Falling for the Guy Next Door (9 page)

He started to
rise from the sofa. “Let me help you carry—”

“No!” she
whisper-yelped, pressing him down again. “My office is a total
mess. A private sanctuary. I don’t let anyone up there.”

A strange look
came over his face.

“Relax, finish
your coffee and I won’t be long.” She backed away, whispering, “Try
not to move too much.”

Halfway up the
stairs, she paused to send her message.
We’re
going upstairs now for some carefree, adult fun. I’m not fragile.
I’m a woman and I have needs that don’t come attached to a string
of expectations.

There was no
reply. She didn’t expect one. He’d probably swooned or something.
But if she knew Jack, and she believed she did, he was tripping up
the stairs right now, if only to prove himself right.

Inside her
bedroom, the door softly closed, Megan crossed the room and pressed
an ear to the wall. She waited a moment, then sent her final text
of the night before turning the phone off.
Please
do not disturb.

The muffled
ping of a new message notification filtered from the master bedroom
on the other side of the wall. Busted! She tiptoed away from the
wall before flipping from covert tactics to baby elephant stomping.
She put some music on, dialled up the volume and flopped onto the
bed. Rolled over onto her back, arms flung out, and closed her
eyes.

Not so smug
now, hey, Jack?
Maybe this would teach him to think twice about
his dictatorial consideration next time she threw herself at him.
Which she wouldn’t, of course.

Was he still
there? Would he stay to listen? She slid off the bed and positioned
herself at the base.

God, what was
she doing?

She took a
deep breath and squared her shoulders. Bludgeoning him over the
head, that’s what. She could take her sex just as wild, hot and
brief as he could. She bent, gripped beneath the base and gave a
hard shove. The oomph that left her lungs added to the effect as
the headboard slammed up against the wall. Another two mighty
shoves and she was done. Gabriel might be quick, but he’d
definitely delivered a punch.

A few more
minutes, and she collected the small boxes of books from her office
on her way down the stairs. She rounded the corner into the sitting
room and froze at the sight of Jack seated in the armchair opposite
Gabriel.

“What have you
been doing up there?” Jack grinned at her. “Rearranging
furniture?”

A hot blush
heated her entire body. Her spine went weak and her arms collapsed,
dropping the boxes onto her toes.

“Ouch!
Freaking friggin’ ouch!” She hopped, gritted her teeth, and died a
slow, slow death of shame.

Both men
jumped up. Jack reached her first, swooping her into his arms and
carrying her to the sofa. He hunched before her, lifting her feet
onto his knees and sliding off her sandals. His fingers wrapped
around her toes, applying pressure until the throbbing dulled.

Gabriel was
gathering the books that had spilled out. “Do you need ice,
Megan?”

“Yes,” Jack
said.

“I’m fine,”
she countered. She jerked her feet from his grip and pushed into a
corner of the sofa, folding her legs beneath her.

“Ice,” Jack
barked.

Gabriel
jumped, and then hurried into the kitchen.

Megan squeezed
her eyes tight. “I know what you’re thinking, Jack, and I don’t
want to hear it.”

“What would
that be?”

She opened one
eye to peer at him. “Yeah, like I haven’t humiliated myself enough
for one night.” She wanted to crawl under the sofa and never come
out. “Just go, Jack, please.”

He stayed
right where he was, gazing into her eyes. “I rushed over here to
stop you.” His grin was absent, although the expression on his face
still crinkled the edges of his eyes and softened the angles of his
jaw. “I’ve spent most of the day being an over-confident jerk and
it suddenly occurred to me that I might have pushed you into the
arms of another man.”

A knot formed
in her throat at the intensity of his gaze. The humble admission of
his flaws to make her feel better about her own plucked a chord
within her chest. The rare, and oddest, moments he chose to express
vulnerability were precious arrows that burrowed deep. Right here,
right now, reminded her of the day she’d grown to like Jack. Not
simply lusted after him. Really, really liked him.

“Now I’ll go.”
Jack pushed to his feet. His grin came out to play. “Be nice to
Gabriel. I’ve grown rather fond of him.”

She pulled a
face at him. “You met him five minutes ago.”

Jack shrugged.
“He has excellent taste in cars.”

