Some hearts only want what they can’t have… Libby Prentiss is ready to simply be herself. After half a lifetime rebelling against her privileged family’s expectations, she hopes her biological research trip to New Zealand will cut the cord for good. It doesn’t take long to spot the hopelessly amateurish spy her overprotective father has hired to keep an eye on her. Fortunately, Reece Nolan’s desperation to save his family’s pub makes it all too easy to convince him to turn double-agent. Yet there’s something different about him. His icy reserve sets her on fire…and ignites a secret yearning to let him see the mass of insecurities she hides behind her provocative persona. Where Reece is a glacier of cool self-control, his brother Colin is a hotblooded, unpredictable volcano. Libby’s instant friendship with Colin is more satisfying than anything she’s ever known—and traps her in completely foreign territory. She’s caught between one man determined to hold her at arm’s length, and another who offers her the intense connection she’s worked so hard to avoid. Something’s got to give or the fallout could tear them all apart…and put the Nolan family’s future in serious jeopardy. Warning: Contains an emotional love triangle guaranteed to launch your heart into your throat.
eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work. This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental. Samhain Publishing, Ltd. 11821 Mason Montgomery Road Suite 4B Cincinnati OH 45249 Headstrong Copyright © 2011 by Meg Maguire ISBN: 978-1-60928-677-4 Edited by Anne Scott Cover by Kanaxa All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: December 2011 www.samhainpublishing.com
Headstrong Meg Maguire
Dedication
With great thanks to Amy, this book’s first fan. Thanks also to Gerry, sweet-as pen pal, not-quite victim of my green-card scheming, sender of Almond Golds, and my living reference for all things Kiwi. As always, biggest thanks of all to my husband. May I always be your kakapo, rare and bewildering.
Chapter One
As the door swung shut on the throbbing din of the bar, Libby let the relative peace of the street envelope her. She filled her lungs with the damp fall air, relieved to be outside. Happy to be alone. Then as she set off toward home, the door opened again, the club’s rabble flaring behind her. Dread settled in, darkening her mood. “Where d’you think you’re off to?” It was the drunk Australian who’d triggered her early departure with his no-means-yes campaign of flirtation. “Gorgeous,” Libby muttered, and picked up her pace. “I said where are you off to?” His voice was far too loud in the comparable quiet of the night. Libby locked her arms over her chest, eyes fixed forward. “C’mon, don’t ignore me.” She wasn’t usually one for single entendres, but now seemed an appropriate time to be direct. “Leave me the fuck alone.” “Ooh, language.” She hugged herself tighter, didn’t turn around. She’d always thought not carrying a bag was a wise strategy for a woman who ventured out at night on her own. No purse, nothing to get mugged for. But right now, with no purse and hence no pepper spray or phone or any other feminine defense accessory at hand, she was tempted to change her tune. “Why won’t you just chat with me a minute?” her harasser slurred, closing in. Libby recalled with far too much clarity the beer-stinking heat of his breath when he’d first approached her that evening.
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Sickly streetlights illuminated the mist-dampened pavement and signposts, left them looking slimy and ominous. The whole scenario smacked of a bad TV thriller, but ambiance aside, too many people were still out and about for this to end with Libby’s kinky, brutal murder. This was simply an irritating situation. It meant admitting intimidation, at least to herself…a loathsome idea. She’d need to either seek refuge back in the bar or find a cab and make her escape on four wheels. Humiliating. “I really enjoyed watching you earlier,” the man announced, coming to flank her. “Fuck off,” Libby reiterated, and he made a grab for her upper arm. “Oi! Everything all right?” A deepish voice, the clipped, casual tone of a New Zealand accent. She turned as a cyclist glided up and hopped onto the curb beside them, halting with an authoritative squeak of his brakes. What he was doing out this late with no lights or helmet evident, Libby couldn’t guess. “I’m fine,” she said, torn between gratitude and pride. She yanked her arm away from the drunk Australian. “We’re just chatting,” he added, suddenly sounding anxious. She didn’t blame him. The cyclist dismounted his bike, and he was tall, a good two or three inches taller than Libby, which was saying something. He wasn’t built like a cyclist either—far more sturdy. He had a nearly shaved head and a handsome, broad face, marred mildly by a thin, deep scar that ran across the bridge of his nose and down one cheek. Dramatic half-sleeve tattoos of swirling dark and light patterns started at his elbows and continued over powerful arms, disappearing behind his T-shirt. He held his handlebars with one fist and fixed the obnoxious Aussie with a steady eye and a dangerous, false smile that cooled Libby’s blood.
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“Yeah, I heard you chatting. If I’m not mistaken she told you to fuck off.” Libby opened her mouth, poised to protest, then closed it again. She wouldn’t normally want rescuing, but she suspected she liked this man. She wouldn’t mind having a scary, chivalrous fellow like this on her side. A fine substitute for pepper spray. “Why don’t you mind your own business, mate?” Libby’s harasser asked coldly. “I’m making this my business, mate.” The cyclist delivered the last word with the bite of a far ruder one. “Would you hold this a moment?” he added brightly to Libby, tilting his bike toward her. She took the handlebars, and he reached behind to draw a heavy-looking steel U-lock from the back pocket of his jeans. The way he fidgeted with it in one fingerless-gloved hand, it may as well have been a mace. “Jesus, calm down.” The drunk man took a few steps back, seeming sobered by the threat. “Forget it.” He turned back toward the bar, tossing a half-glance behind him in the direction of Libby and her benevolent thug. She offered him a tiny, sneering wave then gave the cyclist a good look up and down. “Well, you’re very convenient.” Perhaps more aptly, he was intimidating…except his face. He had the kindest smile she’d ever seen. “I could have handled that, though.” “I don’t doubt it.” He replaced the lock and took his handlebars back. “Do you need an escort someplace?” “No, but I’ll let you feel like a big man. Walk me to the end of Ghuznee, if you want.” She nodded down the street. “No worries. I’m going that way anyhow.” He raised an eyebrow. “You’re American?” “Guilty. And you’re a local boy.”
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He nodded. “That asshole back there—” “I know.” Libby smiled at him. “Not one of yours.” They strolled in silence for a minute, the tall man wheeling his bike between them. “You weren’t really going to hit him, were you?” Libby eyeballed him, trying to guess the answer. He grinned and shook his head. “I’m sure you’re a very nice girl, but I don’t much fancy going to jail over you.” Still rattled from the Australian, Libby didn’t have it in her to offer a flirtatious retort on the topic of just how nice she might indeed be to this dangerous-looking man. Instead she nodded and studied his bike, a skinny, orange racing frame branded LeMond, with curved handlebars wrapped in canvas tape, glossy with layers of varnish. It was classic, from the seventies, she guessed, which made her smile. She liked older things, things with a history to them, a bit of damage. Plus it was rare to spot a non-mountain bike in Wellington given the murderous hills. Seeing such an exotic specimen left Libby momentarily homesick for Boston. “Hey, we’ve got the same shoes,” she said, looking between their matching pairs of red Chuck Taylors. He glanced down to confirm, smiled again but said nothing. They reached an intersection. “This far enough?” he asked. “Yeah, gorgeous.” Libby looked behind them then back at his orange bicycle. “Thanks, Tiger.” “Right. See you around.” He swung a long leg over his seat. “Keep yourself out of trouble, eh?”
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“I will if you’ll wear a helmet,” she replied, and watched him glide down the street and out of her life.
“I cannot emphasize enough, Mr. Nolan, that my daughter is not to be trusted.” Reece nodded his comprehension at the impeccably dressed American seated across from him. They were sequestered in a private booth in one of Wellington’s posher restaurants, a discreet rendezvous point for the unorthodox proposal. “If it’s all the same to you, Mr. Prentiss,” Reece said, “I’d prefer not to know the actual details of what it is your daughter’s done to make this…surveillance necessary. I hope that’s all right.” “I don’t see why that should be a problem. But understand this—Libby is a master manipulator. She has been her entire life,” the silver-haired businessman asserted for the fourth time in as many minutes. He clasped his manicured hands beside his untouched bisque. “Don’t get close to her, Mr. Nolan. This job is strictly from-a-distance. She gets her hooks into you and you’re as good as useless to me.” “I understand. Is she… Does she lie?” Reece asked. “Libby wouldn’t say she lies. But I find my daughter’s version of the truth to be quite different than my own, let’s say that. I believe my daughter believes every word of what she says. Fortunately for you, you won’t be getting close enough to her to hear those words.” Reece nodded again. “Of course not. Anything else I need to know before I get started?”
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Prentiss shook his dignified head, looking melancholy. He flagged the waiter with a flick of his wrist and requested the bill. “You do understand that I’ve never done anything like this before, right?” As much as Reece needed the money, he was dogged by his own experience. Or lack thereof. The older man nodded. “That is precisely why I’m interested in you, Mr. Nolan. I’ve hired pros in the past for this kind of work, and the results have been disappointing. It is my hope that you’ll have better luck, and raise fewer red flags. My daughter is…unorthodox. I think it’s time I tried hiring someone less conventional to watch her. I’m after results this time, not credentials. Here’s to hoping you deliver.” He smiled dryly and drained his wine glass. “Are you going to be seeing her, while you’re in New Zealand?” Reece asked. “No, I will not. And can you guess why, Mr. Nolan?” The question felt like a test Reece hadn’t studied for. “I’m afraid I can’t.” The waiter returned, and Prentiss counted out a handful of colorful New Zealand bills, folding them inside the check presenter before answering. “Because my daughter is an exceedingly bright girl, and she knows me well enough to guess that my presence can mean only one thing. Do you know what that thing is, Mr. Nolan?” Reece shrugged his ignorance. “That I’ve come here to hire someone like you, of course.”
Tom Prentiss’s debrief notwithstanding, Reece felt anything but prepared for the scene that greeted him when he reached the beach on the outskirts of the harbor two evenings later. The proximity of the ocean would have been
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unnerving enough on its own, and he shuddered at the hiss of the rushing waves. Then he got a grip, shoved his stupid phobia to the back of his skull and focused himself on his assignment. Reece wasn’t sure this beach was technically in Wellington, or if it was even legal for public use. It looked suspiciously like a protected reserve. And you definitely can’t build a bonfire out here. Reece felt quite certain about that, although New Zealand law wasn’t his forté. Not yet. Still, there was a fire, blazing away unattended. Strewn nearby were the makings of a one-woman beach party— cooler, folding chair, a towel and a boxy portable stereo set on a blanket. By the last rays of the fading sun, Reece could just spot the figure he assumed must be his mark out in the waves. Her father hadn’t mentioned she was a surfer. Libby Prentiss made her way to shore as the evening descended. Reece relocated behind a boulder twenty yards from the bonfire, straining to watch the proceedings through his binoculars. The fact that he’d had to borrow them from his mother was enough to leave him feeling grossly unqualified for this job. He adjusted the focus as the woman picked up her board and headed for the fire. Reece swallowed. Libby Prentiss was nothing like he’d expected. Right face—it was definitely her—but apart from that key fact this woman didn’t look at all like the one in the photo. Less Harvard honors graduate and more…mermaid from hell. She trudged up the beach, tugging the elastic from her wind-whipped ponytail and shaking it out. In the photograph Libby’s dirty-blonde hair was shoulder-length and straight, almost painfully tidy and smooth. In reality it was wild, falling to the middle of her back in thick tendrils, bleached platinum by a regimen of sun and saltwater. A couple more weeks of this and she’d have dreadlocks.
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Her face was dramatic, even in the low light and stripped of the prep-schoolperfect makeup of the photo. She had a fierce, predatory mouth that looked designed to leave marks, and even her eyebrows had an intensity about them. Her image on paper was beautiful but her actuality was far more dangerous. Libby jabbed her board into the sand and unzipped her wetsuit. Reece swallowed again. He felt like a creep, squatting near the bushes and spying on a disrobing woman. I have a professional obligation to look, he told himself, nearly believing the flimsy justification as he watched her peel the neoprene from her legs. Then Reece was suddenly staring at the sexiest woman he’d ever seen in real life. Not his type, but factually, undeniably sexy. She had on a bikini, and her body, like her face, was fierce and angular. Long and lean and intimidating. Her breasts were small, which Reece didn’t mind, though he was irked to catch himself noticing them. So much for professionalism. He breathed a sigh of relief when Libby rummaged through a duffel bag and pulled on an undershirt and a pair of baggy, drawstring pants. Reece stood, safe now in the freshly fallen darkness. He leaned against the rock he’d been hiding behind and simply watched. If he was honest with himself, she was fascinating. Like some strange creature from another planet…and in a lot of ways the States might as well be another planet. His brows rose as Libby popped a cassette tape into her stereo—he hadn’t seen one of those in years. She snapped the deck shut and nodded her head to what he recognized in a few moments as Queen’s “Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy”. She belted out the harmonic lyrics with a strong voice and no shame. Kicking her cooler open with her heel, she pulled out a half-empty wine bottle
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and tugged the cork free with her teeth. As she took a long swig, Reece wondered with alarm if she was already drunk. Reece’s phone rang. Or rather, it vibrated—he’d been a smooth enough amateur spy to set it on silent but the buzzing in his shirt pocket jangled his nerves. He kept his eyes trained on his target, wishing it would stop. How bloody long until it went to voicemail? Libby Prentiss wielded the neck of her wine bottle like a microphone, sang the song off with a flourish, and snapped the tape deck off with her toe. She turned to where Reece stood in the dark. “Hey! Pervert!” Panic trickled through his veins, and he froze, as if it could somehow fix whatever it was he’d already managed to bugger up. As if Libby Prentiss were a tyrannosaurus and he’d become invisible to her if he just stood still long enough. She took a defiant slug of wine. “I can see your phone, jackass!” Reece glanced down in time to catch the bright white screen that was illuminating his pocket go dark again. Bugger. She curled her finger, come-hither. “Come on down here, loverboy. Let me see you.” What in the hell did a spy do in this situation? Why wasn’t there a handbook? Or if there was, why hadn’t Reece been smart enough to read it? Libby reached into her bag and rummaged for a few seconds, and Reece found himself staring into the barrel of a drawn gun. “Come over here.” Libby jerked the thing a couple of times to indicate that he should join her by the fireside. Reece couldn’t find a decent reason to argue. Abandoning all pretense of suavity, he raised his hands by his ears and approached. “Jesus, don’t shoot me.”
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Number one—don’t let her see you unless it’s absolutely necessary. Ten minutes into the assignment and already Reece had broken the first rule of the contract. Libby trained the gun on him, but something in her cocked eyebrow and smirk said she hadn’t yet decided what to make of him. One thing was clear— she wasn’t impressed. “What do you want?” “Sorry. I was just passing by.” Number two—if you have to talk to her, don’t bother lying. Libby’s a savvy girl. She’ll know. “Oh, yeah? Doing what, bird-watching?” She twitched the barrel at his binoculars. Reece drew within a few paces. Libby was silhouetted by the bonfire, but she could surely see him as plain as daylight. The smell of the ocean peeled off her in waves, making Reece seasick, and he prayed he looked even half as dignified as he felt. Libby pointed the gun at her lawn chair. “Have a seat.” There was a smile in her voice—a sultry voice that promised torturous waiting culminating in unforgettable sex. Sex she would be fully in charge of. “You’re going to sit down and I’m going to call the cops.” Shit shit shit. Reece stepped backward toward the chair, facing her, hands raised. His heart was pounding and only partly on account of the gun. The cops could not come. That would ruin everything. Not just this ridiculous job—which he was fairly sure he didn’t want anymore—but far more important plans. Libby was half-cast in the light, her eyes dark and wild. It looked disturbingly as though she was enjoying herself. Reece needed a distraction. As if his luck decided to arrive, one of the branches in the bonfire split and sparked with a loud crack. Libby turned her eyes for the briefest moment, which was all Reece needed.
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Considering he executed it in sneakers, two inches deep in sand, it was a gorgeous kick. Pivoting on one foot, he spun his shoulders toward the ground and swung his back foot up in a lightning-fast arch, knocking the gun out of Libby’s hand. Snapping back into position, he was poised to tackle her if she ran. However, Libby didn’t move. Her mouth fell open, and she clasped her right hand in her left. “Holy shit—you broke my finger!” Her tone threw him, and Reece fell reflexively back into gender roles, horrified. “I’m sorry. I thought you were going to shoot me.” “Jesus, you psychopath, it was only a flare gun.” She studied her crooked digit before glaring at him. “What do you want?” A flare gun? He just got held up with a flare gun? Reece wanted out of this deal. Now. “Shit.” Libby glanced around, irritated. “Now we have to go to a hospital.” “We?” “Uh, yeah. It’s your fault my finger’s broken.” “Oh, come on—” “Here, help me with this,” Libby directed, tossing him a cardigan from beside the cooler. Against his better judgment, Reece held it up and she threaded her injured hand into the sleeve. She slipped her other arm in and turned to him. “Don’t worry, I’m not asking you to pay the hospital bill. Just give me a lift in your perv-mobile, Romeo.” “It wasn’t like that—” “You can explain on the way.” She began sweeping sand over the bonfire with her foot. “You know how to kick, right? Help me.”
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Unsure of what else to do, Reece complied, and they extinguished the fire. He wondered if he could run off under the cover of darkness and be done with all this. He heard Libby rooting through her bag. A flashlight switched on and illuminated her face as though she were about to tell a ghost story. “Where’s your car?” She aimed the beam at Reece, and he didn’t give her the satisfaction of shading his eyes. He yanked a thumb toward the road, and Libby grabbed a pair of sneakers and her stereo, seeming content to leave everything else. “Why are you bringing that?” Reece asked, pointing at the boom box. She tossed her hair. “It’s valuable.” “It’s a tape deck.” “Do you have any idea how hard it is to find one of these that still works?” She brushed past, handing him the flashlight. “Hold this.” Reece held the beam on her hands as she sat on a rock, lacing her shoes with some effort. He tried to ignore her crooked finger, guilt and panic twisting his stomach and dampening his impulse to run. They walked half a kilometer in silence to where Reece had parked. Libby Prentiss seemed exceedingly confident for a woman venturing into the darkness of a quiet road with a man she’d just caught spying on her. She stood at his side as he unlocked the passenger door, and he was shocked by how close they were in height. “This is quite the shaggin’ wagon, loverboy,” Libby said as she slid inside. “What is it? Like an ’86 Escort?” Reece felt a fresh flash of irritation and slammed her door. He climbed in to the driver’s side and started the car. “It’s an ’89 Laser.”
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Libby closed one eye, trained her good index finger at him and made a zapping noise. The odd thing was that Reece could tell that she wasn’t drunk, though she was unmistakably strange. Fearless to a fault and more than a bit flirtatious. He could see now why she needed looking after. Libby pushed the seat back for more legroom. “Must be hard to keep a white stallion like this clean,” she said conversationally, tapping a knuckle on the window. Reece clicked on the lights and eased them onto the road. “It’s got one red door,” he said, at a loss for what else to offer. “Classy.” “You’ll have to take your criticisms up with my father, if it bothers you so much.” “Maybe I will.” “Yeah, good luck with that,” he mumbled. The speed with which she’d managed to draw him into chitchat was unnerving. Libby craned her head toward the backseat. Not much to see—Reece’s gym bag plus the binoculars and a camera, and now her stereo and flashlight. Thankfully Reece had left his notes on Libby herself back at his flat. He glanced at his passenger after a couple of silent blocks. She was examining her crooked finger with interest and no apparent discomfort. “Buckle up.” She made the sort of noise that accompanies an eye-roll, but Reece heard her fumble, followed by a click. “Ten minutes ago you called me a psycho, and now you’re forcing your way into my car in the middle of nowhere,” he said. She sighed, sounding bored. “You don’t scare me, loverboy. Can we have some music?”
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“Car’s only got a dodgy cassette deck. And the radio’s busted.” The second part was a lie, but Reece didn’t feel like music just now. “Perfect.” Libby unbuckled herself and twisted her long body back between the seats. Reece heard her eject a tape. She squinted in the dashboard light to check the side before sliding it into the console. Queen came back on—“I Want to Break Free”. They drove without speaking though the track, Libby nodding her head, and when it finished the tape flipped to the next side. “We Will Rock You.” After half a bar, Freddie Mercury’s voice transformed into a long, stretched-out-sounding warble, cut off by an alarming shuffling noise as the deck began eating the tape. “Crikey.” Reece jabbed the eject button. Libby pulled out the cassette, streamers of tape still caught in the dash. “Oh, gorgeous.” “I told you it was dodgy.” “You really owe me, now. A broken finger and you’ve wrecked my album.” She tugged gently on the strands. Reece frowned. “It’s a cassette. You can take the fifty cents you’ll need to replace it out of the ashtray.” “These are becoming rare, smart-ass. It’s all CD now.” “Actually, it’s digital—” She cut him off with a theatrical sigh. “This is so not cool.” “I’ll fix it.” How had she managed to make him feel guilty about this? “You better,” she said. “How far to the hospital?” “Maybe ten minutes.” “Let’s play Twenty Questions then.” Reece felt his brows bunch in puzzlement. “No, let’s just be quiet.” “Animal, mineral or vegetable?”
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He didn’t reply. He trained his gaze on the road and blocked her out. Shit… He needed this money. Was it ruined? Or could he still pull it off? Libby had infused the car with the scent of the ocean. Distracting. Maybe if Reece could just keep from being spotted again… Libby toyed with the handle to the glove box, and Reece considered slapping her hand away. The last thing he needed was her finding out his name or address and reporting him. Luckily the latch was permanently jammed, and she gave up after a brief investigation, redirecting her prying attempts at Reece. “Well, I sincerely hope you enjoyed your free show, loverboy.” Reece didn’t rise to the bait. His passenger turned to stare at him. “Are you Australian?” This time he flinched. He was duty-bound to, nationalistically. “Not even remotely.” “Ooh, I hit a nerve. You have a weird accent for a Kiwi.” “I’ve been away for a while,” Reece muttered, hoping to put an end to the topic. Libby rolled down her window and propped an elbow up, resting her chin on her hand. The late-fall evening had grown cold, and the wind pushed her wet hair back. Reece glanced at her profile in the light of the passing streetlamps. What in the hell kind of scientist was this? That’s what her file had said. It had been sketchy at best, not the detailed spy’s dossier Reece had been naively expecting. It included her photo, the inaccurate one, and her age and general background, a rough idea of her temporary address in Wellington. He’d memorized it easily. His instructions were clear—watch her most days, take photos, report any untoward activities, follow her whenever possible. Watch what sorts of crowds she ran with. Thirty hours a week of surveillance. That was going to give Reece plenty of chances to
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get spotted again. She’d already caught him mere minutes into his first shift. How had he ever convinced himself he was qualified to do this? Well, two thousand US dollars a week was pretty convincing. He just needed to make it through, what? Twelve weeks, maybe? That might be enough to get things under control. But three months… Sitting next to Libby Prentiss now, it might as well be a lifetime. Reece turned them into the emergency department car park, grabbed Libby’s busted cassette from the dash and his jacket from the backseat. They strode through the automatic doors together, probably looking to the rest of the world like a rowing couple. Libby gave her companion a long, sideways glance as they entered the brightly lit waiting area. Damn, you are one sexy pervert. She hadn’t gotten a proper look at him on the beach. Firelight made everyone look better than normal, and the dashboard glow had been equally useless for analysis. But even now, bathed in nasty florescent light and with a frown plastered on his face, he was a stunner. Libby was tall, five-eleven in socks, which put him right around six feet. He wore a look of cool placidity that didn’t evidence the agitation she’d hoped to cause him. A couple of snappy comments on the drive were not the level of discomfort she’d been aiming for. Either he was a robot, or her charms were finally failing her. Or he was gay. Shame. But what would a gay guy be doing spying on her in her two-piece? Plus he wasn’t quite styled enough to fit that particular stereotype. He had short brown hair, stylishly messy, but she didn’t suspect he’d spent any time
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constructing that look. He also had the beginnings of what might soon blossom into a receding hairline. He met her stare, and his eyes were something else—pale gray like a rain cloud, ringed in darker gray. Steady. Icy. Wide open, even half-lidded. Libby wasn’t accustomed to studying a man this close up who wasn’t visibly frazzled. Her mystery man preceded her to the check-in desk and addressed the receptionist. “My…friend has a broken finger. And do you have a pencil I could borrow?” “How about a biro?” “No, I need a pencil,” he said. The receptionist handed Libby a clipboard. “Was it an accident?” His posture at her side tightened, and she gave him a cold glance. “Never fear, Lancelot,” she muttered, then turned to the receptionist. “It was an accident, yes.” She took the forms and a pen, and found a seat in the corner. She heard him say, “No, that won’t work. Do you have one of the old kind? With edges?” He joined her a minute later, leaving an empty seat between them. You’ll want a bigger buffer than that, Libby thought. She sighed. “It’s so hard to write without my index finger.” Her companion gave her no sign of acknowledgment—he had cold indifference down to a science. He drew Libby’s damaged cassette from his jeans’ pocket and smoothed the crumpled tape against his thigh. Sticking a faceted yellow pencil through the hole, he wound the black tangle onto its spool and handed it to her. Libby accepted it with a flirtatious smile. “Thanks, loverboy.” He stood. “Good luck with your finger. Sorry again, about…everything.” “Whoa, now—you don’t think you’re ditching me, do you?”
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He blinked. “I said I’d give you a ride. I said I’d fix your tape. I’d have paid if you needed me to. There’s no reason for me to be here.” “How will I get back?” “How did you get all your stuff out there in the first place?” “I got a ride from an acquaintance. I was going to camp out, but then some pervert showed up and busted my finger. It sort of sucked all the fun out of my evening.” He dug out his wallet and held out two twenties. “Here, take a taxi. Good luck.” She left him dangling. “You’re not going anywhere. You’re staying with me until I’m fixed, and then you’re driving me back to where all my things are.” “No, I’m not.” He was calm. Unnervingly calm, not a jot of alarm or distress. Infuriating. And adorable. “You don’t honestly think forty bucks is enough?” Libby asked loudly, causing several people to crane their necks and stare, sizing up her companion with his proffered bills as some sordid breed of patron. Finally, he gave away some anxiety. “Jesus, keep it down.” “You’re staying. You owe me that much. You were spying on me in my scanties and you broke my frigging finger. You can’t just leave me here.” “Well, I am,” he said. “This whole night was a mistake. I’m sorry. I’ll get your stereo and then I’m leaving.” She sighed. “I really thought we shared something special tonight, lover.” He started to walk away and Libby hopped to her feet. “N-H-five-four-ninefour.” He turned. “Pardon me?” “That’s your plate number, Kojak. If you leave me I’ll call the cops and report you as a peeping Tom. And I’ll tell them you assaulted me. Which you did.”
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“Are you cracked?” Libby widened her eyes innocently. “A ride home’s not that much to ask.” He blinked a couple times. Goddamn, what a sexy face. Was it the perfect eyebrows? The stern but inviting mouth? Or was it simply the glaring lack of sexual interest she saw coming out of those clear, chilly eyes? “Fine.” He sat in dignified defeat, grabbing a cricket magazine off a nearby chair and giving it his full attention. I win. Libby smiled to herself. I always win. Reece glanced up as Libby reappeared in the waiting room, sauntering toward him. She smiled her wide, wicked smile and twitched her now cast-clad finger at him in a wave. He felt a pang of nausea and took a steadying breath. As she reached him, her eyebrow rose. “Didn’t run off, then?” “Where am I taking you?” “Back to the beach to get my stuff, then home. Not far.” She grinned in a way that made Reece fear she must live somewhere nearish the ninth circle of Hell. “Fine.” “Would you like to sign my cast?” He ignored her. The doors glided open and they stepped into the cool night air. His provocative passenger spent most of the drive staring out the window. Reece had had little else to do while Libby had been with the doctor aside from think, and even though he knew it wasn’t a hired spy’s modus operandi, he couldn’t help himself. “I’m sorry about all this,” he said quietly. Only as the words escaped did he feel the cold, sickening dread ooze into his stomach. What had her father said? That girl cannot be given the upper hand. Not under any circumstances.
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Libby turned to stare at him, a cat eyeing a bird on an open windowsill. “You’re not sorry, loverboy. But you will be.”
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Chapter Two
The door to Paul Nolan’s Pub swung in at precisely ten o’clock. Colin folded and stowed his newspaper, and straightened up behind the taps as his older brother stepped inside. Waving to a couple of the regulars, Reece tossed his gym bag on the floor beside a stool. He took a seat, propping his elbows on the bar and burying his face in his hands. “What’ll it be, old-timer?” Reece glanced up, misery etched all over his normally unreadable face. “A half. No, a pint. Maybe a whiskey.” “Spying’s thirsty work then.” Colin poured him a lager. “How did you get on?” “It was singly the most I have ever buggered anything up in my entire life.” “That’s not saying much. You’ve never buggered anything up before.” Reece ignored the remark. “So, tell me about it.” Colin leaned on the bar. “Was she as hot as the photo? All wholesome pearls and twinsets?” “She was nothing like the photograph.” “Maybe you were spying on the wrong girl,” Colin offered. “No, it was her. But she’s insane.” “Ooh, definitely hot, then.” “No. And she caught me. In like, five minutes. I think I’ve fucked this up already.”
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“Bad luck. Sounded too good to be true, anyhow. Back to square one, eh? You can always sell your body. Can’t be worse punishment than it takes now. Oh, and incidentally, if you’re looking for hot American girls to spy on, I bumped into a stunner the other night on Ghuznee.” Reece wasn’t listening. “Do you reckon I should bother trying again? If I can manage to not be seen? I mean, she doesn’t know who I am or anything…although she’s seen the Laser.” Reece’s gaze drifted to Colin’s bike, propped inside the front door. “Don’t even think about it.” Reece took a long drink, looking hopeless. “Reecie, I have never seen you doubt yourself before. It’s deeply disturbing.” “It was a very weird night.” Reece swiveled his glass on its coaster. “Shit. The money is so good, though.” “Good if the cops don’t find out, you mean,” Colin said. “A quick fix is one thing. Wrecking your big picture is another.” “Yeah.” “Why not sleep on it? Maybe things will look a bit less pear-shaped in the morning.” Reece blew out a loaded breath. “I just spent three hours in the emergency department. They can’t possibly look any worse than they do right now.” “Crikey, you all right?” Colin looked his brother up and down, searching for an injury, aside from the obvious one to his ego. “Yeah, I’m fine.” “Crikey,” Colin repeated. “You have no idea.”
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A long expanse of blue-gray ocean signaled the start of the punishing wind on Oriental Parade. Reece hated this stretch of his morning run, but the brutal gusts had little to do with it. He fixed his eyes on the sidewalk and the road, anywhere but the water. He passed the marina, its rows of boats making his stomach churn with the unmade decision weighing on him. A minute later the sounds of rhythmic scuffing began on the pavement behind him, then grew. Reece was a fast runner. Whoever it was would have to be sprinting to overtake him so suddenly. Footsteps reached and flanked him, and Reece looked to his side. His heart jolted. Libby Prentiss, matching him beat for beat in jeans and canvas sneakers. Thick silver bracelets jingled at her wrists, and a lidded paper cup splashed coffee over the tiny white cast on her index finger. Shit. She’d caught Reece twice in twelve hours, and he wasn’t even spying this time. He slowed. “What do you want?” “I know who you are.” Libby huffed with the effort of keeping his pace. Her long hair flapped behind her, the flag of an approaching pirate ship looking to pillage. Reece met her eyes. “I said I was sorry. I said I’d leave you alone. What do you want?” “Oh,” she said, scanning him from head to toe. “Plenty.” “How did you find me?” “Me? Find you? Like you don’t know where I live,” Libby said. “Like I believe you practically running through my front yard is just an amazing coincidence.” Ah, right. “And my finger is feeling much better, thanks for asking.”
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Reece ignored the provocation. “I know who you are,” she repeated. “Reece Nolan.” He stopped dead in his tracks, chest heaving under his sweat-soaked T-shirt. The harsh wind coming off the ocean stung his face, and he squinted. “How do you know that?” “You know who I am. Why shouldn’t I have the same advantage?” Libby held his gaze and licked the coffee off the back of her hand. Her hair whipped around, and the fact that their eyes were nearly level was disconcerting. “How did you—” “It’s not rocket science, loverboy. Your little Bruce Lee move. I googled ‘Wellington martial artist’ and your picture came up in like the first five entries. Lucky me. Reece Nolan, national tae kwon do champion and finalist for a multitude of years.” She waved her hand grandly as she rattled off his distinctions. “The internet still thinks you’re teaching in England, but your family’s from Kaiwharawhara.” Her pronunciation was impeccable. Reece locked his arms over his chest. “Just tell me what you want.” “How come you didn’t end up going to the Olympics, Mr. Nolan? You were slated to compete for New Zealand but withdrew for personal reasons a week before the second-to-last Summer Games started.” Reece ran a hand across his jaw, never breaking their eye contact, though he feared his discomfort was evident. The wind howled. “Level with me.” Her expression turned scheming. “I know what you’re doing. My dad’s hired you, hasn’t he?” Reece pushed a breath through his nose and glanced condemningly to one side. “I knew it! My goddamn father.” She gave him another savage, appraising look. “He’s really getting desperate.”
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Reece snapped his gaze back to hers, irritated. Libby crossed one long arm over her ribs and pointed her cup at him. “If you’re trying to get dirt on me, don’t bother. I’m not doing anything wrong.” “I’m not trying to get dirt,” he fibbed. “I’m just supposed to keep an eye on you. And make sure you stay safe—” Libby snorted. “That’s so insulting. You must know I’m twenty-eight.” “I was just trying to do a job. It doesn’t matter now anyway—you can go and tell your old man you know who I am. I’m only in this for the money. The jig’s up. I get it.” “I never said I was going to tell anybody, loverboy.” She sipped her coffee. “There might be something in this for me, too.” “I’m not interested in bargaining with you. Just forget it.” He tossed his hands up in surrender. “I’m out. You’re twisted, you and your father both.” “This from the man lurking in the bushes.” Libby cocked her head and narrowed her eyes in a way that equaled sex in some odd, irrefutable way. Her tongue flirted with the corner of her lips. “You give up so easily.” Reece kept his cool. “I’ll see you,” he said, meaning just the opposite. Yank nutters. He resumed his jog. At least the question of whether or not to continue this ridiculous assignment was settled. Libby kept his pace and he looked her over. Not lasciviously—with calculation. Libby leered back, definitely lascivious. “What do you need the money for?” He let the remark pass, as well as the nauseous gurgle it triggered in his gut. He addressed her shoes instead. “You shouldn’t run in Chuck Taylors.” “Rocky Balboa did.” “You’ll wreck your ankles.” “Look at me shaking.”
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He frowned. “I just want to be left alone, Libby.” Her tone went saccharine, fake and overly sweet even through the panting. “Oh, you weren’t looking for company? Funny, I wasn’t looking for company the other night on the beach. I know just how you feel.” “Look, I’m sorry. I was just trying to do a job. It wasn’t personal. I don’t have anything against you.” “Would you like to?” “I said I’m sorry. Can we please leave it at that?” “Why don’t you meet me for a quiet chat this week? Thursday night?” She told him an address on Ghuznee Street. “I’m there every week.” Reece let his silence make his supreme disinterest crystal clear. “Just remember the money,” she said. “I won’t tell my father what I know yet… So where are you in such a hurry to get off to?” Reece ignored her. “Rudeness doesn’t become you, Agent Nolan. I may be your future coconspirator, after all.” “I’ve got six kilometers left before I have to be at work,” Reece snapped. “Oh, well don’t let me keep you.” Libby cast him a final ruthless look before letting him get away. “I’ll see you around, loverboy,” she called in a fading voice, then shouted the address again. “Every Thursday!” Bloody brilliant.
“This is such a bad idea.” Reece stared into the dark interior of the noisy club and realized he’d been led here under false pretenses. There’d be no quiet chats taking place here. “Karaoke night, mate.” Colin grinned his approval, scanning the venue.
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“This is a mistake.” Reece glanced around, scouting for Libby’s unruly white-blonde mane through the crowd. It was only eight but the night was already promising to grow to chaotic proportions. On the stage, at the far end of the club, a university-aged kid was belting out a tone-deaf rendition of “My Way”. “Could she have meant upstairs? Maybe she’s got a flat above the pub.” Colin’s face said he hoped this wasn’t the case. Reece could sense him selecting tracks in his mind. “Very moving, thank you, Sanjay!” the DJ announced over the speakers as the kid descended to polite applause and beer-fueled hoots from his friends. Reece felt a headache brewing between his eyes. “She’s not here. Let’s forget it. It was a joke—” “Libby,” the DJ shouted. “Gimme, gimme, gimme some ABBA, sweetheart!” Reece’s head jerked up, and he spotted Libby’s unmistakably tall frame wending between the high tables to the stage. The crowd clapped and cheered. “Blimey, is that her?” Colin looked shocked. “I know her…sort of. I met her last week. Right outside here.” Reece shuddered, knowing the list of women his younger brother might remember in such a vague but meaningful way was considerable. “That was really her photo?” Colin asked. Libby had on the same jeans and red high-tops as when she’d accosted Reece during his jog. She also wore a track jacket, red with white piping, zipped up into a turtleneck. She was all long limbs and wild hair, messy tendrils bouncing as she ascended the steps. She wasn’t made up or dressed sexily, but the audience made it sound as if she were. “Hang on, baby,” she breathed into the mic, addressing the DJ. He paused the opening notes of “Gimme! Gimme! Gimme!” The club went near-silent as
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Libby dug in her jeans’ pocket and extracted a tube of lipstick, drawing a scarlet smile onto her otherwise nude face. She pocketed it and spoke in a voice ten times more seductive than before. “Thanks, Tim. Lay it on me.” The crowd whooped. Libby Prentiss was a ringmaster—she made karaoke night feel like a burlesque and she hadn’t sung a note yet. The song began again, and she slid the mic from its stand, holding it with both hands. “Why do you always give me this white-girl shit?” she asked the DJ over the intro to scattered laughter. The audience seemed to know what they were in for. Reece shifted anxiously from foot to foot. Libby swallowed a deep breath, and the voice of a formidable black woman from Memphis erupted from her throat. It was ABBA, as sung by Gladys Knight. How a bony white chick in an Adidas jacket could produce that kind of sound, Reece could not comprehend. “Holy hell, Reece,” Colin said, summing up the experience perfectly. Libby made the bar feel like a stadium. She owned the hundred people in the audience and turned them into an ocean of fans. It wasn’t effortless—it took her whole body. Even from all the way across the room, Reece could see her throat vibrating with the sound, her eyes clenched tight and head thrown back to create this experience. Libby straightened up during the song’s slap-bass interlude, ran her hand over her forehead to mock-mop her brow of sweat. She smiled exuberantly and squinted out over the crowd. Her eyes locked on Reece, and a grin engulfed her face. “I’d like to dedicate this song to a very special new guy in my life,” she purred into the mic. “My very own man after midnight, Reece Nolan. Take a bow, lover!” She aimed her cast-clad finger across the room at him.
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Reece went numb as club goers craned their heads to stare. Colin smiled and hooked his thumb to the side to indicate which of them deserved this humiliation. Reece kept his face as blank as possible, praying he might magically disappear. After a minute that felt suspiciously like an eternity, Libby finished her song and left the stage to thunderous applause. A timid-looking girl replaced her and began to fumble through a current pop hit. “Jesus, Reece,” Colin murmured. “I didn’t realize you were stalking Disco Barbie.” “We’re going. This is a wind-up. She didn’t want to talk, she just wanted to get even.” “How paranoid do you sound? Give her a chance to explain. She seemed normal enough when I met her.” Colin looked eager for the opportunity to examine Libby up close again. “No way.” “Jesus,” Colin repeated. “She’s like a flipping siren or something.” “More like a banshee. Get your jacket.” “I’m still wearing it.” “Right.” Reece hated that he was getting flustered. He couldn’t give Libby Prentiss that satisfaction. “Buy you a drink?” Reece turned to his side, and she’d materialized, looking as if she’d been standing at the bar for hours. “What the hell, Libby?” She smiled innocently. “I’m so glad you came out.” She looked to Reece’s other side, and her expression brightened as she gave Colin a double take. “My my my. If it isn’t my gallant knight…?”
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He stepped forward and offered his hand. “Colin. Reece’s brother. Nice to meet you properly, Libby.” Libby’s lips gave a little twitch at “brother”. “Ditto. How nice of you to introduce us,” she added unctuously to Reece and shook the younger Nolan’s hand, her injured finger sticking out above his grip, bracelets jangling. “That was choice,” Colin offered. “Oh, that was nothing.” She slipped her hair behind her ears with a precision that made it seem as though she were removing an article of clothing. Reece kept himself cold. “We have to head out. I thought you wanted to talk about something, but I was obviously mistaken.” He said the last word in a way that plainly translated to “lied to”. “Don’t go yet—I do want to talk. I just didn’t think you’d come so early. Colin, do you sing?” She turned all her attention away from Reece, and he knew he was doomed to this. “Sure thing. Reece, grab me a drink?” Colin added as Libby steered him off toward the DJ’s table. “Bugger.” Libby returned minutes later, Colin nowhere in sight. “Are you sure you’re brothers?” she asked, sidling up to Reece. “What’s he up to?” “I don’t know, he didn’t let me see what he picked.” God, there’s two of them. Reece took a fortifying breath. The chaos and charisma of Libby was bad enough on its own, but to add— “Colin!” the DJ announced.
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Reece watched his brother trot fearlessly up the steps and slide the mic stand higher. Reece had an idea what this might be about, and he couldn’t say he wasn’t looking forward to it, just a tiny bit. He could use a laugh. Sure enough, the twangy bass of “She’s a Lady” started up, and it was like seeing Colin as a teenager again, all boundless energy and bravado. “Holy crap. He does a mean Tom Jones,” Libby said. What Colin could do was practically an impersonation, hips and all. It ran completely counter to his intimidating shell. “Where did he learn to do that?” Reece was enjoying this enough to submit to small talk. He even cracked a tight smile. “He’s been doing that since he was twelve. At first to make fun of our mum, who’s in love with Tom Jones. He’s gotten sort of good at it over the years.” “I’ll say. What are you going to sing?” Libby turned to stare at Reece over the rim of her wine glass. “Shove off.” “Actually, I should. I think I’m up next.” She flashed him a million-dollar smile and slipped back into the crowd. Reece was resigned to another hour of flamboyant torture as Libby evaded him and Colin refused to leave. Downing glass after glass of soda, he watched with fascination masquerading as apathy when Libby and his brother collaborated in a makeshift duet of David Bowie’s “Suffragette City” that brought the house down. Agreeing to let Colin come had been a huge mistake. Reece knew this girl was a black widow but Colin hadn’t even spotted the web yet—he was enjoying the struggle far too much. He returned to the bar after the song wrapped, looking
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energized as he accepted the glass Reece held out. “Cheers. Holy hell, she is something else, eh?” “We’ve got to go. Finish your drink.” Colin turned to stare at him, brow furrowed. “What is your bloody problem, mate? She’s a right laugh. We should invite her ’round.” “Oh, fuck no.” “Why not?” “She’s a flipping wing-nut. There’s something…off about her.” “You’re paranoid. She’s just American. Americans are always a little loopy.” “Trust me on this one. Please. I do not want her knowing where we live—” “Allllllright!” the DJ boomed over their argument as another song ended. “Libby, you got another one in you? I thought so!” Libby jogged from the table she’d been chatting to and up onto the stage. “Whatchoo got for me, baby?” she asked through the mic in a sassy black woman’s voice. The DJ fiddled with his console and “Chain of Fools” came on, sending the audience into rapturous hoots of excitement. Reece couldn’t pretend he wasn’t a little blown away. The sounds that came out of this lanky girl were shocking. She sang Aretha Franklin better than Aretha Franklin. Well…maybe not quite, but at this moment, it sure felt that way. Libby wrapped her song, panting. “I’m done, Timmy. You’ve broken me.” The crowd groaned its disappointment as she hopped down, blowing an appreciative kiss toward the DJ. She grabbed her glass from the edge of the stage and made a beeline to the Nolans. She glanced between their matching tumblers of soda. “You boys sure know how to cut loose.”
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“I don’t drink. Or drive.” Colin nodded to Reece. “And he doesn’t drink and drive.” She smirked. “Such good little Boy Scouts.” Reece cut in. “You told me to meet you for a quiet chat. Is this a wind-up?” “I’ve forgotten what it was I wanted to talk about.” Libby smiled way-toosweetly in an imitation of an apology. “But since you’re here, I could use a ride home.” “Where do you live?” Colin asked, before Reece could tell her to go to hell, in about as many words. “Off Oriental Parade.” Reece cut in. “You can walk.” “Jesus, Reece,” Colin said. “It’s practically raining out,” Libby added with an intentionally obnoxious, plaintive curl of her lip. “Not even close. You’ve wasted enough of my time already tonight.” Colin set his glass on the bar. “Reece, it’s a five-minute ride. Let’s just drop her off, eh?” “Yeah, Reece, let’s just drop me off. I do want a chat after. A real quick one.” Knowing he was outnumbered, Reece did the math and decided the time lost on the ride would be less than the time spent arguing about the ride. He fixed Libby with a steady, neutral eye. “Fine.” “Excellent. Just let me settle my tab.” She flashed an amazingly sincerelooking smile, white teeth framed in that deadly mouth. Colin turned as she disappeared toward the other end of the bar. “Crikey, Reece, what is your problem?” “She is. You don’t know her. She’s a nutter.” “She’s got you all flustered,” Colin said, grinning his approval.
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“She hasn’t. But she’s got you by the balls, and you’ve known her an hour.” “Mate, she’s got to be by far the hottest woman you’ve ever talked to.” “That’s not true,” Reece said. “And she’s way too…too much. I’m not interested. And neither are you. I don’t want to speak to her ever again after this flipping ride.”
Reece kept his eyes and brain focused on the road as the Laser made its way down Taranaki Street. “How in the hell did you do that?” Colin asked Libby from the backseat. “Sing like that?” “It’s my secret super power,” she replied, a smug grin in her voice. “Impressive.” “Yeah, but I won’t be able to talk tomorrow.” “Still,” Colin said. “That was choice, eh, Reece? I can’t believe I’ve gone my whole life without ever doing karaoke before.” Libby whipped her head around, hair nearly catching Reece in the face. “You haven’t? Damn, you’re a natural.” “Not compared to some,” Colin countered. Reece wished they’d stop flirting. “Reece has secret powers as well,” Libby cooed. “His little ninja trick broke my most useful finger.” Reece saw her raise her cast in his periphery. “You what?” Colin grabbed the back of Reece’s seat and pulled himself near to his shoulder. “What is wrong with you?” “It’s more complicated than that,” Reece said. “And we’re not discussing it.” Libby settled back into her seat. “It was an unprovoked attack,” she murmured, pure evil.
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Reece felt his irritation gain control for a moment and laughed coldly. “Right.” “That’s pretty effed up, Reece,” Colin said. “Let’s all just be quiet.” They were, for a couple of minutes, until the waterfront came into view. Reece swallowed. “Where do you live, Libby?” Colin asked as they approached the docks. “Boat.” “Houseboat? Flash.” “Not exactly.” She directed Reece to park near the marina. “Can you hang on, Colin? I just need to borrow your charming brother for a minute.” “Do whatever you want with him,” Colin offered with gracious innuendo. “Anything you need to say to me, you can say here,” Reece said, hands wrapped firmly around the wheel. “It’s quite private,” Libby said with a twinge of the boudoir in her voice. “I’ll be quick. Please?” She was already halfway out the door. “No.” Colin exited the car, opened the driver’s door and yanked Reece out by the arm. He pushed the lock down, slammed the door, and slid into the backseat again. Reece heard Colin’s and then Libby’s doors click and knew he was locked out. “Your brother’s on my side,” Libby drawled. Reece narrowed his eyes, true anger welling. “Stay away from my brother.” “Chill out, loverboy.” The vixen quality drained from her tone. “Let’s just chat, okay?”
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He gave her a warning look and walked down the main dock, fighting every flight instinct in his being. Libby followed. “What is it?” he demanded when they were well away from the car. The sound of the waves made his heart race. “Have you told my father to go fuck himself yet?” Libby asked, businesslike. “No.” “Well, good. I have a counteroffer for you.” Reece stopped walking and turned to face her. “Whatever my father’s paying you, I’ll give you another twenty percent on top of it. Weekly, or whatever it is.” Reece couldn’t hide his curiosity, or his desperation. “What’s in it for you?” “You’ll document me on my terms. When I know about it. We’ll meet up, and I’ll let you photograph me or videotape me or whatever he’s got you doing, but how I want. Doing normal shit. Grocery shopping, surfing, whatever. He’ll be happy, because you’ll prove that I’m staying out of trouble. I’ll be happy, because I’m in control. You’ll be happy, because you get to keep his money plus mine. It’s a win-win-win situation.” Reece shook his head. “I can’t lie to your father.” “My father’s a twisted old control freak who’s never earned anybody’s loyalty, and what he doesn’t know will keep you paid. Otherwise, I’m telling him I know all about you, and then nobody’s happy.” “I can’t do that.” “You don’t have to decide yet. Give it a couple days. A couple more days on his payroll, to think about whatever it is you want that money for. And a couple more days to realize I’m fully capable of making your life miserable if you don’t see my reason.” She reached out and ran her fingers over the collar of Reece’s jacket.
