The House On Jindalee Lane

by Jennie Jones

  ‘Edie …’

  His hand slid down her back, possessively, firmly, until he cupped her bottom.

  If this was his way of tantalising a woman and intensifying her pleasure, she never wanted to be released from it. His hand holding her head so her mouth was seared to his, and his other hand cupping her bottom and pulling her against him. In her mind it would now forever be known as The Ryan Hold.

  She wanted his shirt off so she could touch his chest with her hands, with her lips. She wanted to run a hand over the badge on his shoulder. She wanted to kiss it, to kiss all parts of him. Every blistering, scorching part of him.

  Her breath came in short panting sighs as Ryan took his mouth off hers so he could explore her face and her throat.

  A minute ago she’d looked like a kitten who’d been rescued from a storm and wrapped in a blanket in front of a fire. She’d pulled at his heartstrings.

  Then she’d melted in his arms, hot and trembling.

  He desperately wanted to get his hands on her bare skin, to touch her and let his hands wander over her. Every possessive characteristic he’d been born with, but had learned to contain, almost erupted from him.

  ‘Let it go, Edie,’ he whispered, beseeching her to release every worry and take what he wanted to give. What he wanted to share. ‘I’ve got you.’ He pressed his mouth to the base of her throat, his hand cupping the curve of her bottom.

  Every muscle in his body hardened even more when she sighed and pressed her hips to his groin.

  He looked down at her until she realised he was waiting for her, and looked up at him.

  The reflection of the flames from the hearth danced in her eyes, which were softly hooded in the dim light, as though filled with wonder, as though unbelieving of what she was feeling.

  ‘You’re warm and gentle, Edie. You’re soft and real.’ So real it stung knowing this was the first time he’d really touched her. ‘You’re real,’ he said again, as though confirming this fact for himself. She was elegant, fine, and a little crazy. She’d always be his charm, but the woman in his arms now was alive, in body and spirit—and willingly in his arms.

  He moved her towards the sofa in front of the fire. There was no time to get her to a bed. If he stopped now, he’d break the spell, and she was—astonishingly—in his spell.

  20

  The Real Thing

  Edie sighed shakily, pleasure still pulsing through her, her muscles slackened in a contented drowsiness after what she could only describe as an earth-shattering relief for each of them.

  Ryan was on top of her, his head buried next to hers, her fingers spread over his short hair, supporting him as he gathered his breath.

  She couldn’t remember how she’d lost all her clothes but buttons had been ripped off her blouse and his shirt. She had a vague recollection of his hands on her skin as he unzipped her jeans and dragged them down her legs. He’d shed his clothes while she’d touched him, her hands on every part of his nakedness as soon as she could get hold of it.

  He moved then, easing himself out of her body, and she bit her lip so as not to beg him to stay inside her.

  She closed her eyes when he stood and dealt with the necessaries of safe sex, and gathered her own breath as her heartbeat slowed.

  Ryan ‘Grit’ Munroe was the most tantalising, lovingly brutal and thorough lover she’d ever known. She couldn’t even remember any other men.

  He slipped beside her on the sofa again and slid his arms around her. He turned them so she was cradled against him.

  ‘Don’t go,’ he whispered.

  Go? She doubted her legs would hold her if she tried to stand. She gazed at him, then ran a fingertip over his cheek and along his jaw, unable to stop herself from touching him in a soft way.

  He smiled. ‘You’re beautiful, Edie.’

  She shook her head. ‘I’m a bit bemused,’ she admitted.

  ‘Good bemused?’

  How could it be otherwise? She’d had her hands on his amazing body.

  ‘I know you’re going to start thinking now,’ he said, his voice placatory. ‘But please don’t go. Stay here with me tonight.’

  She lifted her face to look up at him, still numbed by what they’d done and how recklessly and enjoyably they’d done it. ‘What happened, Ryan?’ The dance had been slow and emotional but the lovemaking had been unrestrained and full of passion. She’d never let herself go like that with anyone. Hadn’t even known she was capable of showing someone her innermost passionate and sexual needs.

  ‘It was us,’ he said, with consideration in his tone. ‘You and me.’

