THE LAST REILLY STANDING

by Maureen Child

  "Your stupid bet, for one thing."

  He blew that off with a wave of his hand. "I'm not talking about sex."

  That stopped her.

  "You're not?"

  "Was that disappointment I heard in your voice?" he asked.

  "Of course not," she covered quickly. "Just … confusion."

  His eyebrows wiggled. "Well, let me clear things up for you. I haven't forgotten about the bet. A little less than three weeks to go and I'm the champion Reilly."

  "And that's important to you?"

  "Damn straight. I want to be able to lord it over my brothers forever."

  "That's mature."

  He shrugged and smiled. "Anyway, I wasn't talking about sex before, Terry. Though it appears I am now, and can I just say, I'm happy to hear you bring it up?"

  "Cut it out," she said and tossed the helmet to him. He caught it neatly. "You don't want to lose a bet and I'm not looking for a summer fling."

  "Oh, I'm not going to lose the bet," he said and pushed away from the rail to walk toward her. "And I'm not looking to be your 'fling,' either."

  "Good."

  "But…"

  "No buts…"

  "But…" He repeated as he walked closer, keeping pace even as she inched back warily. "There's lots of things two people can do without actually having sex."

  "This is so not a conversation I want to have."

  "Then we're on the same page after all."

  "What?" The wind raced past her, tossing her hair across her eyes and Terry frantically reached up to push it away. Wouldn't pay to take her gaze off him. He was just too smooth to not keep an eye on.

  He tossed the helmet toward the bike and watched it roll until it came to a stop on the ground beside the front wheel. Then he shifted his gaze back to her, stepped up close and grabbed her hips in a hard, two-fisted grip.

  "Aidan…"

  "Terry…" He bent his head, smiled and whispered, "Shut up," just before he kissed her.

  * * *

  Five

  « ^ »

  He groaned as his mouth came down over hers.

  Aidan hadn't planned to kiss her.

  Hell, if it came to that, he hadn't planned to see her tonight. When he left the base, he'd headed straight for the Off Duty, a local bar that catered to Marines. He'd had a beer, and shot a game of pool with a First Sergeant who had more money than pool playing ability. He'd joked around with a few of his friends, bought a round of drinks for a gunnery sergeant about to be deployed—and then he left. Hadn't been able to sit there talking shop with the guys because his mind was somewhere else.

  With Terry Evans.

  The damn woman had been in his brain all day. Her face had haunted him. Her smile had tempted him. Her temper intrigued him. Since earlier that afternoon, when he'd jumped off the pier to see her—she'd been with him. And he hadn't been able to shake her, despite his efforts.

  Now, with his mouth on hers, Aidan felt her slip even deeper inside him.

  The taste of her, the feel of her against him, swamped him with more sensations than he'd ever experienced before.

  And he wanted more.

  He held her tighter to him, wrapping his arms around her middle, sliding his hands up and down her back, following the line of her spine, cupping the curve of her behind.

  Her mouth opened under his and his tongue swept within, exploring, defining, discovering her secrets, reveling in the rush of sensations rippling through him.

  She sighed into his mouth and her breath filled him. He swallowed it and demanded more. His arms tightened around her further, squeezing until she moaned against him and he could have sworn he felt the imprint of her body on his.

  And still it wasn't enough.

  Too many weeks of celibacy, he thought wildly, while he tore his mouth from hers to run his lips and tongue along the column of her throat. Too long without the taste of a woman, without the feel of her heat. That's all this was. A reaction to deprivation.

  "No," he murmured, running the tip of his tongue across her skin until she shivered and grabbed at his shoulders. That wasn't all. He'd been horny before. He'd been needy before. And he'd never known such an all encompassing hunger. He didn't just want.

  He wanted her.

  "Aidan…"

  He barely heard her whisper over the roaring in his ears. His heartbeat thundered in his chest and his blood pumped with a blinding passion that left him breathless.