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He glared and plucked her hand away. “I can be extremely pleasant when we’re on the same side, lover. If you want to negotiate, come find me on a Thursday, or here, in my little blue boat.” She aimed her broken finger down the dock. “Or perhaps I’ll find you first,” she added with a smirk. “You’re cracked. You can’t blackmail me into blackmailing you.” “I can do a lot of things that might surprise you,” she said, wide lips pursing. “Drive safe. Maybe talk it over with your brother?” With that, Libby turned and flounced off into the night.
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Chapter Three
What a shitty Monday this was shaping up to be. Libby trudged through the downtown Wellington lunchtime bustle on Willis Street. A gorgeous day, sunny and unseasonably warm for late June but gloomy in spite of it all. A whole weekend gone and no sign of Reece Nolan. If this kept up she’d have no choice but to do some actual work. She’d felt sure her offer was irresistible. But now three days had passed, wasted, spent acting normal, doing unobjectionable normal-people things just in case that handsome glacier of a man was still watching her. Being respectable was such a strange way to go about one’s life…but even if it equaled admitting defeat, Libby didn’t want to give her father cause for concern. Her resources were impressive, but they were nothing compared to his. A cyclist whipped past on a slim orange bike, weaving between the cars and curb. Libby knew those red shoes…knew them well as she knew her own, quite literally. “Colin!” He slowed, trapped behind a boarding bus, and when he turned at Libby’s shout, Colin’s face lit up. Flipping his bike around, he glided back, hopping himself onto the sidewalk and startling pedestrians. “Gidday, Libby?” He parked beside her and leaned on his handlebars, blocking the flow of the walking traffic and irritating harried businessmen. He had on cargo shorts and a black zip-up jacket, a brimmed racing cap over his
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buzzed hair. A long portfolio tube was slung diagonally across his back, strapped down by the flap of a canvas messenger bag. Libby smiled. “Hey, stranger. Where are you off to?” “Near Lambton. Delivery.” He tapped the cargo on his back. “Courier?” He nodded. “I’ve got nothing on after this one, far as I know. You fancy a coffee?” Libby perked up for the first time since Thursday. “Sure.” “Excellent.” He nodded to the café a block behind them. “Give me five minutes? Order me a flat white.” He was already back in motion, disappearing into traffic like a trolling shark, the bike a reckless extension of his body. Libby had just enough time to secure them a table near a window and order two coffees. The waitress delivered them as Colin entered, bike propped on his shoulder. He leaned it against the wall and lifted his brim at the barista who’d made their drinks. The girl smiled back, then soured abruptly when he sat opposite Libby. Colin tugged off his cycling gloves, and Libby noted that, like his brother, he wore no wedding ring. “Ta,” he said, sliding his cup and saucer across the table. “You always drag your bike around, everywhere you go?” “I don’t leave it out when I can help it. You have no idea how many hours I spent rebuilding that bloody thing.” He squinted a hateful eye at it. Libby grinned at him. “You’d be right at home in Boston.” She pictured the aggressive types who risked their necks on two wheels in the Financial District and across the river in Cambridge.
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He took a drink, then set the cup down with a sigh and stretched his neck from side to side. “So what’s the good word, Libby?” “I think the barista likes you.” Colin didn’t even bother glancing at the counter. “What’s not to like?” His arrogance was clearly a put-on. He picked up his cup and gazed over the rim with kind eyes. His irises were lit by the sun coming through the window, shining bright blue-green. He was every bit as handsome as his brother, but more dramatic—dark brows and eyelashes, and that scar. Libby had spotted others as well, hidden now by his cap, a couple of long, thin lines that interrupted the otherwise even shadow of his hair. He also had a tattoo Libby hadn’t noticed before, black writing across his neck, obscured by the collar of his hoodie. “So what are you up to this fine day?” he asked. “Keeping out of trouble?” “I was just on my way to type up some research at the university.” “What sort of research?” She waved a hand self-aggrandizingly. “Oh, all about the potential chemical applications of the bioluminescent properties of the arachnocampa.” “Glowworms?” She nodded. “You’d be amazed by the sorts of nonsense you can get grant money to come and study.” “Bugger me, I wouldn’t have pinned you for a scientist.” “I’m sure you’d pin me if you could,” Libby murmured. Colin smirked, not taken in. “You’re a cute one.” He leaned back in his chair with the air of cowboy poised to light a cigarette. He was the sort of handsome that hit women over the head like a mallet or a stiff drink, one of those men whose easy smile promised extremely enjoyable trouble. A man no father would approve of, especially not Libby’s.
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“Why glowworms?” he asked. She swirled her coffee in its cup. “Well, they’re pretty fascinating. My master’s is in biochemistry and it’d be a good start for a PhD… But to be honest, it meant I could wrangle a six-month semi-paid vacation in your gorgeous country.” He looked impressed. “As long as you’re doing it on your country’s dollar… Shouldn’t you be up in Otorohanga or someplace?” “I might get up there…but the folks at the Karori Sanctuary agreed to give me all the access and expertise I want. Plus I like it in Wellington. It reminds me of Boston, actually.” “Well, lucky Wellington—oh, shit.” Colin set his cup down and fished in a pocket, pulling out a buzzing pager and scanning its screen. “Duty calls?” “Sadly.” He replaced the device and drained his cup. “Did you see the forecast? There’s meant to be a whopping great storm coming in. I hope you’ve got someplace besides the marina to crash.” “I’ll figure something out.” “Well, you should come up to Kaiwharawhara some night, to the pub. Our family owns it. I’m working tonight actually, from six onward. I’ll slip you a free pint for the coffee, and we’ve got a roomy couch if you’re looking to dock on dry land. I’m sure Reece would love the surprise.” He pulled out his wallet and extracted a business card. He borrowed a pen from the counter, scribbling, and the barista pretended not to watch. Colin stood before Libby and held the card up, displaying the side with his handwriting. “That’s the pub.” He flipped it over to the printed side. “And that’s the courier dispatch, if you’re ever on Victoria Street and you need something.” Libby took it. “Thanks.”
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“I’ll see you around.” His warm grin gave him a dimple on one side. “You should be wearing a helmet,” she reminded him. “And you shouldn’t be getting into cars with strange men like my brother.” He headed for the door. “Come back for karaoke some Thursday!” Libby called to his back. “I need a good duet partner.” “Your wish is my command. But I hope to see you sooner.” Colin tipped his hat and carried his bike down the front steps. Libby watched through the window as he careened off the sidewalk and into traffic. She glanced down at the card and smiled. Monday was looking distinctly better.
Reece switched off the Laser’s ignition and dragged his exhausted body into the pub just as the streetlights came on. He dumped his gym bag in the corner and turned to greet his mother, who was chatting to a lone patron. Oh, you have to be winding me up. Libby was perched on a stool at the center of the bar, talking to his mum. She swiveled and flashed him a pageant-queen grin, a glass of their abysmal house merlot perched primly in her palm. “Reece, your friend Libby’s stopped by,” his mother announced. A look of pure delight twinkled in her eye, asking Reece if this might be her future daughter-in-law. “Yes, apparently she has.” He kept his face unreadable. “Hi, Libby.” “Marjorie was just telling me all about your childhood, Reece,” Libby said in a voice he didn’t trust one bit. “Were you really petrified of the tooth fairy?” “May I speak to you in private?” he asked coldly.
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“Of course.” Libby slid off her stool. Reece dragged her by the elbow to the corner by the jukebox. “What are you doing here? And why are you on a first-name basis with my mother?” “I tried to call her Mrs. Nolan but she wouldn’t let me—” “Come off it, Libby. What is this? Are you stalking me or something?” “I think you’ll find you’ve got that backward.” Her breath smelled of peppermint. “Your charming brother invited me, actually. There’s a storm coming tonight. A big one.” “Yeah, I know. What’s your point?” “And your mother said it was okay, didn’t you, Marjorie?” Libby added over Reece’s shoulder. “Oh yes! Very smart of you to ask,” his mother called back. “She’s a very clever girl, Reece. Did you know Libby went to Harvard?” “Yes, thank you, Mum.” He turned back to Libby. “What in the flipping hell are you on about?” “Chill out, lover. You’re all sweaty.” She smiled her approval. Reece stared her down. “I can’t stay in my boat tonight,” she said. “There’s practically a hurricane on the way.” “Well, you can’t stay here, either. We’re…you and me. We’re not anything. Leave me alone. And my family.” “Libby.” Colin came down the stairs that led to the flat above the pub and spotted them in the corner. “Oh hey, Reece. Libby, for games we’ve got Trivial Pursuit from, like, 1985, and we’ve got Jenga.” “Gorgeous. Thanks, Tiger.” Reece turned on her and mouthed “Tiger?” He pointed to the door. “Get out.”
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“Reece.” Her eyes were suddenly, unmistakably sincere. “I don’t have anywhere to go. Please?” “Ever heard of a hotel? You’ve got the money.” “Yeah, but I’m lonely. I’m spooked. I don’t have any real friends in Wellington. And I took the bus all the way up here.” She scanned the jukebox’s selections, not meeting Reece’s stare. He wondered if that thing even worked anymore—it was ancient, purchased in the early eighties, the kind that still had actual records in it. One of their father’s “half-arsed attempts to class the place up”, as their mother would say. “It’s getting late,” Libby said, still not meeting Reece’s eyes. “Please? Just let me use your couch. I’ll forget the whole Peeping Tom thing.” “You should have done already. You know that’s not why I was there.” “Uh-huh, because what you were really doing was so astoundingly altruistic.” She raised her head. “Please, Reece?” He trained his eyes on the ceiling and exhaled. “Do not talk to me.” He aimed himself toward the bar. “Is that a yes?” Libby asked his back. He didn’t reply, addressing his mother instead. “Half a lager please, Mum.” He sat down and ran his hands over his face. “Good day?” “Quiet,” his mother said glibly, setting the beer before him. “As usual. How were your classes?” “Good.” He was agitated beyond words. “I’ve got to go shower.” He left the untouched glass on the bar and grabbed his bag on the way upstairs. “What about Libby?” his mother asked. “Libby will be fine on her own, won’t you, Libby?” He shot their guest a warning look and departed.
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A handful of quiet drinkers had arrived in the last hour, and most of them were now staring at the television mounted behind the bar, at the uneventful national news. Rendered shy by her encounter with Reece, Libby had sequestered herself at a corner table, half-invested in a newspaper she’d found there. Reece had disappeared for his shower a good long while ago, and Marjorie had bid everyone a good night at six sharp, leaving Colin on duty. Colin caught Libby’s attention from across the room, and his smile drew her over. She sat at the bar, setting her duffel bag with its many international flag patches on the stool beside her. “Ahoy there, Odysseus,” Colin said. “That’s quite a passport you’ve got.” “I’m a bit of a transient.” Colin glanced to the front windows, where rain was already pelting. “It’s really pissing out. Good thing you came ashore.” “Yeah, thanks.” Libby knew she sounded uncharacteristically timid but for some reason she didn’t mind it, at least not in front of Colin. She ran the balls of her hands over her face and let a long breath sputter from her lips. He grinned mildly at her, and in the gesture was everything Reece withheld. Colin was his brother’s perfect foil. Warm to Reece’s coldness, charming to Reece’s shuttered self-possession. Trouble, to Reece’s cautiousness. He should have been intimidating—all the elements were there—but he simply wasn’t. Colin was too open to be properly tough, and anything he felt he wore as plainly as any other feature on his face. As plain as his scar. At the moment he looked sad but kind. “Well,” he said. “I’m assuming you’ll wander no more, now that you’ve landed on the finest little island in the world.” Libby shrugged. “I don’t stay anywhere very long.”
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“Shame.” She glanced around the bar, settling into the easy company Colin exuded. Taped to a wooden post beside the register was a sticky note that read, PLEASE DO NOT PROCREATE WITH THE STAFF. A photocopy of a sonogram was pinned beneath it, and below that, a photo of a woman holding a newborn baby. Colin stole Libby’s attention back, sliding a fresh glass of wine across the bar. “Hey. Sorry about Reece. He’s being a stroppy little bitch tonight.” “Don’t blame him, Tiger.” She flashed him a tight smile, stopping short of flirtation. Colin was too easy. Reece was the challenge, and she craved it as much as she feared Colin’s pointed attraction. “He’s not used to losing at things,” Colin said. “And I suspect you aren’t, either.” “I won your couch, didn’t I?” “If you want some kind of friendly rematch with Reece, I left the games up in the telly room…though I’m not sure he’s up for it.” Colin extracted a ring of keys from the loaded carabiner on his belt and handed it to her. “In case you want to head up early. Reece’s room’s off to the right, the kitchen’s to the left. Loo’s next to Reece’s. Should be an extra towel in there.” She toyed with the keys. “Thanks… I think I’ll give him a little longer to cool off. Am I totally kicking you out of your space?” “The only thing you’re fouling up is a midnight Kung Fu marathon, and I’ve seen them all a dozen times anyhow.” “Oh, that sounds fun!” Libby cracked her first real smile all evening. “Yeah? Well, we close up shop at one. Let’s you and me watch telly until you need the couch for sleeping on.” She couldn’t detect any trace of sexual expectation in this invitation and accepted gladly.
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Now, how to blow another six hours? She didn’t want to chance running into Reece on his own and getting her head bitten off again. Libby lived to make trouble but she needed Reece. And she liked Reece. It would behoove her to hold him back a few inches from the precipice of actual hatred. She glanced at the rugby match that had replaced the news. “I don’t suppose there’s anything else on TV?” Colin rummaged beneath the counter and handed her the remote. Libby could feel him watching her as she flipped through the small selection of channels, eventually settling on a game show. He didn’t bother looking away when she lowered her eyes to his and returned the remote. He smirked. “What?” “You’re a refreshing change of pace. For an American, I mean. Even if you don’t like rugby.” “No, it’s okay. I like your Haka-war-dance thing before the matches. That’s bad-ass. But if there’s no New Zealand team to root for I sort of lose interest. I promise I know the rules. I’m a very informed tourist.” “Fair enough.” “I just have a short attention span.” “That’s supposed to be a sign of brilliance.” Colin slid the remote back over and left it near her elbow. “I have a question about you, Elizabeth Prentiss.” He leaned in, bringing his face close to hers. His sudden proximity triggered a pang of misgiving, but Libby hid it well. “Oh?” “Yeah. As you’ve surely noticed, my brother is shithouse at amateur espionage. And he’s indiscreet. I’ve seen the little dossier your dad gave him.” “Well, you didn’t read it close enough, then. My name’s not Elizabeth.”
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“Fine. But I saw the photo of you.” He backed away, taking his unnerving aura with him. “You… What happened to you, eh? You used to look a hell of a lot different.” Libby smiled, suspecting she understood. “Different how? Was I wearing a sweater set or something? Silky-smooth hair all in place?” “Exactly. When was that taken?” “Probably recently. But it’s not me. That’s my sister.” “Oh.” Colin blinked. “Twins?” “Yep.” She took a sip of her wine to hide a grim smile. “Why would your dad do that? It can’t have made Reece’s job any easier.” She shrugged. “I very much doubt my father has any recent photos of me. He certainly wouldn’t have taken any, and he wouldn’t have kept any that were given to him. My hair’s always spiky or orange or a mess, like this.” She twiddled a long, weather-braided lock. “And I’m never dressed respectably in his opinion, or else I’ve got a ring through my eyebrow or I’m making a rude gesture. He prefers to fixate on the potential, I think. My sister’s on the side of the pendulum he’d prefer I swing to.” “I get you.” Colin looked thoughtful, as if he did actually get her. “So, sorry. I’m not a prep-school princess gone bad.” “That’s okay. I like you how you are now.”
Peppermint and seawater. That’s what that smell was. Colin cracked a triumphant grin, finally putting his finger on the scent that’d been eluding him all evening. Libby was still seated across the bar, playing a useless breed of solitaire with an incomplete deck of cards he’d found for her below the register after the
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natives demanded the rugby be restored. He glanced at the clock. Nine fifteen. Four long hours before he might get to enjoy the pleasure of sitting on a couch beside this fascinating woman. Colin liked Libby’s proximity. He could study her easily from this close and take in all the little intimate details of her…like how her lopsided style of grinning was giving her a laugh line at one corner of her mouth but not the other. He liked how her face looked at this angle, or any angle for that matter. He especially liked the way it looked when it was pointed at his brother. Colin wasn’t a jealous man—he hoped that Libby would have her way in the end. She seemed like the sort of girl who was used to having her way. Shame, though. He’d never met a woman he was more sure could put him through the paces under the sheets. But she had armor on, or blinders. This girl was on a mission. Considering how useless Reece could be with women, Colin bet he didn’t even realize he was being targeted, poor bastard. Still, Colin liked her. Libby was like a Talking Heads song come to life, all bright colors and vibrancy and chaotic, swirling energy. Colin didn’t drink or get otherwise off his head recreationally. Human entropy was the only chemical rush he indulged in, and Libby was a syringe of that, shot right into his bloodstream. Being near her felt nice to him, even if she was fingernails on his brother’s blackboard. From where he leaned against the back counter, Colin flung a coaster at Libby that bounced benignly off her forehead. She raised her chin to fix him with a stare that threatened venom but didn’t have any to inject. Her wide lips twisted into a haughty smirk. Colin was willing to bet this was exactly how her face would look as she coaxed the zipper down the front of his jeans. “Don’t make me hurt you, Nolan.” He flashed her an unapologetic grin. God, if only.
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Libby smiled at the smell of greasy spring rolls. At a quarter past ten, just as she and Colin were unfolding the boxes the Chinese restaurant had delivered, two laughing young women came through the door, coats tented over their heads against the rain. They had on matching collared shirts with the logo of a chain restaurant embroidered above their left breasts. They each looked to Colin, then flashed identical, split-second glances at Libby and approached the bar. “Evening, ladies,” Colin said, already preparing their drinks. “Hey, Col,” one said with a flawlessly casual delivery any fellow female could identify as piqued sexual interest. He pushed a gin and tonic and a pink, cherry-garnished cocktail in a highball glass across the wood. “Shouldn’t you be home with your families on a pissing night like this?” They shrugged in unison, clearly thinking this was a far more enjoyable place to take shelter during a minor hurricane. Libby had studied the commercial neighborhood where Paul Nolan’s Pub resided from the window of her bus earlier that day. The restaurant these girls worked at was a good mile down the road, along a stretch with at least one closer drinking establishment. These particular patrons didn’t come here for mere convenience. They came here for Colin—for his smile and his easy, deep voice and the way he looked in a T-shirt. And because their mothers would not approve, but would also secretly envy them. Libby kept flipping her cards as the girls took their drinks and retired behind her back, presumably to a table with a good view of the staff. She hoped she was blocking that view, even though she had no significant attachment to Colin.
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Libby didn’t get attached to men, and she didn’t get along very well with other girls. She frowned. There was definitely a two missing from the deck, which made it very hard to get anything done in Klondike. Libby abandoned the game and looked up at Colin. “You’ve got a black queen there, and an open red king,” he said, fishing vegetable-fried rice out of a carton with chopsticks and pointing. “Have you been watching me this whole time?” “Yeah. I think there’s a red two missing, actually. Sorry about that.” She smirked. “There are a couple things more interesting than me and my sad solitaire to watch now.” “They come every Monday night.” “I’ll bet they do,” she said, ramping up her innuendo game to at least twice its usual potency. She guessed it would take that much to get a rise out of Colin. He remained unscandalized. “You want to play poker or something?” “Yeah, all right.” She mashed the cards into a messy pile for him to deal with, turning her attention to her food. The next time one of the girls came up for a fresh drink, she loitered at the far end of the bar, drawing Colin away from the perceived competition. Libby watched the exchange with the detached curiosity of a research scientist. Which, as it happened, she was. Colin knew how to get tips—which weren’t even compulsory in New Zealand—though he wasn’t aggressive with women. In fact he appeared to approach the whole dance rather lazily, but he was nonetheless in total control, his prowess made clear without a single openly flirtatious remark uttered or a physical boundary crossed. He knew how to talk in low, intimate, familiar tones, and how to lean on the bar and to drum his fingers across the wood in a way that
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could alter the rhythm of a woman’s heartbeat. He knew precisely how long to keep his hand on a glass before releasing it, the gesture unmistakable in its promise of pleasurable dominance. Libby wondered if he’d slept with one or both of these girls, if they’d ever been upstairs to his flat on some other rainy, lonely Monday night and been shown an undoubtedly memorable time. She wondered for the first time where Colin’s scar had come from, and whether a woman had been involved then too. Two uneventful hours later, however, Colin shouted, “Last call!” and the girls gathered their coats and bags and shuffled to the door. Libby stayed perched at the bar, giving no indication that she was going anywhere this fine evening, thank-you-very-much. It earned her a pair of heated glares. It was an evil, satisfying deception to take part in. They didn’t need to know she was only dawdling because she had a crush on the bartender’s frigid older brother but was too chicken to be left alone with him. Colin locked the door behind his thwarted seductresses. “Make yourself useful and wipe the tables down, eh?” He tossed Libby a wet rag and pulled out a ledger. He counted the cash in the till and made a visual inventory of the bottles that lined the shelves behind him. Sneaking a glance at him as she ran the cloth over the bar, Libby could admit that she saw the appeal. “Sorry if I ruined your chances for securing some enjoyable female company this evening, Tiger.” He looked over his shoulder at her. “And what do you think you are, then? I’ll be enjoying you silly in about ten minutes’ time.” He consulted a nonexistent wristwatch then turned back to the ledger. “Oh really?” Libby propped her fists on her hips and gave him a haughty look. His voice went dark and husky. “Really.”
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She threw the wet towel back at him. “You can think again, Romeo.” “I can picture it now,” Colin murmured, staring transcendently into space. She approached the bar and leaned on it, challenging. Colin turned and met her eyes with his own. “Let me paint you a picture,” he said seductively, leaning closer. Libby raised an eyebrow. “You,” Colin drawled. “And me.” His tongue flirted with the edge of his mouth, one of Libby’s own favorite instruments of torture. “Sprawled on a ratty old couch, in the amorous glow of the telly. Glasses of ice water sweating in our hands. The salty, sensual oil of unevenly microwaved popcorn stinging our fingers. Hours and hours of Asian blokes from the seventies kicking the shit out of each other, and us, watching. You…and me…wearing nothing…but…our clothes.” Libby snorted, amused and secretly relieved. Colin grabbed her uninjured hand with a dramatic, fake-longing-filled gasp, and his eyes rolled up in ecstasy. “Oh God, I can go all night, can’t you, Libby?” “Get off me,” she said, laughing, and wriggled her fingers out from between his. “Hit that switch next to the steps.” Colin pointed to the door that led up to the flat, sounding normal again. Once Libby complied, he shut off the pub’s lights. She followed him up the steps, feeling utterly content and wondering if she may have just found her platonic soul mate in a dingy pub on a tiny island all the way on the opposite side of the globe.
An hour later they were lounging in the flat’s living room on opposite ends of the Nolans’ battered, comfortable couch.
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“This popcorn is all burned,” Libby said, passing the bowl back to Colin. “No, it’s not. Some of it isn’t even popped.” His eyes didn’t leave the action on the TV. Libby didn’t hear Reece’s approach and was startled to look up and find him standing at the side of the couch, arms crossed over his chest. He had on track pants and a Newcastle beer shirt, feet bare. His eyes were trained on the screen at the movie playing. Colin waved him a distracted hello that was cut short as his attention was sucked back into the brilliantly choreographed fight scene. Libby scooted over and patted the cushion she’d vacated. Reece didn’t look at her but he took a seat. Libby appraised her situation and smirked—it was an enviable sandwich for a single woman to find herself in. An ad came on and Reece broke his silence. “This was, what? 1976?” He took the popcorn bowl Libby offered and picked through the dregs. “’78,” Colin corrected. “Beautiful. Beer me, Col.” Colin rose and looked to Libby. “Anything?” “More popcorn?” “Consider it done.” He disappeared into the kitchen. Libby turned to Reece. “Thanks for the couch. I know it’s against your will,” she added, a touch snide. “Don’t fuck with my brother.” Reece’s unexpected reply was cold and loaded and quiet. He was scary-serious and Libby felt the blood drain from her cheeks. “I hadn’t planned on it.” “Don’t fuck with his head, even. And definitely do not fuck with my mum.” “I wasn’t—”
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“Good.” This conversation was over. In the kitchen, the microwave began to whir, followed by the sound of the fridge door closing. Colin came through, handed Reece a can of beer and sat down with a tumbler of water, oblivious to the room’s atmospheric change. “I bloody love Drunken Master,” he murmured as the movie recommenced. “I bloody love Linda Lin,” Reece added, watching the screen, casual again. “She can beat the shit out of me any day.” “She must be like seventy now,” Libby said, struck by an irrational twinge of jealousy. Now there was an emotion she wasn’t used to. It felt ugly, like a wad of acid burning a pit in her stomach. “The restaurant brawl’s coming up.” Reece’s relaxed posture suggested all that needed to be said earlier had been, and Libby released the breath she’d been holding. The smell of popcorn—then burning popcorn—wafted in, followed by a tardy ding.
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Chapter Four
Libby woke the next morning to a large, warm hand jostling her shoulder. She opened her eyes to find Colin staring down at her, brushing his teeth with his other hand. He raised the fingers around the brush in greeting. Libby propped herself up on one arm and yawned. “Morning.” The sky beyond the windows was dark and gloomy. Though the wind seemed to have died down, the storm was still raging. Colin wandered toward the bathroom and called back in a gargly voice, “Coffee in the kitchen.” “Thanks.” Libby shuffled in her pajama pants and undershirt to the next room and found a mug. She peeked inside the fridge and was impressed by its tidiness, given that it was the territory of two bachelors. Colin passed by on the way to his room, and Libby was suddenly glad she’d slept with her bra on. “Bath’s free. Help yourself to whatever.” “Thanks.” “We don’t have any decent soap or conditioner. Hope that’s all right.” “Do I look like I use it anyhow?” Libby’s hair was its own beast. It got marinated in so much salt from the ocean she’d long ago given up trying to keep it looking shampoo-ad silky. Colin smiled and disappeared. She padded across the apartment to the bathroom, passing Reece’s open door. She could see the corner of his made bed and wondered if he’d already left
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for the morning. She needed him to give her the cue when she officially overstayed her welcome. Though she wouldn’t mind putting off her departure for at least a little while—the weather looked truly nasty. She hoped her boat was in one piece. Rhythmic, guttural noises drifted from Reece’s room. Libby fought a brief battle between curiosity and worry—worry over whether she might be about to catch Reece in the middle of being intimate with himself. But as she framed herself in the threshold it turned out she was the one destined to indulge her pervier side. Reece ceased his sit-ups when he spotted her, wrapping his arms over his bent legs. His pajama-pant-clad knees obscured his bare torso, making Libby scowl internally. She wasn’t used to being affected this much by a man and was finding it extremely enjoyable. Reece’s tone when he’d said good night after the movie had been casual, if cautious, and Libby decided to push this civility as far as it would stretch. She set her coffee down and grasped the pull-up bar mounted on the doorframe, letting her legs go limp and dangling. “Morning, loverboy.” “Morning.” Reece gazed up at her then down at her mug, no particular emotion on his face. “Did you find milk?” Libby’s heart gave a jolt, relief he was at least pretending to not be irritated. “Yeah. You boys keep a pretty tidy fridge.” She scanned his room. Tidy also, in a bland sort of way. Plain white walls, several unpacked cardboard boxes still stacked beside the closet and no attempts at decoration anywhere to be seen. Her eyes snapped back to the bare shoulders flanking the handsome face she could have stared at all morning. “Do you work today?” She wasn’t sure what answer she was hoping for. “Yeah. I have to head out in a few minutes.”
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“What do you do, exactly?” “Teach tae kwon do,” he said. “Part time.” “That’s what you did in England too.” He nodded. “Kids or adults or…?” “Both,” he said. “All kids this morning. Then I get most of the afternoon off.” “Does it pay well?” He laughed as if to say “hell, no” and Libby grinned. “But I get keys, so it’s a free gym membership. I can use the studio whenever I want after classes are out.” “That’s cool. So…” Reece raised his eyebrows. Libby straightened up in the doorway. “Have you given my offer any more thought? It still stands.” Reece glanced at the alarm clock by his bed. He stood, and Libby enjoyed the sight of his body as he grabbed a clean white T-shirt from his dresser. Long, lean muscle and fathomless calm. “I don’t know.” He tugged the shirt on. “Well, it’s on the table. It’s good money. And I’m getting sick of acting like a normal girl, worried you’re watching me.” “I haven’t been.” “Oh.” “I’ve been reporting a load of bull to your father, but no photos. He’s getting impatient with me, I think. To be honest, I don’t enjoy spying.” “I can help you get some shots,” Libby offered. “Without spying. And you should decide soon, before he gives up on you.”
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“Can’t you find something better to do with your trust fund than play this sick little double-agent game with your daddy?” Reece asked, cold again. Libby gratuitously scanned his body. “I can think of several things I’d rather be doing, sure.” He didn’t reply, just hauled his gym bag onto his bed and removed a white tunic-style uniform and a long black belt. He tossed the dirty uniform into his hamper and replaced it with a clean one from the dresser. Libby eyed his belt. “Black belt.” “Yeah.” He didn’t look up. “Can I see?” “Sure.” He slapped it into her palm, and she unfolded the length of thick, quilted cotton. R. Nolan was embroidered in yellow at one end, Korean characters on the other. Each end had four red stripes. “What are the stripes for?” Libby asked, dredging her brain for ancient details imparted by grade-school friends who’d taken karate. “Degree?” “Yeah, it’s called dan. Same idea.” “And you’re fourth dan?” she asked. “You guessed it.” “Is that impressive?” He shrugged. “Depends on what impresses you. It’s taken me over twenty years to earn, so I hope it impresses my peers and students a little bit.” She held it to her nose. “Damn, it stinks.” “Stinky’s good. Means you’re experienced. You’re not allowed to wash your belt.” “Can you do a move for me?” She handed the belt back and mimed a little kung fu. “It’s not a parlor trick.”
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“Don’t get all serious on me, lover. I saw you and Colin peeing your pants over Jackie Chan last night. You know it looks cool. Do something cool-looking for me.” Reece smiled dryly. “Can you do that thing like you’re about to kick me in the face, but then you freeze your foot like an inch away?” she asked, excited. “Will it make you shut up?” She thought a moment. “Possibly.” “Right, I’ll take those odds. Let’s go in the living room.” “Gorgeous.” Libby led the way. Colin was on the couch, flipping through a newspaper. He looked up as Libby stepped to the center of the room to face Reece. “What’s going on here?” “He’s going to fake-kick me in the face,” Libby said. “It’s going to be awesome.” “Flash. Forgotten what happened the last time he unleashed the dragon, eh?” “I trust him. Go on, lover. Can you do that thing you did to my flare gun? That was good. The swoopy thing.” “Wheel kick?” Reece considered it. “Yeah…although you’re flipping tall.” “Do it, mate,” Colin said. “I’ll get a can.” He jogged to the kitchen, leaving Libby curious. He returned with an empty beer can and balanced it on top of her head. Reece fell back into ready-stance, fists raised at his shoulders. Libby held her breath. Colin stood by, arms crossed expectantly. “Don’t move, for goodness sake. Mum’ll kill him if he breaks your nose. She’s already picking out names for the grandchildren you’re going to give her.”
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Reece pivoted his entire body in a lightning-fast movement, and his heel made an arc from the ground to Libby’s head, knocking the can across the room and fluttering her hair. A split-second later he snapped back into ready-stance. “Holy shit.” Libby gaped with delight. “Do that in slow-mo. Away from me.” Reece complied, giving her a quarter-time performance of the kick. She clapped. “That was awesome. You are one flexible bastard.” “Ta.” Reece nodded to his brother. “He can do it too. He’s a black belt.” “Yeah, a delinquent first dan with no discipline,” Colin amended. “We’re not in the same league.” “Maybe you should come to class more regularly, then.” Reece looked to the clock on the DVD player. “Right, I need to head out. Do you need a lift into town?” he asked Libby. She shifted her jaw. She’d been afraid of this… She hadn’t thought her plan through beyond securing a place to sleep in Reece’s general proximity. Colin came to her rescue. “You’re welcome to hang out. I don’t courier on Tuesdays and I’m not due behind the bar ’til six. It’s still hosing out there.” He gave Reece a look that said plainly, I don’t give a shit if I just ruined your day. Libby glanced at Reece’s unreadable face, then back at Colin. “Is that completely inconvenient for you?” “Nah. It’s not like we can go anywhere, anyhow. I’ll make us some brekkie. We’ll play Jenga.” “Gorgeous, thanks.” She smiled from one brother to the other, and Reece disappeared into his room. “I’m not sure what I have to offer you that can follow being assaulted by Reece, excitement-wise,” Colin said.
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Libby shrugged and stared out the window. “Anything that means we can stay inside is fine by me.” “You’re in luck then. I’m very good at a variety of indoor activities.” He ran a mischievous hand over his freshly shaved chin. “Cute. I’ll stick with Jenga, though.” Reece whisked past them in jeans and a jacket, a gym bag slung over his shoulder. “Be good,” he said, the directive aimed at no one specific. He grabbed an umbrella from a coat hook. “Don’t forget your gummies,” Colin chimed in a grandmotherly voice. Reece replied with a rude hand gesture as the door shut behind him. “And think about my offer!” Libby shouted as his footsteps descended the stairs. She turned to the other Nolan, suddenly and inexplicably nervous to be left alone with Colin. He gave her a long, open study—not sexual, but not innocent either. “Thanks for letting me stay,” she said. Colin snapped out of his scrutiny. “Not a problem. I’ve got a girl coming over at noon, but you should join us. We’ll probably just sit around and watch telly. She’s pretty low-key.” “Wow, hot date.” An odd smile curled his lips. “Oh, she’s a real stunner.” “Do you always invite thirds along for your trysts?” “Stranger things have happened,” Colin said, giving Libby a look she knew well—the conspiratorial look of one sexually accomplished individual thinking they’d found a kindred spirit. “But I assure you that is not the order of the day, so you can just cool your jets, miss.”
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She followed him into the kitchen and hopped her butt onto the center island. She picked at her stubby fingernails as Colin assembled breakfast ingredients. “So, Reece is thirty-one, right? How old are you?” she asked. He tossed sausages into a pan. “Twenty-eight.” “Hey, me too!” “Nice. When’s your birthday?” he asked, slicing tomatoes. “February seventeenth.” He glanced over his shoulder at her. “No flipping way. I’m three days older than you.” “Wow, neat.” “Too right. We were both crapping our nappies at the same time then.” Libby laughed. Colin set the knife down, turning to aim a warm, sad smile at her. “You fancy Reece, don’t you?” She bit back her own smile and nodded, hoping this wasn’t about to turn awkward. “Is it that obvious?” “Nah. I’m just good with that sort of stuff. Don’t worry. Reece is oblivious.” She looked down, then fixed Colin with a narrowed eye. “Do you think he’d ever like me back? You know, like me, like me?” She knew she sounded like a twelve-year-old, but Colin was easy to level with—Good Cop to Reece’s Bad Cop. “I dunno. You mean if you dropped your provocateur shtick and quit winding him up all the time?” “Maybe.” He sighed. “I hate to be the one to piss on your parade, but you’re not really his type. Historically speaking.”
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“Oh.” “Sorry.” She frowned at the insecurity squirming in her middle. “What’s his type?” “Quiet, for one. Smart but, like, book-smart. Not scary, evil-genius smart like you.” “What do you mean by that?” “Unlike Reece, I googled you. This morning.” Her stomach flip-flopped. “Oh?” He nodded. “Don’t worry. He doesn’t want to know what you did to freak your dad out—he can be a bit of a basket case about ethics. Stalking you notwithstanding. I think he’s going with the ignorance-is-bliss approach, so that’s just between you and me and the internet.” “Good,” she said, not entirely relieved. “So you know, I’m not in New Zealand to start any trouble.” Her history was murky, riddled with police runins over various minor offenses. And some not-so-minor. Colin shrugged. “I like your kind of trouble. But I believe you—if you were out to cause that type of chaos, you came to the wrong country. I’m willing to believe you’re here for the glowworms.” She nodded. “And at any rate, Reece fancies boring girls. Sweet…curvy.” “Now that I am not.” “Nah. You’re a panther. Reece is into house cats. Girls who teach kindergarten or start their own catering companies. Wholesome stuff like that.” Libby pouted. “Hey, don’t give up or anything. You’re bloody hot the way you are. I’d wrap your legs around my ears in a heartbeat.” “Poetic. Thanks, Tiger.”
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He shrugged. “You know Reece. Or actually, you don’t. He’s…he’s like a monk, all calm and disciplined. He’s been that way since he was born. You’re like a tornado let loose in his monastery. Personally, I think you’d be good for him. But I don’t know if he’d agree… I hope he does. He could use a little chaos.” “Maybe.” “But if you’re driving him loopy,” Colin went on, “thinking it’s going to win him over, you’re wasting your time. Reece doesn’t go in for head games. You might want to try a little sincerity. He’s a sucker for the straight and narrow.” “I see.” Libby contemplated the option of sincerity for a moment. The thought of all that openhearted honesty made her feel naked. Colin straightened up. “If you don’t mind my asking, what do you see in Reece? Not that you shouldn’t see something. I’m just curious.” He tossed tomatoes into the pan, seeming uncomfortable with own jealousy. Libby raised her eyebrows, deciding recklessly to play with a little of Colin’s fire. “Do you think I’m barking up the wrong Nolan?” “I know it’s none of my business.” “You think you could teach me a thing or two, don’t you?” He smiled deeply and, if Libby wasn’t mistaken, blushed. “What makes you think I wouldn’t prefer to be the student, eh?” It was Libby’s turn to blush. Oh, if you only knew. “I can tell you’ve only got eyes for my brother. Although Christ knows why,” Colin said through a sigh, pretending to be insulted by her preference. “But if you’re looking for a Kiwi conquest, I’m delighted you’ve set your sights within our lucky little flat. Let me know if I can aid in the expedition at all. He could do with having his brains properly fucked out. Might loosen him up.” He didn’t notice Libby’s deepening flush. “Reece, though? You do like a challenge.”
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Libby looked at her feet. “Well, I mostly like that he’s never made a pass at me. Or even really looked at me, that way.” Colin laughed. “Oh, he has. He’s just too Zen master to show it.” She glanced up. “You think?” “You’re hard to ignore, Libby, even without the nonstop flirting. You make a trackie top look like a teddy. Reece has noticed you. He said he saw you dancing about in your togs on the beach.” “That he did.” “Poor bastard.” Colin handed her a fresh cup of coffee. “Thanks. Well, he’s never made me feel like he was checking me out. He’s…he’s not a creep.” “Nah, he’s a gentleman. He’ll make a good plod.” “A what?” “A copper,” Colin said. “He’s meant to start training for the police in a few months.” Libby gaped. “Seriously?” “Yeah. He’ll be great at it.” Colin looked genuinely proud. He flipped the sausages with a sizzle. “Wow.” Libby Prentiss, policeman’s wife. How twisted would that be? “But wait—so they’ll have to do like a whole background check on Reece, presumably.” “Yeah, all that good stuff. I know what you’re thinking.” Colin cracked an egg into a second pan. “About what he agreed to do for your dad?” “Yeah.” He nodded. “Reece took a big chance on that. If you’d reported him when you caught him, for spying on you or whatever, he’d have been buggered. Or if
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he got caught, doing shady, under-the-table shit.” He cracked another egg. “Buggered.” “Why’d he do it, then? He doesn’t seem to want the job.” “We need the money.” Colin’s voice turned heavy. “Pretty bad. Our dad died in January, and we’re up to our necks in bills and unpaid accounts for the pub. It’s all a bit effed up. Our mum kept it all quiet until after he passed. He was a good guy but he took on some investments he shouldn’t have, this nasty spiral of IOUs. We owe money all over the place and business is not good. Pub’s on the brink, and that’s all we’ve really got.” “I’m sorry to hear that.” Libby thought for a moment. “How much money?” “About eighty grand. On top of the usual accounts.” “Yikes.” “Yeah, it’s a whopping great mess. Every week some supplier or other cuts us off. Our mum’s probably going to have to give up her house, and even then we’ll still be in the red. This nest could get mighty cozy, soon.” Colin glanced around the flat, his apprehension plain. “Trust me, Reece would never have taken that job if we weren’t hard up for the cash.” “I’ll bet.” Colin flipped the eggs. “Reece is cautious, to a fault. Always has been. I was as shocked as anybody when he said he was going to work for your dad. But he’s been gone a long time, and he was MIA for some rough shit that’s gone on around here. I think this is his way of making up for all that, or trying to. Doesn’t look like he’s feeling too keen for it now though. Failure’s not his strong suit. Don’t take it too personally if he’s hard on you. You wrecked his plans. Give him some time to lick his wounds.” Libby nodded, thinking. “Well if Reece doesn’t want my father’s gig, why don’t you do it? I’m trying to convince him to be my double agent. Document me
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on my own terms, for a generous bonus. He’s not really taking the bait. If he hates it so much, you should do it. Maybe Reece could recommend you as a replacement.” Colin laughed, his eyes squinting and his dimple reappearing. He turned to Libby and held out his tattooed arms, presenting himself as a package. “No father would hire me to stalk their daughter.” He had a point. “No, I guess not. And not my father, especially.” “Plus I’ve already got two jobs. And anyway—don’t pretend you’re not hoping my brother’ll be forced to keep sharing your company.” “Touché.”
A few hours later, rain was still lashing the windows, the sky outside dark and dreary but the flat above the pub warm and comforting. Libby and Colin were sprawled at either end of the couch watching bad Australian soap operas and taking turns refreshing the coffee supply. Colin had his newspaper spread over his legs, but Libby could sense him getting sucked into the melodrama onscreen, interrupting on occasion to air amusing bits of commentary. Libby tore her eyes off the TV at the sound of footsteps mounting the stairs. She looked at the clock on the DVD player. Twelve-oh-eight. Her stomach gave a flutter she couldn’t identify. “That must be your girl.” “I should hope so.” Colin offered her a devious wiggle of his eyebrows. He rose and opened the door as a woman in her midthirties with mousybrown hair and a tired smile reached the landing, lugging a car seat with a fatfaced, red-haired baby strapped inside. Both were soaked from the rain. She kissed Colin on the cheek and waved hello to Libby.
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“Libby, this my sister Annie. Annie, this is Libby, a friend of mine and Reece’s. And Reece’s future wife, if Mum has anything to say about it.” “Hey,” Libby said, smiling. “All right, Libby?” Annie offered a weary grin and set the car seat down. “Thanks, Col. Sorry I’m late. And sorry in advance—her nappies are toxic today. I don’t know what did it, but phew.” “Can’t wait. What time are you back?” She untangled herself from a diaper bag and handed it to Colin. “About four. Anything you need from in town?” “Nah. Enjoy your afternoon. Drive safe. And slow.” Annie waved again and departed. Colin put the bag down, unstrapped his niece and wobbled her in the air. “Ooh, you’re so pretty.” A smile quirked Libby’s lips. She wouldn’t have guessed it and she certainly wasn’t happy about it, but it was a relief Colin’s “date” had turned out to be a ruse. Steady now—one Nolan is plenty. That wasn’t quite it, though… It was Colin’s company she felt possessive of, wasn’t it? Colin turned the baby to Libby, and it gaped at her in an adorable, vacant baby fashion for a second. Then it frowned. “Libby, this is my niece, and your future niece-in-law, if your evil plan succeeds. Coleen. Named after yours truly,” he added, smug. “Pleased to meet you.” Libby waved at the now-angsty, sputtering baby. “I don’t know anything about kids. How old is she?” “Seven months, give or take.” Colin bounced her on his arm and fixed her with an adoring smile. “I’m surprised she’s not named for your father.”
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“I think Annie’s holding on to that distinction in case she and her husband have a boy someday. But this one here”—he nodded down at his niece—“she’s the genius. Wait and see.” Libby watched out of the corner of her eye as he fed the baby from a tiny bottle his sister had packed, trying to square it with the version of Colin who could weave through traffic at breakneck speed, or the one who physically threatened that asshole who’d creeped her out after karaoke two weeks ago. She came up stumped. Eventually Colin excused himself to change his niece’s diaper, and Libby wandered to the window, staring at the storm. Colin’s voice sounded from the bathroom. “Oh, dear God. What is she feeding you?” With a guilty glance back toward the front of the flat, Libby padded through the kitchen to the threshold of Colin’s bedroom door. She hadn’t seen his room before and found herself surprised yet again. It was a bigger room than his brother’s, and it looked lived in and cared for, unlike Reece’s. The walls were painted a deep oxblood red, a color that managed to not be gloomy in its darkness, but calming. Sensual. Colin was clearly the homebody around the apartment. Only a sweater tossed across his black bedspread threatened the order of the space. Normally Libby preferred clutter—not filth, just a healthy dose of disorder. Growing up in an immaculate house, she’d been the chaotic one in her family, the whirlwind tearing around the otherwise placid, cleanly corridors of their WASPy New England estate. She could never live the way her mother did, worrying about the angles of the just-for-show throw pillows, buying books not to read but to leave lying strategically on the coffee tables their housekeeper kept gleaming with wax. No matter how hard Libby had worked to keep her bedroom
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in disarray, each afternoon when she came home from school, she always found it returned to a state of maddening tidiness. She studied the two art-deco prints on Colin’s walls—poster reproductions for the Tour de France from some indeterminate year, matted and framed. Against another wall was a shelf lined with LPs, a record player set atop it, all beside a more modern sound system. Books and newspapers were stacked on his bedside table. Libby gazed across his bed, a queen-sized one, bigger than Reece’s. Her imagination was taken by a potent vision of the sorts of things a man as forward as Colin might get up to on such an inviting surface…happy, greedy bodies moving beneath the dark red sheets she saw peeking from under the duvet, sounds and smells she couldn’t begin to conjure— “You’re a nosy one.” Libby jumped. Colin stood at her side with his wide-eyed niece tucked into the crook of one arm. “Serves you right,” he added, addressing her start. “Want a guided tour?” “No, you were right—just being nosy.” She gave his room a final scan and stepped back in the kitchen. “Reece could stand to get a few decorating tips from you.” Colin followed. “Well, I’ve lived here for ten years now. He’s still got some moving boxes he hasn’t opened yet.” “I saw. When did he come back to New Zealand?” He frowned, thinking. “Three months ago, maybe.” “And he still hasn’t unpacked?” “I don’t think he’s ready to admit he’s back. Or that he plans on staying.” He bounced the baby, smile fading. “You don’t look happy about that.”
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He pursed his lips. “I don’t care what he does. Nobody asked him to come back, but he seems to think it’s his responsibility to be the man of the family now or something… But you know, we’ve been okay without him for the past seven years.” Colin paused. “Sorry, that’s probably more than you felt like having dumped on you.” Libby shrugged, pleased simply to hear about the Nolans, the breed of family she’d have killed to be a part of when she was a kid, flawed or not. “I don’t mind.” “Well, anyway. I’m going to order some lunch.” He opened a drawer and handed Libby a stack of takeout menus. Soon there was Thai food on the way, and the station they were watching announced Dirty Dancing was coming on at one thirty. Libby didn’t suspect life could get much better…then she wondered what time the other Nolan would be getting home.
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Chapter Five
Before he even laid his hand on the pub’s door handle, Reece knew trouble was afoot. No one used their jukebox, though it did apparently work. And none of their afternoon customers would ever play ABBA. He hadn’t even known that album was in there. He stepped inside and found himself joining a party attended by just about his entire family. His mother was smiling skeptically, standing behind Libby as she attempted some sort of dance with Colin. She interrupted Libby’s movements to adjust her shoulders and arm. The baby was propped on the bar in her car seat, sleeping in spite of the music and excitement. Colin noticed Reece as the door closed and waved. Reece dropped his bag on a table and sat near the front to watch the proceedings. He felt a swish of cold air and turned as his sister stepped inside. “All right, Reece?” Annie stopped behind him and tousled his hair the same way she’d been doing for twenty-five years. “Just saw you pull up and take the good space from under my nose.” “What in the hell do you make of this?” he asked, wanting his suspicions about how wrong this was confirmed. Annie smiled at the festivities. “I think it’s the Hustle. Mum used to love doing that when I was little. Look at Colin—he’s not half-bad. Libby’s rubbish, though.” Reece looked over his shoulder at her to express his surprise. “I met her earlier, when I dropped the baby off. That’s her name, right?”
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“Yeah.” The word tasted sour in Reece’s mouth. “Why do you sound so annoyed?” “I don’t want her here.” “Why not?” she asked. “She’s trouble.” “This doesn’t sound like you at all. Did she break your heart or something?” Annie grinned, clearly thrilled to have found a subject that could make Reece squirm. “She’s a nutjob. And all this is her fault, mark my words.” He circled a finger in the air to indicate the music and the activity. “Maybe, but how’s that a problem? I mean, when’s the last time you saw either of them having this much fun?” Annie nodded to their brother and mother. Reece frowned. “Come on. This place has been Depression Central for the past year. Don’t knock the woman if this is what she’s doing to the family.” Annie mussed his hair again and went to join the nonsense, adding over her shoulder, “Lighten up, Reecie.” After a few minutes, the jukebox ran out of songs and the excitement wound down. Reece rose and approached the partygoers. Colin grinned. “Gidday, Reece? Mum was showing us how to do the Hustle. Libby is an atrocious dancer.” “It’s not my fault my legs are like ten feet long,” she cut back. “How did this…materialize?” Reece asked. “We were watching Dirty Dancing on the telly after lunch, and you know that lift-thing in it?” Colin asked. “We were trying that out down here when Mum got in.”
