by Douglas, Michelle; Gordon, Lucy; Pembroke, Sophie; Hardy, Kate
‘I’m glad you have money.’ Those incredible eyes met his. ‘How did you do it?’
Her surprise rankled. ‘Shocked?’ he taunted.
‘To the soles of my feet,’ she returned, evidently undaunted by his glare.
‘Not to be expected of the jailbird?’
She maintained his gaze and it was so steady it made his heart thump. ‘You’re the one who keeps reminding everyone that you were in jail.’
Yeah, well, it was better to get in first than be taken by surprise when your guard was down.
‘And you never qualify it with the fact your name has been cleared.’ She frowned then glared. ‘What is that about?’
Her question hit too closely to the sore spots inside him. ‘When I was in prison a fellow inmate taught me how to count cards.’
Her eyes turned a murky green like a sea churned up by a storm. ‘Was it horrible?’ she whispered. ‘Prison, I mean. Was it awful?’
Nobody had ever asked him that before. Nobody. And it ripped all his defences from him.
‘Rick?’
The sympathy in her eyes, the care in her face, tore something in him. ‘It was worse than awful.’ The words burst from him before he could stop them. She reached out with both of her hands to grip one of his. ‘There are men in there so terrifying they freeze your blood. I didn’t think I would get out of that place alive.’
Memories, dark and powerful, pounded at him, one after the other. He rested his head on his free hand and gripped Nell’s hands tightly, ordered himself to keep breathing. ‘The things you have to do in there to survive... I thought anything in me that was good and kind would be gone for good.’
‘But that didn’t happen.’
That was when he realised her touch anchored him. He lifted his head and met her gaze. ‘I’m not convinced about that, Princess.’
‘I am.’
Her belief pushed back some of the darkness. ‘How can you be so sure?’
‘Tash is still friends with you. She wouldn’t be if you’d changed that much. You’ve been kind to me. You want me to have the opportunity to follow my dream. Someone with no good left in them wouldn’t care about that. And someone with nothing good or kind in them wouldn’t care if they had ten unknown siblings who needed them or not.’
‘I don’t know if I do care about that yet.’
‘You care enough to find out what their circumstances are like.’
His heart thumped.
Her gaze refused to release his. ‘I’m sorry you went to prison. I’m sorry you had to suffer through all of the horror of it. But, whatever else you believe, know this. It didn’t destroy who you are. It didn’t destroy your honour and integrity. It didn’t even destroy your sense of humour or your ability to appreciate the little things. I don’t doubt that prison left you with scars, but you’re a man in a million and don’t let the naysayers convince you otherwise.’
He wanted to believe her with everything he had. He pulled in a breath, unable to deal with all of the confusion raging through him, the pain of remembering that time and all it had stolen from him. He pushed it all away to some deep inner depth where he hoped it’d never see the light of day again. ‘I guess it did have its silver lining.’
She choked. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Like I said, I learned to count cards. When I was released from jail I was hired by a building firm. It was one of those parole programmes the powers that be are so gung-ho for. Anyway, I took my first pay packet to the casino and trebled it. Next fortnight I did the same. Within six months I’d made ten times my original winnings.’
‘You made your money gambling?’
‘I moved from one form of gambling to another. Once I had enough money I traded in blackjack for the stock market. I started making some decent investments, took some risks which paid off.’
‘Where did you learn about the stock market?’
‘One of the benefits of prison is access to education. I did a business course. Like I said, silver linings.’
Nell leapt up, poured herself a glass of water and drained it. ‘You’re saying that if it wasn’t for prison you wouldn’t be rich.’
‘That’s exactly what I’m saying.’
‘What do you think your life would’ve been like if you hadn’t gone to jail?’
He shrugged. ‘I’d have ended up working in your father’s glass factory or one of the auto parts factories. I’d probably have played on the local football team and I guess I’d have eventually settled down—got married and had a couple of kids.’
She stared down into her glass. ‘That sounds kind of nice.’
Yeah, it did.
‘But you speak as if none of that’s possible now.’
It wasn’t.
‘You have all this money and yet this is how you choose to live—drifting around like a vagrant as if you don’t have two dimes to rub together?’
‘I’m not hurting anyone.’
She stared at him. Eventually she nodded. ‘You’re a good man, Rick—you’re kind and you’d rather help than hinder—but prison did steal something from you.’
He stiffened. ‘You want to explain that?’
‘It stole your courage.’
His head snapped back.
‘Before you went to jail you had dreams. Now...’ She shrugged. ‘Now you’re too scared to dream.’
Her words sliced through him.
‘Because if you did, you wouldn’t choose to live your life the way you do.’
A film of ice covered him from head to foot. ‘How I live my life is no concern of yours.’ He stabbed a finger at her for added emphasis. ‘It’s no business of yours.’
Nell shrugged as if his coldness couldn’t touch her. ‘You’re a hypocrite too.’ She turned away to wash the dishes in the sink.
His jaw dropped, but he doubted she’d noticed. ‘I’m lending you a ludicrous amount of money and all I get is abuse?’