  "Aidan…"

  Groggily, like a man waking up from a three-day drunk, Aidan lifted his head and stared down at her. "Terry—" He touched her face, running his fingertips down her cheek. She closed her eyes and shuddered in an unsteady breath.

  "This is not good," she finally said, in a voice so soft, a freshening wind nearly carried it away.

  He forced a short laugh. "I don't know. I thought it was damn good."

  "That's not what I meant," she said and stepped back, away from him.

  His hand fell to his side and he fisted it, as if to capture the feel of her skin on his fingertips. Already, he wanted to be touching her again. Already, he missed the taste of her. Warning bells clanged in the back of his brain, but Aidan ignored them. His heartbeat was still racing and his breathing way less than steady.

  From below them, came the thunderous, pulsing roar of the ocean as breakers smashed into the rocks. Out on the highway, a solitary car streamed by, its engine whining briefly before disappearing into the darkness. And here on the cliff's edge, an icy wind swept past them, around them.

  Drawing them together and at the same time, holding them apart.

  "Look, Aidan," she said, lifting both hands to shove her wind-tousled hair back from her face, "I just think that this is … dangerous."

  He gave her a quick grin. "Nothing wrong with a little danger. It spices things up."

  A quick, harsh laugh shot from her throat. "Oh, man," she said, turning away from him to stare out over the ocean, "it's probably a good thing we didn't meet five years ago."

  Intrigued, he stepped up beside her and tried not to notice when she inched away from him. "Why five years ago?"

  She glanced at him and in the pale wash of moonlight, her blue eyes shone. "Back then," she said softly, "I'd have given you a run for your money, dangerwise."

  "Yeah?" He smiled down at her, even as her features shuttered and her own smile faded.

  She shifted her gaze back to the water and took the step or two that brought her close to the iron guardrail. She closed her hands over the top rung, lifted her face into the wind and said, "Yeah. Para-sailing, deep sea dives, mountain climbing…"

  "You? Danger girl?" He grinned as he stared at her, trying to imagine her racing through life looking for an adrenaline rush. Nope. He just couldn't picture it.

  "It was a long time ago."

  "Sounds like fun."

  "It was. For a while."

  Aidan leaned one hip against the top railing, folded his arms over his chest and watched her, thoughtfully now. "What changed?"

  She leaned forward, straining toward the ocean as if trying to escape the conversation. "I changed."

  "A shame."

  Glancing at him, she smiled briefly. "You would think so."

  He shrugged. "Nothing wrong with chasing life at high speed."

  "I suppose," she said softly. "Unless it's not about chasing as much as it is about running."

  "From what?"

  He wanted to know, even though a part of him wondered how this conversation had taken such a turn. A minute ago, he'd held her in his arms, tasted her breath, captured her sighs, felt her tremble in his grasp. Now, she was standing just inches from him and yet, it felt as though she were miles away.

  "Life?" One word, more of a question than a statement.

  Misery etched itself onto her features and even in the dim light of a nearly cloud covered moon, Aidan saw the shadows crouched in her eyes. He wanted to reach for her, but something told him she wouldn't welcome the contact.
/>   Not now.

  "You want to talk about it?"

  She looked at him again, seemed to consider it, then said, "No. I don't."

  Disappointment rose up inside him and surprised the hell out of Aidan. He'd wanted to know what put the shadows in her eyes. What it was that had such power over her that years later, just the memory of it could bring pain strong enough to make her shudder with it.

  Always before, he'd kept his relationships on a superficial level. It was, he'd always assured himself, where he felt most comfortable. He wasn't looking to find a happily ever after. He wasn't looking for Ms. Right—more like Ms. Right Now.

  He'd never really bought into the whole concept of being married to one person forever. There were just too many women and not enough time as far as Aidan was concerned. He liked his action hot and his women temporary. And that outlook on life had served him well so far.

  Didn't matter that his brothers—fellow triplets—had just lately fallen into the cozy clutches of two great women. Hell, he didn't mind being the last Reilly standing. He'd go through life proudly carrying the Bachelor banner.