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Here their mother piped up. “And I said, ‘You want to see dancing?’ Oh, your father and I used to have a knees-up every weekend before you kids came along. Those were the days.” Annie was right… Reece couldn’t remember the last time their mother had looked this happy, nor the last time there’d been this much life and energy in the pub. He surrendered a small, grudging scrap of gratitude to Libby.
Around four thirty the storm let up enough for Annie and the baby to finally make a run for their car. Libby strolled to the door, prepared to hold it open for them. She got distracted by a framed portrait on the wall of a handsome, smiling man with beefy 1970s sideburns, surely the Nolan family’s late patriarch and the pub’s namesake. She turned to where Mrs. Nolan was tidying up around the bar. “Damn, Marjorie—Paul was a fox.” Marjorie brightened in an instant. “Oh, that he was! That was taken the day this place opened, for a story in the paper. The same week Annie was born.” “Careful, don’t date me, Mum,” Annie added, bundling up her daughter. Marjorie rolled her eyes. “Oh, yes, thirty-four is such a scandal. All my girlfriends wanted to date Paul back in the old days.” She grinned, her expression warm and smug. “He was the best-looking bloke in Wellington, if I do say so myself.” Libby looked back to the photo. There was a bit of both Reece and Colin in their father’s face. More of Colin. Reece lacked that easy, effortless charm. His smile rarely extended beyond his mouth, and those eyes always stayed glacial— always cold and just out of reach. Libby held the door as Annie and the baby brushed past, tendering goodbyes. She headed to the table where Reece was sorting through the day’s
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mail and took a seat across from him. His eyes acknowledged her before darting back to the pile of envelopes and bar-supply catalogs. “Have I overstayed my welcome?” Libby asked, in a soft voice that wasn’t her own but that she hoped might work on Reece. He gave her another scan, and his mouth tightened with some emotion or other. “You’re not far off,” he said, but in a milder tone than she’d expected. “I’ll head out soon. The storm’s almost let up.” “Good.” “Any thoughts about my offer?” “I’ve heard what you have to say. Please stop asking me about it.” He slit open an invoice and made a grim face. “Okay. I guess I better get my stuff together. See how my boat’s looking.” “You probably should.” He kept his attention on the paper, though his still eyes told her he wasn’t reading. “Well thanks, anyway. For putting up with me staying.” She slid off her seat and paused. “You’ve got a really great family, you know.” “I know.” “If I had a family like yours, I never would have left the States.” He seemed to ponder this comment but didn’t reply or meet her gaze. Libby turned away, knowing it was the most sincere thing she’d managed to say in a long time, and praying it didn’t show.
Reece couldn’t decide if the ocean felt more or less threatening at night. More, judging by the way his heart was hammering his ribs. Or perhaps it was just the long, humiliating march down the main dock that made his stomach churn this way.
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He found Libby’s boat easily—it was the only one lit, the glow from inside revealing it to be turquoise with white trim, some kind of converted fishing boat. Libby’s surfboard was locked into a rack along one side. Reece wasn’t sure of the etiquette for calling on someone who lived in a marina but after taking a ragged, fear-tightened breath, he strode up the little gangway to the side of the cabin and knocked. Libby came to the door a moment later, her mouth dropping open when she saw who was calling. “Well, this is a surprise.” She leaned against the doorframe with a cricket bat in one hand and scanned Reece lewdly. The softness he’d caught in her when she’d left the pub was long gone, flirtation back with a vengeance. “Can I have a word?” he asked. “Sure.” She winked, if he wasn’t mistaken, and propped the bat against the wall. Reece followed her into the small cabin, most of which was taken up by a foldaway couch, which in turn had a table that folded out from its baseboard. There were books strewn across it, and a radio was quietly reporting the hour’s news. Reece glanced at a messy pile of papers with formulas scrawled all over them. Libby caught him and covered the pages with a notebook. “What’s with the bat?” he asked. She glanced at it and shrugged. “A girl’s got to defend herself. Never know who’s going to turn up at your boat late at night, looking to come aboard.” She batted her lashes with exaggerated innocence. “So, what can I do you for?” She had on nerdy horn-rimmed reading glasses which she now pushed onto the top of her head. She was dressed to lounge in boxers and a long-sleeved Tshirt, flip-flops on her feet. Her wild hair was pulled back into a sloppy bun,
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pinned in place by what Reece could swear was a candy cane. He noticed another one, half-eaten, on the table beside a tired-looking cup of coffee. Libby caught his puzzled expression and slid a large tub full of them toward him with her foot. “No thanks.” “Suit yourself.” She flopped onto the couch. “Looks like you survived the storm all right then?” “Not too bad… You seem nervous,” she added, gloating. Reece felt the boat move beneath him and decided to let her believe she was the sole cause of his uneasiness. He didn’t like the idea of Libby having too much personal ammo to use against him. She picked up her candy and peeled the plastic down in an unlikely gesture of seduction. Reece kept his face blank. “You’ll rot your teeth out on those.” “Maybe, but I got two hundred of them for like a buck-fifty. And no offense to your hemisphere or anything, but you can’t eat Christmas candy in the summer. These are just coming into season.” She bit an inch off and set the rest down. “So, what can I do you for?” “I want to discuss your offer.” “Oh-ho! Well, do have a seat, then.” She patted the other end of the sofa and crossed her long, bare legs, ready to talk business. Reece disliked that his body was interested in those legs and wished the boat might rock a bit more violently and distract him back into a more tasteful breed of discomfort. He was not attracted to this woman. For starters she was all wrong, physically. She was the sort of shape women thought men wanted—tall and bony and sharp-featured like a fashion model. Not at all to Reece’s taste. He
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was irritated to even catch himself thinking about it again. He stayed standing, tucking his hands into his pockets. “How’s your current assignment structured?” Libby asked. “Basically, your father’s asked me to follow you and take photos. About thirty hours a week of surveillance, as he calls it. If we decide to cooperate, I’ll just need you to give me a list of the places you’d like me to claim you’re frequenting, and what activities you’d be doing. Or want him to think you’re doing. And let me photograph you doing that stuff, maybe two or three times a week. Your dad’s real loose about the rules. He doesn’t care if the photos are time-stamped or any of that, so long as I don’t send him any emails worded in a way that might make him look shady.” “Easy-peasy. And I’d add I that was never the one unwilling to cooperate.” “And one caveat,” Reece added sternly. “Go on.” “You need to tell me now if you’re actually doing anything illegal. I won’t do this if it means I’m covering up something below board.” “I’m as pure as the driven snow, lover.” Reece frowned. “I need a serious answer from you on that.” “Don’t worry,” Libby said in a forthright tone. “I’m not doing anything bad.” He nodded, deciding to believe her. “Fine. So how much are you offering me?” “I said, what? Twenty percent on top of my dad’s offer?” She stood and went to stare out the windows at the water. “Yes. And it has to be cash.” “Obviously.” She turned. “Weekly?” He nodded. “How much then?”
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“From you?” He’d already done the math. “Four hundred a week, US.” Libby didn’t bat an eyelash. “Let’s round it up to five. I’ll give you the first installment this Friday.” “You can…handle that?” “Sure, lover. I’m loaded. Don’t you know who my family is?” she asked in a bored, flippant tone. A deep pang of resentment stirred in Reece’s gut but he choked out, “Fine. But I have another term.” “You said one caveat—” “Don’t fuck with my brother.” “Yeah.” Libby turned to him, hands on her hips. “You said already. Twice. So define ‘fuck with’.” “Don’t…” “What? Don’t fuck him? Is that what you’re trying to say?” She looked pissed. “Don’t toy with him. Or lead him on.” “Want me all for yourself, Nolan?” “Just don’t. Can you promise me that?” “Sure,” she said with a shrug. “Good.” He reached for her hand, meaning to shake it roughly but hesitating when faced with her little finger cast. “Excellent. I’m so glad you came by, Agent Nolan. Double Agent Nolan.” Libby relaxed as though an invisible switch had been flipped. “Have you eaten? You want to go for a kebab or something? Indian takeaway?” “No, I just wanted to talk about this…arrangement.”
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“Well, I’m very happy you did. Very happy indeed.” She glanced around the cabin with a look of distracted pleasure. “When do you want to meet for the first photo expedition?” “Tomorrow, if you can. Your dad’s impatient.” “Meet me at the bagel place near Te Papa at ten. You can document me at the museum, being a fine, upstanding little specimen of a woman. And all over the rest of town, if you have the time.” “That sounds good. I’ll see you then.” She grinned. “You sure will. Sweet dreams, loverboy.” As the door clicked closed behind him, Reece had the distinct feeling he’d just signed a deal with the Devil.
“You’re a punctual little stalker, aren’t you?” Reece raised a hand as he crossed the bagel shop’s sunny interior, taking a seat beside Libby at the counter. “Gidday, Libby? Ready to play the respectable citizen?” He ordered a coffee to go and gave Libby a once-over. She hadn’t bothered dressing any less casually than usual, but he supposed for her to suddenly appear in a skirt suit would have raised more red flags with her old man than if she were running naked down the street on fire. “I am indeed.” She grinned at him in a dangerous way. “I’m excited to go to the museum, actually. We could turn this into a classy little date, you know.” “Strictly business, thanks very much.” His coffee arrived. “Ready to go?” “Yeah, sure thing.” “Let’s go to the park first so I can drink this.” “Gentleman’s choice,” Libby said.
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They walked to the small expanse of green along the windy waterfront. Reece blocked out the ocean, forcing himself into a rigid posture of professionalism and switching on his camera. “All right, let’s get started. Pretend you don’t even see me.” “You don’t make it easy,” Libby said in a low tone, something suspicious shifting in her eyes. Reece gave her stern look. “Just walk around, I guess. Be normal.” She surprised him by complying. He wondered if she hadn’t been kidding when she said she’d spent the previous weekend acting like a regular person in case he’d been watching. The way she transformed was impressive. She ignored him for a couple of minutes, and Reece took a dozen snapshots. Just a woman taking a walk, gazing out at the sea, feeding half a bagel to the gulls. Nothing to worry about here, Mr. Prentiss. “Te Papa now?” Libby squinted at him through the sunlight, her eyes turning dangerous again. “Yeah. Tickets are on you.” “It’s free, Ebenezer. But I’ll front you the suggested donation if you’re going to be like that.” Reece didn’t reply. The consistency and frequency with which Libby managed to trip him up was alarming. “So tell me, lover,” Libby drawled as they walked along the waterfront toward the museum. “How did my father find you, anyway? You’re nothing like the pros he’s hired in the past. If you hadn’t given yourself away I might not have even suspected you for weeks. I might’ve thought I’d gotten lucky, bumping into you all over Welly.” “I found him, actually. Or Colin did. Your dad placed an ad in the paper and it just said, ‘Wanted, discreet individual for surveillance job. Generous cash
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wages, flexible hours.’ Something generic like that. Colin passed it on to me. I have some free time before I start another job.” “As a cop.” Reece disliked that she knew this but hid a scowl. “Yeah. So I met your father one weekend. He interviewed me over lunch, and I think he did a background check or something. Hired me on the phone the next day and some bloke showed up at the bar with a wad of cash.” One of her angular eyebrows rose. “You met my father?” Reece nodded. “My father was in Wellington? Recently?” “Yeah. A couple days before you…caught me.” “Oh, charming.” Libby’s eyes narrowed with deep irritation but she overcame the emotion after a moment. “Well, I can see why he liked you.” Reece wasn’t sure what to make of the comment. The impression Tom Prentiss had made on him during their brief acquaintance had been one of calculating self-control and thinly veiled arrogance. “You’re two peas in a pod,” Libby added loftily. Reece frowned. He wasn’t like that at all. “I wouldn’t know about that.” “You’re cold,” Libby said, her gaze pointed toward the sea. “Have you ever considered the fact that maybe I just don’t like you?” “I suppose that’s possible… But you will. I’ll win you over, Nolan.” She turned to face him, grinned and bit her lip in a way that made certain unprofessional parts of Reece curious. “I very much doubt that.” Her smile deepened. “Want to bet?” Reece was relieved to reach the entrance to the impressive, modern museum, his attention drawn away from how warm and uncomfortable Libby’s flirtation
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sometimes made him. They each dropped a few dollar coins in the donation box, and Reece held his camera up at the greeter in a questioning gesture, receiving a nod of approval. Libby looked him over with a smirk. “This is going to be fun.”
The trouble with this arrangement, Libby realized, was that it required her and Reece to remain separated by believably long distances. This hadn’t occurred to her when she’d been busy reveling in his unexpected surrender the night before. What good were hours of weekly access to this man if she had to spend it twenty yards away? After browsing the natural history exhibits, Libby flashed a time-out sign across the gallery at Reece and met him halfway. “Yeah?” He clutched the camera in front of his chest, like an amulet designed to ward off pushy American women. “Let’s break for a coffee.” “I just had a coffee.” “Well, I didn’t. Come on.” “Fine. I’ll document you in the museum café.” “No, come have a coffee with me. At the same table.” He glanced at his watch. “This is already going to eat up most of my day, Libby. Can we please focus?” “You make it sound like you’re the one who’s doing the favor, here.” “I am, as much as you are.” His reply carried a hint of an attitude. “Just…come on. I want to talk to you.” Already her stomach was churning, anticipating this conversation.
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Reece followed her to the café and ordered their drinks while Libby found them a table by a sunny window. She wanted to look at those hard gray eyes in the light, and see if the sun melted any their iciness…to see if Reece might soften, if she softened a bit herself. He returned with their drinks and she studied him a moment. “What’s up?” He stirred the foam in his cappuccino, looking skeptical. He met her gaze and his irises were stunningly clear. Not ice—quartz. Surely that material didn’t melt unless subjected to extreme heat. “This doesn’t have to be unpleasant, you know,” Libby said. “I could say the same thing to you.” Snide or not, she heard a little give in his tone. “You’re all right, Nolan. You’re refreshing.” “Why are you buttering me up?” Libby chewed her lip, putting in final bets. “You aren’t gay, are you?” “That’s none of your business,” Reece said. “I don’t think you are.” “What is the point of this talk, exactly?” “I just want to get to know you,” Libby said, leaning back in her chair. “I’d like us to get along. We’re going to be stuck together quite a bit in the coming weeks. Months, maybe, if my visa extension comes through.” “I can muster tolerance if you can,” Reece said, cold again. The boy was about as predictable as March in Boston. “I’ve got no problem mustering just about whatever you can think of.” Libby picked up her cup. “You’re the one who’s being difficult.” He shrugged. “So tell me about yourself. When’s your birthday?” “Why not just google me again and find out for yourself?”
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She took a sip and set her cup down. “Don’t be like that. And don’t act like your role in this arrangement is so holy. Would you like to know something, Reece Nolan?” He blinked at her. “I’m doing you a favor, letting this happen the way it is. I could ruin your future career in a heartbeat, and by proxy your family’s financial solvency. And I’m not. And if you swallowed half of what my father’s probably fed you about me, that should surprise you. But believe it or not, I’m not an asshole.” “I never said I thought you were.” Libby turned her cup on its saucer. “You know, your brother said you’re just being a sore loser about all this. I’m here trying to offer you an even better deal than the one I wrecked, so cut me some frigging slack.” Reece held his tongue. “And before you say it,” she went on, “you helping me get my father off my back isn’t all that huge a draw. That’s a luxury I’ve been living just fine without for the last few years. I don’t need your help. But you need mine. So try treating me with a little courtesy.” “Why are you doing it, then?” Reece asked. “Because I like your family. All of them except you have welcomed me in and given me the benefit of the doubt. I want to help you. And I want your help, even if I don’t need it.” Reflexively, she made her voice sound scheming to cover up how vulnerable all this honesty made her feel. “This could be fun if we can agree to make it that way.” “I agree,” Reece said, surprising her. “Well. Good.” “My birthday is October twenty-second.”
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She smiled, leaning in and resting her elbows on the table. “What’s your favorite food?” “My mother’s roast lamb.” “Why weren’t you in the last Summer Olympics?” Libby wondered if she was pushing it, asking that one. “I was injured during the trials.” He said it with none of the evasiveness he’d shown when she’d asked him about the second-to-last Games. “That sucks.” “I’m injured a lot. I have a tetchy knee.” “I’d like to see you fight,” Libby said. “You must be really good.” “I’m all right.” “I’ll bet.” She stared at him, fascinated. He was answering all her questions but she didn’t feel as if she were learning anything about him. This man would frustrate the Spanish Inquisition. She propped her chin on her fists. “Why are you like this?” “Like what?” “So goddamned distrustful. Did someone who looks just like me set your puppy on fire when you were six or something? Because I feel like I’m guilty until proven innocent with you.” “Your father said you’re manipulative, and as best I can tell, he’s right.” “Give me one example,” she demanded. “The ‘quiet talk’ you wanted on Thursday. You jerked me around and humiliated me in front of a club full of people.” “That’s a bit melodramatic. And I caught you spying on me. Aren’t I due a little bit of revenge?” He blew a long breath through his nose. “You’re paying me to lie to your father.”
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“And you’re letting me,” she said. “So how come you’re such a martyr?” “He’s trying to protect you, not police you.” “Protect me from what? My past aside, tell me one thing you’ve seen me do that’s so reprehensible.” “Well, what if it hadn’t been me who found you on that beach?” Reece asked. “What if it had been some actual pervert? Or the cops, coming to arrest you for building an open fire or drinking in public? What if the person you got to drive you out to a secluded beach had pulled a knife on you or something?” “Everything fun in life requires you to put yourself out there, lover. Take some risks.” She sank back against her chair and crossed her legs. “That’s what makes it exciting. Not everybody wants to be safe and respectable all the time. That’s why so many of us are willing to get tipsy and sing in front of strangers. You’re the one who needs an adjustment.” Reece’s jaw tensed as though he were working through a hunk of invisible gristle. “I think it’s probably pretty telling that you chose the line of work you did,” Libby went on. “Martial arts, I mean. It’s your job to be on your guard every moment, in case somebody attacks you. How paranoid is that? And now you’re going to be a cop? Maybe I am manipulative, but at least I don’t have the holy pole of propriety rammed up my backside. At least I don’t need to be in control of everything, every second of the day.” She steeled herself for a counterattack, but Reece just shrugged. “Jesus,” she said, grinning. “You are a frigging iceberg. What do I have to do to melt you, anyway?” Reece smiled back, a tiny glimmer of triumph lighting his eyes. Heating Libby’s blood. “Is this how you win?” she asked. “You just don’t take the bait?”
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“Very few things are worth getting angry about.” “Oh, yeah?” She cocked her head at him. “So which one made you the way you are?” Reece smiled tightly and stood, taking their empty cups away. Libby narrowed her eyes at his retreating back. “You win this round, Nolan. That makes us even.” They continued through the museum, then afterward walked around downtown. Libby went about her feigned normal business, browsing in shops and swinging by the university to pick up some lab results a student assistant had prepared for her. Yet more unexciting chemical analysis, more BS to write up as part of her findings. Reece was leaning against a signpost and fiddling with his camera when she emerged from the science wing. She stared at him long and hard, flummoxed. His body and face did something to her, something unfamiliar. His inaccessibility and coldness lit her on fire. But what good was that miracle, if he wouldn’t ever let her get close enough to enjoy it? They turned their heads in tandem as a passing man about Reece’s age called his name. Reece snapped into self-awareness and smiled. “Hey, Jason. Gidday?” They shook hands. Libby meandered closer as the man said, “I thought you were still in merry old England.” “I’ve been back for a couple months.” “Home for a while?” “For good, actually,” Reece replied with a loaded exhale. “I ran into your brother a month or two ago. I’m sorry about your dad.” Jason gave Reece’s upper arm a fortifying squeeze.
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Reece nodded and said, “Cheers,” then turned as Libby walked up to them. “Jase, this is my mate Libby. Libby, this is Jason. We were at school together a million years ago.” “Nice to meet you,” Libby said, aglow from Reece’s decision to label her as a friend, even if she knew it was merely the simplest thing for him to say. “She’s visiting from Boston,” Reece added. “Ah, very exciting,” Jason said. “Well, Cambridge, actually.” “How are you finding Wellington?” Jason asked, clearly intrigued. “It’s fantastic. I just wish I could stay longer. We were about to get some lunch, if you want to join us,” she added recklessly. She knew Reece was about to call it a day but the meal could tack on another half hour of face time with this, the world’s most frustrating love interest. “I was on my way for a Chinese,” Jason said, still giving Libby that hungry look she was so accustomed to it bored her. She looked to her left. “Reece?” For once, he didn’t twitch a muscle of protest. “Yeah, sounds good.” Libby’s heart leapt. Jason nudged Reece with a smirk. “You look like a tourist with that camera, mate.” Reece settled beside Libby in a booth after they placed their lunch orders at the counter. He was happy to have this break—he could use another person to distract him from his charge’s exhausting energy. “So your brother’s looking well,” Jason said as he sat down across from them. “Yeah, he’s doing all right. Working all the bloody time.”
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“And your sister?” “She had a baby in December, if Colin hadn’t mentioned it.” “Damn. I remember when she was seventeen and we all thought she was so sophisticated.” “So did she,” Reece said. “And your mum?” “She’s…she’s all right. She’s tired, you know. Still works at the pub every afternoon. She misses my dad.” They made a bit of small talk about Jason’s family until their orders were called. Once they were seated again, Jason said, “So what brings you here, Libby? Holiday?” “Half. Half-research. I’m starting on a PhD through the folks at the Karori Sanctuary and the university.” “Well, that’s very impressive.” Reece frowned to himself, displeased by the wave of sexual interest Jason had sent crashing in her direction. “So what does your wife do, Jason?” Libby asked smoothly, her gaze zeroing in on his ring finger. He stumbled a second before answering. Reece nudged Libby’s knee with his, and when she glanced sideways he let her see his smirk. He was impressed—or at least relieved. Her capacity for shameless flirtation clearly had its limits. Reece surrendered the rest of the meal’s conversation to Libby and Jason. He wasn’t much of a talker, and besides, there wasn’t really anything positive to share on the topic of his family’s recent fortunes. Or misfortunes. And to be honest, he sort of enjoyed Libby when she wasn’t at his throat. When she was faced with a third party she didn’t turn completely docile, but she dialed back
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her intensity to a level that was more like banter than verbal assault. She was quick and she wasn’t a fluffy conversationalist. She wasn’t so bad, really, Reece decided. Maybe Annie had a point. Libby shook Jason’s hand as they exited into the afternoon sunshine. “It was nice to meet you.” “You too. Enjoy the rest of your visit. Good to see you again, Reece. What nights are you tending bar these days?” “Varies. Wednesdays and Fridays, usually. But only for the next couple months. Stop by, though. It’ll be good to see you.” “I will,” Jason said. Reece suspected he wouldn’t. There were those who’d made the effort to track Reece down six years ago when Colin’s troubles had rocked their family to the core, and Jason hadn’t been one of them. Crisis was a great barometer of friendships, and Reece didn’t have much use for those who’d made themselves scarce during that dark period. Fair-weather friends, he thought. And things had been cloudy for the Nolans for a long time, now.
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Chapter Six
Libby confirmed the downtown address on Colin’s business card, standing before the building’s shabby entrance. Pushing in the door, she was reminded of a taxi dispatch—half mechanic’s garage, half waiting room. A handful of surly bike messengers lounged in folding chairs, eating slices of pizza off paper plates. A slightly cleaner young man stood behind a reception desk covered in ledgers and pagers. “Help you?” he asked, looking up. Libby felt the eyes of the couriers at her back as she approached. What a strange breed of people…like pirates. Feral and dirty and thoroughly unapologetic. “Is it okay if I wait here for Colin? If he’s working today, I mean. I just need a quick word.” “Colin’s out back.” The man pointed to the double doors at the far end of the room and eyed the candy cane in Libby’s hand. His tone made it sound as though Colin receiving female callers during work hours wasn’t an uncommon event. “Go on through.” Libby pushed in the door and glanced around the back room. It was a veritable bicycle repair shop, filled with the skeletons of half-built frames and strewn with workbenches and shelves laden with toppling heaps of parts. Colin was standing beside a wheel-less, spruce-green bike frame, wielding a foam brush and a can of shellac. A sheet of newspaper was spread under the front fork, catching the drips that fell from the wet, canvas-wrapped handlebars. A
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short young woman with fashionably messy hair and supremely tight black jeans stood at Colin’s side. She turned as the door swung closed behind Libby, and her look was not welcoming. Libby didn’t hesitate to exacerbate the tension. “Hey, Tiger!” she said brightly. Colin raised his head and smirked. He set the can and brush on a table and wiped his hands on a rag. “All right, Libby? What’s the good word?” He offered a warm grin and a gentle clap on her arm. “Nice bike.” “You have no idea.” His gaze roamed the frame with electric reverence. “This is a 1950 Helyett Speciale.” He affected a heavy French accent and flicked an invisible cigarette holder. “Magnifique. And all mine.” The young woman gave Colin a kick on the shoe and a moody glare, indicating she was off to the waiting area. He offered her a playful push in the right direction, and Libby caught her smile from the contact as she left. “Frosty in here,” Colin mumbled once she was out of earshot. “Girlfriend?” “Colleague.” “Ex-girlfriend?” He shook his head. “Not even close. I don’t do girlfriends.” “If you say so…but I feel it’s only fair to warn you, she seems to think differently.” “That’s her worry. But trust me, I don’t have the energy to deal with a twenty-year-old. I already babysit twice a week.” Libby smirked. “Is my brother stalking you today?” Colin asked.
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“No, he has the day off, but tomorrow he gets to document me at the library and the grocery store and the Laundromat.” “Sounds upstanding.” “That’s the look I’m going for,” Libby said. “But anyhow, something you need?” “Not really. I wanted to see if you’d come out tonight. And bring your brother.” “Karaoke?” he asked. “Maybe next week. I’ve got something else in mind for tonight. Something a little more Reece’s speed, I think.” “Intriguing. But didn’t you see him yesterday? You should have asked him yourself.” Colin raised that eyebrow that was forever doomed to betray his jealousy. Not an ugly jealousy—a sweet one, despite its tough packaging. “Yeah, but Reece doesn’t fall for my strong-arming. I was hoping to get you on my side.” He nodded. “Annie’s behind the bar Thursdays, so he’s got no excuses.” “Awesome. Well, I’ll let you get back to work. Meet me by the bookstore in Courtenay Place? Sevenish?” “You got it.” “And karaoke next Thursday, definitely.” He nodded. “Save me a good one.” “I’ll be Sheila E. if you’ll be my Prince.” Colin clapped a melodramatic hand over his heart. “Oh, Libby, you know how to melt a man.” “Yeah. Could you explain that to your brother, please? Actually, on second thought…”
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“Your secret’s safe with me.” Colin picked up the brush and can. “Have you been following my advice? Laying on the sweetness and all that?” “I’ve been good,” Libby said, which was true. For her, she’d been an absolute saint. The Patron Saint of Sincerity. “I think we’re making progress.” “Good. I’ll see you later.” Colin smiled tightly, adding, “You look good.” “You look real pretty yourself,” Libby said over her shoulder as she swept through the door. “Love your shoes.”
“There she is.” Reece squinted through the streetlight and neon signs of Courtenay Place, following Colin’s finger to where Libby was leaning against a wall outside the used bookshop. She was nodding thoughtfully, engaged in a conversation with a gesticulating Rastafarian who was stripped to the waist and wearing a dirty, patterned sheet like a sarong. She spotted them as they approached and waved, then went back to her conversation. Reece and Colin waited politely until the homeless man finished his impassioned rant. Libby touched him on the shoulder and said, “I really hope they get their shit together. Take care, man. Oh, don’t forget your coffee.” She grabbed one of two takeout cups from the top of a newspaper box and handed it to him. He gave her hand a vigorous shake and picked up an old backpack, heading off down the street. Reece glanced at Libby, torn between disapproval and admiration. She turned and smiled at them. “Hello, boys.” “Taking in the local color?” Colin asked.
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“Oh, that’s just my friend John.” She glanced down the street after him. “I like to buy him a coffee and listen to his conspiracy theories about the government.” “All right, Libby?” Reece asked. “Better, now.” She gave him a good once-over. “We aren’t going to a poetry slam, are we?” Colin pointed at Libby’s ensemble—black yoga pants and long-sleeved black turtleneck. “Or burgling someone’s house,” Reece offered, honoring the promise he’d made to himself to give Libby the benefit of the doubt tonight. She’d been right to call him out on their first documentation excursion, just as his brother and sister had been right when they’d said he needed to lighten up. “We’re doing something way better than theft or poetry.” She grinned and pointed down a few storefronts to a door framed in yellow and black hazard stripes. Colin laughed. Reece raised his eyebrows at her. “Laser tag?” “Would you prefer karaoke?” “Actually, no,” Reece admitted, warming. “I could get into this.” “It’ll be good practice for all the sting operations you’ll be a part of once you’re a copper,” Colin said, sarcastic. Wellington wasn’t exactly a hotbed of criminal excitement. Reece nodded at Libby’s cast-less digit. “I guess your finger’s mended, then.” Curling it around an imaginary trigger, she squeezed off a shot in his direction. She drained her coffee and led them inside. They had a short wait before their group was due to get equipped for the game. Libby took the opportunity to fish a tube of black lipstick from her pants pocket and smear a streak beneath each eye.
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“You don’t mess around,” Reece said. She grinned and pulled her messy hair into a ponytail. “Just pray we’re on the same side.” A heavy man wearing a Laser Zone staff shirt appeared from the next room. “Right! Next group!” They joined a couple dozen hyped-up players, most looking twenty or younger and several looking a tad intoxicated. Reece glanced around as they assembled in a dim room lined with vests and fake guns. “I feel really old.” “And I feel really sober,” Colin offered. Libby rolled her eyes. “You two are useless at bloodlust.” The crowd was divided into two teams. Libby ended up on the red team, Reece and Colin on the blue team. Everyone donned vests equipped with sensors and were issued plastic laser rifles for zapping the enemy. Libby caught Reece’s eye from across the room as the teams huddled. She fake-cocked her gun and shot an evil grin at him. “I think you’re fucked,” Colin whispered. The red team headed down a corridor toward the other end of the building. Reece couldn’t help but smile as they were released into the playing arena. It was a vast, low-ceilinged space full of sci-fi-style partitions and fiberglass boulders and the like for ambushes, everything edged in fluorescent colors. Pure black-lit, over-the-top eighties cheesiness. “Feels like we’re in Tron.” Colin said. The lettering on his Black Flag T-shirt glowed bright blue-white behind his vest. The countdown clock mounted on the wall said the battle would begin in ninety seconds. Reece enjoyed the race in his pulse. Corny or not, he loved competition. One of the younger guys—a short, slight teenager who seemed to take the sport exceedingly seriously—began outlining his strategy to the blue
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team. He issued orders to the others, directing them this way and that. Then he reached the Nolans and gave Colin and his scars and tattoos one look before saying, “You guys just do whatever you want.” “Cheers, Napoleon,” Colin muttered as he left them be. Lights strobed as the countdown reached the ten-second mark. “May God have mercy on the epileptics.” The space went black, and a robotic voice from a speaker boomed, “Game on.” The black lights came back up, and the clock reset itself to ten minutes. “Give her what for,” Colin said. He slapped Reece’s back and headed off down a passage in search of the enemy. Reece grinned to himself. He took his cue from the younger players and let himself pretend he was part of an intergalactic military operation. He was feeling pretty good about his skills a couple minutes in, having zapped several red players, leaving them temporarily unable to use their weapons. Then his vest made a depressed arcade-game noise and his sensors went dark. He turned to find Libby standing behind him, gun still trained on his middle. He gave her a deadly look. “You’ll pay for that.” She grinned, teeth so white they nearly glowed, and ran down a side corridor. Reece sequestered himself in a corner until his vest lit back up and his ability to shoot returned, then went after her. He took down a handful of opponents along the way, a man on a singular mission. When he found her, Libby was crouching inside a bunker, taking aim at Colin. Reece zapped a shot at the red pad on her back, and her vest went dark. She turned to him, mouth hanging open in offense. “You little…”
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Reece took off, hopping over a low wall and grabbing Colin as he ran back into the maze of glowing corridors. “Enjoying yourself?” Colin asked, letting himself be led past a room designed to look like a spaceship’s cabin. Reece took aim and hit a red team member. “I just saved your ass back there. Libby almost had you.” “Damn, you should have let her. That’s probably the closest I’ll ever get to being her conquest.” Reece was enjoying himself too much to let the comment trouble him. Over the next seven minutes, Reece and Libby turned the game into a private vendetta. They traded shots and playfully angry looks until the countdown clock buzzed and the lights came back up. In the end they’d each hit the other six times. The red team won by a landslide of points, but Reece knew as well as she did that it had been a draw. The players shuffled into the equipment room and removed their gear. “Again?” Libby asked, eyes sparkling above their black war paint. “Tiebreaker,” Reece agreed. However, after another spell of waiting, Libby and the Nolans ended up on the same team. “Let me show you how it’s done.” Libby strapped on her vest. As soon as the other team went off down the hall, she took charge. “Okay,” she boomed, shutting up even the bossy teenager. “You three, you’re in the first wave. You two.” She pointed her gun at a pair of young men who seemed only too eager to follow her orders. “You watch their backs. You guys are snipers.” She nodded at a group of high-school-aged girls. “You protect the mothership. You,” she barked, turning to Colin. “You’re my man on the
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inside. You head all the way down and take out their generator. And you.” She looked to Reece with a grin. “You just follow me.” Reece selected a rifle, having understood only half the things she’d said. “Yes ma’am.” As the game started up, he dutifully shadowed Libby. It was freaky how eager people were to do what she said. Just as with karaoke, she could command a crowd like no one he’d ever met. She issued an order and strangers followed it, no questions asked. “You ought to be an organizer,” he said as they hunkered down behind a pile of fake boulders. She looked over her shoulder at him, calculating. “Or a politician,” he amended, meeting her stare. “You’re very…persuasive.” She softened, smiling. “Am I mistaken or was that almost a compliment?” Reece was spared further flirtation as a group of opponents approached and drew them back into the game. The buzzer sounded a few minutes later and lights came back up, killing the campy illusion. Reece noticed the tired carpeting, the worn-out props, the cheap office-style ceiling tiles. He saw Libby in a new light, as well—a flattering one. Colin found them as they ditched their equipment. “Did you happen to spot on the board who the highest scorer was?” he asked Libby pompously. He nodded to the LED sign that listed all the players by vest number and how many points they’d earned. She smiled as she put her gun away, then gave his cheek a couple of gentle slaps. “I knew you’d do me proud.” “I’d do you most any way you could think of.” Colin dodged a punch to the shoulder, adding, “If I thought I stood a chance.”
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Reece frowned. Still, Libby was behaving herself. She was perhaps the one person he’d met who was more in command of a space’s sexual atmosphere than Colin himself, and that was no small feat. “Think I’m done for the night,” Reece said. They wandered into the lobby. Libby’s gaze swiveled to Reece, mischievous, the femme fatale returning in an instant. God knew why she reserved it for him… Still, he’d be more than happy to absorb her attention if it meant she was honoring her half of the deal they’d struck on her boat and keeping her charismatic talons off his brother. Colin had suffered enough tragedy in his romantic past to last a lifetime. “Think I could crash on your couch again?” Libby glanced between them. Reece caught Colin’s deferring look and nodded. “Yeah, sure. Your stuff’s all over the flat still, anyhow.” “Oh goodie. Hold up one minute—I want a shake.” Reece and Colin sat on a bench as Libby got in line at the snack bar. “Nice to see you having a good time,” Reece said, addressing his brother’s contented smile. “Ditto. I haven’t seen you cut loose like that since I was about five.” He laughed. “You were such an odd kid. Still are. Where does that come from, eh?” “I’m not that odd,” Reece said, defensive. “You are. I think Mum must’ve had a fling with an ascetic. It’s got to be in your DNA, because the rest of us are a right laugh.” Reece shrugged. He didn’t much feel like talking about how he might or might not fit in with the rest of their family. Colin nodded toward the snack bar. “And don’t get me started on the colossal waste you’re making of this Libby situation—” Reece cut the thought off with a jerk of his head and a warning squint.
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Colin rolled his eyes. “Touchy, Jesus. Get over yourself.” “Well, anyway, it’s nice to see you having a good time,” Reece reiterated, eager to maintain the levity. He gave his brother a long study, recognizing him, it felt, for the first time in six years. Colin looked about a decade older than he did in Reece’s mind’s eye. Until his accident, Colin had always been that skinny, loud-mouthed kid Reece had grown up being harangued by at every turn. Then he’d changed overnight. Reece had been away at the time, and when he’d come back, his brother was another person. He’d noticed then for the first time how tall Colin was, how much bigger than Reece had realized. With his personality suddenly gone, he’d been as unrecognizable as a stranger dressed in Colin’s clothes. But right now that old energy was back and Reece was shocked to note just how much Colin resembled their father…except for the hairline. Reece seemed doomed to be the sole heir to that genetic legacy. “Have I got something on my face?” Colin asked, addressing Reece’s prolonged scrutiny. He shook his head. “Nah. Just jealous you got your hair from Mum’s side.” Colin smirked. “You’ll be all right. Nolans only ever flirt with baldness. We never go all the way.” “I hope so. Your hair now… Is this just an act of sympathy for me?” Colin’s buzzed head still felt new to Reece. “Just embracing the scars, mate.” Colin tapped the spot where two long, thin, white streaks interrupted the dark cover of his stubble. Reece cleared his throat, wishing he hadn’t brought it up. Libby returned, sucking a pink concoction through a clear straw. She stared at Reece’s mouth or chin for a long moment. “Ready?” he asked.
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She nodded and swallowed and seemed all at once diminished. Her shyness continued as they strolled to the car and drove back to Kaiwharawhara. Equally disconcerting, Colin too fell silent. Reece tried to pinpoint exactly what flavor of conspiracy was brewing between them, but all he could smell was peppermint. The threesome reentered the pub at ten fifteen. “Heya, kids,” Annie said. Libby offered a limp wave, feeling uncharacteristically timid. “Don’t you have a man and a baby waiting at home for you?” Colin lifted the hinged entrance to the bar and ushered his sister out. “Go home, you old wench. I’ll save you my tips.” “I’m not going to argue with you.” Annie handed over the register key and her bar towel. “And you definitely rake in the best tips. Thanks, Col. Mark thanks you too,” she added as she slipped her coat on. “Your niece never lets him sleep. Night, guys.” She waved to Libby and Reece. Colin settled in behind the bar and dug out a newspaper. “You two be good, now.” Libby said good night, thinking she knew what Colin was trying to help facilitate. He was an exemplary wingman. Reece yawned as they mounted the stairs and entered the flat. “I might call it a night.” He closed the door behind them and kicked off his shoes. “Oh, not yet! I’m all charged up now. And we’ve made real progress tonight.” He glanced at her. “At what?” “You know…being nice to each other. Having fun. Let’s keep the momentum up. Let’s play a game. You’re competitive, right? I’d love to see you beat me at Trivial Pursuit.”
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“With your credentials, I’d love to see that too. I might stand a chance on the questions about seventies’ cricket.” “Oh, come on, lover. Indulge me. It’s early. Crack open a beer.” Reece looked around the room and at the clock. “Yeah, okay. ’Til twelve thirty, then I have to head to bed. I’ve got morning classes.” “Gorgeous. I’ll get some music going.” “Can we have the news instead?” He wandered into the kitchen. “No, no, no.” She thought quickly. “That’s almost like cheating. What if an answer came up on the broadcast?” Reece returned carrying a can of Speight’s. “This game was put out shortly after you were born.” “Well, it’ll be distracting. Come on. You dragged me away from laser tag way too early. Let me have my way.” With you, she amended in her head. “All right then.” He sighed and obediently took a seat on the floor as she unfolded the board. He popped his can open. “I want the yellow pie.” “Fine.” She took the red one for herself. Reece was right, ultimately—Libby kicked his ass at the game, with the exception of the questions about antipodean sports and entertainment. It was fun—for both of them, she suspected—though her own enjoyment was dampened more each minute by mounting nerves. It took Reece an exceedingly long time to notice what sorts of tapes she’d been playing on her stereo. Halfway into the game, he looked up, suddenly savvy and suspicious, glancing around like a spooked deer. “What’s up with the make-out music?” Libby swallowed. She set the dice down and looked at Reece. “I want you to kiss me.” He stared blankly at her, toying with his pie. “I’m not interested in you, Libby. Not that way.”
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“I know. That’s why you’re perfect for it.” “For what?” She hissed out a long, loaded breath. “Teach me how to kiss.” Reece balked, abandoned by his self-possession. “Beg pardon? Teach you?” “Yeah.” He smiled nervously, shaking his head. “Libby, you’re the most sexual person I’ve ever met. I’m sure I’ve got nothing to add to your undoubtedly impressive repertoire.” “I haven’t kissed anyone in twelve years.” He shut his eyes, absorbing this proclamation. “What?” “I haven’t kissed anybody in like twelve years. Since I was sixteen.” His eyes opened again. “You’re winding me up.” “I’m not.” He seemed to replay a tape in his head, looking for an instance that might make her a liar. He wouldn’t find one. “I haven’t done anything since I was sixteen.” “But you flirt with nearly any bloke who’s got a pulse.” “Yeah, but I don’t do anything with anyone.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m so bloody confused.” Libby had prepared a brief synopsis for this eventuality. “Something bad happened when I was younger. I thought I loved somebody, and I did something I didn’t really want to because I thought it would make him love me back.” She twirled her hand dismissively in the air. “And it didn’t. He ditched me and I went totally nuts. I tried to kill myself and my father threw me in an institution to keep me from bringing embarrassment on our family’s good name.” She rattled the facts off, as though summarizing a very boring story. Reece’s eyes were round and horrified. “Bloody hell, that’s awful.”
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She couldn’t let this turn into a consolation festival when she had far more pressing matters to address. “Yeah, well, it was what it was. But I haven’t so much as kissed anybody on the mouth since then. And now I need to catch up.” She cracked her knuckles, businesslike, hoping Reece couldn’t sense the truth of her actual excitement. True, she did want to kiss him because he was such a nonthreat, but he didn’t need to know how badly she truly wanted him, and how long it’d been since she’d felt this way about a guy. It’d only freak him out. Hell, it’d freak her out to admit it, to let him know how much sway he had over her. Reece looked around the room again with dawning comprehension. “Have you been planning this?” “A bit. Aren’t you flattered?” “I don’t know. Should I be?” “Uh, yeah. You’re the only man I’ve been willing to let touch me in over a decade. Jackpot, lover.” Reece frowned, so adorable. “Christ, don’t call me that. This is so twisted. Why me?” “Like you said, you aren’t interested in me. You’re safe. And you’re sexy. You’re single. Teach me how to kiss. I’m way behind my peers.” He shook his head. “No blooming way.” “Why not?” “Because… Just because.” “Please?” “I mean, we aren’t like that. It’d be all clinical and weird.” “I know, and that’s perfect. No one’s invested. It’s safe.” She paused, abandoning her bargaining platform and looking him square in the face. “Please? It’s really important to me.”
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He seemed contemplate her request. Colin had been right—sincerity was the only reliable crowbar she’d yet found for prying Reece open. His clear gray eyes were trained on the ceiling, brows knitted, but he looked calm again. He sighed. “I’m not sure what it is I’m meant to be teaching you.” “Just…how to kiss. I don’t even remember what it’s like, it’s been so long. And I never even got good at it before things turned all fucked.” “Well, it’s not that simple. Every bloke is different. It’s not a universal skill— ” “Jesus, Reece, you make everything so frigging complicated. Then just teach me how to kiss you.” His eyes lowered to drill into hers. “Fine.” She clapped. “Oh goodie.” “But turn the Al Green off.” “What should we listen to instead?” “You’ve really never done anything, have you?” Reece asked, clearly floored. “This is all out of a movie for you?” “Kind of.” “Holy hell.” “I’ve never seen you so flustered, loverboy. So what do you want to listen to?” “Nothing. Each other. That’s what you listen to. Or that’s what I’d listen to in this…situation.” “Well, you are in this situation, so…” She crawled to the tape deck and clicked it off. Taking the noise away was like shedding a layer of clothing, closing the distance between them. The light tapping of rain at the windows mimicked Libby’s fluttery heartbeat.
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“Okay, then.” She slid the game board off to one side. Reece’s legs were sprawled in a vee and Libby scooted close in front of him, crossing her thighs over his and looking to him expectantly, their faces only a foot apart. “This is really what you want?” he asked. “Definitely.” “Is this… Are we snogging? How far do you want to go?” If he was intimidated, he didn’t show it—all his earlier hesitation was gone. Good, old steady Reece. He really had no clue how sexy he was. Thank goodness. “Yeah, let’s make out. But don’t jam your tongue down my throat.” “I’m thirty-one, Libby.” “Yeah, well, the last guy I kissed was seventeen. I’m working with what I know, here.” “Fine. Just give me a little credit.” “Well, you’ll have to earn it, now won’t you?” She’d slipped into her seduction voice almost without meaning to. “Don’t try that on me. You’re so creepy.” “Sorry. So, lay it on me, Professor. Tell me what to do.” She couldn’t keep her eyes from flicking back to his mouth every other word. “Just…just do what you want to. I’ll kiss you, and if you like what I’m doing, you can do it back or whatever.” His gaze darted over her face. He reached out to rub a thumb below her eye, at whatever was left of her war paint. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed the last of his uncertainty. “It’s hard to explain. Just try stuff. I can’t tell you what to enjoy… Kissing’s always dodgy the first time with a new person. If you don’t like something, tell me.” “Fine.” “Fine.” “Go!” Libby said.
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Reece’s face took on a steely look of determination, as though she were a particularly wily opponent. He reached out both his cool hands and touched her face, resting his fingers behind her ears, his thumbs on her jaw. Libby’s skin heated at the contact. He leaned in and put his lips against hers, catching her lower one between his ever so lightly, then pulled away an inch. An unfamiliar sensation spread through her like alcohol, tingling and trickling from the crown of her head down through her chest, right into her fingertips and toes. It’d taken years to find a guy whose sexuality didn’t frighten her, one she truly wanted to be close to and who made her conjure all those stupid verbs people employed when talking about attraction—crave, want, need. And the sheer relief of getting close to a man and not wanting to bolt…that felt as good and comforting and miraculous as Reece’s skin against hers. Their eyes flickered together before his lips returned at an angle, parted, and he pressed his mouth to hers. She pressed back. Her hands were clasped in her lap and she untwined her fingers and moved them to his shoulders. His sweater was soft and inviting but she craved his skin. She slid one hand up to touch his neck as his mouth opened further. He slipped his tongue very shallowly between her lips before pulling back again. Her heart hammered, brain fuzzy. “Is this okay?” he asked. “Yes, this is good. Keep going. I’m learning loads.” When Reece’s mouth returned, he intensified the touch. Libby parted her lips to invite his tongue again. He tasted clean and faintly of his beer. Just the way a man ought to taste, she decided. She tilted her head for more. The way his tongue slid against hers was sexy—not weird or gross as she’d feared. Hot. Wet,
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but not messy. She scooted closer, the backs of her thighs resting on the tops of his as she began, cautiously, to kiss back. She experimented with her lips, capturing his with them, his top one, then the bottom, lightly, then more rough, drawing it gently between her teeth. She felt him swallow. “Am I doing all right?” “Yeah, you’re doing great.” Reece looked down his nose to her lips, eyes crossing. “Are you…is it feeling good to you?” He was different, softer. “It’s awesome,” Libby whispered. And it was far more than that—an unprecedented relief, to discover she could in fact feel this way, be this way, with someone. She brought her lips back to his, eager to explore. Her tongue went in search of his, and she hoped she was hitting that balance between not too sloppy and not too dry. Soon however, she stopped thinking at all, and lo and behold, they were just kissing—trading whose tongue was leading, alternating between tasting and probing and crossing their lips over one another’s. Libby’s body hummed. She cupped the nape of Reece’s neck, palm brushing the soft bristle of his hair. They kissed for a blissful eternity, until a quarter past one when the sound of Colin mounting the steps cut Libby’s fun short. Reece pulled away as though he’d been given an electric zap. Libby hastily slid the board game back between them and tried to smooth her hair. Colin entered, studying each of their far-too-cheerful grins. “You two posing for the game box or something?” Reece looked to the clock. “Shit, it’s after one?” “Time flies when you’re having fun,” Colin said.
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Reece stood and took his can to the kitchen. Libby hugged her knees and pursed her tender lips, glancing at Colin. “Who’s winning?” he asked. “I am,” she said. He smiled tightly. “I’ll bet you are.”