“And women,”
she said with a smile, her mood thoroughly warmed up.

“Not that
nice,” he growled and turned to go.

Early spring,
last year

Megan hugged
her coat around her, stamping her feet to ward off the chill. She
glared heavenward at the threatening clouds. March had started off
with the promise of glorious warmth, but two weeks later and it had
turned mean. Splat. A drop the size of a hailstone struck her on
the forehead.

She brought
her head down and jumped back in alarm as a white hatchback Renault
swooped to a halt alongside the curb directly in front of her. The
passenger window slid down and a familiar crop of dark hair leaned
across.

Even darker
eyes met hers. “Hey, there, I thought that was you.”

“Jack?” She
hunched forward, beaming a smile at him. Her day had just turned a
shade brighter. “You weren’t due back this way until the
summer.”

“I was getting
cranky and needed a fix of civilisation.”

“New Zealand
doesn’t have cities?” Not that she was complaining.

“Not the
same.” His gaze heated her from the toes on up. It was a look that
filled in the blanks with dangerous whispers of
because you
weren’t there
and
because I missed you
.

Not just
dangerous, Megan told herself bluntly, but insane. Point in fact:
technically she’d known him for close on five months and out of
that, he’d spent a total of five days in Corkscrew Bay.

Sure, there’d
been all kinds of sparks shooting between them last Christmas, but
sparks fizzled and spluttered into wisps of smoke. They didn’t haul
a guy—especially a guy like Jack—across two continents.

Megan stepped
back from the impact of his gaze in order to gain some much-needed
perspective.

He glanced
around her. “Are you waiting for someone?”

“My mother.”
She uncurled her toes, ordered her hormones to behave and waved a
hand at the Daily Food Store behind. “She’s buying up enough
ingredients to bake ten dozen fairy cakes for the spring fair
tomorrow and I’m the lucky elf she’s enlisted to help.”

He grinned at
her lacklustre enthusiasm. “This car doesn’t have much horsepower,
but then your mom will be on foot. Wanna make a run for it?”

“Don’t tempt
me,” she groaned. His grin had pressed that dimple into his cheek,
reshaping dark, brooding features into rugged charm. Another fat
raindrop landed on her cheek. She lifted a hand to wipe it away,
then got distracted by the butterflies fluttering at her pulse and
behind her knees.

“Megan,
darling…” Her mother’s voice yanked Megan back from the edge of
oblivion and she realised she’d been staring. “I still need to pop
into— Hello there,” she said, her gaze flickering between Jack and
Megan.

“Mom, this is
Jack Marlin,” Megan introduced with a resigned sigh. The glint of
curiosity in her mom’s eyes didn’t bode well. “Jack, this is my
mother.”

His grin
reduced to a pleasant smile. Hmm, so he knew exactly how to
regulate that charm wattage and he’d dialled it up for her.

“How do you
do, Mrs. Lane,” he said.

“Oh, yes, Mr.
Marlin’s nephew, right?” She turned to face Megan. There appeared
to be flint in her eye. Please God, not a wink. “You must call me
Jean,” she went on to insist enthusiastically. “Megan has spoken
about you so much, I feel as if we already know each other.”

Jack gave
Megan a look she had no wish to decipher.

“It wasn’t
that much and only because everyone kept asking,” she assured him
hurriedly. “Your uncle’s something of an enigma around here and you
know what this place is like.” Which he probably didn’t. Portraying
herself as the town crier wasn’t doing her any favours either.
“Anyway, you must be eager to see your uncle,” she blabbered.
“Don’t let us keep you.”

“Actually, I’m
heading for the beach and a long walk.” Jack rolled his shoulders
in the cramped interior. “I’ve been travelling for thirty-two hours
straight. My joints feel as if they’re glued together.”

“It’s a
beautiful day for a walk on the beach,” exclaimed her mother. The
rain had picked up, and the drops weren’t getting any smaller.
“Megan, why don’t you go along? I’ll manage fine without you.”

Megan hadn’t
needed anyone arranging her play-dates for almost two decades. She
gave her mother a hard look along the lines of: I love you dearly,
but I may still have to strangle you later. “I’m sure Jack
doesn’t—”

“I wouldn’t
mind the company,” Jack cut in. “If your mom can spare you.”