  So why then, did he suddenly want to know Terry Evans's secrets? Why did he care about whatever it was making her sad? It wasn't any of his business. Shouldn't affect him.

  And yet…

  "I really think you should take me home, now," she said, splintering his thoughts with the effectiveness of a hand grenade.

  Probably best, he thought, but heard himself ask, "Still running?"

  She stiffened and narrowed her eyes.

  Well, great. Way to go, Aidan. Nice job.

  He held up both hands and gave her a smile. "Never mind. Stupid thing to say."

  "Fine. Can we go now?"

  "Sure." He pushed away from the railing, took her elbow in a firm grip and steered her the few steps toward the bike. Bending down, he scooped up the helmet, then handed it to her.

  She took it in both hands, and staring at it as if she'd never seen it before, she said, "Look, Aidan, about that kiss…"

  He swung his left leg over the bike and settled onto the seat. Looking up at her, he gave her a smile he figured she needed about now. "Just a kiss, babe. Not a world ender."

  "Right," she said and pulled the helmet on. She buckled the strap, then climbed onto the bike behind him.

  "Just a kiss."

  Her thighs aligned along his.

  Her arms came around his waist.

  Her breasts pressed into his back.

  Aidan fired up the engine and revved it hard, gritting his teeth as he steered the bike out onto the road and back toward the storm hovering over Baywater.

  Oh, yeah.

  Just a kiss.

  No problem.

  * * *

  "So what's the problem?"

  Aidan glared at his older brother, then threw the basketball at him. "Haven't you been listening?"

  Liam laughed, took the ball and bounced it idly, keeping one eye on the ball and one eye on his brother. "You mean to the rambling story you've been telling me for the last hour and a half? Yes. I was listening."

  Aidan muttered a curse, bent down and snatched up a water bottle from the side of the driveway behind St. Sebastian's church. Uncapping it, he took a long drink, hoping the still cold water would put out some of the fires that had been with him since he dropped Terry off at Donna's house the night before.

  It didn't.

  And the weather wasn't helping any, either. Hot. Hot and humid, with the air so damn thick, it felt as though you should chew it before inhaling. Roiling gray clouds moved sluggishly across the sky and a hot wind occasionally kicked up out of nowhere. Hurricane season in the south.

  Aidan exhaled sharply and narrowed his eyes on the sky. He had a feeling in his bones that the hurricane even now building up in the ocean would be headed their way all too soon. Which meant that the Search and Rescue unit would be on high alert twenty-four hours a day—not just for sea rescues, but working with the local police as well. In times of emergency, people didn't care who saved them—as long as they got saved.

  Ordinarily the Coast Guard would take up a lot of the slack when it came to disaster time. But here, just outside Beaufort, the closest Coast Guard unit was stationed in Savannah and no one was going to sit around and wait for help. He squinted as the sun briefly peeped out from behind a bank of clouds and thought about the last hurricane that had blown through just a month ago.

  Baywater was lucky that time around. Got plenty of rain and enough wind to snatch off shutters and toss old trees. But nothing as devastating as the outer banks had seen. He hoped their luck would hold.

  "Worried about the storm?" Liam asked, drawing Aidan out of his thoughts.

  "A little," he said, shrugging. "Weather report says it's going to skip us this time, hit in North Carolina. But my bones tell me different."

  Liam nodded and glanced skyward. "I hate hoping for disaster to visit someone else."

  "You're not. You're just doing what everyone else is doing and hoping it skips us."

  Aidan recapped the water bottle, tossed it onto the grass under the shade of an oak tree and snapped another look at Liam. "So back to the point … where's the advice, Father? You're a priest, for God's sake. Say something meaningful."

  Liam chuckled, turned on one heel and jumped, firing the basketball at the hoop tacked up over the garage behind the rectory. Swish. The ball swept through the net without ever touching the rim of the basket. Grinning, he trotted up to retrieve the ball, then tossed it back to his brother. "What kind of advice did you have in mind, Aidan?"

  "Something comforting, damn it."