She glanced over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow. ‘You want me all doe-eyed and grateful?’
Actually, if he were honest, he wanted her hot and sweaty and horizontal.
‘I don’t think so,’ she snorted. ‘I have a feeling doe-eyed would have you running for the hills, tough guy.’
He ran a finger around the collar of his shirt.
‘If you intend to concern yourself with my affairs then you can jolly well put up with me concerning myself with yours.’
He thrust out his jaw. ‘I’ll take back that offer of a loan.’
She turned and planted sudsy hands on her hips. They made damp patches on her dress and he found it hard to look away. ‘Go on then,’ she said.
He opened his mouth. He stared at those sudsy hands and swore. Nell merely laughed. ‘You can’t because you’re too nice a man.’
Nobody called him nice.
‘It’s called friendship, Rick.’
He stilled. She went back to washing the last of the dishes. Friendship. Had the Princess just offered him friendship?
Actually, he saw now that she’d offered it the moment he’d shared John’s letter with her.
Back-alley guys like him didn’t end up with uptown girls like the Princess, but... But it didn’t mean they couldn’t be friends, did it?
He rolled his shoulders. He stretched his neck first one way then the other. ‘You never told me what was wrong with Candy.’
She pulled the plug and reached for a tea towel. ‘The roadside assistance guy who got me started again said something about...points and plugs? Are they something that belong in a car?’
He bit back a grin. ‘Yep.’
‘Well, apparently they need replacing and so does my...alternator?’
She asked the last as if checking she had that word
right too.
‘Is that all?’ His shoulders rolled suddenly free. ‘I can fix that for you. I’ll need to grab some parts, but all up it should cost less than two hundred dollars. Mind you, the shop would charge four times that to cover labour.’
She tossed the tea towel and slammed her hands to her hips again. ‘Is there anything you can’t do?’
He found himself laughing. Nell made him feel young—young and alive and free. ‘You can deal with sleazy solicitors and smarmy estate agents and I can debt collect and fix cars.’
‘You haven’t seen under Candy’s hood. What makes you so sure you can fix her?’
‘I spent a ludicrous amount of time in my misspent youth with the guys in the neighbourhood trying to keep our rust-bucket cars on the road. I even helped restore a couple.’
She took a step towards him, her face alive. ‘From scratch?’ He nodded and her smile widened. ‘What fun!’
The Princess was interested in cars? ‘C’mon—’ he hitched his head in the direction of the door ‘—let’s go take a look.’
When they reached the garage, Rick popped Candy’s bonnet. ‘Tell me what you know about the engine.’
She wrinkled her nose. ‘I’m afraid it’s not much.’
She looked so pretty in her 1950s-style dress and heels peering into the workings of the old van it was all he could do not to kiss her. ‘That doesn’t matter.’
‘I don’t know what any of it does, but I know that’s where I put in water if it’s running low.’ She touched the radiator cap. ‘And that’s where I put in the oil.’
‘You put in your own oil?’
‘A man at the garage showed me how. It’s a cinch. Way easier than making cupcakes.’
All he could do was stare.
‘So what are plugs and points and an alternator? What do they do?’
He pulled off the distributor cap and pointed to the plugs and points and explained how they worked. She asked questions—intelligent questions—and before he knew what they were about they’d dismantled the alternator from the van and had it spread on the floor of the garage.
‘It’s fascinating!’
She went to brush a strand of hair from her face, but he caught hold of her hand before she could. He turned it over and pointed. ‘I’m thinking you don’t want to smear grease all over your face or through your hair.’
She stared at both of her hands in astonishment. ‘Heavens, this is messier than gardening...and just as much fun.’
The grin she shot him almost slayed him where he crouched.
‘I think it’d be wonderful to be able to repair a car.’
‘I can teach you how to change plugs and points. When we get a new alternator I’ll show you how to install it. And if you want I’ll even teach you how to do a grease and oil change. I warn you, though, it’s a mucky business.’
* * *
Nell stared at Rick and was almost too afraid to breathe. ‘You will? Really truly?’
‘Sure I will.’
She’d get covered in grease, she’d break fingernails, and it’d be one more step towards becoming independent and not useless.
And it’d be fun!
It hit her then that she’d been so busy trying to plug all the holes in her life that she’d forgotten about fun.
She couldn’t stop herself from beaming at Rick. ‘Thank you!’
He grinned that slow grin that could turn a woman’s world upside down. Her heart pounded up into her throat and back again to bam-bam in her chest and she couldn’t have reached into her wardrobe of shrugs and pulled one on now for all the money in the Reserve Bank.
She didn’t care about shrugs. She cared about learning new things and making a success of her life and...
And she cared about Rick.
As a friend.
Somewhere inside her a metaphorical eyebrow lifted. She swallowed and glanced back over at him. His smile had faded. Those dark eyes fixed on her with an intensity that froze everything—even the air—and then it all rushed back, wind roaring in her ears, and she swayed.