  The fire crackled in the hearth and the clock on the wall ticked away the seconds as their eyes held, Edie’s darting to each of his, but his gaze was steady.

  Her thoughts were racing, but she ought to say something to fill this gap.

  ‘This used to be Mrs Ormond’s sofa,’ she said, dragging her focus off Ryan’s handsome face and looking at the faded fabric. ‘Let’s not tell her what happened on it tonight.’

  He pushed out a low, reluctant laugh. ‘I knew you’d start over-thinking.’ He pulled her more firmly against him, as though he expected her to get up and walk out of the room.

  ‘What are we supposed to talk about then?’ she said, experiencing a bashfulness she’d never known before.

  ‘Nothing. Except us.’ He ran his hand up her bare back, captured her head, and kissed her.

  The kiss was tender, and maybe a little dazed, as though the ardent fight had gone out of each of them but both wanted it to stay alive a little longer. Before, their kissing had been fierier. Needier. Bordering on greed, getting to bare skin as fast as possible without losing mouth contact. As though someone might pull them apart and they’d be denied the opportunity to show what they wanted to give, and wanted to share, in the wonder of being together.

  ‘I don’t think I can talk about us,’ she said when they stopped kissing. Neither had broken the kiss, they’d parted naturally. ‘I don’t know what I’m doing, Ryan.’ She needed to say it, and he needed to know it. It was an explanation and an apology all at once.

  His expression was unreadable, although there might be a hint of confusion in his eyes. ‘Hey,’ he said in a tone that suggested he’d just thought of something—or wanted to change the subject. ‘Who was that movie actress, Rita somebody, in that film you made me watch once?’

  ‘Rita Hayworth.’

  His smile was so reassuring it was almost a sedative. ‘You look just like her.’

  ‘I do not.’ Rita Hayworth was stunning—and she’d been able to make up her mind, whereas Edie was adrift. ‘That film was Gilda. 1946. Do you know what she once said?’ She pushed up so that she could see him properly. ‘She said, “They go to bed with Gilda, and wake up with me.”’

  ‘Meaning what?’

  ‘Meaning they go to bed with a glamorous movie star and wake up with the real woman.’

  ‘You think that’s what I’ve just done?’

  ‘I’m not glamorous—’

  ‘Yes you are.’

  ‘And I’m not a movie star and never likely to be.’

  ‘Would you like to be?’

  She lifted a shoulder. ‘Isn’t going to happen,’ she said. ‘What I meant is, a lot of men didn’t want the real Rita, they wanted Gilda. I don’t know who I am so how can you possibly know who you’ve just made love to?’

  His fingers began to stroke a lazy circular pattern on her lower back. ‘Why don’t you stop thinking and just lie here with me?’

  ‘Because I’m worried. I’ve had a deep need to be liked by you, Ryan. I admit it.’ Pointless not to, after everything they’d now done, seen, touched and kissed. ‘Ryan,’ she said again. His hand continued to stroke her back, his fingers pressing into her lightly. ‘There’ll never be anyone like you. I think perhaps, since I don’t yet know who I really am or what I want to do with the rest of my life, that I’m worried about you thinking the same thing—that you only want to be with me b
ecause it’s something new. Something daring or a bit thrilling. I doubt you’ve had many thrills since you came out of the army.’

  He pulled her into him and kissed her again, silencing her.

  ‘Edie,’ he said when he broke the kiss. ‘You talk way too much.’

  She relaxed against him with a sigh. ‘I know.’ She still hadn’t explained a single thing. ‘Am I annoying you?’

  ‘Not quite.’

  ‘But I’m coming close.’

  ‘You’re getting there.’

  ‘I’ll shut up then.’

  She liked the rumble of his chest when he chuckled.

  He pulled a folded blanket off the back of the sofa. ‘Want to sleep here, where we are?’ he asked as he flipped the blanket open with one hand and draped it over them.

  Edie snuggled into him further and stared at the orange glow from the logs still spitting amongst the flames in the hearth.

  Ryan shifted, his arms not tight around her, but holding her secure enough so that she knew neither of them would fall off the sofa while they slept.

