be more sales pitches flying on cistern cocks and downpipes than a nice girl ought to hear.’

‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’

He shook his head. ‘Nothing! Here—’ he shoved her handbag and jacket at her ‘—be a good girl and go home. OK?’

‘Fine! I’ll go home!’ Though his condescending tone made her angry enough to want to storm off in her best Thespian huff, she didn’t want to run the risk of his finding the hidden invoices should he need to get anything from her drawer. ‘Do you mind if I at least tidy up a little and turn off my computer first?’

‘By all means do whatever is necessary.’ He strode to the door. ‘But hurry; my meeting’s scheduled to start in ten minutes.’

Yeah, right! And my execution is scheduled for tomorrow, she thought miserably. There was no way she’d get that invoicing done now. Although perhaps if she came in early and skipped lunch…

‘Oh, and K.C.—’ about to open the drawer where she’d stuffed the invoices she froze ‘—do me a favour and feed that damn cat before you go to bed. If there’s not a constant supply of food in its dish the animal gets nasty. He attacked me the minute I walked in the door last night.’

Desperately regretting the fact that Major wasn’t a killer Dobermann, Kirrily nodded. ‘Sure,’ she mumbled. ‘No problem. Feeding the cat will be the high point of my evening.’

‘Damn stupid lock…’ Kirrily grumbled as her key failed for the second time to find its destination in the neardarkness.

Any other night the house was lit up as if Ryan had shares in the electricity company; tonight it was darker than London during the Blitz. It was already somewhere between three and four in the morning and at this rate she’d be lucky if she got to bed before the sun rose! Had she taken Jodie up on the offer of the sofa she could have avoided the fight with the front door. Dead tired, all she wanted to do was fall into her bed and sleep for a minimum of twelve hours, but even knowing that she was only a few hours away from having to appear perky and professional at work wasn’t enough to make her regret her impulsive decision not to spend another night at home. She mightn’t be the proverbial party animal, but she wasn’t a recluse either.

Finally the key found its mark and she waved a dismissing hand to the cab driver who’d solicitously watched her progress down the driveway to ensure that she wasn’t mugged before getting into the house. A few months ago she’d have laughed off as ridiculous the possibility of that happening to her, but not any more. An involuntary shiver shook her body and she determinedly willed her mind back to the matter in hand.

Mindful of Major’s habit of trying to escape at every opportunity, she eased the door open just wide enough to squeeze through then quickly pivoted, shutting it a second before she felt the cat dart past her leg. ‘Sorry, Major,’ she whispered into the darkness. ‘I win again.’

Sportingly the cat curled around her shins in welcome, but as Kirrily leaned down to pet it a hand closed around her upper arm. Her heart stopped mid-beat, raw terror paralysing her and choking her hysterical scream to a mere whimper.

‘Where in God’s name have you been?’

Enmeshed in fear as she was, not even immediate recognition of Ryan’s voice calmed her. Though her brain told her she was safe, her body hadn’t accepted the fact; her heart continued to pound in her ears and her skin still crawled with goose-bumps.

It’s Ryan, her brain chanted. It was only Ryan who grabbed you. Ryan won’t hurt you.

‘Answer me, K.C.! Do you have any idea what time it is?’

No matter how angry he sounds, Ryan wouldn’t ever hurt you. It’s OK. You’re safe—

Light suddenly flooded the entrance hall, its intrusive glare making her close her eyes. She sagged back against the wall, grateful to have something other than her trembling legs to support her.

‘Geez!’ Ryan’s voice dripped with disgust. ‘You’re so drunk you can barely stand up!’

Kirrily knew she should have been furious, with both the accusation and the delivery of it, but the relief and fatigue monopolising her body left little room for indignation. She was safe. Nothing was going to happen to her. As the realisation sank in it was impossible to suppress a smile.

‘This isn’t a laughing matter, K.C.!’

Slowly she rolled her head against the wall. ‘I’m not drunk, Ryan,’ she said wearily. ‘A tad tipsy, a little tired and in severe shock, but definitely not drunk.’

‘Good! In that case you’ll at least be able to open your eyes and explain where the devil you’ve been all night and why you didn’t see fit to let me know you were going out!’

That was when Kirrily discovered that even in shock she had a very short temper. Oh, she opened her eyes all right! And she saw red! The parentally outraged tone of Ryan’s words had been bad enough, but that he had the audacity to look as if he actually expected her to answer him was simply too, too much!

‘I…beg…your…pardon,’ she enunciated, through gritted teeth, ‘but you are not my father! Nor am I accountable to you for my comings and goings.’ She refused to be intimidated by his narrow-eyed glare. ‘I might be working for you, Ryan Talbot, but I clock off at five and what I do after that is my business and nobody else’s!’

‘Like hell! It’s mine while you’re living under my roof, damn it! Do you have any idea how worried I was when I got home after midnight and you weren’t here?’

‘I’ll bet not half as worried as I was when I walked in the door a few minutes ago and got mugged in the dark!’

‘I didn’t mug—’

‘You scared the living stuffing out of me!’ she raged, holding her hand out in front of her. ‘You think I shake like this for no reason?’

The sight of her small, delicate hand trembling in midair between them and the tears streaming down her face made Ryan want to cut his throat.

Hell! She wasn’t angry, she was damned near hysterical! Consoling her became his first priority, and once it did drawing her into his arms became as automatic to Ryan as his next breath. Expecting her to fight him but instead having her fall willingly against him and wrap her arms around him as if she feared to let go worried him far more than her earlier absence had.

K.C. didn’t like him coddling her—he’d known that for years—so what the devil had happened to her tonight? Knowing she was too distressed for him to question, he instead tried to calm her.