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Chapter Seven
Bloody SUVs. Since when had New Zealanders gone mad and decided these ridiculous behemoths should be allowed? Colin slipped between two such offenders and back to the left lane of the busy city street. A foul mood had dogged him all week, since that night after laser tag. Since he’d locked the pub for the evening and gone upstairs to find Reece and Libby looking flushed and guilty, game pieces scattered all over the board. Exactly what Colin knew Libby wanted, and what he’d been trying to help orchestrate. So why did it feel so unmistakably like a kick in balls when they’d succeeded? Ahead two blocks, as though summoned, Colin spotted the head of unruly platinum hair that seemed doomed to make his breath catch each time it came into view. Arms folded over her chest, Libby was in the midst of being chatted up on the sidewalk by a man she looked supremely uninterested in. Colin smiled and changed course. One knight in tarnished armor, coming right up. Libby saw him, eyes locking meaningfully into his. He hopped his bike onto the curb beside them, scaring the daylights out of the man. Kid, really. Probably only a year or two out of university. Colin flipped his bike around, fixing first Libby and then the kid with a savvy eye, making it plain he was at her disposal. “Good day, Libs?” “Colin! Tiger, I thought we were meeting at the restaurant.” Libby shot a Stepford Wife smile at each of them. “Rich, this is my boyfriend, Colin.” She laid
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a possessive hand on Colin’s thigh, sending a bolt of unwholesome energy up his body. Colin smiled grimly. “Nice to meet you, Rich.” He squeezed the proffered hand in the sort of bone-breaking shake only a man who spent six hours a day gripping bike handlebars could boast. “Well, I’ll see you around, Libby,” the kid said, clearly irritated by this turn of events. He gave Colin a cold wave and walked off toward the city center. “We really have to stop meeting like this.” Colin batted his eyelashes at Libby. She withdrew her hand from his thigh and poked it a couple times. “Damn, you’ve got some gams on you.” “Hazard of the job.” “Good timing back there, Tiger. He was getting kind of pushy.” “I aim to please.” Lousy mood or not, Colin couldn’t seem to contain his happiness when Libby was within a hundred yards of him. He gave her a sideways glance, hoping to communicate his disapproval at her getting herself into such a situation yet again, but it dissolved into a smile. Reece was far better at that sort of thing. “I recognize him from karaoke the other week. You must get a lot of admirers.” “I think we sang ‘Islands in the Stream’ once, and now he thinks we’ve got something going on.” “Well, it’s a powerful track.” “Thanks. For that.” Libby tugged her thumb in the direction of the retreating man. “And that.” She smiled lewdly and squeezed his leg again. “Like a Christmas ham.” “Save those sweet nothings for my brother. You’ll need them.” “I’ll give them a dry run at karaoke tonight, if you two are joining me.”
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“We are,” Colin said. “Although Reece doesn’t know it yet.” “Excellent.” “Actually,” Colin said, “I promised I’d meet him at the studio at half-six, if you want to see where your stalker works when he’s not busy slinging drinks or documenting you at your bible study group, or whatever it is your old man’s meant to fall for.” “Oh, definitely.” Colin fished a pad and pen out of his bag and jotted down an address. “It’s locked after six but if you meet me outside, we can go up together. I know the code.” He ripped the page off and Libby pocketed it. “It’s a date.”
As promised, Colin was waiting when Libby arrived at the appointed corner at six thirty that evening. He waved as she approached and propped the crossbar of his bike on his shoulder. He punched the keypad beside the door to a tall building that looked to be a former warehouse. An endless staircase rose through the center of the building, the mere sight making Libby’s legs ache. She followed Colin up four brutal flights, past landings bearing signs for printing services and wholesale paper goods and vacancies. The stairs ended at the entrance to the tae kwon do studio, its double doors propped open. Libby fought for breath as they entered. Scrolls painted with Korean characters hung on the wall behind the front desk and from beyond the reception area came a curious mixture of sounds—loud slapping noises and blood-chilling shrieks. Colin leaned his bike against a wall of square cubbies and untied his sneakers. “Got to take your shoes off, Libs.”
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“Ah.” He watched as she undid her laces. “You’ve got huge feet. I hope we don’t end up swapping by mistake.” “Well, you know what big feet mean.” Libby slid her sneakers into the nook next to his identical ones. She breathed in the studio’s smells, much like those of the gym she held a membership to for showering purposes only. The smell of perspiration plus something else, here—combat, maybe. She followed Colin past the unmanned front desk to the edge of a large, halfcurtained-off area, its floor covered in tightly tiled blue gym mats. She felt his hand on the back of her head as they reached the edge of the matting, and she let him push her into a bow. He offered one too, and they entered what she’d heard Reece refer to before as the dojang. An epic battle was being waged on the other side of the curtain. An epic and noisy battle, riddled with aggressive yells and the thwacks of fists and feet hitting padded chests and helmeted heads. Just two fighters—Reece and someone Libby at first took to be a child. But a long, shining black ponytail identified his opponent as a very short, slight woman. Libby sat where Colin indicated she should, leaning against the mirrored wall at a safe distance from the action. “I’ll be back in a minute.” He left her to bow himself out of the gym area. Libby watched the match with fascination. It reminded her of a complex bird mating dance—erratic but full of patterns. The fighters roughly took turns charging at one another, accompanied by a guttural shout—the woman’s was particularly fierce and unhinged-sounding. The other would then either evade with a display of agile footwork or the fight would blossom into ferocity as one or both threw a punch or kick or a combination thereof. The white uniforms
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became a blur of aggression until one of the fighters submitted and dodged out of the other’s range again. Their feet danced ceaselessly, poised to attack. She couldn’t be sure, but Libby suspected this was a good match. Reece was at an advantage with his reach—he was literally a foot taller than his opponent. But the woman was quicker and her strikes sounded just as stinging. Colin appeared at Libby’s side again, barefoot and dressed in the requisite uniform—loose white drawstring pants and a tunic-style top. He too had a black belt with his name embroidered on it, though it lacked the stripes that Reece’s had. “Impressive,” Libby said, pointing to it. “And dusty. I earned this when I was nineteen—don’t expect too much from me and I may not disappoint you.” He sat down to stretch as Libby turned her attention back to the action. A few moments later an egg timer rang, just as both fighters were clearly tiring. They disentangled from a mutual assault at the chime and took a step back from one another, bowing. This formality done, they tugged their hand guards off and high-fived, opponents transformed into partners. Reece walked over, waving with one hand as the other pulled his head gear off with the sound of ripping Velcro. His hair was matted and sweaty and his face red, but he seemed pleased. “Looking good,” Colin offered. “Who won?” “Who do you think?” Reece replied, nodding over at his partner as she pulled her helmet off, the frightening little would-be assassin reduced to a flushfaced Korean woman wearing a tired grin. Colin gave her a half-hug as they approached. “Hey, Col. Watch it, I stink.”
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“I like girl-stink. Sang, this is Libby. She’s an American,” he added in a loud whisper that suggested Libby might be a bit slow or untrustworthy. “Hey, Libby. I’d shake your hand but I’m all slimy.” “Nice to meet you.” Libby could see from the two ends of the belt that fell below her padding that Sang had the same number of stripes as Reece. Sang turned her back to Reece. “Would you help me with my corset?” He began loosening the laces that kept her chest guard in place. “Sang is the current women’s national tae kwon do champion in her weight class, and twotime Olympic competitor,” he said grandly. “And I used to kick Reece’s ass when he was ten,” she added. Reece nodded. “And still does. You need a lift later? We’re here another hour.” Libby felt a stab of jealousy at how easy his rapport was with this woman. Libby always got him in a state of agitation. Her own fault, she reminded herself. “I have to head out,” Sang said. “My man’s got a pizza coming. But you boys have fun. I’ll see you Sunday, Reece?” Colin interrupted. “Karaoke, Sang. Eight o’clock? Come on, Sang—sing. Sing, Sang, sing!” “You’re cute, but no thanks. Two drinks and I’d be like a strangled cat up there. It was great to see you, Col. Come for sparring soon. I miss wailing on you. It was nice to meet you,” she added to Libby with a wave of her helmet before bowing to the dojang and disappearing. “Karaoke?” Reece asked. “Again?” Libby felt her usual mischievous energy return with the other girl’s exit. “Every Thursday, Reece. You lucked out last week.” He sat and began stripping the padding from his shins and knees and arms. “I’ll leave you two to it, I think.”
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“Oh, come on,” Libby pleaded. “You can document me again. It’ll be so much fun. And I won’t embarrass you, I promise.” “Favor for a favor, Reece,” Colin added. “I’m letting you pummel me senseless, don’t forget. Isn’t that worth a couple hours of proper entertainment? Plus just look at Libby’s face.” He pointed, and Libby made her eyes large and innocent and jutted her lower lip out in an exaggerated pout. Reece rolled his eyes. “God, that’s grotesque. Stop it now and I’ll go. You had me at ‘pummel’… And this is for you, not me, incidentally.” He turned his back to Colin, who began dismantling Reece’s chest guard. For the next hour Libby sat, hugging her knees and leaning against the mirrored wall. Reece and Colin didn’t fight but instead took turns walloping each another in a series of drills. One would hold a large, thick rectangular pad in front of their torso or side, and the other would execute a series of punches or kicks at it, over and over. There was also a smaller pad shaped a bit like a pingpong paddle, which one would hold at various heights as the other aimed precision kicks, body spinning or hopping or charging to slap it in one direction or another. Libby tried helping with this, but Reece’s back-fist was so fast and hard it sent the paddle flying across the studio and tweaked her wrist. She decided not to chance another injury from his professional skills. Plus, watching was fun. She so often saw Reece working under duress, and now seeing him doing the thing he seemed to enjoy most in the world felt oddly intimate. “Higher,” he directed as Colin held a paddle aloft. Observing him in his element, Libby could finally appreciate Reece’s abundant self-control, the utter mastery he had over his body. She entertained an idle fantasy in which he came to her rescue down a dark alley, disarming a hulking, faceless attacker and kicking the crap out of him in a dozen perfectly
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choreographed ways. Sadly only one of the Nolans had yet come close to such an act of chivalry. Colin was no slouch either, as a fighter. Reece had speed and compactness on his side, his body like a spring—tight and poised to react in an instant, lightning fast and deadly accurate. Colin had power too, but of a more relaxed variety. He had more grace than Reece, if a six-foot-two tattooed cyclist with a death wish could be considered graceful. His kicks were prettier than Reece’s, or perhaps they were just easier to see, being slower. Watching him made Libby smile, as if she were being let in on a joke—Colin didn’t need a steel U-lock to take a man down. “You’ve lost a lot of flexibility in here.” Reece indicated his own hip and groin area as they cooled down and stretched. “We need to work on your crescent and hook kicks.” “I’ve been reshaped in the last half a decade. Flexible hips don’t get you up to Kelburn on an eight-speed.” “Maybe not, but—” “Enjoy yourself all right, Libby?” Colin interrupted, clearly disinterested in continuing this conversation or, indeed, this teacher-student dynamic. “Yes, very thrilling. I feel extremely confident about walking around tonight with you two thugs.” “I was hoping to clock Reece in the head, maybe knock him senseless enough to sing.” Reece smiled and shook his head. “Keep dreaming.”
After he and Colin showered and changed back into their street clothes, Reece tidied up the front desk and shut the computer down. It’d been a long day,
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but he was pleased to have finally succeeded in getting Colin in for a workout. It made him feel like his older brother again, and less like an interloper as he sometimes did, following the near-estrangement his years-long absence had created. Libby turned to Colin as they laced their matching shoes. “So what are you thinking for songs, tonight?” “I’ve got a few candidates I’d like to run by you. Unless you already have something in mind…?” “Since you ask.” Libby unzipped her jacket pocket and extracted a floppy red crocheted hat with white polka dots and a green starburst in its center, fashioned to look like a strawberry. She cocked her head to model it for them. “Not bad, eh? What do you think? You promised me a Prince number.” Reece shrugged his ignorance and Colin said, “It’s raspberry beret, genius.” “Oh come on, this is so close! I found it in a secondhand store too. Pretty apropos,” she gloated, as energized as Reece had ever seen her. “You get half-credit,” Colin allowed. “I don’t see you making an effort.” “My purple suit is at the cleaners.” Reece locked the studio, and they started down the steps, the bike slung effortlessly over Colin’s shoulder. Just when had he gotten so strong? When had he grown up, and why hadn’t Reece been there for it? “I’m so glad you guys are coming,” Libby said. “You can pick my tracks for me. I usually let the DJ do it, but if I get charged with one more Christina Aguilera song I’m going to strangle someone.” Colin laughed. “Steady now, white girl.” “There’s too much pop music. You know, like new pop music. They should really get one of those digital karaoke setups where you pick whatever you want
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and the system just downloads it. Although then I guess Tim would be out of a job.” Reece held the door open and they stepped into the cool evening air. “But you guys,” Libby went on, “you should get that for the bar! Like, Karaoke, every Saturday at eight at Paul Nolan’s.” She held her hands up as if envisioning the marquee. “You could get a whole new crowd in there.” “A crowd, full-stop, would be a nice change,” Colin said. “Have you forgotten some of us have to sleep above that pub?” Reece asked. Colin derailed the argument, switching back to the musical fare as they headed toward Ghuznee Street. “For myself I was thinking ‘Brandy’, if they have it. Ultra-hammy?” Libby nodded. “Always a classic. I’d also like to see you as Robert Palmer.” “Intriguing. And I have a couple Phil Collins numbers in mind. Want to team up with me for ‘Easy Lover’?” Reece raised an eyebrow. If he hadn’t been in on Libby’s not-so-scandalous little secret, he’d have found the idea of them singing a song about a cold-hearted cock-tease a bit too close to reality for comfort. It was, after all, Colin she had wrapped around her little finger both on stage and off. “I like it,” Libby said. “But better yet—‘Paradise by the Dashboard Light’.” “Oh, genius! And long. We’ll really make these people suffer before the night is over.” Reece smiled until Colin said, “What about you, Reece?” just as Libby said nearly the same thing. He glanced between them, his noncooperation crystal clear as they waited for a walk signal. “Oh, come on. You have to sing one of these nights,” Libby insisted.
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“You know,” Colin said, “you’re on to something with this karaoke-at-thepub idea, Libs. Reece wouldn’t have any excuse for his sobriety. How many drinks would it take to get you to sing, eh?” “You two conspirators can think again.” Reece caught them exchange a look he didn’t trust one bit as they crossed the road and reached the club. “Just one little song, Reece?” Libby asked as he held the door for her. He ignored her. She retorted with an impressed face and a semi-discreet slap on his backside, and sashayed off to the DJ’s table with his brother in tow. Reece headed for the bar and took out his camera. There’d be no point taking photos of her while she was performing with Colin, but Libby on her own would be all right. There wasn’t anything inherently unseemly about karaoke, and her style of dress was far from revealing. The most incriminating thing about her— that breed of inflammatory, guerilla flirting she constantly engaged in—probably wouldn’t show up on film. A hour and three soft drinks later, Reece was shocked to find that he was actually enjoying himself, watching his brother and Libby performing. If he didn’t know the two people on the stage, he’d probably assume they must be the most fun couple on the face of the Earth. What his sister had said resounded again in his head—it was nice to see Colin so happy for a change. He put his camera down as Libby slid onto a stool beside him. “You having a good time?” she asked, flushed from her latest number. “I might regret saying it, but yeah, I am.” “Oh, good. Your brother is.” Reece nodded. “That was a choice one—he does a mean Prince. Down one octave, I mean.” “Getting lots of good documentation?” She leaned into him to stare at the little screen on the back of his camera. He turned it on so she could flip through
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the images, and her hair brushed his cheek, its scent making Reece feel as if he were at the ocean, tidal waves bearing down on him. “None of me and Colin together?” she asked. “I love my brother to death and he’s a bloody good bloke,” Reece said. With a pang, he recalled an occasion when he’d been prepared to attest to this fact as a character witness. “But Colin’s got to be the illustrated definition of a father’s worst nightmare.” Libby frowned thoughtfully. “But you on your own should be fine. You look about half as respectable as you sound up there, which is saying a lot. Your dad won’t be able to take offense, I don’t think.” “He’ll manage to,” she said, but sounded pleased by it. Reece looked her over, trying to square that devious expression with the timid one she’d worn a week ago when she’d first convinced him to kiss her. Then he turned to the stage, where his brother the reformed punk was belting out “Delilah” without a trace of shame. Libby read his mind. “What was it they said about books and their covers?” He nodded. “Bet you were surprised when you got between my pages.” He gave her a wry look. “How long had you been planning that, anyhow? When did you first decide to recruit me as your…kissing instructor?” She grinned. “From the moment we walked into the emergency department.” Reece shook his head. “The sirens should have been a tip-off.”
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Another hour passed. Colin smiled to appreciative members of the audience as he made his way to the bar following another duet. He found his brother looking suspiciously content. “Very nice,” Reece offered. “Ta.” He ordered Libby’s wine and a tonic water for himself and took a seat. “Aren’t you going to ask me when we’re heading out?” “Nah, you kids have your fun.” Colin paid for the drinks as they arrived and nudged Reece’s shoulder affectionately with his elbow, heading back out into the fray to find Libby. He spotted her at a table in the center of the club. “Oh, shit,” he heard her mutter in an urgent, low tone. Colin stopped at her side. “What’s up?” She grabbed the glasses from him and set them roughly on the table. Colin found himself grasped by the shoulders and drawn into a situation that nothing could have prepared him for—kissing Libby. Out of the clear blue sky, or at least the glowing neon of the club, her lips were pressed into his. Mouth closed but as potent as a hand down his pants. After a few seconds of wide-eyed shock, he was pushed back to arm’s length. Colin blinked. “Crikey.” “Sorry. It’s him again—Rich, the idiot you saved me from this morning.” She glanced over his shoulder, scanning the crowd. “Is he coming?” “No, he’s gone now. Good work.” She rubbed her thumb at the edge of Colin’s mouth, at the lipstick she’d transferred during the assault. “Crikey,” he repeated, heart pounding. He glanced back to make sure his brother hadn’t seen, and mercifully found Reece engaged in a conversation with
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the bartender. He turned back to Libby. “Are you trying to kill me? A hug might’ve done.” “Sorry.” He recovered somewhat, though every fiber of his being wanted to toss Libby across the sticky tabletop and make filthy love to her in front of fifty of their favorite strangers. He cleared his throat. “Just for that, I’m picking your next track.” “That’s fine, I already picked yours. You’re probably up soon, actually. Better start warming up those lower octaves.” “Barry White?” “Way sexier. You’ll be beating the girls off with a stick.” Colin shrugged. “We’ll see.” He’d just been kissed by the only woman in the bar he had any interest in. In the whole city, for that matter. “Wait and find out if I know the lyrics first.” “Here’s hoping.” Libby raised her glass. “You’re on after this one,” she added as someone’s request for Amy Winehouse wound down. “Duty calls.” Colin set his water by her elbow. “Watch my cocktail.” Libby released a loaded sigh as Colin departed for the stage. A martini was set beside her wine, and she turned to find an acquaintance from the club, a local girl about her age named Sara. Libby thought she was an okay sort. For a girl. Sharp and sarcastic. Sang a mean Joan Jett. “My, my, my,” Sara said with shifty approval. “You and Colin Nolan? Very well done.” Libby felt a funny jolt in her middle. “Sorry to disappoint, but we’re just friends. He was saving me from that guy.” She nodded to where Rich was
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chatting up a mousy girl at a nearby table, glancing Libby’s way every minute or so to check if she was looking. “You sure?” Sara asked. “That’s a shame. I just got here and I thought I’d stumbled onto some scandalous news.” “How do you know Colin?” Sarah shrugged. “Everybody knows Colin. He’s a Wellington fixture. Though I’ve never seen him here before.” “He came the other week too. Wait ’til you see him sing.” “Intriguing. And you’re sure you guys aren’t…?” “Definitely not. I prefer his brother, actually,” Libby added, the wine making her more blabbermouthy than her sober self would likely prefer. She pointed to where Reece sat at the bar. “The Ice Prince? Good luck. I couldn’t believe when I first heard they were brothers, hotness aside.” Libby shrugged. “You’re after the wrong Nolan, if you ask me. Colin’s got a bad reputation, in the best way.” Sara raised her eyebrows with lewd amusement. “I heard he’ll do anything.” Libby frowned. She felt possessive of Colin, protective. Reputation or not, he was the most open person she suspected she’d ever met, and she didn’t like him being spoken about in hushed, snide tones, even if the words involved were technically flattering. “He’s not my type,” Libby said dismissively. “Right—Colin’s every girl’s type. A friend of mine calls him the Superette,” Sara said, using the Kiwi term for a convenience store. Libby raised her own eyebrows, demanding an explanation.
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Sara smirked. “Because apparently all the ladies ‘come again’. And again, and again, and again.” Libby’s cheeks burned. “Have you…?” “No, I’ve got a boyfriend,” Sara said in a regretful sort of singsong. “And he’s probably got a waiting list a mile long, anyway. That boy’s in high demand. Must be the whole dark, tragic, damaged-goods appeal.” Damaged goods? Libby didn’t like admitting to being out of the loop about anything to anyone. She chose to not probe this irritating girl for further information, even as curiosity burned away at her insides. And anyway, Colin wasn’t tragic…a bit melancholy sometimes, perhaps. “Well, I’m not interested,” Libby said blandly. “Too bad. I hear he gives amazing head—” “Dude!” Libby gave Sara a fakely scandalized look to cover up a legitimately scandalized lurch in her stomach. “Do you mind? So nasty. He’s just my friend.” “Just as well,” she said, glancing at Libby’s wine glass. “I was going to tell you to switch to water. I heard he won’t go home with a girl who’s been drinking.” Libby smiled to herself. Sara caught it. “I know, a stallion with standards. Won’t hook up with a girl who’s got a boyfriend either. Quite the white knight in a black T-shirt. Except for…well, you know.” Libby didn’t know, but she nodded in a knowing way to get Sara to shut up. “Excuse me, I think my song’s next,” she lied, taking her drink and slipping into the crowd. Thanks to her tarty persona, people often felt compelled to share such sexual tidbits with Libby. Normally she just smirked and mustered some cool indifference, but not that time. Not about Colin. That was too weird. Not brother-
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sister-creepy-weird but definitely icky. It made her feel… Well, something. Disconcerted or intimidated. Curious, against her better judgment and way beyond her comfort zone. Colin took the stage and slid the mic out of its stand as the dark synthesizer of his song began. One of his brows shot up, and he smiled out into the crowd, presumably toward Libby, though he probably couldn’t see her. He was clearly impressed and pleased with this assignment—Leonard Cohen’s “I’m Your Man”. Libby stopped in mid-stride and clutched her wine glass with both hands. She’d known it would be a pleasure to watch this and she knew Colin would do it justice, but this was more than she’d bargained for. It’d be a miracle if there was a dry pair of panties in the house by the time he left the stage. For a fleeting minute Libby let herself feel the full effect of Colin’s charisma the way other girls must feel it all day long. The song and its lyrics were darkly, ominously sexy, and he elicited flirtatious whoops of approval from a table of women near the stage. He laughed through a couple of spots, struggling to hit the crazy-low notes, but it only added to the perfection of it all. For the first time in two weeks, Libby forgot Reece Nolan existed. As if yanked by a powerful magnet, her eyes locked into Colin’s as he sang, and she saw him smile with recognition. She began to wonder if she’d irrevocably forgotten how to take a breath, but then his eyes closed to overdramatize a line and she was released. In an instant Libby recalled how to exhale. She recalled that this was karaoke night. That this was her friend, Colin, performing. That this was a ridiculous and disturbing slip of her libido that needed to be forgotten and never repeated. That Libby Prentiss fell victim to no man, ever…unless she was the one behind the machinations of such a seduction. She gave her head a firm shake. Besides, she had colder fish to fry.
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Libby sidled up to Reece just as Colin was finishing his song, and he offered her a friendly smile. “How come he got the good manly voice?” “Because you got the fists of fury, lover.” Libby’s eyes looked drunker than they should have, considering she was only on her second glass of wine. “You all right?” Reece asked. “Oh, just ducky.” Colin joined them moments later, holding something pink and looking mystified. “Someone threw their knickers at me. Should I bring them to the lost and found?” Libby laughed and Reece nodded in an impressed sort of way. Colin answered his own rhetorical question and left them hanging on a coat hook for some other confused soul to discover. “Maybe I was too hasty about this karaoke nonsense,” Reece offered, still feeling oddly at ease. Colin was pulled into a conversation by a pair of young women farther down the bar, and Libby turned to Reece. She seemed to have reclaimed her lucidity. “Still enjoying yourself, then?” He shrugged. “I’m beginning to see the appeal. But I’ll never sing so don’t bother asking.” “So,” she began, leaning closer to him, then the DJ called her name. “Shit. Last one, I promise.” She handed him her glass to hold and made her way to the stage. Colin sat down beside Reece as “Black Velvet” started up. “This your choice?” Reece asked. He nodded. “There’s going to be a dangerous number of hard-ons in this room in about thirty seconds’ time.”
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Reece frowned to himself, pondering his confusing position as Libby’s sexual mentor. Right now, watching her swaying like Salomé in red high-tops, he couldn’t help but feel as if maybe he was being toyed with. His mood took a nosedive. Colin addressed Reece’s fresh scowl. “At least pretend you’re having fun.” “I’m fine,” he said, trying to perk up again but failing. “Not to shock you, but karaoke’s not really my scene.” “We’re going to have to get a cab some night so we can get you legless here. Karaoke’s everybody’s scene if they’re drunk enough. Libby agrees.” Reece rankled. “Why do you two always have to double-team me?” Colin laughed. “Because it’s hilarious.” “No really. One of her is bad enough.” “What’s wrong with Libby?” Reece frowned. He hadn’t meant it sound quite so condemning. “She’s okay,” he amended. “She’s less psycho than she puts on.” “See? I like her. Mum likes her, Annie likes her. Coleen doesn’t seem to like her, but what does she know?” “Fine. I like Libby,” Reece submitted. Colin leaned in. “But do you like her, like her?” “Grow up.” “Do you?” “Definitely not,” Reece said. “But you do.” “Yeah, which makes your disinterest all the more baffling to me.” “Well, would you have dated Christine?” Reece asked, referring to a quiet girl he’d gone out with in his early twenties. “God, no. She was so dull.” “Hey, watch it now.”
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“You asked. She was cute, I’ll give you that. But even Mum thought she was too boring to bother with.” Reece frowned again. “Fine. But I fancied her.” “Figures.” Colin sipped his water and gazed out into the chaos of the club. “Actually, I don’t see any girls here that would earn the Reece Nolan Seal of Hotness. They all have such distinct personalities.” “Give it up, Col. I don’t like Libby that way. I can’t handle all the goading and the weird arrested-development quirks.” He looked to her on stage, so different than when they were alone. “And she’s kind of…insincere. With her emotions.” Colin gave a muffled laugh, looking in danger of spitting out his drink. Reece frowned. “I’m not insincere.” Colin wiped his mouth on his wrist. “Well, no. You’d have to express some emotions to be sincere about first.” “Steady on. I’m not that bad. And you don’t know the whole story with Libby, all right?” Colin turned and looked him dead in the eye. “There’s something up between you two.” Reece thought of the week’s ongoing kissing lessons and felt himself color, thankful the bar’s dim lights wouldn’t give him away. “Don’t confuse mutual irritation for sexual tension. That only happens in the movies and Mum’s steamy novels.” Colin smiled. “I’m going to let you think you’ve won this round, but you don’t have me convinced. I mean, what a waste.” “That’s enough.” “And if anybody could do with a bloody good rutting, it’s you—” The thud of Reece’s glass on the bar cut Colin off.
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They exchanged a pair of cold glances, the deadlock interrupted as Libby arrived with a skinny brunette in tow. “Boys, this is my, what? Acquaintance?” she asked, glancing at the other girl, who made an agreeable face. “Sara, right?” Colin offered his hand. “I’m Colin. I know your friend Carrie.” “Yes, you do,” Sara said deviously and smiled at him. “And this is Reece,” Libby said. They shook. “I wanted to let you guys know there’s a party going on,” Sara said. “Just down the street. I’m heading over there in a few, if you’re interested. Carrie will be there,” she added to Colin. “You should come by.” “Up to the driver.” He nodded to Reece. He shrugged. “Whatever you fancy. I’ve got to be home by one, though.” “Yeah, we’ll swing by,” Colin confirmed. Reece decided it wasn’t a bad idea. It wouldn’t kill his brother to flirt with some women who weren’t embroiled in semi-clandestine affairs in the next bedroom. This triangle needed dismantling before someone got hurt. Though dread clenched his stomach to think it, Reece might have to admit he and Libby were becoming more than just conspirators, if only to protect Colin. Reece had failed to protect him six years ago from a far worse tragedy. Maybe this was a chance to start making up for his absence. Libby wasn’t accustomed to arriving at parties with a man at her side, let alone a pair of them, and she had to gloat a bit, as these two were sure to be among the finest-looking specimens on the premises. Too bad she had no romantic feelings for one, and the other had none for her. Oh well. That sad fact was probably just one of many keeping the planet spinning on its sadistic axis.
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Colin preceded them into the house on Elizabeth Street. The ground floor was already heaving with a good crowd, and he waved to a couple people as they squeezed their way into the bustling living room. “Your brother’s quite the social butterfly,” Libby said to Reece, who was lingering by her shoulder. “Grab you a drink?” Her heart fluttered at this boyfriendly gesture. “Yeah, wine if you can find it. Either color.” He slipped away among the bodies, and Libby sat on the back of a couch watching an attractive young woman greet Colin enthusiastically. They kissed one another’s cheeks, clearly already acquainted. Libby wondered if this was one of the many girls to whom Colin had given the benefit of his supposed talents, as Sara had implied. An unwelcome pang, like the one she’d felt when Colin had tricked her into thinking he’d had a date coming over, upset Libby’s middle. This time she thought she recognized it for what it was—if Colin brought a woman back to the flat, Libby would be a third wheel. She’d be the weird foreign girl sleeping on his couch, instead of the primary guest. The idea was troubling, and it pleased her in a dark way to see Colin diplomatically distancing himself even as the woman seemed eager to establish a flirtation. Libby started as Reece materialized by her side holding a plastic cup of red wine. She accepted her drink with a smile. “Thanks.” Reece nodded, seeming content to sit with her on the back of the sofa and take in the activity around them. It was a confusing sensation being near Reece in this crowd—he felt strangely far away. She gave him a soft nudge in the arm. His eyes met hers, and they were friendly but untouchable.
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Then, with Reece at her side, practically touching her but feeling about a million miles away, Libby happened to glance back at where Colin was standing, chatting to another woman. His eyes trained past the girl’s shoulder as he spoke, locking on Libby’s, and in that second he could have been close enough to embrace. The sensation gave her a chill. “Libby, right?” She snapped out of her trance to find a familiar face smiling on her other side. She knew the man from the coffee shop where she bought her breakfast when she wasn’t in Kaiwharawhara. He was a good-looking guy, originally from a part of South Africa she’d spent some time in the previous year. Charming enough. She let herself be lured into a flirtatious conversation, just to see if it garnered any reaction from her ice sculpture of a love interest. If Reece was bothered, he hid it annoyingly well. “He seemed nice,” Reece offered after the man had excused himself to go in search of another guest. “Yeah, he’s nice enough,” she said vaguely. “Jealous?” “I don’t think so,” he replied, equally vague. “Who do you like, here?” Libby panned her gaze around the room. “Who turns your crank? Her?” She pointed to a sexy redhead in a vintage dress. He shrugged. “She’s okay.” “Who, then?” “Oh, I don’t know…” He scouted the guests, finally nodding and pointing at a woman by the door, a petite, curvy Indian girl with shining black hair and a dazzling smile. “Her. She’s quite sexy.” “I see.” Libby wondered if Reece could have managed to pick anyone less like herself.
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Colin reappeared after making his way around the room. As he sidled up to Libby, she felt all the warmth and presence lacking on her other side, and it compounded her frustration. “Nolan!” An angry voice cut across the room, silencing all the conversations like a gunshot. Everyone went quiet, quiet enough for Libby to make out the music and voices two rooms away, the honk of a car horn out in the street. Both of Libby’s escorts stood. She joined them, glancing from one to the other then to the source of shout. A slender man about Libby’s age had entered from the kitchen, holding a bottle of beer and pointing it at Colin. He looked a little drunk and more than a little agitated. “Where do you get off, eh?” he shouted. “Drinking? At a party?” Colin took a slow step forward, holding up his hands up and saying, “I’m not drinking, mate,” at a calm, conversational volume. The room was still enough for everyone to hear each word. “And I’m leaving, all right?” He turned back to Reece and Libby. “C’mon.” “I’m not your mate,” the drunk man barked, anger mounting. Whatever this guy’s beef was, he had balls. He was nowhere close to a physical match for either Nolan. “You shouldn’t be here. And you know what I mean by that.” Reece stepped forward, his eyes narrowing and his body tightening visibly. “Watch it.” “Let it go, Reece.” Colin put a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “We’re leaving, all right, Sean?” Someone in the back of the room said, “Yeah, chill out, Sean.” But Sean didn’t chill out. Instead he turned on Reece. “Don’t defend your piece-of-shit brother, Nolan. They should have dredged him from the fucking harbor—”
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There was a flurry of activity as someone said, “Jesus, Sean, calm the fuck down,” just as Reece lunged forward, only to be held back by the arm Colin hooked around his waist. “Let it go.” Colin struggled to keep Reece restrained. “Let him be angry.” Reece gave a couple of desperate thrashes before seeming to admit he couldn’t break his brother’s grip. He straightened and aimed a shaking finger across the room at the drunken man. “You ever say that again and I promise I will fuck you up.” Libby’s heart pounded, shocked by this new, violent Reece. It was frightening but also a weird sort of relief, seeing him so out of control. But mostly just frightening. Sean held his tongue and let a friend usher him back into the kitchen. A girl Libby couldn’t see through the crowd shouted at his back, “You know it wasn’t like that,” sounding on the verge of tears. Libby didn’t get a chance to collect more clues to this unnerving puzzle, as Reece relented and let Colin steer him toward the front door. Libby dug their coats from a pile on the loveseat and hurried after them. A few paces of ahead of her on the lawn, Colin clapped Reece on the back. “He gets to be pissed, mate. But thanks.” Reece didn’t reply, and no one spoke for the rest of the time it took to drive back to Kaiwharawhara. As they entered the flat, Reece tossed his keys on the coffee table then went straight to the kitchen. Libby heard him crack open a beer before walking back through the living room to the other end of the apartment, closing his bedroom door roughly behind him. So much for the kissing lesson she’d been hoping for. She turned to the couch, where Colin was unlacing his shoes, looking rattled. “You okay?” she asked.
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“I will be, thanks. Sorry about that.” “It’s fine.” She followed as he walked to his room and slipped off his jacket. He tossed it on his bed and ran his palms over his face. Libby leaned against the doorframe. “Can I ask what that was about?” He stared at the floor. “It’s an old, ugly story.” “That guy said some pretty horrible things.” “Yeah, well…he hates me. It’s okay. We used to be mates before we had a falling out, years ago, over a girl. It got real nasty and complicated. I’d hate me too, if I was him.” He let out a loaded breath. “I can’t imagine what could be worth getting that bent out of shape over.” “There are things,” he murmured. “I’m sorry that had to happen when you were around, anyhow.” “It’s fine,” she repeated. “Is there anything I can do?” He shook his head. “Thanks, though. It’s an old wound. It’ll scab over quick.” “Well, you certainly are popular, at least.” Colin raised his head to give her a withering look. “I mean with everyone else.” Hoping to distract him away from the uglier moments of the evening, she asked, “Talk to any girls you liked, tonight?” Colin’s smile tightened, and he looked down a moment before meeting her eyes again. “Only the one.” Libby felt herself blanch. He caught it and smiled again, this time for real. He stepped over and clapped her on the shoulder, seeming pleased to have made her uncomfortable. “Sleep tight, kiddo.”
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Libby grimaced, ashamed that her embarrassment had shown. Jesus, why did the wrong brother always seem to have the right answers? They said their good-nights, and she closed Colin’s door behind her. She turned and was surprised to find Reece standing in kitchen. She guessed he’d heard their conversation. He swallowed the last of his beer and tossed the can in the recycling bin by the stove. “What about you?” Libby asked him. “Are you okay?” “Yeah, I’m fine.” He sounded calmer, and kind again. He poured a glass of water from the fridge filter and gave Libby a pat on the back as he passed, heading to his side of the flat. “What was that for?” Reece didn’t turn around. “Dunno. Just thanks for checking on him.” “Sure.” “G’night, Libby,” he said quietly and shut his bedroom door.
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Chapter Eight
Reece dragged his lips down Libby’s neck from her ear to her collarbone, his hot breath blazing then inviting a chill in its wake. His hand held her jaw, tongue flicking against her skin to ignite the pulse between her legs. God, what this man could do. And thank goodness he didn’t know it. It was early evening, the day after the ill-fated party. Libby had managed to wrangle another lesson out of her reluctant instructor following a surveillance outing downtown. She was trying her damnedest to get taken advantage of on the ratty old couch, and so far, she was succeeding. “Is this doing anything for you?” Reece whispered against her throat. “It’s very nice,” she lied. It was so much more than nice. She melted back into the moment as Reece went to work kissing the crook where her neck met her shoulder. She wanted him to do this to every last square inch of her skin. His tongue flirted its way up her throat, and he took her earlobe gently between his teeth. Libby’s breath hitched, and he pulled away, fixing her with his icy eyes. “You okay? Did that freak you out?” “No, that was sexy. You’re doing awesome. You worry too much.” “I know you had a rough time before—” “I’m not a rape victim, Nolan.” “No, I’m…I’m just trying to be a good bloke, okay?” “Just be a good teacher. That’s your job.” Reece let loose one of his nose-breaths, composing himself. “More of this?”
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“Yes, please. It’s very sexy. You can be more sexy, if you want.” “You’re the boss.” He started back at her mouth, teasing her into a secret frenzy. “More sexy,” she coaxed. “I have your blessing on that?” “Oh, yes. Sex it up.” Libby got more than she bargained for as Reece swung his leg over to straddle her lap. He kept their groins safely separated, but when his mouth sought her neck once more she sensed the shift in the mood of this lesson. Though still the picture of measured self-control, he gave her a new intensity. His touch turned possessive and erotic, yet there was always that invisible barrier keeping him unmistakably off-limits. Still, all these sensations without even going past second base. “Are you giving me hickeys?” she asked in a condemningly breathy voice as Reece ravaged her neck. “No, Libby. That’s a pretty tacky thing for even a teenager to do.” “Darn.” She’d have liked a souvenir, something to mark her as Reece’s territory. “Let me do you now.” He slid from her lap, and she knelt beside him. Placing a hand on each of his shoulders, she kissed his jaw. She mimicked all the moves he’d demonstrated, interested by the mildly chemical taste of his aftershave as her tongue grazed his skin. “You should make some sexy noises or something,” she said. “Yeah?” “Yeah. Pretend you’re into this. Make it believable.” “If you insist.”
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“Oh, I do.” Libby tossed herself onto his lap, her knees digging into the cracks between the couch cushions and bringing their crotches provocatively close. Reece made a noise that sounded like an extremely authentic imitation of excitement. She kissed his neck and ear and the bonus bits of skin she could reach by tugging down the collar of his shirt. He repaid her with his sounds— soft grunts and moans and ragged sighs. She slid her hands down his arms, exploring the hard muscles she’d watched him earning the previous evening in the studio. “Libby.” She spoke against his throat. “Yeah, lover?” “I want you to know I’m getting turned on. I know that’s not what this is supposed to be about.” She ran her tongue up his jugular vein. “Like fun it’s not.” “Excuse me?” She laughed. “Jesus, you’re such a prude—” He grasped her hips and shifted her onto the adjacent cushion. “What the hell?” He ran a hand over his flushed face. “You made the rules very clear, Libby— this is your experiment. I’m just trying to be a good guy. I signed up for what you said this would be, and now it’s getting blurry.” She rolled her eyes, hoping to mask her genuine disappointment. “You are such a prude.” “With you, yeah. You’re not my girlfriend,” Reece said. “We’re not lovers. I don’t want us to be that way.” “What would you do if we were?” Libby asked, raising an eyebrow. “Lovers?” “Run the other way.”
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“No, really, what would you do?” “Everything,” Reece said, impatient. “Rut you silly the second you asked me to.” Damn. “Is that what you’d like to do?” “No, Libby. I’m the one straight guy in the entire world who isn’t lying about my motives because I secretly want to bone you.” Sadly, he wasn’t being sarcastic. “I’m a decent bloke, and I should never have agreed to this ridiculous arrangement. It’s fucking with my head now… Can we just watch a movie or something?” “Fine.” Libby scooted to the far cushion, pouting openly. She clicked on the television and settled on a trashy thriller movie. Her body cooled along with her good mood. After a few minutes, she glanced over at Reece to see if her choice was provoking him the way she’d intended. He looked obnoxiously placid. “Why don’t we redo the rules?” she asked, affecting a casual air. Reece’s gaze flicked to her end of the couch, distrustful. “Pardon?” “Let’s change the rules. You’re right, I can’t ask you to be a saint about all of this.” Especially when I like the alternative so much more. “New rule.” She sat up officiously. “Amendment.” Reece raised a pair of skeptical eyebrows. “You’re allowed to get turned on, as long as it’s unintentional.” “Wow, thanks Libby.” She smirked. “Not a problem.” Reece rubbed a hand over his chin. “You can’t ask me to do that.” “How come?” “Because of why we’re doing this—the whole premise. You want someone safe. You want to be in charge. Doesn’t my being turned on wreck that?” “No, I want that.”
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He shook his head as if trying to clear it. “You’re giving me incredibly mixed messages.” “Reece.” It felt weird using his actual name. She turned and let her face express how honest she was prepared to be, how much was riding on his participation. “I haven’t done anything, ever, really—what I have done, I don’t count. I am dying to learn. Everything. With you. Why not try and find that flattering like any normal man would and let me?” Reece didn’t reply. “You should be honored,” Libby said. “I might be if I understood what it is you want.” “A guinea pig.” “That’s an honor?” Reece asked. “A favor?” “We’ve covered that. God…why don’t you ask someone else to do this? Someone who wants it?” “Like your brother?” Libby cut back. Reece’s expression darkened in an instant. “No. That’s the one rule I demanded and you know it. Leave Colin alone.” “Why?” “Don’t you dare make that sound like a threat. And don’t try and switch subjects on me. Why don’t you find someone else? Someone who’d gladly do your twisted bidding in a heartbeat?” “That’s why. I want you, because you don’t want me. Maybe I want to be the one taking advantage of somebody.” He paused a moment, thinking. “That sounds more honest.” “Fine then. I want to take advantage of you, okay?” Libby slid closer and looked Reece dead in the eyes. “I want to do things to you, and I want you to do
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things to me. I want to do all sorts of things with you and then just be friends in the morning.” Her composure faltered on the last bit. “We’re both single, right?” “Right.” “And we’re fond of each other, right? You care a little about me.” “Sure.” “And nobody’s got romantic expectations, right?” she asked. “Definitely not.” Libby felt irked by how immediate and emphatic his reply was, but let it pass in the interest of negotiation. “Perfect, then. So do me this favor. For as long as we’re both single and friends, let me be sexual with you. For science.” Reece drummed his fingers on his thighs, contemplating. “Reece…? Please?” The muscles in Libby’s face ached from being this earnest. “I can’t believe I’m going to agree to this.” She grinned, relaxing back into the cushions. “Your brother wouldn’t believe you even had to think about your answer for a second.” “If you breathe a word of this to him—” “This is just between us,” she said. “I’ll tell him you don’t put out.” “Don’t tell him anything,” Reece said. “And I want to sleep on this…this little proposal of yours. For the rest of the night, we are strictly normal.”
On Monday afternoon, Libby pushed in the door to the pub a few minutes shy of her appointed rendezvous with Reece. She’d expected to be greeted by Marjorie but to her surprise, Colin was behind the bar. He was hunched over the counter with his head in his hands, staring at an open ledger. He didn’t glance up until she cleared her throat, and when he did she spotted the big, angry bruise on his jaw.
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“Oh hey, Libby. Good day?” His expression brightened a tiny bit, though it looked as if smiling was painful for him. “It’s all right. Better than yours, I’d wager. What happened to you? Did you get in a fight?” “Accident.” He held up his forearm, wrapped in an Ace bandage from the elbow to the wrist. The skin Libby could still see was red and scraped. “My God, what kind of accident?” “Collided with a car,” he said dismissively, as though this happened with some frequency. “Bike’s fine.” “Jesus, that’s scary. You should be more careful.” “Will do.” He sounded as if he no intention of doing any such thing. “Can I get you a drink?” “No thanks, I’m just meeting your brother for another documentation session. Where’s your mom?” “After I wrecked, they made me take the rest of the day off downtown. I told her to go home and I’d start my shift early.” “You work too much.” “These numbers beg to differ,” he said, waving the ledger around. He eyed her beadily. “Don’t suppose you’d like to start paying my brother for sex, in addition to his stalker salary?” “Chance would be a fine thing,” she murmured. “But I’ll pay you rent for the couch if you want.” He smiled and shook his head. “You sure? I don’t mind. I can’t remember the last time I slept on my boat. And I eat your food all the time. I’ve got the money, you know.” “Yeah, I know.” There was unfamiliar bite in Colin’s tone. “Don’t worry about it, Uptown Girl. I was just winding you up.”
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“Well, bear me in mind—” “Forget it, Libby. Why don’t you put something on the jukebox? Get my mind off these bloody books.” “Sure thing. Have change?” She handed Colin an orange five-dollar note and slipped another in the tip jar while he dug coins out of the till for her. The jar bore a Post-It reading Colin’s Helmet Fund in what Libby recognized as Reece’s handwriting. The other side had a note as well, typed up in an authoritative font. Please donate today! Help support the Reece Nolan Chronic Impotence Research Foundation. Colin noticed Libby’s gratuity as soon as he finished counting her change. He tossed the bill at her with an irritated smile. “Your money’s no good here, Prentiss. Not with me, anyway.” “Fine.” She sighed and strolled to the jukebox. Just to see how far she could push him she put on “Uptown Girl”. Colin laughed as the song started and shook his head. “You are such a bloody brat.” Libby danced back over to the bar in a ridiculously exuberant fashion, complete with finger-snaps. “And you are so rubbish at dancing.” Colin gave in, smiling properly. “That’s better.” She slid onto a stool across from him and leaned on the bar. He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Can I give you a word of advice?” “Sure.” He tapped her wrist with his index finger as he assembled his thoughts. “You be careful with that sort of talk. About money. Around Reece, I mean. And around me. A bloke doesn’t like having it implied that he can’t take care of his family.” Libby started. “I wasn’t trying to—”
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“Just be careful,” Colin repeated, seeming ready to drop the subject. After a few moments he smiled again and sang hammily along to Libby for the remainder of the song. Reece arrived just as “The Longest Time” started, and he too looked surprised by who was tending bar. Libby’s heart gave a familiar jolt as he joined them. “Gidday, guys?” He set his gym bag down and took a seat on the stool next to Libby, bringing with him the faint and pleasurable scent of his perspiration. He nodded at his brother. “You’re a wreck, Col.” “Got doored.” “Again? Well, you’ve got me beat.” He tilted his chin up to show a bruise of his own, red now but promising to turn nastier. “Yellow belt got me in the face with a very poor back-fist.” “Cute. I’ll trade you.” Colin sounded tired again. Reece turned to Libby. “Ready to go?” She nodded and stood, zipping up her jacket. “You coming back later?” Colin asked her. She glanced at Reece. Earlier resistance aside, she felt her chances at another kissing session were looking good—Reece was softening by the day. Whoever said that thing about familiarity breeding contempt had it wrong, and Libby would happily settle for the tolerance she seemed to be earning. “Yeah,” she said, practically tasting his mouth already. “Plus I was going to beg to do my laundry here tomorrow.” “I’m around in the morning, so feel free,” Colin said. “Cool, thanks.” She rode a little wave of relief. Another night here, another chance to be with Reece. Time to turn on the old charm and sincerity again. She hoped her face was up to the strain.
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As the door swung shut behind Libby and his brother, Colin rolled his eyes so hard it hurt. It wasn’t directed at them, but himself. He blew out a long breath and shook his head, jaw protesting the motion. It was going to be a long shift. Thirteen hours was bad enough on its own, to say nothing of facing it after watching Reece leave with…her. Goddamn it, what did he care that Reece was lucky enough to be on the receiving end of Libby’s attention? Hell, he should be happy for him. It was his brother, for heaven’s sake, and they’d never been competitive like that. Christ, why her though? Why did it have to be that woman? The look she’d shot Reece shortly before they left hurt way worse than plowing into an open taxi door at full speed. The front door swung back in, admitting his sister and niece along with a waft of good-smelling autumn air. Colin tried to perk up or at least fake it convincingly. “Ladies.” “Hey, Uncle Colin.” Annie waved the baby’s chubby hand at him from the car seat. “Where’s Mum? Is everything okay?” “I’m working a double.” He held up his bandaged arm. “Oh, Col, not again. You keep me up nights, you know.” She frowned, setting the baby down on the bar between them. She grabbed his wrist to take a look at the scrape that had stripped half the skin off his forearm, making no attempt to be gentle. “Oh God. What is wrong with you?” “Got doored. Couldn’t be helped.” “Jesus, that’s gross.” She let his arm go. “I’ll be happy when you finally give that ridiculous job up. I’d crack your skull myself if I didn’t reckon you’d manage to work around it.”