Rick reached out to steady her, but she shot to her feet and stumbled. He rose too—as if attached to her by some invisible string—and again he reached out a hand to steady her. ‘You’re a bit wobbly on your feet there, Princess.’
She didn’t know if it were the touch on her arm or the way his teasing swagger didn’t quite reach his eyes, but the ability to lie had deserted her. Either that or she’d flung it away recklessly. And she hadn’t done anything reckless in fifteen years.
‘I’ve been off balance ever since I saw you standing on my front veranda, Rick.’
All signs of teasing fled. ‘Princess...’
One of his fingers slid up her arm. She glanced down at it. ‘That’s not helping.’ But the finger didn’t stop—it moved back down from her elbow to her wrist, tracing a path along the inside of her arm.
She wanted to dash herself against him like a wave against a rock and encompass him completely. And still that finger trailed paths of spiralling heat and delight across her skin.
‘That makes both of us, Princess, because I find it hard to remember my own name when I’m around you.’
They’d cast pretence aside. She lifted her chin. ‘I know you find me attractive sometimes.’
‘All the time.’
‘And I know there’s a lot of reasons why I shouldn’t kiss you and you shouldn’t kiss me.’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘But I can’t remember any of them at the moment so you better start reciting them to me, Rick, because...’
‘Because?’
They moved an inch closer to each other. ‘Because kissing you is the only thing I can think of.’
They reached for each other...and stopped at the same time. Nell glanced at her greasy hands. Rick glanced at his. She didn’t want to ruin his shirt, but... ‘I don’t care about my dress,’ she whispered.
His mouth hooked up in that way. ‘But I like that dress. The things I dream of doing to you while you’re wearing that dress would make you blush, Princess.’
She hadn’t known her heart could beat any harder. She hadn’t known her skin could flare with so much heat.
‘I care about the dress...’ But his words emerged on a rough growl and they wrapped around the base of her spine until she trembled with the force of it.
His hand reached for hers, their fingers lacing. One tug brought them chest to chest. He glanced down at her and his eyes darkened. Very slowly she slid against him, relishing the feel of his hard chest against her softness.
His quick intake of breath curled her toes. ‘It seems we don’t need hands,’ he murmured.
His thumb brushed against the sensitive pulse point of her wrist. Very slowly she turned her hands so his spooned them before dancing her fingers across the backs of his fingers and then lacing them through his again. ‘I like hands.’ The words came out on short, jerky breaths.
His hands tightened about hers. She tried to glance up at him, but her gaze caught on the pulse pounding at the base of his jaw. She ached to touch her lips to the spot. She wanted—
‘Princess?’
She looked up at his hoarse rasp.
Very slowly his lips descended towards hers. She held his hands tightly as the world tilted and, leaning her weight against him, she reached up on tiptoe to help close the distance between them.
And finally their lips touched.
CHAPTER NINE
THEIR LIPS TOUCHED, their mouths opened, and the world spun away from Nell as the taste and feel of Rick filled her. The only thing that mattered was the way his mouth moved over hers—tender but firm, slow yet sure, practised but with a hint of tentativeness that spoke of his desire to please. It told her that the same st
unned delirium that coursed through her veins coursed through his.
He nibbled her bottom lip and she moaned, arching against him, feeling anything might be possible in this moment, feeling she could be anything she wanted to be in this moment and that would be okay.
His lips slanted over hers again, less tentative, more urgent, and she met him kiss for kiss, deepening it at the same moment that he did—tongues dancing, teasing, awakening.
She’d thought he’d taste dark and dangerous...like the shadows she sometimes saw in his eyes, but he tasted like cupcakes—all vanilla and spice—and her sweet tooth sat up and begged. He tasted of every good thing she’d never had in her life before. He tasted of all the good things she wanted to be in her life—smart, capable, competent. He tasted like...life.
She wanted to crawl inside his skin or to pull him inside hers. He kissed her back as if he wanted that too. They kissed until they had no oxygen left and then very slowly they eased away from each other, fingers still entwined.
She touched her tongue to her bottom lip and sucked it into her mouth. He watched with those dark eyes. ‘Wow, that was something,’ she said when she could finally speak.
He frowned. ‘Yeah, it was.’
She frowned then too. ‘There’s a problem with that?’
‘Kisses like that feel like promises and I can’t make you any of those, Princess.’
Can’t or won’t? Reality slammed back into place. She shook her hands free of his and snatched up a clean rag to clench them in. ‘I told you there were a lot of reasons we shouldn’t kiss.’
She backed up to lean against Candy’s side, needing the support for knees that threatened to give way. ‘I don’t do short-term flings.’
He adjusted his stance and blew out a breath. ‘Yet they’re the only kind of relationships I have.’
‘Strike One.’
She stared down at the rag, shut her eyes for a moment before lifting her chin and tossing back her hair. ‘Everyone thinks I’m going to solve my current financial difficulties by finding a rich husband or boyfriend. You’re rich. Strike Two.’
He slammed his hands to his hips. She opened her mouth to remind him about the grease and oil, but it was too late. His glare made her mouth dry. ‘You’re counting me out because I’m rich?’