‘I’m sorry, honey,’ he whispered. ‘I didn’t mean to scare you.’ Keeping his voice soothingly soft and low, he stroked her head in the gentle, repetitive way he’d used to calm Jayne over the years. ‘It’s just that I was waiting for you and when I heard a noise at the door I came straight on through; I never thought about turning on the lights. I’m sorry. Shh, take it easy. It’s OK.’

He had no idea how long he stood propped against the wall with her fragile frame leaning into him; it seemed like mere minutes, yet at some point he must have dozed off because the next thing he knew with any real certainty was that K.C. had fallen asleep and the hesitant light of dawn coloured the room. Stiff from having one leg braced against the wall for balance, he shifted slightly, trying not to disturb K.C., whose head rested against his chest.

The serenity she reflected in sleep was so at odds with the energy she emitted when awake that Ryan was helpless to stop himself from tracing the arch of her right eyebrow. While K.C.’s features were too elfin to be called classically beautiful, what otherwise might have been called prettiness was enhanced by her gypsy-like colouring, which hinted at mystery and passion. Ryan watched as his palm moved to caress her amber-tinted cheeks; they were softer than anything he’d ever felt.

When she innocently turned her face deeper into his touch, he cursed both his quickening pulse and his morals, wondering how feelings of pure tenderness could so quickly transform themselves into lust. Had he possessed these feelings with any other woman, nothing would have stopped him from swinging her into his arms, carrying her upstairs and tossing her into his bed. But this was K.C., so once again he mustered a nobility and resolve that must surely have qualified him for sainthood and lifted her gently into his arms.

Holding his breath as she snuggled closer, he carried her towards her own room, steadfastly determined to ignore the heat coursing through his body and the images burning in his mind.

* * *

Kirrily threw back the covers and glared at the digital clock which, despite what the mid-morning sunlight flooding her bedroom was telling her, was showing the time as 6:07 a.m.; her wrist-watch, however, confirmed her worse fears—it was nearly eleven!

Ryan wasn’t just going to kill her, he was going to submit her to the slowest torture imaginable!

Shedding herself of the clothes she’d worn out the night before, she tried to recall exactly what she’d done after collapsing like a hysterical idiot all over Ryan. She couldn’t remember unplugging the radio alarm, but obviously she had.

‘Great!’ she muttered, shoving her arms into her robe and pulling the waist cord tight enough to rupture several internal organs. ‘As if he isn’t going to be ticked off enough because the invoicing isn’t up to date!’

For a split second she debated which she needed first—a shower or a cup of coffee. She hurried to the kitchen; showering while the coffee perked would save time.

‘God, how could I have been so stupid?’ she roared.

‘I’m beginning to think it’s some sort of genetic thing…’

Ryan!

She stopped dead as her feet hit the cold slate of the kitchen floor. ‘Wh…what are you doing here?’

He wiggled the mug he held. ‘Drinking coffee. You want one?’

She wasn’t sure if her initial reaction to seeing him sitting at the table was shock or horror, but in the face of his calmness confusion was paramount. It was Friday, wasn’t it? Surely she hadn’t slept for over twenty-four hours? No, of course she hadn’t! So why wasn’t he at the office? Forget that! Why wasn’t he asking why she wasn’t at the office, demanding an explanation for her tardiness? Heck, maybe it was Saturday!

Ryan watched the parade of emotions across K.C.’s face, wondering how she could manage to look both childishly bemused and sexy at the same time. Then he decided that the plunging neckline of her robe and the way it parted as she moved hesitantly towards him was a contributing factor to the sexy part. As was her sleeptousled hair and the way she gnawed at her bottom lip.

‘Is today Friday?’ she asked.

‘Yep. All day.’ Grinning at her confused expression, he held his coffee-mug towards her. ‘Since you’re up, you want to pour me another?’

‘What?’

‘Sorry. Could I get you to pour me another cup of coffee, please K.C.?’ She blinked then shook her head as if to clear it. ‘On second thoughts,’ Ryan said, getting to his feet, ‘it’ll be quicker if I get the coffee.’

‘OK, Ryan, you win,’ she said.

He turned back to see her propped against the refrigerator, her arms folded. ‘Win what?’

‘If this isn’t The Twilight Zone, how come you’re asking for coffee and not explanations as to why I’m not at work?’

‘Because I know why you’re not at work. Want me to pour you one?’

‘I want you to explain why you aren’t frothing at the mouth and telling me how irresponsible I am.’

‘For what?’

‘For sleeping in!’

‘You only slept in because I turned off your alarm. It’s hardly your fault’

She crossed the room in a flash and, heedless of the mug he held, grabbed his shoulder. ‘You unplugged my clock?’

‘Hey, watch the coff—’

‘Forget the coffee and look at me!’

He obliged. It was no hardship looking into her wide, dark-lashed green eyes first thing in the morning, even when they were flashing fury and bore evidence of slightly smudged mascara. All in all the effect was disturbingly sexy.

‘Why, for God’s sake?’

‘Because you were exhausted and needed the sleep.’

‘Damn you, Ryan! I’m not a child. I can decide for myself if I need sleep or not; I don’t need your help! I’ve survived on less than three hours’ sleep before and not collapsed from physical exhaustion!’

Her face was flushed with anger and frustration, but he’d anticipated no less a reaction from her. Kirrily prided herself on being self-reliant and resented unsolicited help from anyone. She resented his help so completely that she never bothered to solicit it; others did so from time to time on her behalf, but since Ryan never revealed as much it was he whom she perceived to be interfering. So be it, he thought; this time her behaviour demanded his intervention whether she liked it or not!

‘It wasn’t your physical exhaustion which concerned me, K.C.,’ he said, matching her glare with one of his own. ‘You were an emotional mess





Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Получить полную версию книги.


Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/alison-kelly/ryan-s-rules/) на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.