“Of course I
can.” Her mother shuffled her shopping bags into one hand and
prodded Megan forward. “Go on, darling.”

Resistance
would have been futile, not to mention churlish. Besides, who knew
what would come out of her mother’s mouth next if she didn’t get
Jack away?

“Okay, mom,
thanks.” She opened the passenger door. Jack retreated to his side
of the car as she slid inside and pressed the button to slide the
window up on a hastily uttered, “I’ll stop by later.”

She didn’t
draw breath until they’d turned off the main road into Windigs
Lane. “Sorry about that,” she groaned. “What is it with parents and
boundary issues?”

“I don’t
know,” Jack muttered as he navigated the roundabout. Once he’d
taken the exit for the main beach, he glanced her way with a frown.
“I mean… I’m not criticizing your mother. I really don’t know. My
parents died when I was seven and Frank’s never been one for
interfering much.”

“Jack, I’m so
sorry.” Her face crumpled in sympathy.

“A plane
crash.” He shrugged, looking away. “Their Cessna went down over the
Atlantic.”

Goodness.
Seven years old? Goosebumps prickled her arms.

She must have
made a sound, because he shot her another look. “That’s generally
the next question on everyone’s minds, whether they ask it or
not.”

Not an
accusation. His voice betrayed nothing. She tried to imagine a much
younger Jack, a little boy, having this conversation and couldn’t.
Although he must have, a hundred times, a thousand times, until the
explanations had eroded all emotion to the bone. “So, your uncle
stepped in to raise you?”

“I guess you
could say so.” In profile, his jaw clenched as he turned into the
parking lot. He pulled up into a spot at right angles to the sandy
beach and switched the engine off.

The rain was
coming down harder now, splattering the windshield. Jack’s eyes
remained on the blurred ocean straight ahead.

The silence
stretched until she thought the conversation was over. From the
little she knew of Mr. Marlin, she wasn’t surprised at the lack of
enthusiasm in his response. That man wasn’t capable of raising
anyone, let alone a lost, heartbroken seven-year-old boy.

But then the
tension in Jack’s jaw loosened. She heard him release a breath
softer than a sigh.

“There was no
one else to take me in.” An edge hardened his tone. “My parents’
will had every ‘i’ and ‘t’ crossed when it came to securing their
wealth into my trust fund, but they never made the time to bother
with appointing a guardian. Frank felt he had no choice in the
matter. He stepped up to his familial obligation and there was no
one else to offer him a reprieve.”

Megan put a
hand on his arm. Biceps bunched beneath her touch, then relaxed.
“I’m sure they would have, Jack, if they’d known they were…”
Few
people have prior warning. Most people prepared a little better,
especially when kids are involved.

That hard edge
was bitterness, she realised. He blamed his parents for being so
careless with his young life. She had nothing against Frank Marlin
personally, but she’d never put the love and caring of any child of
hers into that man’s grumpy hands. “That couldn’t have been easy
for you, living with your uncle. He’s very…stern and, um, gruff,”
she decided was a good euphemism for ‘somewhat depressing.’

He turned to
her. The scowl, she assumed, was aimed at his childhood memories
and not at her. “Frank’s wife left him when the courts appointed
him as my guardian. She didn’t fancy the idea of an instant family
not of her making. The irony is, he didn’t know what to do with a
child, so he sent me to boarding school straight away. Once I
settled in, it was a pretty good deal.”

Jack’s brow
cleared. “He took on his responsibilities as best he could, and he
ended up alone because of it. I think I got the better end of that
stick.” The way he said that, it was the truth. Or at least, he
believed it was the truth.

The edge left
his voice. “Frank doesn’t say much, but he’s not a bad guy.”

He looked into
her eyes, the angles of his face softening slightly. His openness,
his sincerity, his obvious tender instincts for his uncle, made her
reconsider the man behind the roving lifestyle.

“I’ll make
more of an effort,” she found herself promising, not even sure if
Jack was asking. “Drag him over for a cuppa now and then.”

“Thank you.”
His gaze stayed on her for the longest moment, wrapping around her
like a warm blanket, pulling her in, keeping her close. “Frank’s
getting on, and I’m making an effort to get back here more often,
but it’s reassuring to have someone closer looking out for
him.”