  They didn’t speak, but the steady, secure rise and fall of his chest weakened her and tiredness crept in and overcame doubt. She closed her eyes, unfathomably exhausted all of a sudden.

  Sleep was taking hold fast.

  ‘I love you.’

  She sighed contentedly. She must already be part dreaming because the voice in her head that said I love you sounded a lot like Ryan’s.

  Edie stared into Ryan’s eyes. She was beneath him again and breathless again.

  She’d woken to find him looking at her, his hands stroking her body and hadn’t been able to even say ‘Good morning’ before she’d reached up and put her mouth on his, wanting him again, and immediately.

  He hadn’t needed any persuasion.

  Now she’d gone quiet. She couldn’t say the words she wanted to—that he’d suffused her with more sensuality she’d known she possessed. That he made her feel safe and wanted. That she’d loved him all her life without knowing what it would truly be like to be with him, and was now in awe of him and what was happening. Because how would this end?

  ‘I feel like I’m not myself,’ she said quietly, wondering if he’d understand what she meant.

  He didn’t answer, but he had told her last night not to think too hard and that would mean not talking about her thoughts too. He didn’t realise that for Edie, not over-thinking was akin to not breathing. ‘Ryan …’

  ‘Okay. You win.’ He had a look of resigned patience on his face. ‘You want to talk.’

  ‘Not if you really don’t want to …’

  He raised an eyebrow and waited. Perhaps he did understand how her mind worked, given the amused expression he was sporting.

  ‘Well.’ She rearranged herself beneath him, shuffling her bottom a bit, and he raised himself up on his elbows but didn’t take his gaze off her.

  ‘Before now,’ she started, ‘I haven’t committed myself to this act in such an unrestrained manner.’ She winced. It sounded like something from a bad script.

  His eyes twinkled. ‘This act,’ he repeated.

  ‘I don’t mean like in a play—’

  ‘I know what you meant. I also know I’m not the only man you’ve been with. Not,’ he added pointedly, ‘that I want to talk about the other men you’ve had sex with. What I do want to know is why you’re so shy or embarrassed about having sex with me—’

  ‘Because you thrill me.’

  There. She’d said it. Without even thinking.

  It seemed to stun him.

  With his eyes being all dreamy dark brown and focused so intently on her, she couldn’t breathe suddenly.

  Then his mouth kinked and approval shone in his eyes. ‘You too,’ he said in all seriousness, despite the victor’s smile. ‘Like no other.’

  21

  Centre Stage

  ‘Ryan,’ Edie warned as she pulled his hand from between her thighs and placed it back on the steering wheel. ‘We’re in town!’

  Ryan waved to Ted who was stocking up the ice-cream van, then glanced at Edie. ‘I’m just taking my thrills where I can.’

  ‘You’re outrageous,’ Edie told him, pulling the hem of her cotton skirt down her thighs.

  ‘And you’re beautiful.’

  Elation radiated throughout her. She’d worn different clothes today from usual—a white skirt instead of jeans, and a spring-infused pale lemon off-the-shoulder top. She was a bit chilly, even though the sun was out, but she’d wanted to look and feel feminine. It was invigorating to feel so free with her womanly wiles after years of drought on that front—apart from Marcus but he didn’t count.

  ‘Ryan,’ she said, turning to him.

  ‘What now?’ he asked with an ever-enduring tone as he parked in a bay by the bus shelter.

  ‘Remember what we talked about and what you agreed to. We’re not telling anybody about—about—’

  ‘Sex,’ he said, pulling the hand brake and switching off the engine.

  Ryan had agreed with her that, for now, it was best if nobody knew how far their friendship had gone. Not until things had been sorted out regarding Marcus and all the mess Edie had created.

  ‘Nobody is to know I’ve seen and touched every naked part of you while we had sex,’ he said.

  He was saying that word on purpose, to torment her, but he said it like a caress and Edie gazed in dazed silence at his mock serious expression, then turned to look out the window. She wouldn’t be able to get out of the vehicle until she’d removed the flush from her face.