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“I’ll bet you would.” Colin turned to his niece, wiggling away in her seat. “What brings you two by?” “Thought I’d see if Mum wanted me to get her some lunch before I take this one to her checkup. What’s up with you, anyway? You look terrible and it’s not on account of your arm.” “How do you mean?” “I’ve been staring at your mug for nearly thirty years. And you know…” Annie took Colin’s chin in her hand and swiveled it painfully from side to side. “I haven’t seen this particular sour face in about a decade.” “Oh?” He pulled his head back and crossed his arms over his chest, challenging her smug airs of sisterly wisdom. “Mmm-hmm. This is teenage Colin pouting over a girl who wouldn’t give him the time of day.” “Oh come off it.” “Yes, that’s exactly it. Twenty-eight and you can’t handle a little snub?” “I most certainly can, thanks very much. And I don’t pout…unlike some.” He launched into his finest Annie impression. “Oh, Colin, I can’t believe I slept with that lanky ginger bloke—” She swatted him. “Shut up, you. Not in front of the baby.” He unstrapped his niece and lifted her out, the pain of holding her against his bad arm wholly worth it. “Coleen, you don’t mind that your mummy and daddy had a sordid little one-nighter in the pub’s stock room, do you? No, you don’t. And then another one, and another, and then four years later they got married and had you? No, you don’t mind.” “Knock it off. She’s very smart, you know. She can probably understand you.” “I’ll give it a rest if you will.” He handed the baby over.
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“Maybe. I saw Reece getting into the Laser with a certain mile-high blonde. Is that what’s wrong?” “No, I’m all in favor of that,” Colin said, and it wasn’t a lie, at least not in spirit. “Well, that’s good. The last thing this family needs is more complications.” “Agreed.” Annie frowned. “I’m surprised though, mind you. I didn’t get the impression Reece much cared for her.” “She’s used to getting her way, that one.” “Well, good luck to her. She’ll need it.” Colin smirked. “Don’t try and tease Reece about it, incidentally.” “Don’t tell me how to do my job,” she replied, giving Colin a hard poke on his bandaged arm. “Ow, Jesus.” “I’ll see you tomorrow at ten, eh? And you better not be scowling then.” He gave her a ludicrously cheerful smile until she’d turned away, refastening the baby’s straps. “My best to Mark,” Colin said. “Tell him to tip you retroactively, by the way, for all the ‘exceptional service’ you used to give him when you were working.” “Clever.” “Yeah, well my foul mood’s got nothing to do with a girl,” he said. “We’re in goddamned trouble, you know. I got a call from another supplier this afternoon, threatening to cut us off. We’ve got no credit left with anyone in this town.” “Reece said he’s got a plan.” “I know all about his plan. It’s madness.” “Reece doesn’t do ‘mad’. Give him the benefit of the doubt, why don’t you?”
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Colin sighed, leaning into the bar. “He missed his own father passing away, Annie. So sue me if I’ve lost a little faith in his dependability.” “You’re off-base, Col. And you know it.” Annie’s look told him she’d heard everything she cared to. “Just don’t forget who’s been busting his arse for this family since long before the shit hit the fan.” “Why are you saying this to me? Like I don’t know?” She shook her head. “This doesn’t even sound like you.” The door behind Annie jingled open, cutting the conversation short. “Hi, Graham,” she said to the arriving customer on her way out the door. “I’ll see you, Col.” Colin slapped a smile on his face. “Gidday, Graham? Half a lager, is it?”
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Chapter Nine
“Is this how you get your rocks off, then? Sitting on washing machines in innocent people’s basements?” Colin had entered the laundry room with his niece propped on his arm, clearly surprised to have found Libby perched on the washer’s lid, perusing the instruction manual. “It’s not broken, is it?” he asked. “No, I just came all the way down and my clothes’ve still got a couple minutes left in the dryer. And this one’s not even on, incidentally.” She kicked the washer with her heel in defense of her spurious honor. “If you say so.” He leaned in close to examine her face. “But you do have that certain dewy flush about you.” Libby rolled her eyes and hopped down, remembering what Sara had said at karaoke. “Yes, I’m sure you’d know all about.” Colin shrugged, nonchalant. “I have been given certain privileges by certain parties.” “I’ll bet. And you know you have to put children in on the gentle cycle, right?” she said, eyeing the drooling infant. “Would you take her, actually? I’ve got baby sick all down the front of my best jumper.” Libby felt her eyes widen as Colin made to pass her his niece. “I don’t know how to hold a baby.”
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“You’ve never held a baby? Crikey, what do they teach you Harvard? Nanny management? It’s the easiest thing in the world. Just pretend she’s a sack of flour.” Libby reluctantly took the proffered bundle, holding her under the armpits like a grenade apt to explode at any moment. Colin tugged his soiled sweater off and tossed it in the washer. He studied Libby’s baby-handling technique and gave her a pitying look. “You can take her back now,” she said, fighting a mounting panic. Colin rearranged Libby’s arms so she held Coleen against her chest, propping the baby’s head on her shoulder and shifting Libby’s hand to cradle her little diapered backside. Libby sucked her breath in and held it. Colin nodded his approval. “There, now you’re a vision of maternal competence.” Her arms trembled. “Hurry up… I’m going to drop her or something.” Libby’s throat tightened and the buzz of the dryer timer made her yelp. “You’re doing fine.” Colin tossed a measure of washing powder into the machine. After closing the lid he brushed past Libby and pulled her dry clothes out, piling them in the basket for her. “Take the baby,” she pleaded. “I’ll take your washing. I’d hate to interrupt the exemplary job you’re doing, there.” He grabbed the basket and made to head back upstairs until— “Colin, stop! Take the baby!” Her voice was loud and hysterical, limbs trembling. Tears welled in her eyes and the baby began to fuss. Colin’s own eyes widened. Once his niece was nestled back in his arms he looked Libby in the face. “God, you all right?” She shook her head, wanting to hide.
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“Shit, I’m sorry. I was just trying to tease you.” He slid her laundry toward her with his foot. “Go on, I’ll follow you up.” Libby fumbled her way back up the two flights to the flat and began folding her small pile of clothes on the couch, eager to avoid Colin’s attention. She heard him behind her, walking to the car seat and murmuring to the baby as he set her down. His footsteps drew near, stopping just behind Libby. “Hey.” She didn’t turn but offered a cheerful, “Hey,” in return. “Would you look at me?” Obediently she turned and stared at Colin’s worried face. “Is everything okay?” “Yeah, fine. I’m just not so good with babies, I guess.” “You’re white as a sheet. Can I do anything?” She shook her head but didn’t try to escape when Colin took a step closer, then another, and pulled her into a hug. His strong arms snaked around her middle, practically giving her no choice but to wrap hers around his neck. She felt her shoulders shake in surrender as a tearless, cathartic sob racked her body. Colin’s breath heated the space behind her ear. “God, I’m so sorry.” “’S’okay,” she choked back, already calming. Warm, broad hands stroked her back and the soothing effect was instantaneous. She could smell him, that scent of shaving cream or soap already so familiar from all those nights spent camped out on the couch or seated across the bar from him. It was a strange sensation, having her body pressed against Colin’s. Any man’s touch should have felt foreign and unwelcome. Even Reece’s, though extremely pleasant, was new and intimidating. But not Colin. His body was just an extension of her own. Unlike his brother, there was no aura of selfpossession hovering around Colin like invisible armor. Libby felt herself melting
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into him, his hard, strong frame feeling oddly like a feather pillow or a hot bath. She could have stayed in that hug for several more minutes quite happily, fascinated by her success in connecting with another person in such a genuine fashion. Then Colin pulled away, leaving her simultaneously warm and cold in the wake of the hug. “Thanks,” she said, her voice already back to normal. “Well, sure.” His eyebrow rose. “Are you afraid of babies?” “No, not exactly. I’ve just never held one before. It was sort of freaky, I guess.” “Well, don’t let it put you off them. They’re all right.” “I’m sure they are. I’m sure she is,” Libby added, pointing to Colin’s niece wriggling in her seat. “Just not for me.” “You say that now, but who knows—your days of holding my nieces and nephews may be far from over.” “What do you mean? Are you looking to hire me as an au pair? Mind you, I wouldn’t turn down the residence visa.” He smiled. “No, genius. I mean if your evil plan succeeds. You and Reece. Libby Nolan, matriarch of a fine brood of strapping Kiwi ankle-biters.” Libby laughed. “Oh God, that’s a terrible thought! No, thank you.” Fumbling her way through a half-baked seduction with Reece was one thing, but the idea of having his children was quite another. “No designs on my brother’s genetic materials, then?” “I would not have your brother’s kid, although thank you very much for offering him up so freely. Oh God, no way.” Libby shook her head. “He’s so…he’s just too much like my father. And I’m not putting any kid of mine through that childhood, thanks. I’d sooner have yours—at least you’d be a fun dad.”
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Colin didn’t seem to know precisely what to do with this statement. The corners of his mouth tucked down in a thoughtful frown, and he looked almost relieved when Coleen began to sputter and fuss, demanding his attention. Libby watched him pick up the baby and sit with her on the couch, rubbing her tiny back much the same way he’d just done for Libby. “Would you mind getting a bottle ready for me?” he asked over the baby’s unhappy noises. “They’re in the fridge, on the top shelf. Could you put one in the microwave on low for ninety seconds?” “Yeah, I can do that.” Libby was grateful for an assignment and a chance to collect herself in the kitchen. She stared as the squat glass bottle pirouetted in the whirring microwave, contemplating what she was doing. Preparing food, which this baby’s mother had expressed from her own body to nourish it. Dear God, what was Libby doing with her life? How was it possible that other people, people all around her, were busy creating other humans and forming families and dedicating their existences to making sure those tiny new lives were protected and nurtured? All Libby seemed destined to do was fasttalk her way into semi-paid research vacations and spend her evenings among similarly disengaged, gregarious strangers, singing other people’s pop songs. Mercifully the timer dinged and snapped her out of this cloud of adult thought before she started getting downright philosophical. “Is this warm enough?” she asked, walking through the living room and handing the bottle over. “That’s perfect, ta.” She watched with fascination as Colin fed his niece, his face going blank with contented boredom.
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“God, she’s so tiny,” Libby murmured, wanting to voice a little of the awe she was experiencing. She didn’t suspect she could keep it all contained inside her body without risking another breakdown. Everything was altogether too poignant this morning. “Tiny? You’re laughing, she’s huge,” Colin said. “You should have seen her when she was born. She’s a mammoth now.” “Were you there, when she was born?” “Hoo, was I ever. She turned up three weeks early while my brother-in-law was away in Aussie for his job. Guess who got to catch her.” “Wow, really?” “Well no, I’m exaggerating. The doctor did the actual catching, but she got handed off to me first. That is one blooming mad experience, watching someone give birth.” He made a shuddering noise. “Especially your sister.” “I’ll bet.” Libby studied the scene with a new reverence. The baby was happy again, suckling away and gazing toward the window. “She’s got your eyes,” Libby said, looking at those big, blue-green irises. “If that’s possible.” “Those are my dad’s eyes,” Colin said with a smile, fixing his own on Libby. “You look a lot like him. At least in that photograph downstairs.” He laughed. “I wish. Our dad was like the most dashing bloke in the neighborhood. Ask my mum about it sometime and she’ll chat your ear off. He was quite the charmer.” “So, he got to meet his granddaughter, before he died, right?” “Yeah. It’ll sound grim, but she was born in the same hospital that he was staying at, before he passed away.” Colin seemed to lose his enthusiasm for the conversation, voice turning heavy. “How’s that for convenient?” “Sorry.” “It’s all right. Just sucks to remember it.”
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Libby nodded. “I guess it’s a good thing this one here decided to show up early. Those three extra weeks were happy ones.” “That’s something.” “Yeah.” Colin gazed down at his niece with amusement and then back up at Libby. “Mad what a little sex can do, isn’t it?” “It is,” she agreed flatly. She excused herself before the tears could return.
“Stand up a minute,” Libby ordered. Reece raised his eyebrows quizzically but obeyed. He stood before her at the side of his bed, the candle on the side table highlighting all the contours of his body. She still wasn’t sure how she’d achieved this coup. They’d had a good afternoon, documenting. At moments Libby had almost been able to trick herself into believing it was a date. Then after a couple of drinks over a pub dinner they’d gone back to the flat, and she’d asked about third base. To her shock, Reece had shrugged and said, “Yeah, okay then.” Willingness wasn’t as good as enthusiasm, but damn if she wasn’t going to take what she could get. Presently she bit her lip. Reece looked amazing in his underwear. His briefs were gray with white piping, much sexier than boxers. Libby hoped he was enjoying seeing her in her panties and bra as much as she was enjoying this. Though if he was he hid it disappointingly well—Reece was a little too good at keeping these lessons platonic and instructional. Libby pushed herself to the edge of the mattress and laid her hands on his stomach, fanning her fingers. She switched to kneeling so she could reach higher, racing her hands across his chest and shoulders and arms. Finally she cupped her
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hands over his hips, those firm ridges of muscle dipping down behind his underwear. “Christ, do you have any fat on you?” she asked, absorbing the scene for a few final seconds. “Okay. You can lie back down now.” He complied and she looked him over, nervous again. It’s just like jumping into a cold pool. Just do it. “So…I can touch you?” she asked. “Yeah. Go ahead.” “It’s not too weird?” “Since when are you Little Miss Second Guess?” “I just…sometimes I’m being weirder than I realize. I didn’t want this to be one of those times.” Reece smiled. “It’s weird. You’re weird. I’m weird for letting you do this. Who cares? It’s just you and me, here.” “Okay. Good.” She glanced down, studying the bulge between his strong thighs. “Anything I should know?” “I don’t think so. Just do what you feel like.” Libby’s insecurity was showing and it made her feel unspeakably vulnerable. But this was Reece… “I want to do a good job,” she admitted. “It’s not a job.” “Um, actually you’ll find it is called a hand-job, if you want to be technical.” “Libby.” “I just want to make you feel good, okay? I want do a good job. You need to give me instructions.” “All right.”
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She took a deep breath, unsure of how to even start. Reece spread his legs out in front of him and reclined against the pillows. “You’re right-handed, right? Come on.” He patted the spot beside him, inviting her to lie with him. She moved to rest against his side and the sudden contact of all that bare skin made her fingers tremble. She laid her hand on his abdomen and ran it up over his chest and back down, watching his body tense. Libby swallowed. “I know this is just, well, whatever it is. Educational. But feel free to be, you know…horny about it.” He rolled his eyes and smiled up at the ceiling. “Thanks, Libby.” “Don’t tease me.” “You’re about to touch my dick, Libby. It’s going to feel good. I’m going to be ‘horny about it’. If that’s too creepy for you, we’ll stop.” “No, I want that.” “Well all right, then.” She took one last breath and touched his chest again. His skin was cool and dry, taut over long, trim muscles. A bit of soft hair for dignity. And he was hers, at least for the duration of this experiment. Libby ran her hand down Reece’s hard navel and over his groin and his reaction was instantaneous—his back arched and a groan fled his lips. Libby caught her breath. She cupped her hand over his bulge and squeezed him, listened to him exhale heavily through his nose. As she rubbed him he grew, the ridge of his erection getting harder, pressing against the fabric more insistently. She felt herself go warm between her own legs. Goddamn, this was fun. “That feels good,” Reece breathed, tangling a hand in her messy hair. This wasn’t the man she’d come to know in past couple of weeks—his calm selfpossession was crumbling before her eyes.
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“Good. You feel nice.” She stroked him up and down, fascinated by the change in his size. He was rock hard now, pulsing softly, filling his briefs nearly to the waistband. Libby was no expert but she felt pretty certain Reece was on the more blessed end of the penis spectrum. She wrapped his fingers around him. Stiff. It would’ve intimidated her, had he not made it so clear she was the one calling the shots. She wondered if her body could accommodate him, if Reece ever let things go that far… His hips shifted. “You’re making me feel really wonderful, Libby.” “Are you going to come?” “That’s up to you. This is about whatever you’re comfortable with.” “Are you close?” “I’ve got a bit more staying power than that, thanks. I can hold out for as long as you want me to. Well, within reason.” “Wow.” He laughed. “I want to take your underwear off,” she announced. “Go ahead.” She released him to kneel, easing his briefs over his erection and down his thighs. He helped her push them the rest of the way off. She could smell him, a faint but decidedly sexual smell. She memorized it, studying him as they lay back down. “You’re not circumcised.” “No. New Zealand’s not big on that.” “Interesting.” “Does that bother you?” he asked. “Nah. Is there anything I’m supposed to do special?” He laughed again. “You’re so cute.”
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“Seriously.” “I think most dicks work pretty much the same… I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with a biologist.” “Biochemist. And I’ll have to take your word for it.” She touched her fingers to him, feeling the surprising softness of that intimate skin. “Here.” He clasped his hand over hers so she held him tightly in place, stopping her heart mid-beat. Gently, he pumped his hips. “Feel that? Move your hand so the skin slides like that. It feels really good.” She found it a delightfully easy accomplishment and spent a couple of minutes mastering the new skill. Watching Reece getting turned on was shockingly sexy. It shouldn’t have been a surprise, but she was rendered breathless nevertheless, studying the evidence of his face and body as her touch gave him pleasure…watching this self-possessed man turn desperate and knowing she was the one who’d done it to him. “Can I…” He moved his gaze from her hand to her face, as distracted as she’d ever seen him. “Yes?” “Can I watch you do it?” she asked. “Touch myself?” “Yeah.” “I suppose.” He reclaimed some of his usual composure. “How um…intensely?” “However you usually do it. You can come. You should come, in fact.” “That’s what you want?” “Definitely. Show me what you do.” He sat up and Libby propped herself on an elbow for a better view. “Right… This is a little weird,” he admitted, glancing at her.
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“Watching?” “Well, definitely weird for friends. Not weird at all for lovers.” “Get over it.” “Ah, there’s the Libby Prentiss I know.” She watched with fascination as Reece took himself in his hand and began to run his fist up and down. She felt herself grow antsy, itchy for more. “That’s really sexy.” Reece laughed. “You’re a bit of a bloke, you know. You’re sort of visual.” “You would be too if you’d never seen this before. You doing that is like spotting a really rare animal or something.” “The internet is full of blokes wanking, if that’s what you’re into. You didn’t have to wait for me.” “Yeah, it’s full of nasty strangers. There’s no website where I can download myself onto your bed and watch you touch yourself. Not yet at least.” Reece’s hand paused as he looked her in the eye, his expression hard to read. “Does it matter that it’s me?” She glanced around. “Sort of.” “Do you…do you like me, Libby?” Shit, this could be the death knell. “Yeah, a little.” He licked his lips, clearly nervous. “But you know we’re just friends. And we’ll still just be friends, after this? Right?” The escape clause stung, but Libby couldn’t pretend she wasn’t expecting it. “Yeah, I know…but I wouldn’t do this with somebody if I didn’t have at least a bit of a crush on them.” Reece nodded slowly. “I’ll buy that.” “So keep going.”
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He resumed Libby’s entertainment, and she felt herself drift back into that heated, impatient place in her body. “How often do you do this?” she asked. “Most nights, before I go to sleep.” His voice had grown thick, eyes halflidded. “What do you think about?” He smiled. “All sorts of things.” “Tell me. Tell me what you’re thinking about right now.” She held her breath, hoping it wasn’t anything she might not want to hear. “Right now I’m thinking about you watching me touch myself.” “Well, what do you normally think about? What did you think about last night?” He stopped stroking and stared at her. “You really want to know that?” “Yeah. I don’t care who or what you think about,” she fibbed. “I’m just curious.” He cleared his throat. “What if it’s you?” Libby felt her eyebrows shoot up toward her hairline. “Really?” “Well, yeah. We’ve been making out nonstop for like a week.” She grinned, teasing side resurfacing. “Do tell, then. Tell me everything.” “You might not want to know what’s in my head. I don’t want to creep you out.” “Come on. I do want to know. Tomorrow we can pretend this didn’t happen.” “Are you sure? We both know you’re only doing this with me because I’m safe and platonic. It might wreck that.” God, you’re so naive. “It won’t. I don’t mind. I’m being very objective about this,” she lied. “I guess that’s all right.”
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“Of course it is. So keep going. And tell me everything you’re thinking about. Pretend I’m a shrink. Nothing you say will leave this room, Mr. Nolan.” “Now that’s creepy.” She poked his arm. “Show me what you do.” “This is so twisted…” She smiled broadly and socked him on the shoulder. “Do it!” Reece began to stroke himself again—long, slow pulls that seemed to tighten the entire length of his body. “So, what did you think about last night?” He swallowed. “I thought about touching you. That I was fucking you with my fingers.” Damn, this was going to be filthy. Excellent. “What else?” His eyes shut. Libby laid a hand on his collarbone and repeated herself, close to his ear. “What else?” “I imagined I was fucking you with my fingers…that I made you so wet and tight and hot for me.” She felt herself blush, and not just in her cheeks. “And what then?” “You begged me to give you my dick. You told me you were aching to have me inside you.” “God.” She didn’t care that she was giving away her own excitement. “You begged and begged until I finally submitted, and I gave it to you.” Reece was rough with himself now, strokes quickening. He moaned softly, as though surrendering. “You put your dick in me?” Her eyes locked on it. “Yeah. Oh God…”
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“Keep talking.” Libby couldn’t remember feeling this aroused before. If she was ever going to have an orgasm, it would be with this man. On this bed. Reece panted, lost in his own pleasure. “I’m fucking you, deep and hard. You tell me it feels so good, that my dick is so big and thick and hard and you love it.” Her eyes widened. “It is.” “Then I make you come and you say my name over and over and you’re so tight and wet that I think I’m going to explode.” She licked her lips, parched. “Come for me. Let me see.” “Oh Christ.” “How does it end?” “You beg me to come inside you, as I’m fucking you. You tell me, ‘Come on Reece, come inside me. Shoot your hot come inside me.’” “Jesus, that’s filthy,” she mumbled, breathless with impatience. “Come for me now.” He stroked himself fast and hard and rough, gasping. “Keep going.” His body clenched, his hand freezing and holding his dick tightly as he shot, releasing in three long lashes across his clenched abdomen. He choked out her name. Libby stared at him, drunk on excitement and triumph. “Wow.” “Fuck.” Reece’s chest rose and fell deeply as he fought to catch his breath. “That was the hottest thing ever.” Libby gave herself a mental slap on the wrist. Don’t give yourself away, now. She ruffled Reece’s hair. “Good work, Professor.” “Yeah.” He lay still, finding his senses.
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Libby slid off the bed and pulled her tank top and jeans back on. “I’m going to get some water. Want anything?” “No, ta.” She tossed him a towel from the hamper as she slipped out of the room. “Clean yourself up, Romeo. We’re not done yet.” By the time she returned, Reece had pulled his underwear back on but looked otherwise indisposed. She sat down at the edge of the bed. “Recovered yet?” “Getting there. Crikey. I want to say thanks, but I know that was meant to be for you. But thanks.” “Yeah, thanks. Are you ruined for the rest of the night?” “Nah.” He sat up and propped his elbows on his knees, glancing from side to side. He blew out a delirious breath. “I wish I could do that,” Libby said with leading vagueness. “What? Make a mess on yourself?” “No. You know…come.” He snapped awake. “Beg pardon?” “I wish I could come.” “You can’t?” “I haven’t. Ever.” “Have you tried?” “Well…not really. Not very hard. I’ve tried a bit. Sex makes me clam up, usually. It’s different with you.” Reece covered his face with his hands and rubbed his temples. He raised his chin to stare at her, eyes huge. “Why do you always have to drop these blooming bombshells on me?” “I like watching you squirm.”
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“No, really, Libby. I mean, what am I supposed to do with that information?” “Nothing. I was just saying—” “You’re such a fucking instigator.” Reece looked miserable for a moment then grabbed her around the waist and pulled her into a sloppy, spooning hug beside him. He groaned into her hair. “What is wrong with you?” Libby felt something alarming rise inside her. Without any warning to either of them, something snapped and she began to cry, great, convulsive sobs racking her body. “Oh, Libby.” Reece managed to make exasperation sound comforting. “What is it?” “I don’t know,” she whispered. Hot tears slipped sideways down her face and dropped onto the bedspread. Reece’s arms around her middle tightened, and she felt his breath warming the crown of her head. “Why did you tell me that?” he demanded. “I don’t know.” “Do you want me to do something? Do you want me to make you come?” “I…yeah.” “Libby, that’s unfair. That’s not in the rules of this little game we’re playing. Me objectifying myself for you is one thing. You asking me to do intimate things to you, things you don’t even know how to do to yourself… That’s beyond it. That’s boyfriend territory.” “But you’ve been thinking about me, that way. You said so.” “What goes on in my head is different than what goes on between us, here. Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to do all this?” he asked. “To walk this weird line between friends and lovers and…and like, shady business partners with you, and to keep things neutral so you feel safe? Do you have any
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clue how worried I am that I’m going to do something wrong and freak you out? I have to draw the line someplace.” “I’m sorry.” Libby was mortified by how broken her voice sounded. She’d never wanted anyone to see her this vulnerable, certainly not Reece Nolan. “I should go home.” She made to pull away but Reece yanked her back and held her tighter, nearly knocking her breath out. “No way. You don’t get to leave here in this state.” “I want to go.” “No, you don’t, you just don’t want me to see you all weepy. You say we’re mates and you’ve watched me beat off, so now I get to see you cry. You owe me that.” Libby gave in, sobbing until her eyes were swollen and stinging. After twenty minutes, Reece shifted and pulled her over so she was on her back. He stared down at her. Libby wasn’t one to fret about the state of her dress or face or hair, but she felt like an utter mess just now. Reece’s next words surprised her. “You want to come?” “I’m sorry about that—” “Is that what you want?” “I wasn’t thinking—” He gave her shoulder a shake. “Is that what you want?” Libby nodded. “Let’s get you off, then.” “Now?” Her face crumpled further. “Yeah. You’re relaxed, right? You’re already spent from the crying. Your breathing’s nice and steady now.” “I don’t know.”
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“Since when are you unsure about anything?” Reece asked, teasing. She mustered a small, broken smile. “Okay.” “I can’t guarantee any results. You should have had about fifteen years of practice at this by now.” “I’m a late bloomer.” “Personally, I think you should be learning this on your own.” Libby looked around, suddenly nervous. “What should we…how do we do it?” “Well, we need to get you massively horny.” Reece said. “How romantic.” “What would make you…you know.” “Massively horny?” Reece nodded. “Can we watch TV and make out?” He made a face. “Is that going to do it for you?” “That’s what I want. I want to make out with you over some bad TV. Or a Steve McQueen movie.” “Are you actually aware that there’s media from after 1980?” Libby was getting back into the spirit of the evening. “Yes…let’s have some more wine and see what’s on the tube. Colin’s not coming up anytime soon, right?” “He’s on ’til one. We’ve got a couple hours yet.” Reece’s voice betrayed a trace of anxiety. Libby flashed her best devious smile. “Then we better get cracking.” Reece swallowed hard, pulled on his pants and a shirt. He left Libby on the couch with the clicker and slipped downstairs to the pub.
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Colin peeled his attention off the rugby and met his brother’s eyes across the bar. “What’ll it be, old-timer?” Reece slapped on his best expression of calm assertiveness. “Can you jot me down for a bottle of red? I’ll grab it out of the supply cupboard.” “Oh?” Reece nodded, encapsulating a far more substantive message. Colin looked back at the screen, unable to hide a sour face. “It’s not exactly what you’re thinking,” Reece added as a consolation. Colin clenched his jaw then swallowed whatever was choking him. “Go to it. Have a good night, mate.” He grabbed a ledger and scribbled a note. “Ta.” Reece reached over and gave his brother a steadying—or perhaps commiserating, or perhaps deeply apologetic—clap on the shoulder. Colin met his eyes coldly and nodded his acceptance.
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Libby looked up from the television as Reece reappeared holding a bottle of the pub’s hideous house merlot. Her stomach did a flip-flop, a mix of nerves and excitement. “I have found us the greatest pre-orgasm programming ever,” she announced. Reece set the bottle on the coffee table and looked to the screen. “Charlie’s Angels?” “How perfect is that? Must be season three—we’ve got Cheryl and Farrah.” “Seriously, what is wrong with you? Do you only enjoy things from before you were born?” “I was around when cassettes were,” she said, skirting his question. She shushed him until a commercial came on. “Okay, crack it open.” Reece poured them each a tumbler of wine and sat beside her on the couch, making her heart race anew. He grabbed the remote and turned the volume way down. “Still want to do this?” “Yeah, of course.” She heard how meek she sounded and it humbled her. “Do you want…gentle? Or…” “Hot and heavy?” she offered in a mock-sultry voice. Reece’s frown demanded a straight answer. “Hot and heavy,” she confirmed in a normal tone. Reece clinked his glass against hers, swallowed a fortifying gulp then replaced both on the table. His hands took her face, his lips took her own.
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She knew this mouth well now. She knew it with more fondness and intimacy than any other mouth on the planet, and it was the only one she wanted to know. This kiss was different than the ones they’d been practicing all week— this one wasn’t a favor. Or perhaps it was even more of a favor. In any case, Reece was kissing her with a different motive now, aiming to give her pleasure, not instruction. Libby hadn’t known a kiss could do this. It made her feel that blush again, between her legs, the way seeing him helplessly turned on a half hour earlier had. She let herself surrender to it, let her mouth do whatever it wanted right back, let her hands roam wherever they wished. Reece stayed steady throughout her explorations, the consummate professional. “Uh,” she said against his lips. “Is this all right?” “This is perfect…” “But?” he prompted. “Let me know what you want. This is all about you, what turns you on. Don’t be shy.” “I want to know that you’re into it. I like when you’re all…worked up. I need you to stop doting and just get into it.” His mouth moved to her earlobe. “Yeah?” “Yeah. I like when you’re a big horny mess. That’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” “As long as I don’t seem like a creepy pervert, you’ve got it.” His voice so close to her ear made her shiver. “No no, be a creepy pervert. That’s what I liked before, when you were all…” “Horny as fuck?” he ventured. “Exactly. You know, all your noises and things. Give me that. Or fake it.” “You got it.”
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“You’re so accommodating, lover.” Reece pulled away. “One ground rule,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Libby raised her brows. “No blooming nicknames for the duration of this experiment. Call me Reece. That’s the price of admission.” “To Orgasm Adventure Park? You got it…Reece.” Damn, that felt vulnerable. “Good.” His lips and tongue came back to take hers.
Colin locked the door as the last customer shuffled out into the night, a good half hour after the pub’s normal closing time. He’d pushed last-call back, not ready to finish his shift. The hold he’d managed to keep on his feelings had carried him through most of the evening, but now everything he’d suppressed flooded back in a nauseous wave. A completely irrational nauseous wave. Then again, Colin could appreciate that feelings didn’t need to be rational to hurt like hell. The bar and tables were wiped down, stools up, the glasses loaded and the washer churning away. He was tempted to mop, normally his mother’s job in the early afternoon, just to put off the inevitable trip up the stairs and into the flat. At this moment they looked like the march to the hangman’s gallows. Be a man. He ran his hands over his hair and pushed out a long breath, crossed the floor. Easy enough. Up the stairs, through the door. Then, what shouldn’t have felt like a bullet in the heart but distinctly did. The living room was still and
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dark, the streetlight coming through the windows showing him that the couch was unoccupied. Flipping on the light, Colin steeled himself. He stoically gathered the two half-empty glasses of wine from the coffee table, replaced the cap on the bottle and carried it all to the kitchen counter. As the glasses clinked against the tile, panic gripped him. He needed to get out. Now. Through the living room, down the steps, past the bar and out into the night.
Reece eased Libby’s shirt up and over her head and tossed it beside the bed. He lay back down to resume fooling around, but her body felt all at once rigid and unwelcoming. He kissed her neck, obediently staying in character, trying to give her what she’d asked for. A few minutes later, when she still hadn’t relaxed, he asked, “Are you all right?” She bit her lip. “I’m nervous about being naked in front of you.” Reece smiled. She could soften him when she was like this. He liked this side of her—more than he wanted to. This was the elusive, vulnerable, authentic Libby, the one who clouded his mind when they kissed and made him think things when he was alone that he’d frankly prefer he didn’t. “That’s natural. Be nervous.” “I want you to…you know. Like my body or whatever,” she mumbled. “You must get told you’re gorgeous about a hundred times a day.” “Maybe, but by jerks. And you’re the first man who’ll have seen me naked in… God, you’re the first man who’ll have ever seen me naked. I just hope I look sexy to you.”
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“This isn’t about me. This is about you, and you look fantastic. You’re the most textbook-attractive woman I’ve ever had in my bed. Is that good enough?” She nodded. “I know I’m not very curvy or anything. Like, super feminine.” “You’re thinking too hard. You’re a sexually excited, half-naked woman who wants to do filthy things with me. You’re the only person in the whole world right now, in my dick’s humble opinion.” Whether Reece liked it or not. Libby grinned down at the bedspread. “I do believe that’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me, Reece Nolan.” He smiled back. “We’re not going to accomplish this mission, Angels, unless you are one hundred percent relaxed.” “Got it, Charlie.” “I think it’s time for you to embrace your nakedness.” “I’d prefer for you to embrace it,” she said. “Maybe I will. We’ll see. We’ll see what you end up talking me into.” “All right. You have to get naked too,” Libby said. “At the same time.” “Sure. On the count of…?” “Three. Okay. One, two, three.” They each reached down and stripped their bottoms off. “Well done,” Reece said. “Thanks. You too.” She took an appraising glance at his body. “Can I ask a weird-ass favor?” “Weirder than any of the other weird-ass favors you’ve already asked me?” “Maybe. Would you…look at me? Down there? Tell me if I’m normal and everything?” “I’m sure you are. You’ve seen a doctor for all the usual womanly stuff, right?” “Yeah, but not subjectively. You. Please?”
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Reece nodded. “Sure.” Libby lay back and he knelt before her. She took a deep breath that looked akin to the kind one might take before jumping out of an airplane and let her knees fall open. She bit her lip as Reece studied her. “Do I look okay?” “Of course. You look beautiful.” “Sorry I didn’t shave or anything—” “Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Reece frowned. “Never apologize for that sort of thing.” “No?” “There’s very few things you should apologize for in bed. It’s usually for accidentally bonking someone in the head with a body part or something.” “Ah.” “Where did you learn about sex? Cosmo? Or the telly? We’ve got, what? Almost three decades’ worth of media brainwashing to undo for you, is it?” “Something like that. My mother wasn’t good with all that birds-and-bees crap.” “Well, lesson number one, don’t stress out about your hairstyle down there.” Reece preferred when roles were clearly defined, and he fell gratefully back into his duties as her instructor. “Unless you’re like into it, you don’t have to shave yourself into a topiary or rip it all out with boiling wax. If you’re ever with a guy who tells you different, he’s a dick, and he needs to stop reading lad mags and get some female friends.” “Wow, you’re a little closet feminist, aren’t you?” “I’ve had teachers too, you know.” Reece thought he caught her frown for a split-second. “So, I look okay?”
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He nodded. “And I’m sure if I got my face right up in there, you’d smell and taste fantastic too. So don’t sweat it.” “Right.” He offered her a kind, goofy smile. “You’re going to find out eventually that sex is ridiculous. It’s silly and messy, and you can’t let yourself get hung up about it.” He looked around the room with a long exhale. “We’ve really jumped right in, here. I should have made you buy a vibrator and try this stuff on yourself for a month before I agreed to do this.” “Oops.” “Yeah, oops. But basically, don’t expect too much. It takes people a long time to learn these things about themselves. It might be really tricky and frustrating. Are you prepared to forgive yourself?” “I think so.” “Well, it’s a prerequisite.” “Then I am,” she confirmed. “Definitely.” “Okay. So, what would you like to try? After more messing around, of course. You’ll want to be nice and ready.” “Would you touch me?” She caught his hesitation. “I know, I know. But trust me, you’re better at navigating lady parts than me. It might take some of the pressure off.” He furrowed his brow. “I’m going to let myself foolishly accept that logic and indulge you.” “Thanks, Prof—sorry. Thanks, Reece.” “That was a close one.” He cracked a reluctant smile. “More kissing?” “More kissing.”
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How long he’d been riding, Colin didn’t know. Didn’t care. It could never be long enough. His clothes dripped with the misty rain drizzling on the shining, streetlightbathed streets of a dark and soulless Kaiwharawhara. Even after miles of aggressive—downright reckless—cycling, the misery of the weather and the cold had done nothing to dull the ache in his chest or slow his racing heart. This was ridiculous. He’d been able to handle this only a couple of weeks ago for fuck’s sake. He’d even been happy to help orchestrate this for Libby. But now… It wasn’t a common experience for Colin to be rejected by a woman he liked, but it had happened of course, any number of times over the years. Before now he’d never felt more than a passing flicker of disappointment, a spiritual shrug of the shoulders before moving on. But it was different this time. The stakes felt immeasurably high with this woman and it had nothing to do with her utter inaccessibility. True, not only had she been interested in his brother from the start, Libby’s very presence in the country was temporary as well. There was no future with her, and no logical reason to get this attached. Christ, though…he wanted her. Deeply. And not just for what she surely had to bring to the table, sex-wise. That was mere icing on a far more substantive cake. Colin wanted her, somewhere in his body…somewhere separate from his brain or his dick or even his heart. Or perhaps all these places. Somewhere in the same place where his sense of personal identity resided, he wanted her. Needed her. He hated to even contemplate such a gooey word, but Libby reminded him so much of himself that he felt an unmistakable sense of completeness when she was nearby. When she sat beside him on the couch, he felt whole for the first time in six years, at least. Maybe ever.
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Un-bloody-believable. Ten more miserable kilometers shot by in a damp, icy rush. Finally, when the rain picked up and his wet knuckles began to sting from the cold air, when he’d flirted one last time with a major crash out on the dark, slippery roads, Colin threw in the towel. I’m only crying because I didn’t come, Libby told herself. It was most certainly not on account of Reece’s parting words following two hours’ spirited effort: “Don’t feel bad. Maybe we’ll try again sometime… Plus, you might want to save this for a boyfriend, anyhow.” Then he’d hugged her and closed his bedroom door behind her, clocking out like a worker whose shift had ended. It was one grievance she couldn’t call him out on though. Plus he’d done as much as anyone could without risking rapidonset carpal tunnel. What an idiot he’d think her if he knew how much that had meant to her… A couple of times, she thought she’d been close—not that she was any expert. And with Reece there, so patient, so kind and dutiful, surely that recipe had every ingredient she required. Apparently not. She stared at the images flashing by on the TV, taking nothing in. Maybe it was her. Maybe Libby had neglected her sexuality for so long it had expired. She pictured a shriveled houseplant abandoned in a dark room. Yes, that summed up what she was feeling to a tee. Her head snapped up at the sound of footsteps mounting the stairs, followed by the click of the deadbolt. She wiped a sleeve over her cheeks a second before Colin stepped inside. “Oh.” He looked just as surprised to see her.
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Libby pushed the mute button on the remote and sat up straight as he flipped on the lights. She frowned at his dripping clothes. His cheeks and nose and ears were pink from the cold. “You’re soaked.” “Yeah, it’s raining pretty hard again.” He clipped his flat keys back onto the carabiner on his belt, unhooked the whole mess and tossed it on the coffee table with a clatter. He kicked off his sneakers beside Libby’s matching ones. “I thought you were in your room all this time,” she said. “Where’d you go?” “Oh, for a ride.” His voice was overly casual as he slipped out of his wet jacket. She glanced at the glowing clock on the cable box. “At three in the morning? In the rain?” “Sometimes I have trouble sleeping. Wearing myself out helps.” “I see,” she drawled, skeptical. “I wondered if maybe romantic duties called you away.” She mustered a teasing grin. “Yeah, right. How come you’re still up?” “I can’t sleep either, I guess.” He looked to the screen. “What’re you watching?” “I dunno. Some bad Aussie chat show, I think.” “Reece already gone to bed?” She nodded, an unwelcome urge tightening her sinuses and chest. Don’t you dare cry in front of Colin. “Ah.” He glanced around uncomfortably. “You want to join me?” She patted the empty cushion beside her. “Nah, I should try to get some sleep.” “Okay.”
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“I’ll see you in the morning though. Get some sleep, yourself.” He walked toward the kitchen but stopped himself at the threshold. He turned and gave Libby a lame smile. “Actually, I would like to join you.” Her lips broke into a grin she didn’t suspect she’d have been capable of a few minutes ago. “Oh, good.” Colin sat, soaked clothes and all. He shut his eyes and rubbed his hands over the wet stubble of his hair, then glanced sideways at Libby. “We’re a couple of right misery-guts.” She realized he could probably tell she’d been crying. Plus he looked like hell. Libby also realized then that the wine bottle and glasses weren’t where they’d been abandoned a few hours earlier—Colin had been up, after he closed the pub. A rock dropped into her stomach, heavy with humiliation. No use hiding the facts. Libby rose and strode into the kitchen, found the glasses on the counter and poured the contents of one into the other. She brought it back to the living room and settled in next to Colin. “Cheers,” he said as she took a sip. She put the glass down. “Want to watch a movie or something?” “Yeah, whatever you like.” She crawled to the TV cabinet and rummaged through the DVDs. “Purple Rain?” “Sure. That’s Annie’s, by the way.” Libby rolled her eyes. “Sure it is, Tiger.” She cued it up and rejoined him on the couch, trying to act as if everything were fine, as if she wasn’t feeling more helpless than she had in nearly twelve years. She assumed Colin was watching the movie, but soon a strong arm wrapped around her shoulders and tugged her into a half-hug that obliterated her
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emotional dam. She let herself sob openly against Colin’s already wet shirt collar, let him rub her back with his big, warm hand and comfort her. “Sorry, Libby.” “I’m fine,” she mumbled through her tears and congestion. “You don’t have to be, you know.” She cried harder. “I am fine. I’m just frustrated. And I’m getting snot on your shirt.” She felt him run a hand over her messy hair, heard him sigh out a quiet breath above her ear. She listened to the tiny noises of his lips parting, of words nearly forming before he closed them again. “What?” she asked. “Nothing… I just hope it’s worth it, that’s all.” “What about you?” she asked his damp neck. “Is whatever’s bothering you worth it?” She felt him nod. “Yeah. Although I wish to hell it wasn’t.”
Reece frowned, taking in the scene that greeted him when he made his way through the living room early the next morning. The murmuring television was trapped on the looping menu screen of a DVD, and he clicked it off. He cleared his throat loudly and consciousness flickered over Libby’s face. Her eyes opened as her gaping mouth closed. Her head, propped on Colin’s shoulder, came upright. Colin himself twitched awake and blinked for a few confused seconds. “I just had the most disturbing dream about Prince… Morning, Reece.” “Yeah. Morning.”
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“Ow, my neck.” Libby rubbed where it met her shoulder. The imprint of Colin’s T-shirt seam was branded on her cheek. Reece scowled at the pair of them. “I’m off until supper. I’ll see you later,” he said to Colin, then let a pointed gaze pose it as a question to Libby. His body tensed, angry. It was unfortunate, and a bit irritating, considering how indulgent she’d gotten him to be the night before. His protective, controlling instincts asserted themselves. He didn’t like the thought of Libby letting Colin get too close to her, even if they’d been upright and fully clothed. Colin waved at him and yawned broadly. “See you.” Libby spoke after what seemed like a brief period of consideration. “Hey, wait. Are you working tonight? Downstairs?” Reece nodded. “Yeah.” “How about tomorrow?” “No.” “I have to go to Karori for a night visit, if you want to document me.” There was some quality to this invitation that Reece couldn’t interpret, one that made him distrust her. Everything about this morning made him distrust her. The affection he’d let himself feel the night before disintegrated. “Let’s just meet tomorrow afternoon, like we planned,” he said. “I can’t photograph you in the dark, plus your dad’s not going to buy that I managed to slip into a wildlife sanctuary after hours.” “You could have joined a night tour.” He shook his head. “Too complicated. Let’s stick to our plan.” “Fine,” Libby sighed. How anyone could be this theatrically petulant so soon after waking, Reece couldn’t understand. “I’ll see you in town tomorrow,” he said.
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She gave him a dismissive wave, clearly displeased to have had her plans thwarted. Bloody spoiled, Reece thought. His eyes flicked to Colin. Bloody doomed. Libby took a breath as the door shut behind Reece, unsure how she was feeling…but it was too early in the morning for self-analysis. She’d put that off until she had some breakfast in her stomach. She and Colin went about the business of waking up, waiting for one another to finish in the bathroom so he could leave for work, her for the university. She tugged on her shoes as Colin did the same beside her on the couch. His energy was a bit off, darkened by that palpable cloud still hovering over his usual good mood. “I think this one’s yours.” He held a slightly smaller sneaker against the bottom of the one he’d just laced. They swapped. Libby had a brainwave. “So, you aren’t working tonight.” “Nope.” “Would you like to come to Karori with me?” “I always want to do stuff with you,” Colin said simply. He seemed to perk up a bit, clouds dissipating. Libby brightened too. “Oh, good. I have to get some samples, which will take like three minutes, but I get from about five until ten to wander around before I get officially locked in or suspected of bio-sabotage.” “Delightful.” “Can you meet me at the cable car?” she asked. “Is four thirty too early?” “That’s fine. I’ll bring you a coffee.”
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Libby smiled. If only polygamy were in fashion…or if she could just combine the two Nolans into one man. They’d make one hell of a good boyfriend.
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Chapter Eleven
Colin watched as the woman he was rapidly and inescapably falling in love with came swishing toward him, out of the rush-hour sidewalk traffic and into the cement courtyard beside the cable-car terminus building. He held up Libby’s coffee as she spotted him, and her smile was like two hands—one holding his heart and the other his groin, either or both poised to cause him great pain or pleasure should she so desire. Libby only knew about the hand that had him by the balls. She had to know, since she used it to her advantage with each and every man she encountered, each and every day. Well, every man save one, as best Colin could tell. “Thanks, Tiger.” She took her coffee and lifted the lid to inspect its contents. “Flat white,” he said. “No sugar.” “Pale and bitter, like I like my men.” Colin smirked. “You should let it go cold then.” She cracked a tiny smile, looking grudgingly relieved that he’d been the one to make light of the previous evening. Her eyes darted around. “Where’s your precious bicycle?” “At the dispatch. I’ll get a ride in with Reece tomorrow.” “And how’s the other bike?” she asked. “Your new green steed?” “The Helyett? I’m waiting for an ancient derailleur from Minnesota. The post just about cost me what I paid for the whole flipping frame… I’m starting to reconsider this French-bicycle fetish. They’re such bloody prima donnas about what parts they’ll take.”
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Libby shook her head in mock solidarity. “Bitches, man.” Colin noticed she was dressed differently than normal. Not professional, necessarily, but prepared—hiking pants and boots, a puffy red vest over her thermal shirt. No bracelets today and her hair was pulled back in a comparably tame ponytail. He held her cup as she slipped a backpack off her shoulders and extracted a few dollar coins from its front pocket. “You don’t have to do that,” he said. She glanced up. “Do what?” “Pay for the coffee. I’m not bothered.” She laughed. “Oh sorry, I wasn’t. You owed me a coffee anyway. But this is for the cable car. You’re my official research assistant this evening so I can at least pay for your transportation.” “It’ll be weird to see you doing actual work.” “Ahem, I am your brother’s employer, in a twisted sort of capacity. You should be nicer to me.” She took her coffee back and gazed at him pompously over the lid as she took a sip. Her eyes were the dark, stormy blue of an unwelcoming sea. No wonder she scared the shit out of Reece. Then Colin remembered that far different look on her face from the night before, after she’d been alone with Reece in his room doing God-knew-what. It made Colin sad to think Libby probably wasn’t in as much control as she was accustomed to, or would like to have everyone believe. They paid the ticket woman and went inside the building that housed the trolley’s lowest stop. The tourists had faded with the daylight, and Libby picked them a bench inside the empty car. Colin watched her peel labels from a printed sheet and paste them around a dozen prescription-sized bottles filled with blue liquid. “What exactly will this research entail?”
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“Sample collection.” “Larvae snatching?” he translated. “I know, sexy work. Don’t forget the mucous. Did I mention I went to both Harvard and MIT?” she added dryly, trying to reassert some of her impressiveness. “What will my exact role be?” “You’re just here to entertain me,” she said. “Every time I study these guys, it blows my mind how cool they are, and there’s never anybody there to share it with.” “You could have just as easily done this during the day, couldn’t you?” She shrugged. “Sure. But skulking around in the pitch-black woods is so much more fun. And exclusive. I had to sign a ton of waivers and affidavits to get this privilege. Plus maybe we’ll see a kiwi!” She jostled Colin’s shoulder with excitement. He smiled and settled into the sensation of simply sitting beside her, going nowhere. Still, he couldn’t ignore the sad fact that manifested and also undermined this pleasure. “I’m sorry Reece couldn’t go with you.” Why he said it, he wasn’t sure. Perhaps to let her know that he still understood his role in all this. Libby shrugged. “Eh. You’re more fun.” More permissive, you mean. “I do what I can.” Libby’s body jerked as the cable car lurched into motion, and she slopped coffee across her knees. God, he loved her.
