by Alison Kelly
‘Yeah, right. And you picked up that blonde bimbo you brought to Christmas dinner at a builders’ convention.’
‘As it happens, Rachel happens to be the state accounts manager for a major firm; she hardly qualifies as a bimbo.’
‘Hardly qualifies, almost qualifies, definitely qualifies…’ K.C. shrugged. ‘The point is you didn’t pick her up at a business dinner.’
‘True. She picked me up at a trade seminar. She works for a major structural erection firm.’
‘I’ll just bet she does,’ Kirrily mumbled, not intending her words to be heard, but, like everything else about him, Ryan’s hearing was perfect.
‘You’re jealous!’ he accused her, clearly amused by the notion.
‘I am not!’
‘No?’
‘No!’ She scrambled to save what little dignity she had left. ‘I’ve never in my life wanted to be an accounts manager, state or otherwise.’
‘Does that mean you won’t miss working at Talbot’s?’
She frowned. ‘Is that a backhanded way of firing me or something?’
He tossed her only the quickest of looks as he turned onto an untarred road. ‘Is there a reason I should fire you?’
Kirrily thought of the way she’d spent Friday bringing the invoices up to date. ‘Not any more,’ she said drily. There was no way she was going to respond to the questioning eyebrow he raised at her words.
‘Close your eyes.’
His words threw her. ‘What?’
‘Close your eyes,’ he repeated.
‘Why?’
‘Humour me.’
She sighed. ‘OK, they’re shut. But I’d like to point out that I wasn’t put on this earth solely to humour you, Ryan Talbot. I think I’ve already gone above and beyond the call of graciousness in my acceptance of this “slight detour”, as you—’
‘Close the mouth and open the lids, K.C.’
The retort to his amused tone died as her eyes fixed on the sight before her. The Colonial-styled home with its sweeping sandstone veranda took her breath away. Her glance swung between it and Ryan twice before she spoke.
‘Oh, my…It’s gorgeous. It’s…Who owns it?’
‘Me.’
‘You! You mean you bought it?’
‘Nope, built it.’
‘But…I thought you’d only bought a block of land.’
‘I did. Well, ten acres actually,’ he qualified. ‘Then I put a house on it.’
She ignored his glib grin simply because she was so overawed. ‘And what a house.’
‘You like it, huh?’
‘Are you kidding? It’s wonderful! It’s…it’s better than wonderful…Dad was right—you are one hell of an architect!’
‘What?’ He looked offended. ‘You mean he didn’t say I was a hell of a bricklayer, carpenter, plumber—’
‘You really built this by yourself? No contractors?’
‘Pretty much. Though in the interests of selfpreservation I had someone else do the electrical wiring.’
‘Wise move,’ she said. ‘Especially for someone who once blacked out the entire block trying to modify the lights on your house one Christmas.’
‘Give me a break,’ he groaned. ‘I was sixteen. How was I to know there was already an overload on supply due to the electrical storm? Besides, you wouldn’t even remember it; you were what…four?’
His defensive tone made her chuckle. ‘True, but the story has practically become a legend. When I was in primary school they used it as an example in ‘don’t let this happen to you’ safety talks.’
‘Very funny. Here.’ He removed the keys from the ignition and handed them to her. ‘Go open up while I get out our stuff.’
‘Our stuff?’ Her eyes darkened with confusion. ‘Why?’
‘Because,’ he responded, braced for the argument he knew he was inviting, ‘we’re staying here until the police get the guy who’s harassing you.’
‘What? Ryan, that could take ages—’
‘Maybe, but I’m not going to let you try and handle this on your own. So either you agree to stay here with me or…’
‘Or what?’
‘I call Claire and Jack and tell them what’s going on.’
‘You will not!’ she said. ‘I don’t want Mum and Dad worried.’
‘Fair enough, but either you agree to stay here or I’m calling them.’ Her lips parted in a way that preceded speech, but Ryan beat her to it. ‘Save your arguments, K.C. There’s no way I’m giving in on this so you might as well accept that, like it or not.’