  It was true she thought it best not to tell anyone, even her parents, about where she and Ryan were heading. But that was because she didn’t know where they were heading because she didn’t know what was going to happen to her regarding Marcus and her career. Plus, she was still bewildered by this new-found relationship with the man she’d always loved but never thought she’d get. It was like she’d loved a fantasy and now had to deal with the real thing. Not that Ryan wasn’t a fantasy in his own right.

  ‘Come on, Dazzlepants,’ Ryan said, suddenly at her side of the car, opening the door and giving her a bold smile.

  She looked into his eyes for a moment, so he could see her silent adoration. She didn’t want him thinking she really didn’t want him.

  His gaze turned hot and sultry. ‘You do realise,’ he said softly, ‘that keeping my hands off you is going to be harder than keeping our true relationship a secret.’

  ‘You can do it,’ she said, pulling the straps of her messenger bag over her shoulder. ‘I have every faith in you.’

  ‘I’m already doubting myself.’

  She paused and caught his eyes. ‘You did agree that it’s best.’

  ‘No. I agreed because you wanted it and I find myself unable to refuse you. But,’ he added, putting emphasis on the word, ‘be assured that I will discover exactly why you don’t want us to go public.’

  He said it with a smile but she knew him better than most. He was warning her. He knew there was something else going on in her head and he wasn’t going to give up.

  She swallowed hard. ‘I told you. It’s not the right time, with so much going on already that nobody knows about. Not to mention Gary.’ This was a good deterrent. ‘Gary would be furious with you. And me.’

  ‘He already thinks we’re together and having sex.’

  ‘Yes, but—’

  ‘I’ll do my best to keep my hands and my mouth off you—unless Gary’s around. I have won the wager. I have to crow a bit. It’s a man thing,’ he added.

  He was indulging her with this charade of not being in an intimate relationship and that was worrying. He’d try to pry the truth out of her. She’d have to stay on her guard. She couldn’t tell him that she didn’t want anybody knowing yet due to her not being able to explain how he made her feel. Or how she worried that she’d hurt him. Or … Well, any number of over-worrying thoughts flew through her head when she wasn’t kissing him, or tangled with him.r />
  God, what a mess she was making of everything.

  The first thing she saw when she got out of the car was her mother, Gemma, Viv and Olivia. They were outside the toy shop, talking in a gaggle. Sammy and Gemma had their painting gear on. Sammy in track pants and a soft grey sweatshirt, and Gem in a pair of white decorator’s overalls daubed in streaks of multicoloured paint.

  They had been painting Edie’s scenery in the shed behind the shop. She’d visited the other day and it looked fantastic. Gosh, she had some talented people in her circle.

  But it was now even more imperative that Ryan controlled himself. If any of those women caught a hint of intimacy between them, Edie would have to explain it away, and she wasn’t sure she could do that easily now that she knew every tantalising part of Ryan ‘Grit’ Munroe’s strong, muscular, fabulous body.

  ‘Cooee! Ryan!’

  Edie turned to the gentle sound of Mrs Tam’s voice. She was about to wave but something about the pained expression on her face stopped her. Mrs Ormond was standing beside Mrs Tam next to the stock feeders, her hand gripping the handle of her shopping cart and a ferocious look on her pinched face.

  ‘Everything all right?’ Ryan asked.

  ‘We’ve had a to-do,’ Mrs Ormond called.

  ‘I only popped out of the library to get some fresh air,’ Mrs Tam said when Edie and Ryan reached them. ‘And they confronted me!’

  ‘Who did?’

  ‘Louts,’ Mrs Ormond said. ‘In our town!’

  ‘Hold on, ladies,’ Ryan said. ‘You’re looking pale, Mrs Tam. Would you like to sit down?’

  ‘She’s had a cup of tea,’ Mrs Ormond said, ‘at the grocer’s. That’s where I was, so I heard the whole sorry tale as soon as she rushed in, begging for help. I had to have a cup of tea too, after I heard what happened.’

  ‘I wasn’t begging for help, Ada, I kept my composure right up until the moment I entered the grocer’s.’ Mrs Tam turned to Ryan. ‘I did get a bit shaky then.’

  ‘What happened?’ Ryan asked gently.

  Mrs Tam stoically pulled her shoulders back and opened her mouth to speak.