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The walk from the summit of the cable car through Kelburn to the Karori Wildlife Sanctuary took a good twenty-five minutes, winding them through the pretty suburbs. It was a nice change from the commercial sprawl of the Nolans’ neighborhood, and Colin envied the people who lived here. It would mean a murderous commute for a cyclist though, and anyhow, who knew how many years lay ahead of Colin before he’d be able to escape the shackles of the family debt…assuming Reece’s ridiculous gig as Libby’s double agent didn’t prove to be the fix they’d dreamed of. “You’re quiet,” she said, interrupting Colin’s increasingly anxious internal monologue. “Yeah.” “Penny for your thoughts?” “I’ll need a fair bit more than that… Just the pub. Money stress.” “Tonight is not the night for grown-up concerns,” Libby announced. “Tonight is about magical glowing larvae and nocturnal, flightless birds. And owls. And giant crickets and silver ferns.” “You’re the boss.” “No more heavy thoughts, Nolan.” When they reached the information building, Libby turned into a different person. She was greeted cordially by the tour guides, and she chatted with them in a soft, professional tone of voice Colin had never heard her use before. It didn’t come off as fake, either—more like a well-kept secret. She introduced Colin around, and they had their bags searched for any stowaway rodents. A single mouse let in from the outside could spell disaster for the native plants and animals housed within the high fence that bordered the park. Such was the magic and misery of living in one of the final places on the planet to be discovered and settled by humans. Millions of years spent evolving
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birds so specialized and unthreatened that they didn’t bother to retain the ability to fly, or the common sense to run from the dogs and vermin that had arrived a few hundred years ago with the colonists from Europe. A staff member walked them to the massive chain-link gate and locked it shut behind them. “Your car’s going to be here at nine forty-five, and they’ll wait until half-ten for you.” “Thanks, we’ll be there.” Libby waved goodbye, and they set off toward the lush hills in the distance. She craned her head to the clear, darkening sky. The sun was just setting, and the moon and stars were already promising to put on a good show. “Man, we picked a good night for this,” she murmured, voice still soft. Colin didn’t reply. He felt spacey and reflective, and feared anything he might say would come out incriminatingly sentimental. “I’m sorry you guys have such crappy skin-cancer statistics,” she went on, “but I have to say, your freakish lack of air pollution and that ozone hole you inherited from Antarctica sure makes for some beautiful stars.” “You’re a poet, Libby.” She elbowed him in the ribs, and he nudged her back with his shoulder. He wanted this to feel like a brother-sister exchange, but it never could. He doubted he’d ever stop feeling that impulse to spin her around and cross his mouth over hers—it was as real and undeniable as the sounds and smells and the breeze that surrounded them. They continued into the dark woods. As they walked, they pointed out the sounds to each other—the morepork owls’ trilling hoots, lumbering, noisy kaka parrots crashing around in the trees. These things were nothing exotic to Colin, but Libby lit up like a child each time she heard one.
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“This must all be boring to you, your so-called exotic species,” she said after a half hour’s trekking. “Yeah. But I’m sure if I came to Boston I’d be excited about your birds too.” “Maybe. But ours are way less exotic than yours. You’ve got pukekos. We’ve got pigeons and mallards.” “We’ve got those too.” “Show-off. Are you one of those obnoxious New Zealanders that’s totally taken for granted that you live in like the most beautiful country in the entire world?” “Yeah, probably. I don’t leave the city much, anyhow.” “Oh yeah, because Wellington’s so hideous. I don’t know what’s more horrid—the endless waterfront or the swaying palm trees or the botanic gardens…” “Yeah, yeah.” “If I get my visa extension,” she said, “we should take a trip to the South Island. See some penguins or glaciers or something before I have to head home. Scenic train ride, maybe?” Colin could think of nothing better on the face of the earth, aside perhaps from holding Libby’s face in his palms and giving her a taste of the sorts of things he’d found himself almost painfully preoccupied with for the last couple of weeks. “If I ever have a day off work before I’m seventy, you’re on.” “I think my visa will definitely expire by then,” Libby said. “Better find yourself a sham husband, quick.” “That’s not such a terrible idea, actually.” Libby poked him with her bony elbow again. She wiggled her eyebrows and hummed the first bar of the Wedding March.
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Colin decided to change the topic and draw his mind away from the obscene amount of uninvited pleasure now pulsing through him. “I’ve never actually seen the glowworms here.” “What? This is practically up the street from you.” “Well, I’ve been here,” he said. “For school trips and things. But not at night.” “Where did you see glowworms?” “I’ve seen them a few times. The time I best remember was when I was about six and our family went on holiday up north. We did one of those naff canoerides-through-the-glowworm-cave deals. That was pretty choice. For me and Annie at least, since Reece refused to go.” “Why?” Libby asked. “Heh. You didn’t know he’s petrified of water? I figured between your boat and the surfing you’d have caught on by now.” “I didn’t,” she said, nodding slowly. “It makes sense though. And it totally wrecks my belief that I may have at one time successfully intimidated him.” “Yeah, sorry. He’s always hated it—oceans and lakes and swimming pools. Mad he keeps choosing to live on islands.” “Where besides here and England?” “He spent a year in the Philippines too. Some kind of teacher-exchange program with a karate school or something. Actually, the water phobia’s the whole reason he even got into martial arts.” “Oh?” Colin nodded. “We took sailing lessons one summer when I was about seven. Me and just about all the kids in the neighborhood. Reece refused, of course, so he took tae kwon do instead, while we were out in the bay all summer. And the rest is history. It was sort of fate, really. He was such a weird little kid.
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No ten-year-old should be that serious and disciplined. And it was good for him—he got picked on a lot, before that. That’s what Annie told me, anyhow.” “Can he swim?” Colin smirked. “Not yet…but he’ll have to learn, and soon. It’s a requirement for the police.” “Huh. And why do you think he’s afraid of water?” “Oh, I dunno. Just one of those things, I guess. He never got pushed off a pier and almost drowned or anything. Just irrational.” “I’m that way with mice.” He laughed. “How did you ever get through university? Isn’t biology nothing but little white mice?” “Don’t remind me.” She made a shuddering noise. “I’m okay with dead mice, thankfully. Although the ones skittering around my various shit-hole apartments were very much alive… Shrinks are scary too,” she added. “Worse than mice, and more parasitic. And more expensive.” “I’ll take your word for it.” “So what are you afraid of? Wait, let me guess…” She tapped a finger against her lips, thinking. “Have at it.” “Snakes?” “Nope.” “Not head injuries, that’s for sure, Mr. No-Helmet. Not needles,” she said, presumably meaning the tattoos. “How about creepy-crawly things? You okay with spiders?” “Spiders are fine.” “Okay, I give.”
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“I’m not afraid of much. Not silly stuff, I mean. I’m afraid of childbirth now, thanks to Annie.” “Well, that makes two of us.” Libby paused to squint at the map. “What are you afraid of, though? There must be something.” Colin swallowed. “I’m terrified of driving. Not riding in a car obviously, just driving one. It gives me panic attacks.” Libby nodded thoughtfully for a moment. “That’s so weird. Given how fast you whip around between them all day.” “Yeah.” Just talking about this made his throat constrict. “Well if it makes you feel any better, I don’t even know how to drive.” “Really? I thought you just didn’t do the whole left-hand-lane thing.” She shook her head. “Nope. I was sort of… I was supposed to take Driver’s Ed when I was sixteen, but something came up and I never got around to it. And you don’t need a car in Boston, anyway.” “Well, good to know I’m not the only one.” And it was. Colin stopped to pull his jacket out of his bag. Darkness was descending fast. There was a moon out somewhere, blocked by the canopy. “You have a torch, eh? We’re almost out of daylight.” “I have two, but I don’t want to use the white one. I’m hoping to spot my kiwi.” “What does that leave us with, then?” “One with a red bulb. I hope you aren’t scared of the dark as well.” “Nope. Lead the way, Captain.” Libby rummaged in her bag and pulled out a flashlight. She switched it on and trained a red beam on the ground in front of them. It was intense but had no range. If she’d been wearing her usual sneakers with their white laces and toes,
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Colin might have stood a chance at following her with some kind of ease, but this… “You really need to see this kiwi?” “Shhh. The hunt is on.” Colin switched to a whisper. “There’s a one-legged one in Wellington Zoo you can see any old time.” “I hate zoos,” Libby whispered back, closing the topic. They wandered along the packed dirt trails. Colin smiled each time Libby snapped to attention at the smallest sound from the undergrowth, training her flashlight into the foliage and emitting tiny, desperate noises. Before long, he could barely make out the lanky shape of her body in front of him, though her proximity made his heart swell. If this had happened before the shit had hit the proverbial fan, the fact that his brother could have managed to lay claim to this woman—when he didn’t even seem to like her all that much— would have felt infuriatingly unfair. But it was six years on from that horrible, life-altering night, and Colin had long since given up on the logic and mercy of the universe. A half hour passed with no confirmed kiwi sightings but a hell of a lot of tripping and cursing, yet it was the most rewarding time Colin had spent the entire week. It was, after all, the only fumbling around in the dark he’d likely ever get accomplished with Libby, and that would just have to suffice. She seemed to sense that navigation was getting unreasonable at the exact moment Colin did. She stopped short and he bumped into her. “Ow, sorry. Didn’t know how close you were,” she whispered. “I think we need to give up and use the regular torch. I don’t want to wander off and get lost in here all night.” Actually, if it involved both of them getting lost all night together in the pitch-black woods, Colin wouldn’t mind one bit.
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“Here.” Libby reached back and groped at his elbow and arm, feeling her way down to his hand. She took it in her own. “Is this too…cheesy?” “No, it’s fine.” Christ, it was so much better than fine. It shouldn’t have been, but that couldn’t be helped. “Whatever keeps me from falling into a ditch and getting devoured by feral fantails.” “I’m more concerned about spotting my kiwi, but you can imagine whatever altruistic motives you like.” Colin had plenty of his own far-from-altruistic motives for wanting this. He’d been aching to acquaint himself with the nuances of Libby’s hands for weeks now…from her skinny, bony fingers to her stubby, neglected nails. He wanted to know these hands as well as he did his own. In less respectable moments, he’d imagined her hands in place of his. He’d imagined a thousand things about her—her skin, her mouth, her smell, her taste, the way she might sound as his tongue brought her to— “Hear that?” Her excited whisper cut short Colin’s prurient wish list. She swiveled the beam into the undergrowth and yanked his hand. He crouched beside her, peering into the darkness, the red light trained on a small body. A ridiculous little hairy-looking body, bulb-shaped, with that long, comical beak. Oblivious to them, the kiwi poked its sensitive probe into the leaves and dirt, searching for bugs. Colin heard Libby squeak out a noise of delight beside him. Her hand squeezed his, and he beamed a telepathic thank-you to the bird. After a couple minutes, Libby was sated and they stood. “Oh, so awesome,” she sighed with satisfaction. Colin had to agree. He heard the backpack unzipping, and the white beam of the other flashlight came on. “Thank God,” he said, though he suddenly missed the surreal intimacy of the dark.
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Mission accomplished, Libby led them through the trails, no hand-holding necessary, until they spotted the subject of the expedition—blue stars, a curtain of them, glowing in the woods like dangling strings of Christmas lights. “Wow, that’s a big group,” Colin said. “Yep, but it’s about to get a little bit smaller.” Libby flipped off the beam. Before she started her collection, they paused to admire the scene. The illuminated blue beads hung from tree branches, eerie. Seeing them through Libby’s eyes was like having the experience filtered through a child. She was right—Colin took these sorts of things for granted. “Who knew worm shit could be so beautiful,” he murmured, earning himself another sharp elbow in the side. “They’re not worms, and it’s not shit.” He could tell from her voice that she was smiling. “I know. It’s gnat larva spit. Look how hungry that one is.” He pointed uselessly in the dark at an especially bright strand. “Wow.” Libby was mesmerized enough to ignore his teasing. Her hand nudged his shoulder, inviting him to share her reverence. He did, though the glowworms had very little to do with it. He swallowed and attempted to pat her back as an admittance of his awe, finding her pack in his way. Instead he gave the nape of her neck a gentle squeeze. It felt intensely, irrationally intimate, with her mane of hair pulled away, the exposed skin insanely soft. She offered him no acknowledgment, just continued to stare ahead. The next few minutes passed quickly, and any conversation that took place evaporated like steam from Colin’s overheated brain. He was too busy processing the tiny moment of contact they’d shared to leave room in his head for anything else.
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Libby had him hold the flashlight and hand her the bottles. She uncapped them one at a time, catching the lowest glob of glowing material from a strand and raising it until she had the entire string captured, along with the unassuming little larva it hung from. She did this twelve times, zipped the bag, took the flashlight from Colin and announced— “Good work. You’re officially in my research paper’s acknowledgements list.” “I’d prefer a name-drop in your Nobel acceptance speech.” “All right,” she said. “I’ll say you were ‘indispensible in my nocturnal specimen collection’.” “Wow, sounds seedy. Ta.” Libby’s voice went breathy, an overwrought Oscar winner at the podium. “And a very special thanks to Colin Nolan, who taught me that there’s nothing more exciting than coming upon a hungry Kiwi in the dark.” “That was a capital K, wasn’t it?” “Oh, wouldn’t you like to know. Come on, Tiger. Let’s go catch our ride.”
Colin glanced to his left across the backseat of the taxi, watching the passing streetlights wash over Libby’s face, propped against the window, placid with sleep. It was odd to see her so serene. Odd and intimate. Staring out his own window, he recalled the strange incident from earlier that day. The incident itself hadn’t been strange, but his reaction had been. During one of his deliveries downtown, Colin had run into a woman he hadn’t seen in a few months—Jessie. Someone he’d known quite well, if briefly. Someone he liked.
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“Colin! It’s great to see you. You look good.” Eyes he’d shared any number of conspiratorial glances with had scanned him with a certain breed of approval. He’d returned her smile. “You’re one to talk.” “Where have you been hiding yourself?” “No place. I’m where I always am. I assumed you just hadn’t been looking to find me.” He’d flirted, yes, but his heart hadn’t been in it. For a couple of minutes they’d chatted, but Colin’s efforts to match the expectant tone of Jessie’s rapport were failures. “I still think about you sometimes,” she’d said eventually, nervously, and Colin had remembered how, up until recently, he’d thought of her too. How until recently he’d hoped he might run into her again, just as he had that morning, and maybe arrange something. Another night like the handful they’d shared six months ago, before his inevitable refusal to make things serious had erected a sad but predictable wall between them. Yes, he’d have liked another night with this woman, if she’d been okay with that one caveat. He would have, if this had been three weeks ago. “Are you seeing anyone special?” she’d asked. He’d shaken his head with a sad smile. “Nah. You know me.” She’d looked around them for a moment before asking, boldly, “Do you ever think about me?” “I have. A lot,” he’d admitted. In that moment he’d almost been able to feel her hands on his body again, taste her skin. “Would you like to hang out sometime?” The way she’d bitten her lip made her meaning plain. “That’s a tempting offer, but I’m sort of keeping things uncomplicated at the moment.” “I know, Col. I’m not asking for anything complicated.”
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“Thanks…but no.” Who was this man, the one suddenly inhabiting his body? Colin didn’t do relationships—didn’t do exclusivity or attachment. He had nothing against the concept, he simply couldn’t go there. And he’d tried to. When he’d started dating again after his dark period, each time he met someone he fancied he’d tried to muster that spirit. Tried to entertain the possibility until eventually it just became cruel. He’d had to admit it wasn’t an option, both to himself and to any woman of the moment who seemed keen for it. And for the last few years that was how it was. He could give someone his body and his heart for one night or a series of them, but not for keeps, and he was very up front about that little policy. Now he couldn’t even seem to give that. It all belonged to the woman presently seated three feet to his left, and it served him right that she couldn’t care less. After all, wasn’t that just so bloody poetic?
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Chapter Twelve
“Maybe we should be documenting this.” Libby studied Reece’s naked body, stretched out beside her own. They’d spent the afternoon on another photographic excursion, Reece capturing images of Libby at her most passably docile, and now it was her turn to get Reece’s cooperation. He looked up from where his fingers were dutifully exploring her. “I’m afraid you’ll just have to use your memory. Now try and relax.” She was—she’d been trying to relax for the past twenty minutes. Relaxation, in Libby’s mind, was not the problem. Reece was. He was too calm. She understood his insistence, but what she needed for this to succeed was excitement—Reece’s to be precise. Without the illusion of him wanting this, it was just clinical. “I need you to be dirtier,” she said. “Like last time.” He complied. Reece was nothing if not accommodating, and his performances as Libby’s seemingly eager lover were highly convincing. A perfect imitation of genuine intimacy, and as close as she could get to the real thing without risking her safety. Exactly what she was after. Yet it still felt…off, somehow. She couldn’t help but remember the last time they’d screwed around, and how mortifyingly easy it’d been for Reece to snap back into platonic mode afterward. In her rational mind that’s what she wanted, though certain other bits of her begged to differ. Suddenly, what was happening between them stopped feeling good. All the hardness of Reece’s body, it was just that. Hard. Impersonal. Impossible to truly
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get close to. Reece didn’t give himself. What he gave were body parts—talented and attractive and graciously donated body parts—but that’s all they were. She didn’t get him. Reece himself was not on offer. And Libby was happily giving everything of herself, but it was as wasted as wine poured onto a tablecloth, no glass there to catch it. The pointlessness of this endeavor slapped Libby across the face. She sat up. “You know what?” “What?” Reece asked, sounding poised to ponder yet another of her strange requests. “I’m not feeling very well.” “Physically?” “Yeah, I think I better stop.” “All right. Do you need anything? We’ve got bitters downstairs if it’s your stomach.” It’s not my fucking stomach. “Maybe…can we call it a night, here?” Reece was already up and getting dressed. “No worries. It’s your show.” “Great.” “Libby?” Colin set his newspaper on the bar, watching with worry as she emerged from the stairs to charge toward the pub’s front door. Her duffel bag was clutched in one white fist, boom box in the other. Neither of those items had left the living room floor in weeks, and it couldn’t be a good sign. Her eyes met his before she dropped her head in some gesture of horror or shame and rushed out into the night. Colin felt his heart hammering in his chest. His fingers drummed uncertainly on the bar for a moment and then—
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“Graham,” he entreated their most regular patron, seated in front of him. “Don’t let anyone steal anything for the next two minutes, and your drinks are on the house.” Colin accepted the elderly man’s somber nod as a pact and abandoned his post to run up the stairs, through the flat to Reece’s bedroom. He knocked and pushed the door open without waiting for an invitation. His brother was untangling hangers at his bedside, unpacking clothes from one of his moving boxes. “What in the hell happened?” Colin demanded. Reece frowned. “What are you on about?” “Libby. She came running through the pub and out the front door, with her bag and her stereo. What did you do to her?” Reece’s eyes widened. “I didn’t do anything. We were hanging out and she just excused herself.” “Did you say something to her? She looked pretty bloody upset.” “Whoa, calm down. We were hanging out and she said she didn’t feel well. Aside from that, she didn’t seem upset to me.” Colin could tell there were some major details being left out of this recounting…probably for his own supposed benefit, which irked him further. “Well she’s run off now. You have to go after her.” Reece smiled dryly. “I’m not going after her. She’s a grown woman.” He turned back to his unpacking. Colin’s brow bunched. “Don’t you care that she’s upset?” “No, not really. Let her be upset. People get upset all the time.” Colin shot his brother a glare and repeated, “What did you do to her?” He caught Reece’s eyes rolling almost imperceptibly. “Nothing she said she was bothered by.”
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“You are so useless with women.” “Hey, now—I can’t waste my time trying to translate everything that girl says to me. She’s never straight with anybody, ever. And this whole thing is more complicated than you know. Let her work through it on her own. If she wanted people knowing she was upset, she wouldn’t have snuck off.” Colin’s fingers clenched and unclenched at his sides as he willed himself to be calm. “Watch the pub.” “It’s my night off.” Icy. “You’ve had seven years’ worth of nights off,” Colin snapped, stepping over a dangerous line. “I’m going after her, so unless you want us to get robbed blind or supremely piss off the few customers we’ve got left, you’ll get your arse down there.” He gave Reece no chance to protest, just left him alone with his hangers and cold self-possession. Then he turned back, gripping the doorframe. “What does Libby’s boat look like?”
Christ, was karaoke night always this freaking cheerful? Libby sipped her wine and scanned the crowd. The din of the chatter and the amateur singing and the clinking of glasses was oppressive, but not nearly as much as the silence of her little boat had been. It wasn’t a refuge anymore. Wasn’t home. Never really had been. It didn’t have the welcoming feeling of the apartment above the pub. Didn’t have the lull of the bar or the comfort of Marjorie, the warm hilarity of Colin or the thrill of seeing… Well, anyway. Libby’s pride was bruised, and it was too painful to go back now. Not tonight, maybe not ever. She couldn’t look at that man, not when she knew there wasn’t really anything substantive looking back. His kindness was nothing
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unique to her, and neither were his actions. She got more devoted exclusivity just sitting across the bar from— As she stared across the club, Libby felt a chill run down her spine, precisely like the cliché. Colin. Patrons turned to watch as an orange bicycle cut through the crowd, held aloft on Colin’s shoulder by one tattooed arm. He made a beeline for the DJ’s table. Libby looked around for signs of Reece, but this reconnaissance appeared to be a one-man mission. On stage, beyond the small sea of bodies, a drunken trio of girls were wrapping up a hair-raising rendition of a Destiny’s Child track. As they descended the steps, Colin and his bicycle took their place. He leaned his ride against the wall and jogged to center stage, raising the mic stand. Libby’s heart quickened, knowing this was going to be about her. Colin squinted into the crowd though the blinding lights. The opening synthesizer of his song began. He put the mic to his lips and beamed his unfailing charisma around the room. “Sorry about jumping the queue, everybody. And my apologies if Libby isn’t here, but don’t pretend that you don’t love Phil Collins. Everybody loves Phil Collins.” After this mysterious preamble, he launched into a remarkably spirited performance of “Don’t Lose My Number”, embodying all the early-eighties dire melodrama of the song. Libby cracked a tight smile. There was something perfect about it, in a backward way—the tall, intimidating, tattooed man with the shaved head, belting out soft-rock. Libby couldn’t figure out what a song about a fugitive had to do with her, but she didn’t think she’d ever seen such an electric karaoke offering. Colin’s hammy performance was made acceptable by the fact that the
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boy could work a crowd like no one else. When he got to the chorus, he swapped Libby’s name in place of Billy. Despite her best efforts to stay embarrassed and gloomy, Libby laughed. A nearby acquaintance nudged her in the ribs. At the interlude, Colin spoke over the guitar solo. “Libby! I’m sorry my brother’s an idiot, but our family’s totally boring without you. Please come home. DJ?” He looked to the DJ’s table and tugged his thumb toward the screen displaying the lyrics and occasional drink specials. Tim did something with the karaoke software, and the projection flipped to a blank screen with just the pub’s phone number typed in. “Cheers, mate. Libby, do what the song says.” Here the vocals kicked back in and Colin abandoned his entreaty, finishing the track off in exemplary karaoke style. When it wrapped he didn’t leave the stage. He spoke over his enthusiastic applause. “If that didn’t move you, Libby, I have something no woman can resist.” He raised his eyebrows at the DJ again, and the twinkly first notes of the famous duet from Dirty Dancing came on. He sang Bill Medley’s opening lyrics and then, still partnerless, he sang Jennifer Warnes’s in falsetto. The audience laughed. “Libby, don’t make me do this to all these innocent people.” She was besieged by gentle shoves and words of teasing encouragement, hands pushing her forward. She didn’t think she’d ever resisted an invitation to make a spectacle of herself before. Giving in, she broke into a dopey grin, ran to the front and hopped her butt onto the edge of the stage. “Thank bloody God,” Colin said into the microphone amid cheers, interrupting his vocals. He tugged her by the hand to standing. She grabbed the other mic and fell into the song. The crowd shouted its collective approval.
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Libby felt her body flush with a mix of relief and gratitude. As she stood next to Colin, singing and making a cheesy fool of herself—the thing she did best— she wondered how on earth this activity had ever seemed fun before she’d met him…or indeed his brother. She’d loved Wellington before the Nolans, but not the way she’d come to in the past month. As the song wound down, Colin replaced his mic and jumped off the stage. He turned back to Libby and held up his arms, recklessly inviting her to complete their corny performance with a Dirty Dancing-style lift. She replaced her own mic and fake-rushed the edge of the stage. Judging from Colin’s huge eyes, he hadn’t been planning on Libby actually jumping. She halted at the last moment then bounded back to wheel his bike forward. He carried it aloft in her stead, cutting a path through the throng. Libby followed him, deafened by rabid applause. When Colin made for the exit, she didn’t hesitate to follow. As they stepped outside, he flipped his bike onto the sidewalk and turned to her. The door closed behind them, and the relative silence was like stepping into an alternate universe. He smiled. “Hey, Bigfoot.” She looked to their feet. “Hi, Tiger. Why aren’t you working?” “I made Reece take over. I hope it’s not supremely patronizing, but I thought someone should go after you. I’d have been quicker, but I wasted a bunch of time at the marina before I remembered it was Thursday.” She bit her lip. “Reece knows I was upset, then?” He nodded. “Yeah, I’m sorry. I didn’t know he was too thick to realize.” “That’s okay… That’s what I get for running off like some bad, prime-time teen drama.” She swallowed the lump that had returned to her throat. “So is this my two-man pity-party?”
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“Oh, this is purely selfish. Do you have any idea how miserable that place would be without you around?” “I don’t think I can go back to yours anymore. It’ll be really weird.” He shook his head. “Only for you. Plus it’ll only be humiliating for like thirty seconds, and then it’ll be okay again.” “Maybe,” she said. “Maybe sometime.” “I hope so. You fancy a walk?” She nodded. The air was misty and cool, not quite raining, and it felt good after the fevery heat of the lights. They walked in silence for a couple of blocks, going in the general direction of the marina. “Hey.” Colin patted the bike’s seat. “Hop on.” “I didn’t think you’d let anyone ride your precious bicycle,” Libby said, smirking at him. “Don’t get excited. I’m still driving.” She climbed on, and Colin steered her with a strong fist on the handlebars. She gave his bell a ring and earned a stern glower. Libby propped her feet on the crossbar and pushed out a cathartic breath, calm replacing her jitters. As they reached the pedestrian mall on Cuba Street, Colin grabbed the bars with both hands and sprinted them through the thoroughfare, scattering tourists and street performers, Libby screaming in delighted terror. When he slowed them back down, she hopped off and walked again. “Where are we going?” she asked. “I’ll drop you at your boat, if you want.” “Maybe in a bit. Can we keep walking?” “No worries. I’ve got all night.” He was quiet for a few moments. “I’m sorry he doesn’t know what he’s missing, Libs.”
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“What’s that?” Libby asked unnecessarily. “Reece. He’s an idiot.” “He’s not.” “He is. I’d give him a good smack in the head for you…if I thought I had any chance of landing it.” “Well, thanks.” “This is because you like him?” he asked. “Yeah, it is. And you cannot tell him.” “I wouldn’t.” “Good. Though he can probably piece it together now, anyhow.” Colin nodded. “So, he’s not…into it? Or…?” She shook her head, hopeless. “He’s just not into me. Can a person change their mind about that sort of thing?” “Sure they can. People change all the time. It’s their only redeeming feature.” “Even Reece?” He blew out a long breath. “He’s a tough one, I know. He doesn’t bend much on things… It’s his best and worst quality. His opinions about people aren’t particularly malleable.” “I feel like such a masochist.” “Join the club.” Colin’s candid smile made Libby’s heart melt and break at the same time, and she felt her composure crumble. “It really sucks.” Colin’s free arm came around her shoulders and she finally let herself accept it—Reece probably wasn’t ever going to love her. “It’s not your fault, you know.” “I get that. I just wanted it so much. He’s the first person I’ve felt that way about in what feels like forever.”
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“Feel like what?” “With Reece? Safe. Like he’s not after something hidden. He’s so up front about everything. I trust him.” “And he never let you think he had feelings for you?” Colin asked. “No. That’s what makes me the idiot.” “Well, not necessarily.” He cleared his throat. “I suspect you’ve had it up to here with shrinks.” He tapped her chin. “That I have.” “But indulge me a minute.” They waited for a walk signal as a light rain began to fall. “Why’d you pick the one man who gave you a guarantee that he’d never feel that way for you? It’s not just about the challenge, is it?” “No. Probably not.” “Maybe you picked someone who wouldn’t go there with you because then you didn’t have to really risk anything. He wouldn’t let you get close, so there was nothing available there that you might end up losing. Safe. You said it yourself.” “Yeah.” “That said, he’s still an idiot.” Libby smiled in spite of herself and they crossed the street. “You don’t have to give up, you know,” Colin said. “I know it sucks, him not liking you back, but you’re leaving anyway, right? In a few months? If it’s really important to you, there’s no law that says you can’t settle for what’s on offer, even if it’s not ideal. It sounds like you’ve waited a long time for this.” “I have.” “One-sided infatuation bites, don’t get me wrong. But maybe it’s worth the pain. As pathetic as it sounds, you might want to consider just taking what you
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can get.” His voice sounded tight. “Things don’t have to be permanent to be worthwhile. You might regret it if you just give up.” The idea struck Libby as both hopeful and humiliating. “I might regret it if I keep trying.” “It’s your choice to make.” “My mistake, you mean.” Libby realized a thoughtful half mile onward that they’d wound up on Hutt Road, the route that ran along the coast to the north of the city. “You’re taking me back to Kaiwharawhara,” she said. “Yeah, if you’re letting me. Half your shit’s still cluttering up our telly room, anyway.” She slowed. “I don’t want to see him yet.” “Treat it like a plaster, Libs—rip it off quick and the pain’ll be over before you know it.” “I must have seemed like such a jackass,” she groaned. “Trying to sneak out. And now you’re going to make me walk back in there, looking like a drowned cat and have to see him, all calm and perfect.” “Yeah. But it’s Reece. He’s not going to make you feel like a shit about it. He’s an idiot, but he’s not an arsehole.” “I wish he was, sometimes. It’d be easier to not like him.” “I suppose. He’s an odd one.” Libby shrugged. “Is he? Or isn’t he more like the most together person ever?” Colin shook his head. “Nah. He’s a regular old screwed-up human like the rest of us, no matter what he’s led you to believe. I know I complain about him being perfect, because he is, compared to me. But he buggers up his share of things too.” Libby nodded, only fractionally comforted.
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After forty minutes’ soggy walk, they reached the pub. Pep talk aside, Libby had grown more anxious with each block, and when she spotted the light coming through the front windows, her stomach turned. Colin gave her a fortifying clap on the back. “Come on. Don’t worry about him.” He grabbed her wrist as he pushed the door open and wheeled his bike inside, and it was probably a wise move—Libby wouldn’t have put it past herself to make a last-ditch run for it. Instead she let Colin tug her into the warm, dry, murmuring calm of this now-familiar place. Reece was behind the bar, and his eyes flicked from the television to the pair of them as the door swung closed. Unsure of what else to do, Libby raised a hand in lame greeting. He raised one back. Colin turned to her. “Go on up. Find some quality shit on the telly. Just give me a tick.” Reece leaned on the bar, watching Colin send Libby up the stairs before he propped his bike beside the jukebox. His face was unreadable as he approached. Reece kept his voice blasé. “All right?” Colin fixed him with a pair of irritated eyes and sat down. “No thanks to you.” “Be fair.” “I don’t know exactly what you did tonight, but you messed her up.” He nodded toward the door to the flat. “And I’m the one who went after her to make it right.” “There’s nothing to make right, mate. We didn’t do anything she didn’t insist she wanted to. And I’m sorry she’s upset—” “Not sorry enough,” Colin cut in.
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“Well she didn’t even tell me. Why does this have to be a big deal? She’s back now.” “Because that girl is good for our family,” Colin said. “And not just because of the money. The best thing for it in years. Better than you coming back, even. Not that I’m not glad you did,” he added in a somewhat insincere tone. “Watch it.” Colin closed his eyes and shook his head. “You don’t even know what you have.” “Yeah, I do actually. It’s not what you think, and it’s not my secret to tell. It’s weird and you wouldn’t understand. Me and her…we’re not that way. I’m trying to help her figure some things out and it’s complicated. I’m not surprised she’s getting all emotional, but trust me—she doesn’t want a big deal made of it. She needs to work it out for herself.” Colin drummed his fingers on the bar, then rose with a face hardened by exasperation or disbelief. “You’re blind.” With that, he abandoned the argument and headed for the steps. Reece let out a silent breath, cleared his mind as best he could and turned back to the match. Libby had failed to find them a movie to watch. Colin was camped at the other end of the couch, staring at the rugby with the kind of involuntary investment men seemed disposed to, absently peeling the wrapper off the candy cane she’d given him. They’d been quiet in the hour since retiring to the flat, and she’d calmed. He was right—the Band-Aid approach had been painful but brief. She’d blush the next time she ran into Reece, but she’d live to tell the tale. She looked to Colin. “Did you know you’ve got a reputation?” she asked, apropos of nothing. “With the local ladies?”
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He took his gaze off the screen and gave her a look of cautious amusement. He shrugged. “Doesn’t take much around here. Welly’s a village disguised as a big city.” “Did you know?” “You’re making me sound like the town bicycle.” He frowned, feigning offense. “I don’t kiss and tell.” “You’re known for more than kissing, apparently.” “Hey now, watch your filthy mouth.” Colin’s cheeks colored, and he looked to be biting back a smile. “A reputation doesn’t mean anything, anyway. I mean, look at you. You’ve probably got one, and I’ve never seen you earning it. In fact, I seem to recall being forcibly wedged between you and a few eager suitors.” “Come on, tell me. Is it true?” “My lips are sealed.” He raised his eyebrows and drew his tongue around the candy cane in an outrageously lurid manner. Joke or not, Libby felt a strange energy flash shoot through her body. She laughed to hide her unease. They fell back into staring at the television, but she found herself distracted in an unwelcome way. She thought about what Colin had said, about getting what she could from Reece and being happy with it. Then she thought about Colin himself, about the possibility of being with someone like Colin, that way. Scary. What she’d done with Reece, that was sex with training wheels, slow and cautious and completely in her control. Sex with a man like Colin would be the big leagues in comparison, if his charisma was anything to judge by. So how come other girls could throw themselves at the opportunity, yet Libby’d been deflecting Colin’s flirtations for weeks now, secretly scared shitless by such an offer?
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Libby pondered what Colin had said about her own supposed status as a sexual tigress, a small revelation dawning on her. For all his opportunities, and despite his rep and the sheer up-for-it-ness that oozed from his body, she’d never seen Colin so much as kiss a girl since she’d met him. She hadn’t seen him full-on flirt or chat a woman up, nor had she overheard him on the phone with one. He was either some kind of stealthy, undetectable ninja of a ladies’ man, or else it wasn’t an earned reputation. Or perhaps her presence on their couch most nights was cramping his style… Or maybe Libby understood as little about Colin and his motives as he did hers. Libby pointed with her candy cane. “What’s your tattoo? The one on your neck.” Colin pulled down the collar of his T-shirt to expose the skin. Ornate black script lettering ran below his Adam’s apple, and at first Libby thought it was Arabic or some other beautiful, unfamiliar language. But on closer inspection, it was written backward, like a reflection. She squinted at it. “America?” He smiled, eyebrows knitting skeptically. “Try again.” She squinted harder. “Amelia.” Her stomach did a little flip. “Got it in two.” He smoothed his collar back in place. “Who’s Amelia?” “She’s a friend of mine who died.” Libby’s mood wilted further. “Oh, sorry.” “It’s okay. It’s been a long time.” “Why backward?” Colin’s eyes moved to the TV. “So every time I look at myself in the mirror, I remember I’m supposed to be trying to live my life well enough to make her proud.”
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“That’s sweet.” He shrugged. Libby suspected he knew she was no good with sentimentality and was trying to spare her the discomfort of having to appear earnest. Smart boy. “Does it work?” she asked. He frowned, then turned to meet her eyes. “Yeah, sometimes. Most of the time.” “And yet you still don’t wear a helmet.” Colin smiled and shoved her knee with his own to tell her to give it a rest. She wasn’t half as good at intuiting emotions as he was, but she could still sense he didn’t want to talk about it anymore. His face had taken on a sad quality. “You know,” he murmured a little while later. “If I could make Reece feel something for you, I would.” Libby had to work fast to tramp down the pain this statement triggered. “Don’t worry about it. It’s just a stupid crush.” “Yeah.” He stared at the screen. Libby remembered the previous week’s disastrous party, and how Colin had said he deserved all the abuse he’d had hurled at him. She wondered about this Amelia, if she was the woman who’d come between him and the angry man. She watched Colin’s face, weary with a dozen somber emotions, and the vulnerability emanating from him tugged something hard inside her. She couldn’t be sure where the impulse came from, but she reached her hands out to touch either side of his jaw, pushing up her thumbs to force the corners of his mouth into a smile. “That’s better,” she said in the most soft and sincere tone of voice she’d managed in years.
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Colin turned and put his own large, warm hands over her smaller, cooler ones and held them there. The sad expression he wore flickered then redoubled, and his eyes closed. He nuzzled his face against her palms in some breed of surrender, and Libby softened further. She wasn’t someone who comforted people, but she very much wanted to do something to ease the pain that this man—possibly her best friend on the planet—seemed to be going through. She stroked the pads of her thumbs over Colin’s cheeks, and the eyes that opened to gaze into hers were different. In the dim, spasmodic light of the television they looked uncertain and fiery. Her smile faded. “Colin.” He shifted in a way she could sense, a change that both frightened and fascinated her. As he leaned in closer, Libby pulled back, fearing he was about to try to kiss her. He didn’t. Instead she watched, helpless to do anything else, as he ran her hand across the faint stubble of his chin. A silent gasp escaped from her lips as Colin parted his own, sliding her thumb between them, his hot, wet mouth closing over her skin, gently sucking as his eyes closed tight. Libby was too shocked to move as he took her other thumb. His hands held her own as a single tear slid down his cheek and disappeared between her fingers. Only when his eyes opened and met hers did the panic mount so potently that she found herself able to protest. Her hands twitched. Colin’s mouth released her, slow but obedient, teeth grazing her knuckles. Libby clutched her fists in front of her heart. Her gaze darted all over him, and she noticed his body, as if for the first time. Strong and dangerous. Her pulse hammered and she wanted to run all over again. “I’m sorry,” Colin murmured, sounding as if he were apologizing for much more than just this.
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Libby managed to whisper, “I should get some sleep.” “Yeah.” His hands were still hovering between their faces. He moved them, fingertips settling in the hair just above her ears. Again, she feared his kiss, but he merely pressed his lips to her forehead. He rested them there, waiting, his breaths coming warm and deep and fast against her skin. “I don’t feel that way about you,” Libby whispered. “I know.” He swallowed. “I know your heart belongs to my brother.” “He doesn’t want it.” As she said it, Libby felt curiosity taking control. She wanted answers, and here they were in front of her for the taking. “But you. You want me.” His lips slid to her temple. “Of course I do.” “You want to kiss me.” “I want so much more than that.” “You want to…be with me,” she said. “So bloody bad it hurts.” She was playing a reckless game, but for the moment her desperation trumped her nerves. “I need to hear that,” she murmured. Colin’s thumbs traced the curves of her ears then his lips against her hairline whispered, “I want to give myself to you so good that no other man will ever be able to make you forget it.” Libby started. His voice fell to her ear, words steaming hot. “I want to give it to you so deep and so thick that any other man inside you after me will only make you feel more empty.” Libby froze. Her body seized with that familiar fear Colin roused in her whenever he didn’t hide his sexuality. At the same time, she was transfixed by
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what he was saying—everything she wanted from Reece but couldn’t have. Words more potent than mere dirty talk could ever hope to be. “You think you can do that?” she breathed against his neck. “I know I can. And so do you.” She swallowed. “You might be surprised how little I know—” They froze as the door before them rattled, the way it always did when the one at the bottom of the stairs was opened. Libby looked to the clock. One eighteen. Colin’s hands dropped from Libby’s face, and he rose, running a palm over the back of his neck. “Colin—” “Good night, Libby.” Footsteps started up the steps. “Thank you. For coming after me.” He nodded. “And Colin,” she added, watching the door. He glanced back over his shoulder at her with weary eyes. “Yeah?” “Don’t…please don’t tell your brother,” she whispered. “You know—that we talked like this.” He turned to walk to his room, and she couldn’t see his expression as he murmured, “Of course not.”
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Chapter Thirteen
Get your shit together, Libby commanded herself. This is pathetic. She peeled her butt off the couch and drank a glass of water over the kitchen sink, trying to formulate a plan of action for the day. The previous evening, which had started out so promising, had turned into one of the most disheartening and depressing ones she could remember, despite Colin’s rescue mission. Their interaction afterward had thrown her…and it was her own fault. Everything that had started going so massively wrong lately was her own damn fault. Perhaps it was best to get to work and put some distance between herself and all this…complexity. Get back to simpler things, like biochemical analysis. She had lab results to collect and research to type up. That would be a good project to pour her attention into. It was the whole freaking reason Libby was here, technically. It would serve her right if her visa extension got denied. And she’d check the forecast too, see if the breakers were supposed to be good that afternoon. As she rounded the corner to head back into the living room, Libby bumped into Colin. Quite literally. Quite half-nakedly. Her nose nearly collided with his chin and the sudden closeness was like an incapacitating punch in the gut, or perhaps just a bit farther south. “Sorry,” he said, stepping back, echoing his apology from the previous evening.
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“Sorry.” Libby’s eyes widened with surprise and genuinely seedy interest, her fear gone with the darkness, replaced with a heart-pounding curiosity. If Reece’s body belonged to a ninja, then Colin’s was a boxer’s. He was bigger than his brother, built more like a wild animal than a tight, efficient machine. Libby let her eyes scan him from the neck to the waist, her view cut off by his pajama pants just where a vee of muscle dove from his hips downward. Colin’s body made perfect sense, delivering everything his smile promised. His sleeve tattoos started at his elbows and ran up his powerful arms, and the patterns Libby hadn’t been able to make out became clear. Birds—interlocking, dark-and-light patterns like Escher tessellations, starting small and intricate and growing larger until the details were decipherable at his shoulders. Colin smiled tightly at her slack-jawed appraisal. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” His flirtation was harmless and limp, tarred with unease. Libby barely heard him. His words from the night before flashed across her mind. Beads of water dotted his torso, and he smelled of shaving cream. Libby realized with an embarrassed start that she was still blocking his way. She shook herself into coherence and stepped aside. “I’ll make some coffee.” Blood rushed to her cheeks, and she worked hard to sound nonchalant, busying herself at the counter. “Ta. You sticking around this morning?” “I think I have to do some work, actually.” Libby kept her gaze on her hands, jostling mugs in the sink with distracting loudness. “I’ll get you a copy of the keys this afternoon,” Colin said, then added quietly, “I’m really sorry about last night.” “I know. Don’t be.” Libby met his eyes again, needing him to know she meant it. “I appreciate what you did after I ran out. You’re a good friend.”
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He nodded, looking away. “You too. Anyhow… Let’s get back to how we were, eh?” he asked, reading Libby’s mind. She turned away and made a noisy show of preparing the coffee until she heard his bedroom door close. All at once she could breathe again. She’d just been treated to a potent dose of what all those other girls must feel when they looked at Colin—panty-peeling charisma and enjoyably bad decisions aching to be made. Those other girls might smile at such a reaction, but right now Libby wanted to run in the other direction. What was that instinct? Fear, obviously, but of what? Of the opposite of what Reece made her feel, the opposite of safe and inaccessible. That promise of sexual misadventure Colin’s smile—and his body, as she’d just confirmed—effortlessly exuded. Libby shuddered. Her plans for Reece solidified in her mind, with a certainty that rang and rattled like a heavy steel cage door slamming down, locking her in. Locking out whatever frightening threat Colin posed. Safe.
Reece ran a damp towel over the bar as the sunlight began fading outside the pub’s front window. A blur of jeans and black T-shirt and orange paint flashed by the glass, brakes squeaking seconds before Colin wheeled his bike inside. Reece held his breath. He’d been only too happy to avoid his brother that day, given their confrontation the evening before. When Reece had moved back to New Zealand a few months ago, Colin had been as levelheaded and calm as Reece had ever seen him. Perhaps not levelheaded by some people’s standards, but remarkably docile for Colin, or the
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man Colin had been before his accident. Now things were changing, each passing week unraveling him bit by bit. Reece couldn’t say for sure that this was Libby’s influence. He hoped it wasn’t his own presence, though that too was a possibility… Returning and accepting his duties as the so-called head of the family probably didn’t sit well with his brother. Any angst Colin might be feeling about this role redesignation had been well-hidden until recently, but now Reece could see him fraying. Cracks were forming in his brother’s normally easygoing façade, and underneath shone glimmers of the volatile soul that used to inhabit that body. Colin finished stowing and locking his bike and took a seat opposite Reece, expression neutral. “You got a package from some parts company.” Reece hoped he sounded light and conversational. “I left it on your bed.” “Ta.” “What’s up for your Friday night?” “You tell me.” Colin’s tone was clipped but civil. “I dumped my shift on you last night. You want me to take over down here?” Reece shook his head. “You could use a night off. And I’m enjoying myself. Match is on in a bit. I’ll be fine.” Colin’s face betrayed a certain desperation. “You sure?” “Positive. Go out or something. It’s still early—go do whatever it is you young people do.” Colin glanced behind Reece to the television, then to the front door. He looked lost. He looked so much like his twenty-two-year-old self that a chill settled over Reece. He scouted for approaching patrons before leaning close. “What’s with you, eh?”
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Colin’s eyes, so like their father’s, met his. There was something brewing behind them. “You really want to have this conversation, Reece?” “I want to know you’re okay, that’s all.” “I’m bloody fantastic, mate. Never been better.” “Is this just about Libby?” Reece asked in an elevated whisper. “No idea what you’re on about.” Colin’s lack of conviction may or may not have been intentional. “She’s not worth it,” Reece began. Colin pushed his stool back with a gruff squeal and stood. “I’ll tell you when I want your bloody advice.” Reece’s hackles rose. “Good. Sometimes I’d like to be told.” “And sometimes I’d like to believe you give a shit.” Colin squinted at him, disgust written across his face, plain as his scar. Reece felt himself itching to take the bait but held back. This wasn’t the time or place to start clawing open old wounds. “I’ll see you,” he said evenly. He watched Colin unlock his bike and disappear out the front door without a backward glance.
Exhausted from a few hours’ aimless riding, Colin pushed the door in and swept his eyes around the ratty little club, feeling his energy shift. The wailing of a live punk band assaulted his ears. Erratic, drunken people staggered around him like crazed animals, and he could actually feel his sanity falling away now. It was seeping from his brain one drop at a time, hour by hour, week by week, the remaining portion sloshing around uselessly in his skull. This scene had been Colin’s salvation for a long time, his anesthetic. The chaos and noise and the electricity of collective, violent emotion had numbed
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him on a hundred nights when he’d felt he was losing his mind a few years earlier. The last time he’d been here, smoking had still been allowed in pubs and restaurants, and without it the stink of piss and sweat was nauseating. There was no sanctuary to be found here. Just a dim, reeking room full of fucked-up jackasses jostling each other in a sea of pointless, postured aggression. Stepping back into the night air, Colin stood by his bike and stared up at the darkness. A few stars winked beyond the city’s glow. His chest was tight, lungs leaden, his angst feeling heavy, thick enough to drown in. He had one final idea to try to snap himself into rational thought. He unlocked his bike and began the long ride to Eastbourne.
“Colin.” Jessie opened the front door of her flat, looking surprised. She leaned in the threshold, arms folded over her chest to shield her from the cold breeze blowing in. Colin attempted a smile. “Hey.” “Is everything okay?” “Yeah. Sorry.” He realized for the first time how crazy it must look for him to show up at midnight after having barely spoken to Jessie in the past six months. She stepped aside to let him enter. “Well, come on in. My flatmate’s asleep so you have to be quiet.” She herself was dressed in boxers and a camisole. She closed the door behind him. “What’s up?” “I’m not sure, to be honest.” He laughed weakly. “I feel like I’m bloody going mad. Did I wake you?” “No, I was watching a movie.” She held up a remote control. “God, you look rough…no offense. You haven’t been drinking, have you?”
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He shook his head. “Well, sit down.” She pointed to the couch and took a seat beside him, her smell and the sweep of her wavy, dark hair familiar and comforting. Colin rubbed his palms over his head, gathering his thoughts. “Is anything the matter?” she asked. “Is everyone okay?” “Yeah. I’m sorry, I don’t really know exactly why I’m here,” he admitted. “I just felt like I needed to see you.” She nodded, cautious. “After I ran into you the other day… Well, I wasn’t expecting this. Do you want something to drink or—” Colin’s hands flew from his own face to Jessie’s in an instant. He clasped her jaw and pulled it to meet his, the kiss urgent and aggressive. He felt her noiseless gasp but then, just as they had months ago, her hands gripped his shoulders, her mouth and body eager for him, welcoming the contact. She tasted as he remembered, and Colin wanted to lose himself in what they’d had then, back when he’d still known how to be this way. He pushed her down on the cushions, covering her body with his. He heard his name whispered against his mouth as her legs shifted to wrap around his waist. He dragged his mouth up her throat to her ear, lightheaded from his own desperation. “I need you.” “You can have me. You can always have me,” she whispered. “I’ve missed your body.” Her hands pulled him closer, running over his arms and back, sliding beneath his shirt to touch his skin. He thrust his hips into her. “Colin, tell me what you need.” “I need you to fuck the bloody sense back into me.”