  Liam laughed again. "Since when do you need comfort on the subject of women?"

  This couldn't get much more humiliating, so he spilled his guts. "Since a few days ago, all right?" Hadn't he just spent the last hour or so explaining all of this?

  "Donna's friend Terry is getting to you."

  "I didn't say that."

  "Sure you did."

  No. He deliberately had not said that. In fact, he'd talked circles around himself in an effort to stay far away from such a statement. Apparently, though, Liam was good enough at reading his brothers that he didn't need a flat out admission.

  "What do you want me to say, Aidan?"

  "I don't know. You're the priest. Come up with something."

  Liam laughed, bounced the basketball a couple of times, then shot it at his brother. Aidan snatched it and held on to it with a viselike grip.

  All night, he'd thought about Terry. About that kiss. About the way she'd looked up at him in the moonlight. About those damn shadows in her eyes. And all night, he'd kicked himself for not staying with her. For not digging out what it was she didn't want to talk about.

  Which was just so unusual for him, he'd shown up at the church at the crack of dawn for a little sympathy from the family priest. So far, he hadn't gotten much more than his butt kicked in a game of Horse.

  Liam walked to where he'd dropped his own bottle of cold water, grabbed it and glugged down half of it before speaking again. "Aidan, you're just shook up because you've never been interested in a woman beyond getting her into your bed before."

  Aidan stared at him. "That's it? That's the best you've got? They teach you that at priest school?"

  "You're not mad at me, you know," Liam said, capping the bottle again and tossing it to the lawn.

  "Really? Cause I think I am."

  "You're mad at you."

  "That's brilliant. For this I got up early and came over here." Nodding, he tossed the ball back to Liam, then bent to snatch up his T-shirt. Dragging it over his head, he shoved his arms through the sleeves and glared at his older brother again.

  "Don't you want to know why you're mad at yourself?"

  "Enlighten me."

  "Because you care about her. And you don't want to."

  That was a little close to home, but he wasn't going to give Liam the satisfaction of admitting it. "Don't buil
d this up into some hearts-and-flowers deal. I've only known her a few days."

  Liam shrugged and used the hem of his sleeveless jersey to wipe sweat off his forehead. "There's a time limit?"

  He snorted. "You're way off base here."

  "Sure."

  "Seriously." Aidan bounced the basketball again, listening to the solid slap of the ball against the pavement, concentrating on the smack of the ball against his palms. "There's nothing going on between us."

  Beyond some amazing sexual chemistry and some curiosity on his part.

  "So why're you here?"

  "Believe me, I'm kicking myself for coming."

  Liam grinned. "You want to know what I think as long as its what you want me to think."

  "You know," Aidan snarled with a shake of his head, "why we come to you for advice on women is beyond me, anyway. You haven't had a date in fifteen years."

  "And you've never been a priest, yet you always feel free to complain about the church."

  "Good point."

  "But, whether you want this advice or not, I'm going to give it to you." Liam came closer, took the ball from Aidan and bounced it a couple of times while he gathered his thoughts.

  Finally he looked at his brother and said, "You've got an opportunity here, Aidan."

  "And what's that?"

  "You've got the chance to get to know a woman outside your bed. Who knows? Maybe you'll like her."

  "I do like her." He scowled slightly as those words shot from him before he could keep them bottled up inside where they belonged.

  Liam smiled. "Maybe there's hope for you yet, Aidan."

  "Yeah, yeah," he muttered and grabbed the ball back from his brother, bouncing it idly a few times while he tried to figure out just when he'd started liking Terry Evans.

  "So. You gonna last the rest of the bet?"

  He snapped his gaze up to meet Liam's. "Damn straight I am."

  "Uh-huh." Liam caught the ball on a bounce and backed up, still dribbling. "But just so you know, I picked up Connor's and Brian's grass skirts and coconut bras the other day."

  Well that cheered him right up. Aidan laughed, picturing his brothers, mortified, driving around in a convertible while every Marine in the south was free to laugh their asses off at the Reilly brothers. "Excellent."