‘Are you through playing God?’
‘Look, I know you think you can handle anything life throws at you on your own, and maybe in normal circumstances you can—’
‘Gee, thanks for that generous vote of confidence,’ she muttered, turning away.
‘Ah, hell, K.C.,’ he said, thumping the steering wheel. ‘You can’t deny this whole deal is way beyond normal for anyone. You heard what that cop said yesterday-you’ve become the victim of violent crime and need to take certain precautions.’
‘So it was the police who suggested I hide out here?’
‘Well, no…that was my idea. But once you stop being stubborn and thinking total independence is the ultimate virtue you’ll realise staying here with me is the best option you’ve got. In fact,’ he said firmly, deciding he’d soft-pedalled for long enough, ‘it’s the only option you’ve got.’
‘I agree with you,’ Kirrily said, getting out of the car.
‘You agree with me?’ Shock rendered him incapable of moving. ‘Again?’
She nodded. ‘Guess I’m getting pretty good at discarding unnecessary virtues, huh?’
Watching her bound up the steps of the house, Ryan decided either someone had slipped something into his coffee on the plane and he was hallucinating, or someone had slipped something into K.C.’s—in which case he wanted a lifetime supply of it!
CHAPTER TEN
THE memory of her own, charred little house still fresh, sadness squeezed Kirrily’s heart as she slipped the key into the shiny brass lock; yet she was also aware of a tingling excitement at the prospect of exploring a house designed and built entirely from the mind of the man she loved. Her heart gave a funny little skip.
The daughter of a tradesman, she appreciated the expert carpentry which allowed the heavy double doors to glide open with the minimum of effort Knowing Ryan wouldn’t settle for anything less than perfection, she didn’t expect the majestic beauty of the house to cease with its exterior, but still she was awed by the craftsmanship that greeted her entrance.
The floor, a mosaic of Federation tiles with an intricate design of cream, deep green and burnt reds, was a delicate complement to the strength of the Jarrah woodwork and avocado walls. Kirrily calculated the floor area at about twelve by thirty-five feet, but, regardless of its length, it was too imposing to be called a mere hallway. At the far end were large double doors identical to those on her immediate left and right; further along, two single though equally solid doors faced each other. All were intricately carved and closed; curiosity begged her to open one.
‘Now I know how contestants on game shows feel,’ she muttered, and heard Ryan laugh behind her.
She turned, but before she had a chance to say anything a high-pitched wail broke the air. A scream burst from her as she clamped her hands to her ears. Dropping the bags, Ryan hurried past her to open the single righthand-side door. Within moments silence was restored, but her much tested nerves still vibrated.
‘Sorry. I forgot I’d shortened the activating time when I set it last.’ Ryan’s explanation did little to calm her, especially since there was more amusement than sincerity in his eyes. ‘You’ve got to admit it’s a pretty effective deterrent,’ he said.
Kirrily wanted to throttle him; instead she made a show of glancing around the unfurnished foyer. ‘I assume, since the alarm works, the complete absence of furniture is some kind of extreme example of minimalistic decorat
ing.’
‘Nah,’ he said, moving back to close the front door. ‘It’s the result of a guy who doesn’t have time to shop for furniture.’
‘So why not hire a decorator?’
‘Because I want someone who’ll ask then try and understand what I want, not somebody who thinks they already know what I want.’
‘And what’s that?’
He frowned. ‘A style that suits me and the house.’
‘Sort of late nineteenth-century and arrogantly commanding, huh?’ Ignoring his droll look, she turned in a slow circle, again surveying the surroundings. ‘Well, if I was decorating this room,’ she said, ‘I’d scour the local antique stores for one of those big old hall stands; you know with hat hooks and an umbrella stand. Not a reproduction,’ she stressed. ‘Something that’s got the personality and scars of time. And I’d hang dozens of old sepia photos of pioneers and family ancestors.’
‘I don’t have any,’ he said.
‘Oh, they don’t necessarily have to be your ancestors,’ she dismissed airily. ‘Anyone’s will do.’