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Chapter Fourteen
All through Sunday afternoon’s documentation session, Libby made herself appear as normal and blasé as possible, to offset her embarrassing disappearing act three nights ago. She thought she was succeeding. Her rapport with Reece felt as casual as it ever had. As the daylight began to fade, Reece walked to where Libby was eating an orange on a bench at the edge of Wellington’s expansive botanical gardens. “I think that’s enough pictures for today.” She could sense an impatience in his voice and worried it was about to upend her plans to ask him to hang out that night. She needed tonight. She needed another evening with Reece as her patient teacher, to recapture the feelings of the first few times and wash away the panic the last one had left her with. To prove she hadn’t wrecked everything. “Well, it’s almost dinnertime,” Libby offered. “You hungry?” Reece glanced at his phone, checking the time. “I have to get home, actually. One of the other instructors at my studio just got promoted to third dan, and there’s a big party starting at his flat. I need to grab a case of beer and get over there.” “Oh, fun.” Libby tossed her orange peel in a bin and waited for an invitation that didn’t arrive. “You want a lift to the marina?” “Yeah, sure,” she said, hiding her supreme disappointment. They walked to the car.
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“What are you up to tonight?” Reece asked as he unlocked her side of the Laser. “I dunno. You’re busy and Colin’s working, so I guess I’m on my own.” She waited once more for an invite before giving up, feeling irritated. “I’ll probably go out for a drink, I guess. Maybe catch up on some work.” They took their seats. “Can I talk to you about something?” Reece asked as he started the car. Libby’s heart fluttered. “Sure… Is it about the other night?” “Um, no. I thought we’d just pretend that didn’t happen.” She nodded, relief and fresh embarrassment flooding her chest. “Fine by me.” “It’s something else. You know the envelope you gave me on Friday?” he asked, meaning her weekly bribe package, for all intents and purposes. “Of course.” “And the one before that, last week? They, um…they’ve been a bit more than we agreed on.” “Oh?” “Yeah. Don’t play innocent with me, Libby. It’s not your strong suit.” She rolled her eyes. “Fine. Yeah, there’s a bit of a gratuity in there.” “To be honest with you, I don’t know how I feel about taking it.” Reece merged them into traffic. “How do you feel about taking the regular twenty percent we agreed on in the first place?” “Bit dodgy.” “So is this any worse? Morally?” “I suppose not.”
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“Well, take it, then. I want to help you guys out. I’ve been eating all your food and sleeping at your place, and Colin won’t let me pay for anything. Call it room and board.” He seemed to mull this over. Although it surprised her, Reece appeared to possess less pride than his brother when it came to Libby’s financial offerings. “Okay. But it feels weird.” “Does our fooling around feel weird?” Libby asked, heart leaping into her throat. “A bit. You know, since it’s clinical. But it’s important to you, so I don’t mind.” Reece said the last bit quickly. Since the night she’d tried to run away, he’d been exceedingly sensitive when acknowledging their little educational sessions, as though Libby were a horse inclined to spook. It wasn’t the worst analogy in the world. “Well, this is important to me too,” Libby said firmly. “I want to help. And you should always give me what I want.” “Really?” There was a hint of flirtatious challenge in Reece’s voice. “Oh yes. I was going to try and take advantage of you this very night,” she said, egging him on. “Well, I’m sorry to have foiled your plans. Like I told Col on Friday night— go out. Have a good time, like you young people are supposed to. He didn’t get in until about two in the morning, so it must have worked for him.” “Oh?” Libby felt a jolt of something troublesome in her middle. “Yeah. Although that shouldn’t be a newsflash. It’s a bit shocking actually, how much time Colin’s been spending in his own bed lately.” There was a playful and conspiratorial quality to Reece’s tone. Libby swallowed, not finding herself able to reply.
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“And it’s about bloody time,” Reece added. “You know my brother has a crush on you, I’m sure?” Another pang. “Yeah, I figured.” “Well, I think he’s finally getting over that, thank goodness. God, imagine if he knew your cleanly little secret,” Reece teased, glancing at her. “God,” was all Libby managed to say at first, until she realized this was a chance to lever some straight facts out of Reece. “Did you know Colin thinks I have feelings for you?” she asked carefully. “Good. Let him.” “So, does he think you have feelings for me?” she asked, knowing Colin believed no such thing. Reece sounded amused. “No. He doesn’t know what it is we’re up to, but I can’t imagine anybody would ever fall for that.” Libby glared at him. “Wow, thanks.” “Well, don’t be annoyed—if I had feelings for you, you’d be off like a shot in the opposite direction, anyhow.” “True.” Lies. “If you were after a Nolan who wanted you back, you’d have broken our agreement weeks ago,” Reece said. “Hmm.” “And to tell you the truth, when you told me about your…inexperience. And your misgivings. Your requirements, I guess I mean. Well, it was a huge bloody relief.” “Why exactly is it that you’re such a Nazi about that, anyhow? About me not getting close to your brother?”
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Reece pulled up alongside the entrance to the marina before he replied, and he looked her in the eye. “Because he’s been to hell and back in the past few years, and I want what’s best for him.” Libby narrowed her eyes. “And I’m not?” “Are you kidding?” Reece asked, practically laughing. “You’re like chaos and disorder, personified. I can see why he’d like you, but trust me, he deserves someone more…” “More what?” she demanded, barely hiding her anger. “Just…someone who can offer what he does. My brother, he’s right there. All of him.” Reece held his hands up as if he were gesturing at something directly in front of them. “There’s no hidden agendas with Col. He’s an open book. He deserves someone who’s as sincere and unguarded as he is.” “And what am I?” Reece held the steering wheel, staring ahead and thinking a moment. “You’re someone who bribes someone like me to manipulate your father,” he concluded. “You’re someone who’s looking for an imitation of intimacy. You’re looking after your own arse. I’m not blaming you or anything. I think you’re doing what works for you.” “You think I just use people?” “I do.” Reece met her eyes, unapologetic. “It’s okay. You don’t make any bones about it. I know you had a hard time, when you were younger. I know you’ve got your reasons for being this way. You want someone who doesn’t have feelings for you, so they can’t hurt you, and I don’t mind being that person.” “What a saint you are,” Libby said with a tight, falsely flirtatious smile. “My brother…he’s good, but he’s reckless. He’s going to keep risking his neck out there in the world with no helmet, if you want to look at it literally. And even after he cracks his skull open, he’s still going to. He’s got something inside
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him that’s always looking to sabotage his chances at happiness. My brother doesn’t want what’s best for himself,” Reece said. “But I do.” “You make him sound like a child.” “I’m just telling you how he is.” “You seem to have us all pretty well figured out,” Libby said coolly, pushing her door open. Reece shrugged. “Anyhow, well done today. You know, I never would have guessed it, but this ridiculous plan might actually work.”
Colin could tell Libby was drunk the moment she walked—or more accurately, swayed—into the pub. He could tell even before she grinned at him and slurred, “Glash of red please, barkeep!” “All right, Libby?” She leaned unsteadily against the bar. “I am fannntastic, Colin.” “Fantastically drunk, maybe. What have you been up to?” “You like me, Colin?” “Uh…” “I mean, like me?” Her eyebrows bobbed. “Let’s get you upstairs. Graham?” Colin nodded to his new favorite patron. They were going to need to put him on the payroll, considering all the time he spent guarding the register since Libby had come into their lives. Colin steered her up the steps and through the door to the living room. She plopped onto the couch with a gentle push. “Precisely how drunk are you?” Colin asked. She threw her arms up gamely. “As drunk as you want me to be!” “Holy hell. You’re going to stay up here and drink a lot of water, all right?”
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He handed her the remote and then checked that there was no wine in the kitchen. He brought her a tumbler and the entire water filter pitcher from the fridge. “Be good. I’ll be up in an hour.”
Libby wasn’t on the couch when Colin rushed up the steps after a hurried and sloppy closing. “Libby?” As he said it, he could hear music from past the kitchen. It seemed Libby was not too drunk to operate a record player, and Leonard Cohen was crooning quietly from his bedroom. When he reached its threshold, what should have been the answer to Colin’s most selfish prayers presented itself. “What are you doing on my bed, Libby?” She had all her clothes on but was sprawled in a posture of patient, seductive waiting, on her stomach with her stripey-sock-clad feet kicking idly in the air like barber poles, chin propped on her hands. “You like me, don’t you?” she asked languidly. Colin pulled the chair out from beneath his desk and sat to face her. “Of course I like you.” “You’d like to do things to me, wouldn’t you?” “Uh—” “What would you like to do to me, Colin?” she demanded. “Nothing I’d like for you to recall me mentioning in the morning.” “You sucked on my fingers the other night.” “Yeah, I’m sorry about that. That was off-base—” “What else can you do with your mouth, Colin Nolan?”
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“Um…” She looked him in the eye and said with a tiny slur, “We should have sex.” “O-kaaay…” Her head lolled. “Awesome!” Colin moved to sit beside her. When she tried to turn over he put a palm on her back and pinned her down. “Let’s, um, let’s do foreplay first.” He hoped he sounded convincing. “Sure thing.” Her rearranged her elbows and wrists so they lay flat on the bedspread and moved her head to rest on her forearms. “Are you sure this is right?” Libby asked. “Oh, yes, I’m a bit kinky. Just do whatever I say.” “You got it.” He sat beside her, staring off into the kitchen, rubbing a hand over her back and shoulders. She dropped off to sleep just as the record came to an end. As an added precaution, he continued the soothing motion a few minutes longer. When her unconsciousness seemed assured, Colin got up and padded through the kitchen to fetch the pitcher and glass from the coffee table. He grabbed the popcorn bowl out of the drying rack for good measure. Veteran bartender or not, he wasn’t sure how drunk Libby was. He’d never seen her more than a bit buzzed before. It didn’t become her. It didn’t become anyone…though it didn’t diminish his feelings one jot. He plugged in the string of Christmas bulbs that bordered the window and turned off the overhead light, holding his breath until he was sure he hadn’t roused her. He didn’t breathe again until he made it back to the couch.
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Reece got home just shy of three o’clock. His body would not be happy when his alarm went off in four hours and he had to head out to open the studio. He flicked on the lights, surprised to find Libby here tonight. More surprised, however, when his eyes adjusted, and he realized it was a different body cluttering up the couch for a change. Colin turned over. “Oh, hey.” “What are you doing out here—” “Shhh. Keep your voice down. There is a very drunk girl asleep on my bed and I’d like to keep her that way.” “What, drunk?” “No, asleep. It’s Libby. She’s legless.” Reece walked over and sat on the coffee table so they wouldn’t have to whisper. “Why’d you let her do that?” “I didn’t. She showed up drunk, around midnight.” Reece frowned. “And she’s on your bed why?” “She sort of came on to me,” Colin said, looking disturbed. “Well, I mean, she definitely came on to me. Anyhow, that’s the only thing I could think to do with her—bore her to sleep. Trust me, I did not invite her in there.” Reece wasn’t sure what he was feeling. Panic, but of what variety… He believed his brother. Colin didn’t need girls to be drunk to lure them into his bed. That trap set itself, without Colin ever seeming to make any effort to find prey. Or predators, as the case may be. And Reece assumed Libby was probably the girl Colin would most like to find there, but he wasn’t with her now. Actually, since Libby had become a fixture Reece hadn’t once accidentally frightened a grinning, half-naked woman making her way to the bathroom on a given morning, having forgotten Colin didn’t live alone. And that used to be a weekly occurrence.
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“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Libby properly drunk,” Reece said. Colin raised his hands in weary surrender and lay back down. “How was the ninja party?” “It was good. Sang says hello, talking of drunk girls.” Reece sighed, still agitated. “Any cute ones?” “Eh…” He considered sharing his news on this topic, but it didn’t seem the time. Not when the woman he’d been coerced into fooling around with was passed out on his brother’s bed, after apparently having made a move on him. Things had become distinctly strange lately. Stranger than usual, even. Colin yawned. “Well, I’ve got to be up at seven. And you probably do too. So as much as I’d love to chat…” “Yeah, too right. You want me to handle the Libby situation in the morning?” Reece felt a need to reassert his dominance where she was concerned, though he disliked the impulse. “Whatever. Whoever’s up, I guess,” Colin said through another yawn. “Or whoever she stumbles into first. Just don’t tell her she hit on me. Maybe she won’t remember that. Tell her I said she was the most charming drunk I’ve ever seen, if you talk to her. Tell her she was witty and articulate and beyond moral reproach and I hardly could tell she was drunk at all.” Reece nodded. This was the sort of face-saving courtesy he wouldn’t have thought to extend to the woman who’d been driving him nuts for the past month, and it made him feel like a heel. Their mother’s old observation was right—Annie was wise in her brain, Reece was wise in his body, and Colin was wise in his heart. Sometimes Reece thought he wouldn’t mind trading a bit of his physical ability for an ounce of whatever made Colin how he was. He didn’t want the pain his brother had been through, but he did covet whatever it was
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that had allowed him to live through it. That, Reece did not suspect he had in him.
“Oh, my holy God.” “Morning, Libby.” As her eyelids peeled open, the glare streaming in from the sunlit kitchen burned Libby’s brain. She blinked a few times, eyes adjusting. Colin was sitting on his desk chair a few feet away, a newspaper in his hands. The shiny steel popcorn bowl was below her on the floor by the edge of his bed, next to the water pitcher. “Why am I on your bed?” And what was her head doing in an industrial paint agitator? “This is where you fell asleep,” Colin said. “I thought I’d leave you be.” “I have never been that drunk before.” “You were fine.” “Oh God.” “Drink some water.” He bent to pour her a glass. “Did I make a complete ass of myself?” He handed her the water. “No, you were extremely charming.” She tipped the glass to her lips. Ah, ambrosia. She set the glass beside the bowl. “So charming you gave me a puke bucket?” “Just to be safe. It’s not like you needed it.” “What time is it?” “Nine or so.” “Why aren’t you at work?” “I have a flat tire,” he said.
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“And you couldn’t change it?” Colin smiled. “Only in about forty-five seconds. That’s just what I told my work. They think I’m hunting down a spare right now. I wanted to make sure you didn’t wake up totally confused.” “I have.” “I’ll make you some brekkie. A shower might feel good too. And here’s some aspirin.” He shook a little bottle at her, and the rattling of the tablets was like a thousand maracas in her skull. “Oh God, you’re murdering me.” He laughed and took her hand, dropping a couple pills onto her palm. Libby swallowed them and rolled onto her back, her brain flip-flopping in her head, feeling bruised. She heard Colin in the kitchen, gently moving dishes around. “I remember taking a cab here,” Libby said, mostly to herself. “And I think I tipped the guy about forty bucks because I couldn’t handle the math. And I remember Leonard Cohen.” “Yeah, we listened to a record,” Colin called. “And we don’t really tip our cabbies here, but I’m sure he appreciated it.” “Shit, I knew that.” Libby frowned so hard her face ached. “Tell me honestly—was I a complete douchebag?” “Nah,” Colin said. “You were fine. Just drunk. You’re a cute drunk.” “I think I drooled on your bedspread.” Colin came back in and she heard him refill her glass. “Is it in the shape of anything?” “My drool stain? I’ll have to check.” Libby laughed a little, though it hurt. Colin made it very difficult to feel embarrassed.
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“You’ve got a few choices for breakfast,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Something starchy. And absorbent.” “Muffins it is. Eggs are supposed to be good for a hangover, as well.” She shuddered and closed her eyes. “You have no idea how disgusting eggs sound right now.” “Coffee?” “Maybe in a bit. Are you sure I’m not dying?” She felt Colin’s cool palm on her forehead. “Nah. You’re just dried up. Keep drinking water.” A terrifying thought sobered her. “Did Reece see me drunk? I don’t remember him last night.” “No, you were asleep when he got in.” “Well, thank goodness for small mercies.” “Yeah.” “Like he needs another reason to think I’m a spaz,” she added. “He doesn’t think you’re a spaz.” Libby opened her eyes in a wide Are you kidding me? gesture, staring at Colin upside-down. “Well, not all the time. Only when you’re being one on purpose. Come on, up you get. You want butter or jam or honey?” “Just dry. Thanks.” Colin went back into the kitchen, and she rolled herself artlessly off the bed, disentangling herself from the blanket he must have tucked her under. She padded to the doorway. “So where did you go last night, before you came by?” Colin asked, pushing the toaster lever down.
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“God, where didn’t I go?” Libby couldn’t recall much after about six o’clock—a series of wine glasses set before her on various bars, each a little blurrier than the one preceding it. “Everything all right?” Colin asked. “Celebrating, not wallowing, I hope. You seemed pretty cheerful when you got here.” That surprised her. Libby couldn’t remember feeling much aside from utter misery and confusion the previous afternoon. “I… Shit, I don’t know. I just felt like getting drunk.” “Fair enough. No butter? You sure?” “A little, I guess.” Colin already had two browned English muffin halves on the cutting board. Their toaster always cooked one piece much darker than the other and Libby watched him grab the next pair as they popped up and assemble her breakfast out of the two least-burned halves. He buttered them and slid a plate in front of her on the center island before joining her. “Thanks. You didn’t have to take the burned pieces.” “I like them well done.” He made little attempt to sell the lie. “Plus all that crunching inside your skull might give you a migraine. You should have the soft nursing-home ones.” “You’re a very full-service bartender.” “I like to keep my patrons happy.” Libby remembered his pair of Monday-night admirers, and it jogged something from the previous day. That horrible conversation she’d had with Reece—that talk, which had followed on the heels of what she’d thought had been their most comfortable day spent together on a documentation excursion. She’d always assumed that the closer she got to Reece, the more access he’d allow her to his goodness. The more she could soften him up, the more genuine
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affection she’d be able to tap. Unnervingly, the side of himself Reece had shared hadn’t impressed her. “Libby?” “Sorry, what?” “I asked if you had your keys on you,” Colin said. “I need to head out soon, but you should feel free to stick around, take a shower. Let your head dull a bit. Reece is teaching through the afternoon.” “Thanks. I will.” Colin finished his toast and dusted the crumbs off the counter. “Sorry I can’t hang out longer.” “Don’t be silly. Thanks for breakfast. And my puke bucket.” “Thank you for not puking.” Colin smiled and clapped her gently on the back, the contact so familiar. She watched him walk to his room and heard the Velcro of his bag ripping as he got ready to leave. He reappeared, pulling his gloves on. “When do I see you next?” “Oh, I dunno. Soon, probably.” “Sounds promising.” “Colin…” “Yeah?” “Did I say why I came over here last night?” “Not particularly,” he said, shifty. “Are you lying to me?” Colin tucked his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. “Why do you usually come over here?” “Well…” “To try and have your way with one of the blokes who lives in this flat, right?”
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“Partly,” she admitted. “Well, let’s say that last night was no different. You’re just lucky Reece wasn’t in when you turned up.” She groaned. “I’ll bet.” “But don’t worry,” Colin began, leaning over to plant a kiss on the top of Libby’s head. “Ow.” “Booze isn’t the truth serum everyone makes it out to be.” He walked to the living room. Libby hurried to the threshold after him. “Why? What did I say?” “Just a bit of nonsense. Trust me, it wasn’t you talking.” There was something melancholy in his expression when he said this. He tugged his shoes on. “Tell me,” Libby said. He smiled and stood. “Can’t. I’ve already forgotten what it was. I’ll see you later, then.”
Libby wished she could turn a dimmer switch down on the sun. She shielded her eyes from the glare bouncing off the post office’s front door. A bell jingled as she entered, painfully cheerful in her ears. She dug out her key and opened her post office box. Flipping through the thin stack of envelopes, she scanned for the immigration bureau’s return address. Any day now she’d be hearing about her visa extension…but not today. Her hangover redoubled as she came to an expedited airmail postcard. It was a panorama of the Manhattan skyline, the glossy cardboard banged up from
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a long journey. She closed and locked her box and flipped the card over. She stared at her sister’s handwriting, so eerily like her own. Dear Libby, Please call me as soon as you get this! Same number as always. Dad and I will be in Wellington the second weekend in July. I can’t wait to see the country and, more importantly, you! Would you pick a good place to meet us for dinner while we’re in town? We’d both love to see you—yes, really. Hope you’re doing well. I miss you. Love, Abby Libby blinked a few times. Her head had already been pounding and now her heart joined it. She glanced at the post office clock. One in the afternoon, which made it five p.m. on the East Coast, yesterday. Her sister might be about to sit down to Sunday dinner—an unlikely guess and a lame excuse to put the call off, but Libby wasn’t feeling choosy at the moment. Worry enveloped her like an itchy sweater. She strode out of the lobby and off toward her makeshift therapist’s office.
Colin slowed his bike as he reached the dispatch, dying for lunch and a break from the cold air and the even colder glares from the drivers he routinely pissed off. He pushed the door in and waved wearily at Pete, the guy who manned the phones.
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“Hey, Col. You’ve got a visitor.” Pete nodded to the seats lined up against the window. Libby raised her hand, her smile like a kick in the midsection, as always. He leaned his bike against a wall. “How’s the hangover?” “It’s been overshadowed by something far more painful. Can I talk to you for a minute?” She looked calm but pale. He nodded. “I’ve got to eat. Can we talk over food?” “Yeah.” They walked a half a block in silence to Colin’s default lunch destination. He ordered a lamb kebab and sat down with her at a wobbly table. His nerves felt raw. He was willing to guess she’d regained a few memories from the prior evening, and he dreaded the apology he felt coming. “What’s up?” She blew out a tense breath and rubbed her temples. “I got a postcard from my sister today.” “Oh. Is everything all right? Back home?” “Yeah, I think so. But she’s coming to town. With my dad. The end of this week, I think.” He nodded, cautious. “Is this a good thing or a bad thing?” “It’s…it’s just a thing. Not good or bad.” She toyed with her bracelets. “I have two questions for you.” “Shoot.” “Can you recommend somewhere decent-ish to take them for dinner? Somewhere nice, but not fancy-pantsy.” “Sure. I’ll jot down a few places that might suit. What’s the other question?” “Would you be my date?” Her brows rose plaintively.
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He couldn’t pretend he wasn’t intrigued. A chance to meet her father was enticing, ditto her twin sister. A chance to pretend he was meeting these people as her boyfriend felt ten times more pleasurable than it should have. “Do you need one? A date?” “I’m petrified to go alone.” The strain tightening her face confirmed this. “And I guess you can’t take Reece.” “Yeah, that’d be genius. ‘Hey, Dad, this is my date. Oh, you know him already? You hired him to stalk me, you say? Wow, what a small world!’” “You don’t think I look enough like my brother to raise any suspicions?” She shook her head. “Not enough. But we’ll need to give you an alias.” “Fun. I’d been feeling left out of all the espionage going on around here.” He tucked into his wrap, struggling to process how this invitation made him feel. Honored? Used? Obscenely and disproportionately pleased? She let out another deep breath and slumped in her seat, relieved. “Thanks.” Colin pulled out a pad and pen, and scribbled some restaurant ideas between bites. An acute and irrational desire to impress Libby’s father tightened his chest, but he kept the suggestions upscale-casual. He doubted she owned anything dressier than jeans, anyhow. “Thanks,” she said, scanning the list. “Say, do you know when your brother’s got an evening off from the pub and the studio, next?” “Hmm…three nights from now, I think.” She nodded, biting her lip. A little knot of hateful, all-too-familiar jealousy twisted in Colin’s gut. “You look like you’re up to something.” She raised her shoulders in sheepish mock-innocence. “Well, I better head out.” He ran a napkin over his mouth and stood, chasing an urge to get back to the distractions of work. “Maybe I’ll see you soon?”
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“I’ll let you know the exact date for the dinner thing when I know it.” “Sounds good. I’m sure I can trade shifts with Annie or Reece for the pub, if I need to.” She stood and stuffed her hands in her pockets, and smiled weakly at him. “You’re nervous, aren’t you?” he asked. “A little. I have to call my sister back. We haven’t spoken in over a year…which is completely my fault.” “I know how that goes.” Her eyebrows asked Oh? but her lips stayed sealed. “You’ll be fine. Just keep calm and lay off the sauce for a little while.” She rolled her eyes. “Trust me, that goes without saying.” “Well,” he said as they exited, “I’ll see you soon.” Soon meaning every second of every day in his mind’s eye, until the next time they met for real. “Great. Thanks, Colin.” Those final two syllables sounded so raw and sincere his heart broke a little. He pulled her into a quick hug, regretting it instantly. When she turned away, he felt another hunk of his sanity crumble to dust and blow down the street after her.
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Chapter Fifteen
“Fuck me.” Colin felt his eyes widen. He clicked off the evening news and sat up straighter on the couch as Libby closed the door behind her. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” This was dressed to the nines—for Libby, anyway. She had on a swishy white-and-red-striped knee-length skirt made of several gauzy layers that puffed out from her impossibly long, slender waist, a vintage-looking cloud of a thing. Her calves were pale and smooth, and Colin wanted to press his lips against the tiny razor nick he saw on her shin. Over the skirt she had on a red, long-sleeved T-shirt, a couple strings of false pearls knotted between her breasts, making her look like a thrift-store flapper. Considering Libby lived in a track jacket and jeans, this was a seriously formal ensemble. She set her bag down inside the door and unlaced her sneakers. “I’m not even done yet.” Colin watched with unveiled curiosity as she rummaged for a pair of silver ballet flats and slipped them onto her feet. “Ta da!” “Damn, woman, you look right purdy. Is this what you’re wearing to see your father tomorrow?” “Nope, this is just for tonight,” she said and gave a little twirl. “What’s the occasion?” Colin didn’t actually care to hear the details, certain now that this transformation was intended for his brother. Although that was
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okay with him. It felt like acid eating away at his insides, of course, but he’d survive it. “This is for Reece?” Her scarlet-painted lips quirked to one side. “Maybe. You told me not to give up, so I’m stepping up my game.” Colin smiled dutifully, feeling sick. “Well, good luck.” “Thanks.” “Looking like that, you won’t need it.” He stood and approached, bringing his face close to hers. Her eyes grew round but she didn’t move away. “Breathe on me,” Colin said. Libby complied, exhaling her predictable peppermint scent. He stepped back a pace and nodded. “Yeah, you’re dressed just like you smell.” “I’m very coordinated.” “Like hell you are. I’ve seen you dance.” She gave him a little punch on the shoulder, but there was something different about her. Something softer and unmistakably shy. “Well, whatever you’re up to, I hope it succeeds,” he lied politely. “Thanks. So what are you up to tonight?” “Annie’s working and the rugby’s on, so I’ll probably be keeping her company downstairs. That’s about it. I’m bloody knackered.” “Are you kidding? I’ve been away for like four days and you’re not dying of boredom? I’m so insulted.” “Well, all the crying and carrying on’s been pretty exhausting and timeconsuming.”
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“That’s more like it. So what do you think—hair up or down?” She reached back and twisted her long mess of not-quite-dreadlocks into a knot at the back of her head. Colin couldn’t help himself. He leaned in close again and studied her face, cocking his head to one side analytically. He walked around her to take the scene in three-hundred-sixty degrees. “Now down,” he said, and Libby dropped her hair back over her shoulders. “Up again.” She complied. “No, down.” “There’s no money for the right answer.” The closeness of her, the proximity of her smell and her eyes and her skin, emboldened Colin. He smirked and bit his lip before reaching out to touch her hair with both his hands, lifting it up and drawing it back from her face one last time. Libby’s neck was the part of her Colin fixated on most. Like her legs and waist and arms, it was long and slender. Her hair was rarely up, but when it was he could see the darker blonde layers underneath and the pale skin that ran from the nape of her neck downward, blending with the more tanned expanse of her shoulders. There was something elementally private about this, like evidence of a hidden side of her, one not seen by others and untouched by the sunlight. Standing this close, Colin could see the peach fuzz on her ears, and the little hollows behind them that he was dying to press his thumbs into…if only he were somehow allowed to tangle his fingers deep in her hair and take her mouth with his own, as hard and deep as he’d fantasized about every day for the past month. During the few seconds it took for these thoughts to visit him, Libby’s gaze flickered back and forth between his eyes, uncertain. It always surprised Colin
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when he was this near to Libby, just how close they were in height. How close those taunting, mischievous lips were. And also how very, very far away. He dropped her hair and took her by the shoulders, giving her a little sideto-side wobble of encouragement. What he said then was “You look gorgeous. Knock him dead.” What it felt as if he said was “Here’s a rusty knife. Why not go ahead and gouge my heart out?” Libby bit back another bashful smile and looked down. “Thanks.” “He’s due in soon. I’m going to head down and bother Annie.” “Cool. I think I’ll just stay up here, see what’s on the tube.” “Right. Well, I’ll see you later, or tomorrow morning.” “Yeah, for our big date,” she said cockily, turning back into her usual self. “You got it. Anyhow. Be good.” “I always am.” Colin gave her a final glance. He knew any empathetic happiness he was forcing himself to feel would die an unceremonious death the second his brother walked through the pub’s front door. He knew he’d felt some terrible things in the last few years, far worse things than this, but at the moment, it was hard to imagine it. Libby’s heart had been pounding against her ribs the entire twenty minutes since Colin had left her alone in the living room. Every car door that slammed out on the street belonged to the Laser, in her mind. Every nondescript spike in the voices murmuring downstairs in the pub was surely the sound of Reece being greeted by his brother and sister. When the footsteps finally came, she clenched the TV remote so tightly the volume began to race up. She switched it off hastily.
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Reece seemed unsurprised to find her as he stepped inside the flat. He gave her a brief smile of acknowledgement, tossing his gym bag by the wall and kicking his shoes off before giving her a good looking-over. “Gidday, Lib—” He started. “Oh, crikey. You look nice tonight.” “Hey. And thanks.” She stood, picking up her empty wine glass as an excuse to appear busy and nonchalant. “How were your classes?” “Not bad. How’ve you been? This must be the longest we’ve gone without seeing you here.” “Yeah, I had some work to do.” “Well, I’m glad you’re back,” Reece said, sounding genuine and lifting her spirits. “We’re overdue for a photo shoot. Colin told me you’re seeing your dad tomorrow.” She nodded, mood dipping. “He called me yesterday. Your dad, I mean. We’re meeting the day after next, to check in. I don’t want to turn up empty-handed.” “I can spare a morning.” “Good… You, um, recovered from your festivities the other night?” he asked with a teasing smile. “Colin said you really tied one on.” “God, don’t remind me.” She faked a casual, self-effacing laugh. Reece looked shifty. “Well, just…be careful in the future.” “Oh, don’t worry. I’m never drinking that much ever again. God knows what an ass I must have made of myself.” Unlike his brother, Reece did not attempt to correct her on this point. She cleared her throat. “So…” Reece went to hang his coat up. “Yeah?” “What are you up to tonight? You feel like hanging out?”
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He glanced at his phone’s screen. “For a bit, maybe. I’m going to ring in a pizza, if you’re hungry. I figured you must be going out, looking like that.” “Nah, just playing dress up.” He nodded, walking back over. “Well, sure then, I’ll hang out. Although I look like a bit of a slouch now. Didn’t realize there was a dress code—” He was silenced as Libby’s mouth collided with his. It was their least orchestrated kiss to date, lacking in grace and chemistry. “Well,” Reece said after they found their rhythm a bit. “That sort of hanging out, then?” Libby wiped the lipstick off the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, that’s what I’d hoped. I know the last time was strange, when I ran off. I was having a weird day. I’m cool now.” He looked pensive, but nodded. “Sure.” His hand swept out as an invitation, and Libby preceded him to his room. He closed the door behind them. She’d been hoping to stir enough desire in him that they’d wind up tangled together on the couch or the floor, too frantic to go in search of privacy. That’s how she’d pictured it going. This evening was supposed to be different, transformed by a passion that superseded Reece’s usual teacher-student shtick and left him anything but the picture of self-control and courteousness. Curses. Libby sat on the bed, awaiting her ravaging. “So,” Reece said evenly. “What’s the lesson this evening?” “Not a lesson. I just want to mess around with you.” “Right. Want some wine?” “Nope, just you.” He smiled, looking flattered but hesitant. “You’re getting me at my most stinky tonight. That okay?”
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“Yeah, I like your smell.” Her eyes took him in, so frigging good-looking, even more exciting after a few days’ separation. She hoped her desperation wasn’t as plain as it felt. Reece pulled his socks off, and she let her shoes drop to the floor beside them. They reclined together on the bed. He kissed her, starting slow as usual, the tension building until Libby could feel desire eclipse her nerves. Reece’s mouth was hot on her throat, and she ran her hand down his body, cupping him. She felt him growing beneath the fabric of his track pants as she rubbed, listened to the sounds of his enjoyment as his breath warmed her skin. His palm left her hip to slip under her skirt and return the caress. She slid her hands inside his underwear and stroked him, thrilling at the sound of his surprise. “What do you want?” he asked, only half-composed. Excellent. She stroked him harder. “Lots of things.” Reece groaned with shock and pleasure. “Like what?” “Actually…” She gripped him tightly, hoping he might do her wildest bidding if she distracted him enough. “I’d like to…do it. With you.” His hand paused between her thighs. “Wait, you mean actual intercourse?” She laughed. “God, you’re so technical. But yeah. What do you think?” “No. Sorry, but no way.” Reece took his hand back and smoothed her skirt down her legs. “I can’t see why it’s such a big deal—” She was cut off as Reece interrupted to extract himself from her hold. Stark fear oozed into her veins, diluting the thrill that had been there. “Why not?” He laid his palm on her side, as if trying to distance their bodies. “I can’t be your…your first time since…” “Pardon me?” “You know. That would be like…losing your virginity again, wouldn’t it?”
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“It’s not a starfish, Reece. It’s doesn’t grow back.” “Well, this should be like your second chance. To make it decent. Shouldn’t it?” “And it would be decent,” she said, rubbing his shoulder. “It just seems like a big decision.” Her temper frayed. “I’m not an innocent or a rape victim. You can stop handling me like I’m going to shatter or something.” “I’m just saying—” “You do it to your brother too, you know. It’s really annoying. I know what I want.” She quickly dialed back how combative she’d become. “And this would be my chance to make it decent. Maybe better than decent.” “Didn’t the last time… You were with someone who didn’t really care about you, and it fucked you up?” “Yeah, way up. When I was sixteen. Now I’m twenty-eight. And I know you don’t care about me—” “Don’t say it like that.” “Well, I know you don’t…love me or whatever. So I’m not harboring any illusions about this. There won’t be any rude awakenings.” She faltered. “I mean, maybe we could just try oral or something…?” Even Libby caught the pathetic pleading in her voice. Reece shook his head. “No, sorry. That’s just as intimate as sex. Maybe more.” She sighed, trying her best to appear cavalier. “Libby, I need to talk to you about something. About us. About all this.” Her insides clenched with anticipation, with that intuition she was so hopeless at interpreting. “Shoot, lover.”
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“I think this has to be the last time we mess around. I feel too weird about it, with us not being a couple. I think it has to stop.” Libby’s stomach lurched and she took a fortifying breath. “Actually, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that, as well.” “Good.” “About us not being a couple. Is that… Do you want that to change?” she asked cautiously. “I want us to change. I can’t do this anymore. With us not caring for each other.” “I sort of feel the same way.” Tell him. Tell him now. “I like someone, Libby. Someone I’d like to ask out.” “Oh.” She frowned, paralyzed with both horror and the tiniest, most sadistic glimmer of hope. A hope she’d promised herself she was completely over before this moment. “This isn’t one of those deals where now you’re going to confess that it’s me, is it?” she asked, realizing how idiotic it sounded as the words came out. Reece smiled awkwardly. “No, don’t worry. I’m not going to drop one of those on you. No, I just fancy a girl and I think I want to ask her out. So I have to stop fooling around with you.” “Oh.” Libby fought every sensation crashing through her body—the feeling of her heart simultaneously stopping and racing, of the breath being sucked from her lungs, the numbness freezing her fingers and face and toes. “Well, that’s great,” she said. “For you. That’s great.” “Thanks.” “Who is she?” Don’t cry. Don’t cry. “A woman from my studio. Named Julia.”
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Oh Christ, don’t tell me her fucking name. “That’s really cool. What’s…what’s she like?” God, you fucking masochist. “Sweet. She’s really sweet.” Like a punch in the gut, that word. Any adjective but that one. The antithesis of everything Libby could ever be. “That’s great.” It was like one of those stories about a marathon runner or gymnast performing on a broken bone; the astounding ability to keep functioning in the face of incapacitating pain. “Good luck,” Libby said. “Ta.” “You know…” She trailed off, lost. “This is weird now, isn’t it?” “Yeah. Let’s just…let’s stop.” Libby stood, needing to run from the room but forcing herself to appear casual. Reece nodded. “All right. I better grab a shower anyway.” “Yes, do that.” “Okay. Sorry, Libby. To spoil your fun.” “Ha.” It was perhaps the worst imitation of a lighthearted laugh ever uttered. “Don’t flatter yourself, loverboy.” Libby closed his bedroom door behind her. “Let’s get sandwiches,” Annie said to Colin with finality, a pile of rejected takeout menus spread before her on the bar. “Where’s the number?” “I think that menu’s up in the kitchen. Just pick one of these,” Colin said, pushing the fliers toward her. No bloody way he was going upstairs right now. “No, I want a chicken sandwich. From the good place, with the good mustard.” “Let’s just get Chinese.”
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She poked his arm. “No. Bloody. Chance. You aren’t even working, you lazy piker. Those legs can handle a few stairs. Be a good boy and toddle up those steps and get your favorite sister the number.” “Only sister,” Colin corrected as he’d done for the past twenty years. “Just tell me what you want and I’ll go pick it up. It’ll be faster. And cheaper. My treat.” “Yeah, in the rain, on your bike? Fat chance, Death Wish. Go get the bloody menu. I’m hungry.” Annie reveled in bossing her younger brothers around, but Colin didn’t have the patience for it this evening. “I’ll call the directory.” “Colin.” Annie stared at him until he met her eyes. “They’re not going to be rutting on the blooming couch. Stop being such a coward and go up there.” He swallowed. “That obvious?” “I know you better than anyone,” Annie said, which was probably true. “Although it’s been getting harder to recognize you, lately. What is up with you?” “Wish I knew.” “It’s been ages since I’ve seen you this torn up.” Colin set his elbows on the bar and buried his face in his hands, trying to rub the sense back into his head. He mumbled through his fingers. “I feel like I’m going bloody mad.” “Libby’s nice, Col, but she’s just a girl.” “Wish I could say I agreed with you.” “Ah.” Annie paused to fill a drink order. “That bad, eh? Does she know how you feel?”
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“Oh, she knows.” He remembered with a flinch what had happened after he’d brought her back from karaoke. “She knows I’m infatuated with her, at any rate. I didn’t leave much room for doubt. I’m lucky she’s still talking to me.” “Maybe you need to go out and find someone else. Someone who doesn’t belong to your brother, maybe? Or whatever it is they are. There’s probably a queue of scruffy rocker girls in ripped leggings outside, dying for the chance, Col.” He laughed, exasperated. “Don’t think I haven’t tried.” He looked around the bar, as if he might find answers in the faces of the drinkers. “You want to hear something utterly pathetic?” “I’m your bartender right now. That’s my job.” “Well, last weekend I went out to a show, just to try and get out of my head for a little bit? And do you remember Jessie, that girl I was hanging out with around when Dad was getting really bad, like six months ago? Long black hair? Works at a baker’s?” Annie nodded. “So, I’m at this show, right, and it’s bloody miserable, not helping at all. So I decide out of the blue that I’m going to ride over to Eastbourne at bloody midnight and see her. And I do, and it’s so psycho. It’s late, and I turn up probably reeking of other people’s smoke and God knows what else and I’m babbling like a mentaller, and she takes me in.” “Okay…” “So, beautiful, right? She’s up for it, we both know the score, I already know we’re dynamite together in the kip, and I am this close—” Colin paused, fingers pinched together to illustrate his point, waiting as Annie poured a pair of beers. “I am this close,” he continued. “And…” He gestured spastically, mouth agape to illustrate his disbelief.
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“And?” Annie prompted. “And nothing. I fucking flipped out. Something in my brain broke and it was like, trousers-back-on in a flash, apologizing profusely as I practically ran out the bloody door.” “Yikes,” she confirmed. “Yeah. Brilliant. So anyhow, I tried, okay?” “You’ve got it bad,” Annie said, her stream of bartenderly advice seeming to have run dry. “No shit, shopkeep.” “Well, I’m still hungry,” she said. “You going to get me that menu or what?” He groaned. “Annie—” “Just go. Embrace the misery. You don’t get to go back to the way you were, so find your knackers and deal with it.” Colin clenched his eyes shut, submitting. He slipped off the stool and strode through the door, determined to make this trip as quick as humanly possible. He clomped up the steps, a warning, on the off-chance there was something he couldn’t handle taking place in the living room. As door swung open, Colin felt his anxiety shift twice in quick succession. That Libby was in the living room, alone, was a huge relief. That she was crying was worrisome. “Hey, hey, hey.” He hurried to where she was leaning, doubled over, hands braced on the arm of the couch. He took her by the shoulders and straightened her up. “What’s going on? You okay?” He heard the shower shut off in the bathroom. “No,” she said, trying to slip from his grasp. “I have to go.” He ignored a sharp elbow to his ribs and held her fast. “No way—it’s wretched out there.”
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“It’s wretched here too.” Her quiet rasp said Reece wasn’t meant to overhear her being upset. She glanced around the flat, seeming to relinquish any last shred of dignity she might’ve fought to keep. “Then come down to the bar with me,” Colin said. “We’ve got a function room that’s empty. Please? Don’t go running off into the night like Cinderella. Again.” He glanced down at her bare feet. She pursed her lips, and he gave her a little shake. “Please?” he said. “It’s not a Thursday. I won’t know where to find you.”
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Chapter Sixteen
Libby pulled her sneakers on and followed Colin downstairs. She let him deposit her in a large room off the rear of the bar, empty save for a torn-up old pool table, and some wine crates and spare chairs stacked by one wall. Colin had grabbed two pillows from his bed, and he tossed them on the pool table. He flicked on a row of faux-Tiffany ceiling lamps, bathing them in a tacky but somehow comforting light. He patted the felt surface of the table to indicate she should have a seat. “You want some wine?” “Yeah, sure.” Libby was happy to submit. She had no idea what to do with what she was feeling at this moment, or even what that might be. Disappointed, humiliated, confused…relieved? That couldn’t be right. She toyed with the lone three-ball that been left on the table, rolling it beneath her palm. Colin disappeared through the swinging saloon doors. A few moments later music started up in the bar, drowning out the idle chatter and the drone of the television. He returned and slid the lock in place to keep patrons from wandering in. Libby took the glass he offered, and he joined her in sitting cross-legged on the table. They rolled the ball back and forth for a few moments, it and her skirt and their matching red and white shoes against the green felt reminding her of Christmas. “Did you put the music on?” she asked.
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“Yeah. I put in about twenty dollars’ worth of songs. Should give us a little privacy. Normally I like to go up to the roof when I’m feeling upset, but I didn’t think drowning would improve your evening much.” “Thanks.” “You want talk about anything? Or shall I just hold you prisoner in silence?” “I don’t know. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.” “I’m sorry I’m the one who came running after you,” Colin said. “Yeah, again.” “Yeah.” He shrugged an apology in Reece’s stead. “He doesn’t know I’m upset this time, either. And I don’t want him to.” “This is none of my business,” Colin said, “but what on earth is going on behind that closed door? And how come every time it’s over you seem to be crying?” Libby sputtered out an exasperated breath. “Hell if I know.” “My brother’s not being a creep, is he?” “I wish.” “Ah.” Colin nodded, beginning to understand. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing,” Libby groaned again, letting her head drop into her hands. She felt Colin pat her hair. “Nobody ever knows that. Don’t sweat it.” She straightened up and gave him a miserable look. “I’ve been messing around with your brother.” He didn’t look at all surprised. “Well done, him.” “You don’t understand. It’s weird. It’s a favor.” “How can messing around be a favor? And more importantly, how can messing around with you be considered a favor?” “He’s the only person I’ve even kissed, like really kissed, in over a decade.”
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Colin’s eyebrows flew up. “Crikey.” “I told him he’s the only person I’ve ever met that I feel safe around, that way. Which is true. I sort of talked him into it. But I told him I don’t have feelings for him, romantic ones, and that it was purely scientific.” “But you do.” “Of course. It’s freaking me out now. I’m worried he might be the only person I’ll ever feel safe around like that, and if it doesn’t turn into anything…I dunno. It took forever for this to happen. What if this is my only chance, you know?” She paused, glancing up at Colin, knowing he felt something for her. It seemed stupid to deny it. “Sorry, this must be kind of weird for you.” She rolled the ball into the side pocket with a clack, feeling hopeless. “Nothing’s weird to me.” Colin shifted the pillows and set them at the end of the table, like a bed. He lay down, knees bent, and invited Libby to do the same. They lay side by side for a few moments, staring up at the ceiling tiles, listening to the three ball finding its way to its brethren beneath them, the sounds of the bar and the rain against the windows. Libby sighed. “Your sister must think I’m a total drama queen.” “You know, it’s normal to feel not safe when you’re first messing about with someone,” Colin said, ignoring her comment. “It’s pretty scary sometimes, if you like them and you aren’t sure how they feel.” She decided nervously to let this conversation go forward. “Yeah?” “Yeah. I’m not trying to talk you out of fancying my brother or anything. I know that’s a lost cause.” “Don’t remind me.” “But fear doesn’t necessarily mean they’re the wrong person,” he went on. “Sometimes it means they’re the right person. It’s normal to feel scared, if there’s
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anything there you might stand to lose. You have to listen to your gut, to know which fear you’re experiencing.” “Maybe. I think my intuition’s probably pretty withered and shriveled up by now, though. If it ever worked to begin with.” Colin seemed thoughtful for a moment. “So, wait… Forgive my being nosy, but you honestly hadn’t kissed a bloke since you were how old?” “Sixteen.” He turned his head toward her. “Seriously?” “Seriously. I have had sex exactly once. And your brother was not the lucky fella.” “Holy hell.” Colin let this revelation sink in. “How come?” “This really shitty thing happened. To me. Because of me too. I wasn’t raped or anything. I was sort of going out with this boy who I really, really liked. I thought I loved him, like you do with you’re sixteen and everything is such a melodrama. Anyway, I had sex with him, even though I didn’t want to yet, because I thought he’d be my boyfriend or whatever. God, this sounds so stupid now.” “No, it doesn’t. Go on.” “So, long story short, he was never my boyfriend. I don’t think he even liked me all that much. Like, take how weird I can be now and times it by high school. Totally odd. Way too intense about everything. So, anyway. I ended up getting pregnant from this one stupid night of the worst, most ill-advised, crappy, firsttime teenage sex ever.” “Oh shit. Sorry, Libby.” “Yeah. And I don’t know what Reece may have shared of his opinions about my father, or what they may be, but my dad’s a control freak. He’s a hugely powerful university head and he’s obsessed with appearances—”
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“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Colin interrupted. “Where are you from? Before Boston?” Libby bit her lip. “Connecticut.” “Prentiss? Prentiss University? That’s your family?” She nodded shyly against the pillow. “Holy shit… But you went to Harvard, didn’t you? Isn’t that like the biggest Ivy League rivalry in the history of the world?” “I’ve done a lot of things in my life expressly to irritate my father. And I thought you googled me. I figured you knew that, already.” “I only looked you up enough to figure out what you did to make your dad so paranoid.” He fell silent, absorbing this new information. “Did he pay for it? Your schooling?” “No, my grandma did. His mother. She divorced my grandfather amid a gigantic scandal in the eighties. She got a huge chunk of change and dragged his philandering name through the mud. Quite publicly,” Libby added with satisfaction. “Yikes.” “I’m named after her,” Libby said proudly. “Anyway, she’s the one whose money I inherited. I’m cut off from my dad, which is fine with me, if only he’d leave me alone. He goes to great lengths to keep my embarrassing little activities quiet. You know, the things I used to get up to.” “Why do you hate him so much?” Colin sounded uncomfortable. “Dads are always protective of their daughters.” “He made me get an abortion. Like, forced me to. I might have gotten one anyway, but I wasn’t given a choice.” Libby felt a very old and familiar anger lodge in her throat.
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Colin didn’t say anything for a moment. His hands twitched, as though he wanted to do something to comfort her but didn’t know how to begin. “Libby. That’s…that’s horrible.” “Yeah. And then he threw me in an institution.” “What, like a mental ward?” “Yeah. The poshest, most discreet loony bin in New England. After I tried to kill myself.” Colin flipped his body over, hugging his pillow under his chest. He stared at Libby, and it was like looking in a mirror. She let her thick silver bracelets slip down her arm to reveal the faint scar on her wrist. Colin’s eyes widened and he looked as if he might cry. “Sorry,” she said. “This is so depressing.” “No, keep going. I’m tough. I want to hear.” “Well, I got tossed in there for two years, for the rest of high school, to keep me quiet. So I wouldn’t run off and blab our family’s dirty little secret to the press or whatever. The whole time I was there everybody thought I was studying abroad. By the time I got out my spirit was like completely broken, and I didn’t want to tell anyone, anyway. I’d studied really hard and got accepted to Harvard, and so I just ran off and started my life away from my family.” “Is Harvard that far from Connecticut?” “Not really. But it was far enough. And worth it, to piss my dad off.” She smiled. “And Cambridge is cool, once you get off campus. I loved it there. Living in shitty apartments after growing up with all that upper-class BS. Plus I couldn’t live in the dorms—it felt way too much like the nuthouse.” “Well,” Colin said. “I’m sorry you had such a terrible experience.” “It’s okay.” He turned back over and sank his head into the pillow.