Ryan stayed silent as she continued to roam around, at times frowning in concentration, at others caressing the timberwork as if it were a living thing.
‘Maybe a mirror,’ she muttered, in a way that suggested she was talking more to herself than to him now. Her eyes were narrowed, as if she was visualising the room as she spoke. ‘And something along the lines of a fountain—’
‘A fountain?’ Ryan practically gasped. Only K.C. would entertain the notion of putting a naked cupid spouting water in-’
Don’t be ridiculous!’ she said, as if reading his mind. ‘I was going to say a fountain-like centrepiece, to close things down a bit. You know—so you don’t get the feeling you’re standing in an empty parking lot? Perhaps a huge urn,’ she mused with a frown. ‘Something say about shoulder-height, but interesting, not garish.’
‘You surprise yet again, K.C.,’ he said. ‘I’d have thought your tastes would’ve run along more—’
‘Outrageously theatrical lines?’ she supplied, turning to him.
He shrugged. ‘Like I said, you’re full of surprises.’ The thing was, he mused, some surprises he could deal with calmly and rationally and some he couldn’t…like last night.
Kirrily found herself unable to look away from the soul-searching gaze he directed at her. At first she told herself that the reason she felt as if they were the only people on earth was due to the room’s emptiness and isolated rural silence, but her body quickly reminded her she’d felt the exact same way in an elegantly furnished hotel amid Melbourne’s dense city noise.
No…it wasn’t exactly the same. The feelings his look sparked in her now were slightly different—more subtle. His actions and eyes last night had scrambled her body so crazily that she’d felt she’d have exploded had he not satisfied her, whereas now…now her heart-rate had become so languorous that she feared it would stop altogether. For it wasn’t solely passion or desire shining from his half-hooded eyes but something else toosomething she wanted so badly she wasn’t game to put a name to it.
‘C’mon,’ he said roughly, shattering the atmosphere. ‘I’ll give you the fifty-cent tour. This has been so fascinating I can’t wait to get your expert advice on what else the house needs.’
His tone put Kirrily on the defensive. ‘Forget it,’ she said tersely. ‘I’d just as soon look round on my own if you’re going to patronise me. I’d hardly expect you to approve of anything I did. And what’s more I never claimed to be an expert in interior design; my suggestions were purely instinctive.’
That’s the problem, Ryan thought; lately everything about K.C. seemed suggestive and came down to instincts—very basic carnal instincts! Hell, he didn’t need this much aggravation.
‘Look, Ryan, I’m tired,’ she said, sounding ticked off rather than weary. ‘Just tell me where the bathroom is and where to put my stuff and I’ll hit the sack.’
‘At four in the afternoon?’
‘It’s been a long day and, like I said, I’m tired.’
‘So I’ll make us some coffee.’
‘I don’t want any coffee—’
‘Sure you do, K.C.; we both know you’re addicted to the stuff.’
His patiently amused indulgence only stoked her anger. She wouldn’t drink his damn coffee if he begged!
‘I just want to use the bathroom, Ryan,’ she said, realising the excuse for an escape had become a reality.
He shook his head ruefully. ‘It’s not good manners to come into someone’s house and immediately ask to use the toilet.’
‘It’s not good manners to pee on their floor either!’
Propping himself between her and the door he’d opened to kill the burglar alarm, he sent her a tormenting half-smile.
‘Ryan, I’m not kidding here. I really need to go.’
‘Where?’
‘The bathroom, dammit!’
‘Which one? You’ve got a choice of three—four if you count the en suite off the master bedroom.’
‘The nearest one, you idiot!’
‘How about I make you a deal, K.C.?’ His ocean-blue eyes sparked with mischief. ‘I’ll tell you how to find the bathroom, if you promise to tell me what you think each room needs.’
‘Chew razorblades,’ she muttered, moving past him to the small door on the right. ‘I’ll find it myself,’ she said, while giving him one last hard glance and opening the door. ‘It’s only a matter of opening a few doors and being able to recognise porcelain.’
‘True, but the question is—is time on your side?’
I hope so! she thought, pivoting around and striding into—a huge walk-in storage cupboard! She swore, drawing hearty male laughter. Furious and embarrassed, she swung around and glared at Ryan’s amusement.
‘I’m sorry, miss,’ he said, mimicking a game-show host. ‘But that’s not the lucky door! However, you do get a consolation prize just for being so darn cute!’ Then he dipped his head and presented her with a quick but very effective kiss.
Stupefied beyond verbal or physical protest, Kirrily could merely allow herself to be guided through the double doors at the end of the hall. She barely had time to register anything about the room they entered, other than it, too, was devoid of furniture but had a fireplace, before Ryan’s hands turned her head to the left.
‘There,’ he said, pointing to a door on her left, ‘is a bathroom. And over there—’ he motioned to the right ‘—is the kitchen. If you aren’t at the breakfast bar in five minutes, I’ll round up a search party.’
* * *
‘The milk’s off; can you handle your coffee black?’ Ryan asked when Kirrily finally rejoined him in the kitchen.
It irked her that he could go from being a prizewinning pain in the rear one minute to the epitome of Mr Nice Guy the next. Even more frustrating was his knack of jerking her from one emotion to another with the minimum effort. Wishing it otherwise, she sighed heavily. ‘Black’s fine.’
‘Sure? You make it sound like the ultimate sacrifice.’
‘The way you make coffee, drinking it, regardless of colour, is the sacrifice.’ His indignant look was too phoney to move her to apologise so she gave her attention to studying her surroundings.
As kitchens went, this one was pretty near luxurious. Every modem electrical gadget known to man which belonged in such a room was there, but utility hadn’t been achieved at the expense of attractiveness, proof being the beautifully crafted rosewood cupboards with their leaded light inserts. Large, airy and well lit, the room still managed to offer a homey sort of comfort that appealed to Kirrily, even in the absence of curtains and the colourful knick-knacks which would have personalised it.
‘Nice,’ she said, with deliberate understatement, then, knowing she was being petty, smiled and added, ‘Really nice. So,’ she said, strolling to the French windows at the end of the room, ‘how come you’ve kept this house such a big secret?’
He frowned over the top
of his mug. ‘I haven’t.’
‘Then why didn’t I know about it?’
‘You’re annoyed because I didn’t tell you I was building a house?’
‘Not annoyed, just…curious,’ she said, though silently she owned up to being a tad disappointed. It seemed to indicate how far their friendship had drifted apart over the last couple of years. ‘It seems funny no one mentioned it to me.’
‘Guess they thought you wouldn’t be interested.’
‘That’s never stopped Mum before; usually she acts like it’s her God-given duty to keep me posted on every breath you take,’ she said drily. ‘If nothing else, I’d have expected her to be raving about how brilliantly clever you are and how fabulous the house was.’
‘No one’s seen the house since the foundations were laid, so that’d explain why she hasn’t raved about it,’ he said. ‘And I guess the reason she hasn’t been extolling my brilliance is she figured you already knew about it’
‘Oh, p-lease! Your ego is beyond belief, Ryan Talbot!’
The knowledge that K.C.’s teasing and laughter sounded better to him in this room than it ever had anywhere else hit Ryan like the proverbial ton of bricks. Until now he’d believed the incomplete atmosphere of the house was due solely to the lack of appropriate furnishings and, when he’d thought about it, he’d expected the traditional flavour of the house to clash with K.C.’s overt vivaciousness and devil-may-care attitude. He’d been wrong on both counts. Her presence brought an aura of completion that the addition of mere furnishings never would. That she merged so well—in fact, seemed essential to a home he’d designed purely to satisfy his own soul—was disturbing.
His gaze followed her as she inspected the house’s construction and design with an inbred knowledge of the building game. After opening several cupboards, she backtracked to the refrigerator.
‘Er, Ryan,’ she said, ‘I’m not sure I’ll be comfortable on this no-food diet you appear to favour.’
‘I’ll grab some basics when we go into town for dinner. Usually I just bring down what I need.’