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“Do you think I’m complete freak, now?” she asked the ceiling. “I suspect everybody’s a complete freak. Except you. And maybe me. We’re the normal ones.” “Do you ever feel like a freak?” she asked. “I used to, yeah. I still do, sometimes. More now that Reece is back. If there’s a black sheep in our family, it’s definitely me.” “I’d have thought it was Reece. Everybody else is so easygoing.” “Yeah, but he’s the golden child. Perfect. Never messed anything up in his whole life. Not majorly.” He didn’t sound bitter exactly, but weary. “Colin.” “Yeah, Libby?” “Where did you get your scar?” “It’s a really horrible story.” “You got to hear about my really horrible story,” she said. “And my scar.” “Yeah. But this is pretty fucked up.” Libby turned onto her side to show that she was prepared to listen. “I guess it might make you feel better. If you’re into schadenfreude.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “I went halfway through a windscreen.” “Oh, God.” “Don’t feel bad, it was my own fault, really. Hit a tree.” “Ouch.” “To say the least.” “But you’re okay,” she said, studying his face. “Yeah…but my girlfriend was killed.” Libby felt her limbs go numb and her throat close up. Colin stared at the ceiling.
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“Jesus…that’s awful.” She didn’t know what else to say. “But it was an accident. Right?” “Yeah, it was raining hard out, sort of like tonight, but that’s no excuse.” “Yeah, it sort of is,” she said. “Unless you were drunk or something. Were you drunk?” He shrugged. “Not technically. But I’d had a couple beers. Enough to wonder for the rest of my life if it was completely my fault. I may as well have been drunk, for how much it’s eaten away at me ever since.” “But you weren’t…were you charged with anything?” “I was acquitted of manslaughter,” he said, voice flat. “It got chalked up to road conditions.” “So it wasn’t your fault—” “Libby, I killed someone. Save your sympathy, sweetheart.” She fell silent for a few moments. “Did you love her?” she finally asked. Colin frowned, looking surprised by the question. “Eh…probably not. Not yet, I mean. We hadn’t been going out that long. She was a great girl, though. We’d been at a party that night. It was sort of for the best, as she was pretty drunk and she slept through everything. You know. Painless.” It didn’t sound painless, judging from his voice. “God.” “So yeah. And I tried to kill myself, too. You know how that goes.” “Jesus, Colin.” “Yeah. Tried to drown myself a couple weeks after I’d been acquitted. I just couldn’t handle it. Anything. That couldn’t have helped Reece’s fear of water,” he added glibly. “Was he there for it?”
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“He was away when the car accident happened, but he came home when he found out. Though I asked him not to.” “Why?” “I don’t know, he felt obligated, I guess.” “No, I mean why didn’t you want him to come home?” Libby asked. “He was supposed to be in the Olympics at the time.” “Oh, shit. Right.” “But he came home anyway. It was a bloody nice thing for him to do. Too nice, in my opinion. Like I needed another thing to feel like a shit about.” “And he’d gone back to wherever by the time you tried to…?” “Yeah. The Games were buggered, thanks to me, and he went back to his teaching job in England. I pretty much forced him to. I made my parents and Annie promise not to tell him about it after I tried to kill myself. And when he found out a couple years later, it wasn’t even from me or them—he heard through a friend, since lots of people here knew. This friend of ours was just trying to be nice, you know, ask how I was doing. But it’s not how he should have found out.” Colin cleared his throat. “I should have told him myself but I kept putting it off. I think that really hurt him, being left in the dark about that. But I couldn’t bear to have him come back again to try to pick up the pieces of my fucked-up little life for me… You have a twin sister, right?” “Yeah.” “And she’s all picture-perfect, isn’t she?” “Painfully.” “Yeah, I’ve seen her picture-perfect picture,” Colin said. “Well, imagine her rushing in with all her perfection when you’re feeling more like a screw-up than you ever have in your entire life. And her wanting to help fix everything you’ve fucked up. I couldn’t handle that. Reece is…special. Really talented. He beats
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himself up about not being here for our family through all that stuff, like when our dad was sick. I give him shit for it too, sometimes. But it’s insane for him to be back here when there’s better opportunities over there, chances to travel.” “Maybe he loves his family. Ever think of that?” “Sure.” Colin fell silent. “So did somebody save you, when you tried to drown yourself?” “Yeah, some wharfie. Poor bastard—I was such an ungrateful dick to him. I was in so much pain back then.” “And now?” Libby asked. “Yeah, still, but I got over myself a lot when my dad got sick. Without Reece around I became the man of the house, by default. Grew up a bit.” Libby thought for a moment. “So that’s why you don’t drink or drive?” He nodded. “I think I forfeited those privileges the night of the accident. I can’t stand the thought of drinking again, anyway, even a half a glass of beer. Makes me feel sick to my stomach. And driving just scares the shit out of me, of course. I can’t even ride in a car when it’s raining.” Libby stared thoughtfully off toward the wall beyond Colin. “You know, Tiger, you’re more my twin than my twin is.” “That doesn’t flatter you. But I think it reflects pretty well on me. Can I ask you something?” “Of course.” “What’s with the flirting?” He looked over at her with a guilty smirk. “My tarty persona? I started doing that after I got out of the institution. I was kind of petrified of men, but I guess I was more angry than I was scared. After the whole pregnancy thing happened, my parents started treating me like a complete skank. Especially my dad. So I figured if he was going to treat me that way, I’d give him a reason to. Or at least let him think it was true. And then I
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figured out that men are actually a lot less scary than I’d thought. They’re actually really easy to control. No offense.” “None taken. But why do that to your dad? Why make him worry even more? Why not just forget him and move on?” “Because fuck him, that’s why. He’ll never believe I’m anything except a terrible failure of a person, so I let him. I’m sort of hoping he’ll disown me one day. I’ve been trying everything I can think of to tarnish our family’s good name ever since I finished school.” “That’s pretty harsh, Libby.” “Yeah, well.” She shrugged. “I’ve sort of given that up, now, all that stuff I got in trouble for that you read about. But he still has me followed, obviously.” “Not that it’s my business, but have you ever thought about forgiving him?” “Nope. Why should I do that? He stuffed me in the back of a closet when I needed him most.” “Well, a lot of parents wouldn’t forgive some piece of shit who drove after a couple beers and killed their daughter. But some do, eventually. And it can save somebody’s sanity, being forgiven.” Libby felt another icy chill but wasn’t ready to soften. “Well, if my father ever shows any sign of regret, I may consider considering it. But not now. And I’m not giving up the tart act, either.” “You know what you are?” Colin squinted at her, seeming ready to let the heavy topics slide. “You’re like the Madonna/whore complex, inverted. You’re a near-virgin behind closed doors and a tramp on the street. There’s got to be a ton of very psychologically confused blokes out there just dying to meet a piece of work like you.” “You Nolans do know how to flatter.”
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“If I was your brother, I wouldn’t let you talk to men the way you do,” Colin said. “Well, I’m so very glad you’re not. That would mean Reece was my brother as well, and that would make the messing around really disturbing.” “And if this were fifty years ago I’d tell you you’re asking for trouble.” “And I’m so very glad I don’t have to wear pantyhose,” Libby said. Colin turned on his side and took Libby’s shoulder in his hand, pulled her face to his throat and pressed his lips to the crown of her head. Their bent knees touched, and she clasped her hands in front of her heart as his hand tangled in her hair. Lying there, her head held so fiercely and compassionately in Colin’s warm hand, Libby felt something shift in her perception of…pretty much everything. Everything that had been missing from her ridiculous experiments with Reece, that elemental warmth and mutuality, that affection, it was here. It had always been here. And it had always scared her, until now. Libby let her hand find Colin’s side and tugged herself tighter into this hug. Her sadness drained away, replaced with a sudden, potent, animal curiosity. As she let her body to press into his, she heard and felt a shift in him too—a tightening. A hitch in the rhythm of his breathing. All the things that happened to her own body each time she’d managed to steal a little taste of his brother’s affections. What would it feel like, she wondered, to explore those delicious, denied feelings with someone who actually reciprocated them? How would it feel to give those feelings, instead of taking them? The hand that had developed a firm grip on Colin’s waist slid up, running over his strong arm, fingers slipping beneath the sleeve of his T-shirt. Her breathing turned heavy, and she could feel the moisture of it building against his neck. The length of Colin’s body grew rigid and alert, and Libby pulled her head
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back to gaze at him. His eyes were half-lidded and unsteady, brows raised with uncertainty. Libby swallowed, staring at his mouth. “Don’t do this,” he whispered, and shut his eyes. “Do what?” Libby asked, but then she did it. Her lips against his, already parted—the most perfect fit imaginable. Colin’s hand twitched in her hair but he didn’t pull away. Eyes still clenched shut, he submitted, and Libby put her hand to his jaw and kissed him deeper. His mouth surrendered and when he kissed her back—the pressure of his lips and his hand, the hot glide of his tongue against hers, the sound of exquisite disbelief rising from his throat—Libby officially understood what kissing was all about. She let her knees brush his again, hoping he might invite her legs to tangle with his, but he didn’t. She held his face tightly, not wanting this slow, exploratory, unexpected moment to ever end. Her tongue slid between his lips to find his again, and suddenly it was as if Colin had been bitten. He pulled away, roused from some trance and all at once wide awake. He swung his legs over the ledge of the pool table and hopped off, running a hand across his jaw. Libby sat up, alarmed by the distress she’d caused him. Causing people distress was normally something she enjoyed and excelled at, but she couldn’t bear the thought of hurting Colin. She stood and stepped to him, trying to read his face. Please don’t let her lose both Nolans in one night… “Colin?” She put her hands on his shoulders, studying the panic in his eyes. “Don’t do this to me.” He plucked her fingers away from his shirt, handing them back to her. He met her eyes and smiled weakly. Sadly. “I’m sorry.” Her fingers clasped together at her waist, uncertain of the specifics of their offense. “I thought you wanted that.”
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Colin covered his face and rubbed the bridge of his nose, letting go a painfulsounding sigh. “I’m sorry,” she said again. Dear God, how had she misjudged this so badly? He uncovered his eyes and stared at her, his panic seeming to have subsided. After a few moments spent gathering his thoughts, he took Libby firmly by the arms, holding her at a distance. “Don’t be sorry. Just…please don’t do that again. You don’t know what that does to me.” “Oh.” “I know you aren’t trying to be cruel, but Christ. That’s…” “Sorry—” “Don’t be sorry,” he repeated. “C’mere.” Libby accepted his hug, careful to keep her embrace as limp and platonic as possible. When Colin stepped back he was smiling again. “Holy hell, woman.” His humor had returned though he was clearly still rattled. Libby bit her lip, stifling her fourth apology. Colin gave her a little shake. “Do you always wave bright red capes about when you’re in a bull pen? No wonder you’re constantly getting yourself in trouble with blokes.” “Well, someone always comes along to save me,” she said meekly, testing the waters of their resumed normality. “Yeah, well, he can’t do that if you’ve got him incapacitated. God, don’t do that.” “Sorry.” This time when she said it, she was laughing. “I’m going to throttle you.” He looked around the room, fixing his gaze on the frosted panes of the window. Rain hammered hard on the other side. “I guess you can’t stay on your boat, even if you wanted to.”
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“No. Probably not.” “Are you ready to go up? Get some sleep before our big Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner date tomorrow?” “I guess.” “You can sleep in my bed, if you want to avoid seeing Reece. I don’t mind the couch. He’s up early tomorrow, I think. You’d only have to hide out until seven, maybe.” “No, that’s okay. I don’t want him to think I care, you know? Salvage some dignity, unlike last time.” “Gotcha. Ready?” She shrugged. “Yeah, what the hell.”
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Chapter Seventeen
Libby’s jaw dropped. She hoisted it back up and fixed her mouth into an approving smirk. Colin leaned in the kitchen doorway, gazing over at the couch where Libby sat with her hair twirled up in a towel, post-shower. He’d put on a white collared shirt under a black sweater this morning, and his sneakers had been replaced with shined shoes. Without his usual urban trappings distracting the eye, precisely how handsome Colin was became strikingly clear. He held up the coffee pot as an inquiry. “No, thanks. You clean up real nice, Tiger.” He looked down at himself. “You reckon? Jeans are still okay, right? It’s just a posh bistro, isn’t it, the place you picked?” Libby’s smile evaporated. “Oh, no no no. You can’t wear that tonight!” “Too casual?” “No! Too fancy. I need regular, everyday Colin. I need you in a T-shirt and crusty shoes with your tattoos all showing.” His eyebrows rose. “Exactly what impression am I meant to make, again?” “Something my father will disapprove of. You look way too presentable right now. You can’t wear that.” “I thought your dad was supposed to think you were behaving yourself.” “That’s Reece’s job, to give him that idea. It’s your job to help me continue my tradition of disappointing him…without totally freaking him out. I’ve been
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doing it for ten years now, and one day he’s going to finally give up on me completely and leave me alone.” Colin’s eyes narrowed—the first sincerely angry expression he’d ever aimed at her. “What?” “I don’t know, Libby. Why not replay the last minute of this conversation in your head and try to guess why I might be insulted right now.” Libby could see the coffee trembling inside its pot. “Don’t be angry.” “I am angry. That hurt, you know.” “Tiger—” “I won’t be angry in a half hour, but I am right now. And I’ll still turn up and play the part of your fuck-up escort, since I’m apparently such a natural choice. But let me be pissed off for a little while.” He gave her a final squint and turned away, setting the coffee on the counter en route his room, tugging the sweater up over his back. “Colin.” Libby was used to playing on men’s emotions, but not like this. Especially not after what she’d done the night before. The power she seemed to have over this man was alarming. She hopped up and jogged to his bedroom door. “Colin.” He pulled a T-shirt over his bare chest, and Libby had to swallow back another dose of that fear his body always triggered. “Forget it,” he sighed, sounding as though he was already getting over her slight. “I didn’t mean it like that. You’re just…I don’t know. You’re not every father’s dream, I guess.” He shook his head. “No, I’m not.” “You can dress nice if you want.”
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“No, I’ll play by your rules.” His voice was quiet and sad. “After what you told me last night, I can’t say I’m too keen to impress him, anyhow.” “I really didn’t mean it like that,” she repeated, thinking of what he’d told her, and how he was surely one particular father’s complete and utter nightmare. She could practically hear the sarcastic slow-clapping for her latest show of diplomacy. “I’m sure I’d disappoint a lot of people’s mothers if they brought me to dinner.” “My mum likes you.” “I guess.” “She does. She used to be feisty like you, before things got so rough around here. I’m sure you remind her a little of herself, when she was younger.” Libby wasn’t sure what to say to this so she shrugged and smiled. “What time is this dinner, exactly?” Colin asked, sounding like himself again. “Six thirty. I have to go and analyze some lab results for most of the day, but I’ll meet you there. And don’t forget to think up a fake last name, in case my father asks.” “Already done. What do you think of Colin Philips?” She rolled her eyes. “Cute. Just leave the soft rock at home.” “How did it go, anyway—talking to your sister?” “I um… I sort of called her office number when I knew she wouldn’t be there, and left a message with the time and address.” Colin shook his head. “I know, it was chickenshit. But at least I didn’t reply with a text.” “Only because you don’t own a cell phone.” “Anyhow…I’m sorry, again. I’ll see you at six thirty?” “That you will.”
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“Actually, come earlier. Meet me outside. I could use you there, while I’m getting my balls together.” Colin nodded. “Whatever you fancy.”
Colin locked his bike against a telephone pole and glanced at his pager. Five twenty-five. Perfect. He jogged up the four long flights to the tae kwon do studio. As he kicked his shoes off he nodded to Reece, dressed in street clothes and chatting to the instructor manning the front desk. Reece eyed Colin’s bag. “All right, Col? You aren’t here for class, are you?” He shook his head. “Just dying for a shower.” “Oh, right—the dinner thing.” Reece frowned. “Don’t worry, he won’t figure it out,” Colin said. “I won’t wreck your lucrative charade. ‘Hide in plain sight’ and all that. You heading home?” “Yeah. I’m due behind the bar at six.” “Well, I’ll let you know how we get on.” “I really wish you wouldn’t do this,” Reece said, for about the tenth time since Colin had announced his intentions. “It’s going to make my job so much harder. How do I explain the fact that I’ve never documented you and Libby together?” “So document us. Tonight, or tomorrow morning. We’ll say it’s a new development. Whatever. All I know is she said she needs me there, so I’m going.” “Well, be careful. I somehow doubt you and Tom Prentiss are destined to be top mates. Just try and seem upstanding.” Reece took in Colin’s clothes, ripe from eight long, damp hours’ cycling. “Are you going to change at all?”
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“Yeah…although practically into an identical outfit. Libby wouldn’t let me dress up.” He wondered if his bitterness was audible. “You don’t have to grant every one of her wishes, you know.” Colin crossed him arms and gave Reece a telling look. One that said, Yes, I do, and you bloody well know it. Reece shook his head. “Well, I better head out. I’ll see you in a few hours. Be good.” “Yeah,” Colin muttered. “Thanks, Dad.” Their eyes met for a split second, and Reece looked stony as Colin made his way to the locker room. He was willing to honor Libby’s wishes up to a point, but he wasn’t about to meet her father smelling like a bike messenger. He stripped and showered and dressed again in fresh jeans and a T-shirt that dutifully showcased his tattoos. He hoped the restaurant would be cold and he could keep his jacket on. It felt shameful, this desire to hide who he was. After what Libby had told him about the stuff her father had put her through when she was sixteen, he shouldn’t give a shit about impressing the man. It was a stupid impulse. Stupid especially, since her dad’s endorsement would probably only count against him in Libby’s estimations. But if he was going to meet the asshole, he wanted to do it as a respectable man, dressed like one, and feeling like one. Not looking like this, feeling so inadequate. He gave himself a study in the mirror above the sink, running his hands over his face, his scar. “You are bloody pathetic.” “What was that?” A long-time black-belt student entered the changing area and smiled at Colin. “All right, Matt? And nothing. I’m just reminding myself what an idiot I am.”
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“Nothing like a good pep talk. You here for sparring? It’s been ages, hasn’t it?” Matt dropped his gym bag and began to change. “I don’t think I’ve fought you since you were about twenty.” Colin sighed. “No, I have a date, actually. Just here to get cleaned up.” “Well done.” “Eh, not really. I got tapped because she’s looking to horrify her father, and apparently I’m just the man for the job.” Matt laughed. “That’s a little harsh. What’s in it for you?” “I’m in love with her.” “You’re in love with a girl who’s using you because she reckons her dad will hate you? And who told you as much?” Colin pursed his lips, wanting to say it wasn’t as bad as it sounded but realizing it probably was. “That’s the long and the short of it, yeah. Oh, and she might be in love with Reece.” Matt slid his belt around his waist and knotted it with a tug. “No offense, Col, but that’s tragic.” He walked over and gave Colin a confused and commiserating slap on the arm before exiting with his sparring equipment. Colin turned back to the mirror. “You don’t know the half of it.”
At six sharp Colin rounded the corner and found Libby outside the bistro, trying to make smoke rings with her breath in the cold night air. She spotted him and smiled, though the gesture didn’t extend beyond her mouth. Seeing her so anxious dissolved every last ounce of bitterness Colin had been fostering. “Hey, Tiger.” “All right, Libby?” He peeled off his gloves and unrolled the cuffs of his jeans. “You nervous?”
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She nodded. “Yeah. You?” “I’ll be fine. I’m here for you.” “I know. I appreciate it.” Colin took a deep breath and cast his eyes around the sidewalk. “You want to go in and get a drink?” She nodded. They stepped inside the bistro and the greeter checked Libby’s reservation. “There’s a table free now, if you want to order your drinks and wait for the rest of your party.” They followed a young waitress to a table set for four in the middle of the trendy restaurant. Colin looked around, noting the clientele. There was no dress code but he felt pretty certain they were violating an unwritten one, showing up in jeans and sneakers. He sat down and passed Libby the drink menu. “Coffee,” he said to the waitress. “Shiraz, please,” Libby added after a glance at the list. The waitress nodded and disappeared. “Blimey.” Colin slipped his jacket off, eyes darting from the entrance to the front window and back again. “I am bloody terrified.” No understatement. He wondered if Libby could hear his heart pounding. “You look fine,” she said. “Meaning awful.” “I’m sorry about that. And no, you don’t look awful. You look very nice. Especially your tattoos.” He rolled his eyes at her.
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“Wait ’til you see my sister. I’ll look like a pile of puke compared to her. Like a before-and-after shot on one of those makeover shows where they turn a bag lady into a pageant winner.” “What does she do?” he asked. “She finished law school a couple years ago. She’s starting out at some Manhattan firm. But she wants to teach, eventually. College level. The Prentiss clan are very academic.” “So you’re not a total misfit.” “No, not utterly. Well educated, plus we all like boats…although I’m sure my dad would prefer I owned a yacht and not a converted fishing trawler.” “Are they close, your dad and sister?” She nodded. “Yeah. Not like a Hallmark card, but they get along. She plays by the rules. I think she likes rules, actually. Maybe I should set her up with Reece.” “What’s your mum like?” Their drinks arrived. Libby took a generous swallow, then laughed. “Beats the hell out of me… My mom’s like Martha Stewart, with hired help. She’s into garden parties and cut crystal.” “Are you two not friendly?” “I couldn’t even tell you. She’s so checked out of the real world. The morning I got taken off to the crazy-house, like three days after I slashed my wrist, do you know what she said to me?” Colin shook his head. Libby chirped through a toothy smile, “I hope you have a nice rest, darling! Be courteous with the staff!” “Miss Manners?”
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“Try delusional. She sent me cookies every other week for two years with notes saying things like, Our greatest glory is not in never failing, but in rising up every time we fail. I mean, her daughter tries to kill herself and she quotes Emerson.” “Is your sister like that?” “No, thank God.” Libby straightened her utensils. “She’s okay. She just keeps her head down and reaps the harvest of Prentiss privilege. She’s the smart one.” “What was she like when you got sent away?” “She was perfect. She called a lot.” Libby folded her napkin into quarters. “But I didn’t call her back much.” “How come?” “Same reason you avoided talking to Reece when you were having trouble, I guess. She was just a reminder of what I’d failed to be. You’ll see. Take a look at the two of us when they get here and try and figure out which one’s any father’s favorite.” “That’s sad. I mean, you’re twins and all. I always imagined that’d be a tough bond to break.” “It can be, but we were never identical beyond our outsides. Our personalities have always clashed. Not like clashed, not like me and my dad.” “You know, Reece and our father didn’t always get along.” Libby looked up from her napkin origami. “No?” “No—” Colin stopped. A tall, sophisticated blonde with a very familiar face had entered. She and an equally tall, equally sophisticated man with silver hair approached the greeter’s podium. The hostess gestured to the table and began to walk them over. “Oh, God,” Libby groaned.
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Colin squeezed her shoulder. “It’ll be okay.” She nodded, sucked in a deep breath and pushed her chair out. Colin followed suit. Her sister smiled widely and waved over the hostess’s shoulder, mouthing, “Hi!” Libby was tugged into a passionate, full-body, sisterly embrace. “Hey,” she mumbled. Colin watched her offer her dad a tight smile. She seemed to consider his open arms a moment before letting him hug her. “Hey, guys. I brought a date. This is Colin.” She drew him forward by the arm. “This is my dad, Tom, and my sister, Abby.” “Very nice to meet you both,” Colin said. He couldn’t read her father’s expression. Tom Prentiss just nodded curtly and removed his gloves and shook Colin’s hand. Colin shoved everything he’d learned the previous night to the back of his mind and smiled politely. Abby gave him a far warmer reception, a quick hug and a cordial, “It’s so great to meet you.” Colin got momentarily lost trying to locate Libby behind the mascara and faint perfume. Black dress, sensible flats, leather handbag. Like Libby dressed up as a conservative for Halloween. Weird. Mr. Prentiss pulled out Abby’s chair and they all sat. Abby was the first to break the initial silence. She turned to Libby. “Damn, your hair got long. And blonder. And crazier.” Libby gave it a little shake. “I’ve taken up surfing.” “Oh, cool. That’s on my six-page list of things to try, here. Too bad we’ve only got a couple days.” Colin glanced back and forth between them, fascinated. Their father spoke but only to address the waitress. “Scotch and soda.”
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“Malbec, please,” Abby added. “So, Colin, what do you do?” He glanced to Libby a moment, feeling awkward. “I’m a bike messenger. And a bartender.” “Wow, you must have some stories,” Abby said. He smiled. “Probably not compared to the couriers in Manhattan.” “But a bartender too. You must hear stuff.” Mr. Prentiss broke in. “Is that where you two met? At a bar?” He raised an eyebrow at Libby. “Actually, Dad, we met outside a bar,” she said sweetly. Colin could see her pursed lips twitching, fighting—fighting to keep from adding something like, Colin offered to beat someone up for me. “I wasn’t working there,” Colin said. “It was a karaoke bar. Libby’s an amazing singer.” “God, I know,” Abby said. “Trust me, we don’t share that gene.” Libby’s eyes darted back to her dad. “How was your flight?” “Long and expensive. How is your research progressing?” His tone was hard to translate. “It’s thrilling, Father. I’m sure I’ll develop a miracle cancer cure and finally earn this family a little credibility.” Abby’s smile wilted, and she looked relieved when her wine showed up. Colin was half-tempted to have a stiff drink, himself. The waitress rattled off the specials, and he tried to get lost in his menu. Mr. Prentiss yanked him back into the fray. “What about your family, Mr…?” “Philips.” “Are you from the Wellington area?”
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Colin swallowed, unsure how much her dad might know about Reece’s background. “Yeah,” he said, and left it at that. “And what does your family do?” Colin felt his brows rise at such a pompous question and tugged them back down. “We’re in hospitality.” “I see.” “I just found out you’re the Prentiss behind Prentiss University. That’s got to be pretty …” “Lucrative,” Libby supplied. “Interesting,” Colin corrected. “It’s such a good school.” “Not good enough for some,” Mr. Prentiss returned coolly, gaze fixed on Libby. “What can you recommend we see, while we’re in Wellington?” Abby asked Colin, smiling as though she hadn’t felt how cold the atmosphere had grown. “Well, I imagine you’d just want to see Libby.” Colin glanced anxiously between all of them. “She’s the most interesting thing in the city, in my opinion.” He could practically feel the heat coming off Libby’s face. The waitress arrived to take their orders. “How long have you guys been going out?” Abby asked as the menus were taken away. “Um, this is our first date, technically.” Colin looked to his side, where Libby was busy mutilating a roll on her bread plate. “But we’ve been friends for a few weeks, now.” “Are you still living on a boat?” Mr. Prentiss asked Libby. “Yeah. When I’m not at Colin’s,” she added, her look meeting the challenge in her father’s tone. “You couldn’t rent an apartment like a normal person?”
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Colin’s jaw tensed. “Your very wording implies that I’m not normal, Dad, so it shouldn’t come as a shock when I say no, I guess I couldn’t.” Mr. Prentiss buttered his roll stoically. “Keep your voice down, please.” “Is that the best thing you’ve come up with to find fault with? My living arrangements? I must be losing my touch.” Abby cut in. “Libby, please don’t. That’s really not why we came here.” Libby turned to her father. “So why did you come here, exactly?” “To see you, obviously.” And to check in with the man you hired to follow her. “Are you serious about pursuing your PhD?” her father asked. “Honestly?” Libby abandoned her mangled bread and shook her head. “No. Not really.” “Life’s not one big vacation, Libby. You’re squandering your potential here. And your inheritance.” Colin frowned, wanting to know exactly what “here” meant. “At some point you need to grow up and take responsibility for where you’re headed.” “I am, Dad, thanks. It’s just not the destination you had in mind. I thought you’d be glad we’re meeting at restaurant and not a holding cell.” “Libby,” Abby said. “I thought you’d be pleased to be tipping a server instead of a government minister for a change.” Colin was impressed by her balls. Her father was staring her down now, so cold he made Reece’s chilliest mood seem like a tropical breeze.
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“But I’ll have you know I’ve been a perfect angel since I landed here,” Libby said. “And if you’re having me followed again, you’ll already know that.” She smiled sweetly across the table as the waitress arrived with the starters. Her father took a drink and looked away. “You’re behaving like a child. You’re twenty-eight, Libby. Act it.” She sneered. “My deepest apologies, Father. But let’s call it twenty-six. I don’t count the two years I spent locked up and on lithium, watching soap operas with the other underaged, overprivileged nutjobs.” Her father met her eyes again. “Don’t worry, Dad, the straightjackets were six-hundred thread count.” Colin nudged her knee beseechingly with his. Mr. Prentiss swallowed, fists flanking his bread plate. Libby smiled. “What’s wrong, Dad?” “You are,” he said. Colin gritted his teeth to keep from interrupting. “You’re wasting your life and you’re hurting this family. You’re an embarrassment.” Judging from Libby’s expression, her father might as well have slapped her across the face. Colin dropped his fork onto his plate and stared hard into those cold eyes. “Watch it,” he said in a deadly, even tone. “This is between myself and my daughter.” “You talk to her like that in front of me and it’s between us.” Tom Prentiss sighed and his pitying expression brought Colin’s blood to a boil. “You clearly don’t know my daughter.”
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Every heartbreaking second he’d spent lying on that pool table with Libby flashed through Colin’s mind. He shoved his chair back loudly and stood. Several patrons turned to stare. “Colin.” Libby’s eyes were round. Abby was gaping, soupspoon frozen between her bowl and her lips. Colin took a step and put a hand on Tom Prentiss’s shoulder, speaking calmly. “Come outside with me for a minute. For a quiet chat. One minute, then I’m out of your life.” Prentiss set his napkin on the table, face unreadable. He rose and followed Colin through the restaurant. When they stepped out onto the sidewalk, Colin turned on him. “Just where in the fuck do you get off talking to her like that? Libby’s your daughter. And I do know her. I know she’s brilliant and beautiful and good. Better than you, with your bloody heartless attitude and your embarrassed, entitled, bullshit pity.” He took a breath. “If you were a fraction as smart as she is, you’d get that. You’d treat her with respect and love, instead of like an inconvenience.” “You should go,” her father said coldly. “Yeah, I should.” He took half a step before changing his mind. “Actually, I’m not done. I know you don’t give a shit what a fuck-up like me thinks about you, but I know what you put her through, and I hope to God it’s eating you alive inside.” He glanced to the restaurant’s window and saw the hostess watching with a phone in her hand, poised to call the cops. Libby was standing just outside the door, eyes huge, face white. Colin faltered then pulled out his wallet and shoved a couple bills into Tom Prentiss’s breast pocket. “Enjoy your meal. Tell your other daughter is was a pleasure to meet her.”
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Libby snapped into coherence as Colin walked away. She met her dad’s stony eyes for a long moment, and shrugged. “Have a nice flight.” She caught up with Colin as he was unlocking his bike around the corner. “Hey.” He glanced at her, looking fearful. “I’m really sorry about that.” “God, don’t be.” He straightened, pocketing his U-lock. “I’m pretty sure I just sentenced you to few more years of paternal paranoia.” He shook his head. “I’m really sorry. I just… Shit, Libby. Your father is a such a dick.” Libby laughed, nodding. She glanced back at the restaurant. “Do you need to say goodbye to your sister?” “Not this way. Not with my dad around. I owe her a proper talk, when she’s not stuck in peacekeeper mode… I’ll call her tomorrow, after the dust has settled.” Colin started walking his bike up the street, and she joined him. He sighed. “I thought you were just exaggerating, about your dad.” “’Fraid not.” “I can’t believe he spoke to you like that.” “He speaks to everyone like that, to varying degrees. Even when he’s being nice, it’s backhanded. When I was growing up he’d turn to my mom at dinner and say something like, ‘Very good pot roast tonight, Diane. Next time just take it out a few minutes sooner.’” “Shit. My dad always said stuff like, ‘Holy hell, Marjie, this dinner looks almost half as sweet as your backside!’ Then he’d slap her on the arse.” Libby laughed. “It used to embarrass me, but I miss it, now,” he said.
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“I’m sure. Your dad sounds like he was quite a guy.” Colin nodded. “I wish he could have met you. He’d have thought you were great. Reece was the only one who really ever had a problem with him. Well, him and the creditors. He and Reece were talking—you know, civil—before he died, but they had some real rough patches.” “Can I ask why?” Colin shrugged. “Just didn’t see eye to eye.” “Sounds familiar.” “They butted heads a lot about Reece and martial arts, when he was getting serious with it. Reece pushes himself really hard at things, and when he doesn’t feel like he’s doing his best, he can be hell to live with.” “I could see that.” They turned onto Waterloo Quay, the start of the hike back to Kaiwharawhara. “I think my dad wondered why Reece even stuck with it, you know, since sometimes he made himself so miserable. And I’m sure Reece wished my dad took things more seriously. He was a charmer but he wasn’t the most responsible bloke ever. Reece is more bitter about being back that he lets on, I’m sure. He reckons my dad left us in the lurch. Which is true, frankly.” “You’re not bitter about it?” “I don’t love that I’m stuck working two jobs for the foreseeable future, trying to fix things. But my dad was always there for me when I fucked up.” Colin laughed. “What?” “You know what he said to me, the night he came to hospital after I tried to drown myself?” She shook her head.
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“He said, ‘Son, you ever put your mother through that again and I’ll kill you myself.’ And I don’t think he was kidding. But anyhow. I can’t undo what’s done with the business, so I’ll live with it. If I’ve gotten good at anything in the past few years, it’s letting shit go.” “That’s got to be a handy skill.” “It is.” He stared at her pointedly. “I know what you’re thinking. But I’m not ready to forgive him.” “I don’t expect you to. Just remember it’s an option.” Libby fell silent. She didn’t want to think about her father anymore. She wanted to pretend this entire evening had never happened. Although oddly, it had changed something. She cleared her throat. “I’m glad you came tonight. Especially after what I said to you this morning.” “I’m not upset about that anymore. It would take a lot for me to stay mad at you. I’m more fond of you than you probably realize.” Libby frowned. “I know you like me. You’re my best friend.” “It’s more than that.” “I know you’re attracted to me.” Colin laughed. “I wish it was that simple.” “Well, infatuated.” He shook his head. “You made me pretty uncomfortable, tonight, so I’ll get you back for it now. I like you a lot. More than I want to.” Libby felt her cheeks heat. “Oh.” He cleared his throat. “I’m a wreck over you, Libby. I want you here, all the time.” She held her breath.
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“I want to fall asleep with you every night and wake up beside you every morning. I want you to stay. And I want to make you feel what Reece does. I want to make you feel for me how I feel for you. And I haven’t wanted that from a woman in years.” A tightening in Libby’s throat make her voice small and weak. “I thought you just wanted to…you know. Sex.” “I want a hell of a lot more than that, Libby.” She took a few deep breaths, trying to absorb this. “I’m sorry… I didn’t know. I wouldn’t have gone running to you over Reece if I had.” “I liked that you came running to me. I like being with you, even when you’re stomping all over my heart.” They were quiet for a long time as Libby absorbed these revelations. “So you like me, the way I like your brother.” “Yeah.” “So how come you’re not a huge mess about it, like I am?” “Well, sometimes I am. A lot, actually. But I’ve felt way worse things than unrequited love in the past few years. Plus, I still get you. You’re here, now. I’ll never make you feel the way I’d like you to, just like you couldn’t make Reece feel what you’d like. But I still like being near you. You’re a good mate. You’re a laugh. I’ll settle for that.” “Thanks.” “Everything can change in the blink of an eye. You have to enjoy what you have, and trust that the shit in life will be spaced out by good stuff. And you’re good. I’m glad you’re here, for what you are.” “What am I?” she asked. “You’re me.” “Yeah?”
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“Yeah. Like you said, I’m more your twin than your twin. And I definitely agree with that statement, now that I’ve met her. But I look at you, and I see myself. Reckless and impulsive and a bit obnoxious, a hair-thin veneer of toughness covering a big wobbly mess of fear and insecurity. Self-destructive and hard to love, sometimes.” Libby laughed, noting the long list of negatives. “Are there some good things you see?” “Sorry. I was thinking of myself, there. You’re—we’re—human, first and foremost. Good-hearted. A hell of a lot of fun. And I hope you’ll find you’re forgiving, some day.” “That’s not my strong suit.” “It’s not many people’s strong suit, I’d wager. And your dad does suck, I have to admit.” “Yeah.” “But don’t let it make you joyless and bitter. I was like that. I hated myself, for a long time. I thought I owed it to Amelia’s parents to hate myself even more than they ever could. And when they told me they forgave me, I thought, shit, if they can manage that, I need to stop fucking suffering and get on with my life.” “Yeah.” “Only one person died in that accident, and it wasn’t my job to roll over and give up. Nothing will ever make that horrible night better. But lots of things can make it worse.” Libby looked down at their matching shoes as they walked. “You know something?” “I know a few things.” “You’re a bigger man than your older brother. And I don’t just mean by two inches and thirty pounds.”
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Colin shrugged. “Bear in mind I’ve also fucked things up worse than him. I’ve got the benefit of shame and regret and humiliation on my side. I’ve been pretty thoroughly hated, and lived through it. That’ll grow you up, quick.” “And here I’d thought Reece was the wise, worldly one.” “Yeah, me too.” “No one’s ever stood up for me like that. Like you did back there.” Libby hooked a thumb over her shoulder in the direction they’d come from. “No? Well…they should.” He spoke quietly, seeming not entirely at home in her praise. She experienced Colin as a different man, then. Not just as a friend or as a man who looked at her sexually. As both. As a man who’d seen her at her least lovable and who valued her in spite of it. She felt genuinely accepted. For the first time in her memory. “Colin?” Libby halted and he followed suit. “Yeah?” “Can I try kissing you again?” He smirked to one side, suddenly shy. “I dunno.” “Okay.” “You know how I feel about you.” “Yeah. But when I was going through that, over Reece, you said it wasn’t so bad, even when things are one-sided.” “That’s fine for you, if you’re willing to take that chance. But I have kissed you, Libby, and the withdrawal’s an unholy bitch. No flipping way I’m going through that again. Don’t think I’m over it now, if I’m honest.” Libby started walking again. “I’m sorry.” “Probably won’t be able to play pool ever again without having some kind of violent relapse.”
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She laughed. “So, I won’t kiss you, Libby. I’ve decided to be happy with what I’ve got.” She toyed with a fray on the cuff of her jacket. “Why do I only like guys who are destined to break my heart?” “Well, there’s only been two, right? Two for two may be a hundred percent now, but how many guys could you have done the same to? A billion? You’re good for not leading men on, really. You’re better than they are. Reece and whoever the first bastard was, I mean.” “And here I thought I was such a brilliant cock-tease.” “Only to a point. I’m one of those billion idiots doomed to fall for you, but you…you don’t make any promises.” A bolt of sudden, clear emotion hit Libby like a nail driving into her heart. She stopped and buried her face in one hand, wrapping her other arm around her middle and succumbing to a body-racking sob. Colin rubbed a warm hand between her shoulder blades. “Hey, you okay?” “No,” she said in a small voice. “Will you be okay?” “Yeah,” she admitted. “Probably.” He steered her to sit on a concrete planter that ran along the sidewalk. “What’s up?” Libby wiped her sleeve under her dripping nose. “I’ve never been with a man who loved me,” she choked, in a voice she didn’t recognize as her own. Contemptuously vulnerable. “Reece cares about you, in his way. He respects you.” “I guess. I know he didn’t use me. He let me use him, actually… But it was still just a favor.” She sniffed loudly. “Is there really such a thing as making love? As opposed to just doing it or fucking or getting off?”
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“Sure there is.” “Honestly?” she asked. “Sure. I’ve done it.” “Is it better than regular sex?” “Oh, fuck yes.” Libby smiled at Colin’s certainty. “How so?” “Well, the mechanics are the same, but I don’t know.” He shrugged. “It’s the best. You’re with someone, and you can look at them or touch them or smell them, and you just can’t believe your luck, that they’re with you. But it’s still just as filthy, luckily.” “How long do you have to know somebody before you’re doing that, instead of just having sex?” “Hmm… I don’t know. As long as it takes to fall in love, I guess. Minutes? Years? You’ve got me stumped, there. But you know, you don’t have to be in love with somebody for the sex to be like that. Even if you’ve known them for one evening and you aren’t even sure what their last name is, that doesn’t mean you can’t have really thoughtful, wonderful sex. You just have to have the decency and heart to treat them well… But yeah, it feels different when you’re really, properly mad about somebody.” “I follow.” Colin glanced sideways at her, his cocked eyebrow illuminated by the streetlight. “Do you love Reece?” She thought about it a moment. “No. I don’t think so. Not love. Infatuation, maybe. He never let me get close enough to love him, I don’t think.” “Well, good on him.” “Yeah. He was really straightforward about everything we…we did. And I wanted it really badly. Because I’ve been missing out all this time, and he’s the
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first person I thought I could feel safe with. And maybe, like you said, because I knew it would never go anywhere. I mean, it’s not like I can even stay in New Zealand much longer.” Colin nodded then laughed again. “God, I can’t get over it.” “What, my virtual virginity?” “Yeah. Sorry I keep dwelling, but man… Shit, now I feel really pervy.” Libby scowled and stood, starting to walk again. “You men. Why does sex have to be such a big deal, anyway?” Colin grabbed his handlebars and followed. “Well, because sex is awesome. And we’re hardwired that way.” She groaned. “That old excuse.” “I won’t get myself into a debate about sexual programming with a biochemist, but cut us some slack. We don’t think about sex all the time just to be pigs.” “Well, you should all just keep it to yourselves.” “Some of us do,” Colin said quietly, sounding defensive. “Sorry about the ones who don’t. Do I make you feel uncomfortable, like that?” “No,” she decided. “Not like I feel harassed or anything.” “Good.” “But you are intimidating, that way. It’s not your fault,” she added. “You’re sort of naturally…sexual.” “I would have said the same thing about you a couple days ago, before I knew better.” “Weird. I’m so the opposite. I’m like the frigidity poster child.” “Nah, you’re not. You can’t be, not if you’ve been tricking my brother into corrupting you. You’re obviously interested in it. You got burned pretty bad…it’s natural that you’re like this, now.”
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“So, you…you think about me that way?” “Can I be honest without getting my head bitten off?” he asked. “Yeah, probably.” “Of course I do. All the goddamn time.” Libby smiled and sighed, rolling her eyes. “Well, I didn’t know you were as…inexperienced as you are. Or this sensitive about it. But I fancied you. Of course I thought about you. I don’t reckon there’s anything wrong with that.” “But you knew I liked your brother.” “Yeah, and that sucked, let me tell you. But I’m a sexual person, for crying out loud. And you’re the person I happened to most want to have sex with, whether it was a pipe dream or not. So, take that,” Colin said, and nudged her with his shoulder. “I thought all sorts of filthy things about you. But I don’t spend every moment we’re hanging out daydreaming about nailing you. I am actually a good person, you know.” “No, I do know. You’re a really, really good person. Sorry. But I hate that a little, you know? I feel so sized up all the time.” “Well, you’re bloody good-looking.” “It’s not like I dress like a hooker.” “No, but you give off a certain vibe.” “So do you,” she said. “Maybe. And I don’t dress like a rent-boy either, but I get offers. It’s nice. It’s flattering. I don’t get off on it but it feels good, sometimes.” “It’s different when you’re a girl,” Libby said irritably. Colin nodded. “I’ll bet. But come on, you told me yesterday you’re like that on purpose, to manipulate blokes. Why does it bother you this badly if you claim to be getting so much out of it?”
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“God, I don’t know. I’m sorry… I know I’m not making any sense. It’s just different now, because of Reece. It’s like I can have any guy except the one I want. It’s so frigging frustrating. I want to scream.” “Yeah. Sorry I have no idea what that feels like,” Colin said dryly. “And may I point out yet again, you’re after the one you knew from the get-go isn’t into you. It can’t be all that shocking.” “I know.” “So, you fancy someone who doesn’t fancy you back. Congratulations, you’re a human being. Welcome to our miserable little club.” Libby looked back toward the lights of downtown Wellington, their glow having grown distant during the walk. She looked up the streetlight-bathed road that ran in front of them along the shore. She looked to her right, into Colin’s wide-open face. A face that had never failed to look at her that way, since the first night they met. He stared back, amused. “Yeah?” “Are you in love with me, Colin?” He considered it for a split second. “I’m in love toward you, I guess. I love you as much as one person can, without actually being involved with the other. So, yeah. I love you.” “Why?” He did a little double take. “Why wouldn’t I?” Libby felt a fresh pain in her chest. Not the lonely sort she’d felt a few minutes earlier. Different. A stab of sweet, fearless sincerity penetrating her heart. She rubbed a befuddled hand over her sternum and looked away. “You’re crying again, Libs.” “Yeah. I’ve been doing that lately. You know when the last time I cried was? Before I met you and Reece?”
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“When?” “When my grandma died, five years ago. And before that, when I was sixteen.” “Well, it’s a great skill to have. Really cleans you out.” Libby smiled through her tears. “I hate being this transparent.” “That’s the one thing you and Reece have in common.” She nodded. “He’s safely stuck behind the bar until one, you know, if you want to watch a shitty movie or something. And I’ll bet you’ve had enough of frigid men for one evening.” “And I always want to watch a shitty movie.” Colin grinned. “That’s just one of the many reasons I love you.”
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Chapter Eighteen
Reece stopped sorting bills in the register as the door swung shut behind his brother and Libby. Colin leaned his bike against the wall and rubbed his bare arms. “Where’s your coat?” Reece asked. “Left it at the restaurant. Casualty of war.” “That doesn’t sound good,” Reece said, stomach turning. “How did you get on?” Libby flapped her hands to express her hopelessness. “Don’t ask,” Colin added as confirmation. “Oh God. That bad?” Colin sighed. “I’ll say this—good luck tomorrow, convincing that jerk-off that Libby’s not wrapped up with ne’er-do-wells.” “Shit. What did you do?” “I sort of told him off.” Reece groaned. “Col…” “But I didn’t hit him or threaten him or anything.” “You got lippy, though?” Reece asked. “Yeah, you could say that.” He ran his hands through his hair. “Brilliant. I told you this could only lead to trouble.” Colin shrugged, defeated. “I’ve got no regrets.” “Brilliant,” Reece repeated.
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“I do what I can,” Colin added, a mixture of sarcasm and apology in his voice. “But trust me, he had it coming. Anyway, we’re going up. I’ll see you tomorrow.” “Ta,” Reece said, skeptical. “Night, Libby.” She raised her eyebrows as though tossing her arms up in surrender. Libby leaned against the counter as Colin unwrapped a packet of popcorn. The television was murmuring in the next room, and she’d changed into pajama bottoms. Everything about the moment was so familiar, so easy. After such a disastrous evening, Libby just wanted to wrap this moment around her body like a blanket and fall asleep. She wasn’t sleepy, though. Her body was wide awake, humming with the chemicals left over from the catastrophe at the restaurant. Colin opened the microwave and looked to her, his eyes sad and tired, but warm as always. “Doing all right?” Libby nodded, studying him. That face with its unhidden emotions, flung wide open like a window. She saw what felt like a lifetime’s worth of memories in that face…the man who sang with her, who embarrassed himself so freely for her. Who risked his neck for her without a thought, who offered everything and asked for nothing. Her heart began to pound and she rubbed the skin above it. “Hey, Tiger?” Colin hit the Start button and turned to her, crossing his arms. “Yeah, Bigfoot?” “You said before that you wouldn’t kiss me.” He paused. “Yeah, I did.” “Is there any way I can talk you out of it?” “Maybe,” he said, looking sheepish. “Probably. Why?”
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“I’d like to know what it’s like. To be kissed by someone who feels for me the way you do.” “I thought that scared you. I thought I scare you, that way.” “You do. But the alternative was an unprecedented disaster.” He took a deep breath. “If I kiss you, it’ll hurt like hell for me afterward.” Her shoulders slumped. “You’re right… It’s selfish. Like my asking you to come to dinner tonight.” Libby turned away, picking up her wine glass and taking a sip. She laughed, though tempted to cry. “I keep hurting you, and I don’t mean to… I don’t understand why you even put up with me. I give you nothing but grief.” Colin nodded, thumbs hooked into his pockets. He looked lost in thought for a minute, then stepped close. He took the glass from Libby and set it down. A flash of alarm traced her spine as his hands slid up her arms, taking hold of her shoulders. “You don’t have to,” she said, eyes snapping to his mouth as it inched closer. Colin ran his tongue across his lower lip. “Yeah, I do.” He leaned close, pressing his lips against her temple. “Telling you no is something I’ll never be any good at.” She shivered. One of his hands moved, cradling the back of her neck, his palm burning hot against her skin. “So you better tell me to stop, now,” he whispered. She opened her mouth but the word didn’t make it past her throat. His lips slid to her ear, and the deep sounds of his breathing redoubled that old fear. “Tell me,” he murmured. The microwave dinged and Libby jumped. Colin’s body pressed into hers, and his teeth grazed her neck. The fear surged then evaporated, replaced by excitement.
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“Tell me.” He nipped at her skin. “Say it.” She felt her body tighten, curious. She let her fingers find his waist and twine themselves around his belt. “Tell me to stop or so help me, I’ll kiss you,” he breathed. His lips took her earlobe, hands holding her tighter. “I won’t say it.” He brought his face to hers. “No?” She shook her head. Something flashed in Colin’s eyes, and his hands settled on her jaw. His mouth was so close she could feel his exhalations warming her lips. “Colin,” she said, and he took her. This kiss was deep and aggressive and unapologetic, the opposite of cautious. Reckless. He held her head and his tongue slid against hers, bringing that blush she thought she’d forfeited, bringing it hard and fast. This was no lesson. This was need and demand and worship all at once. She kissed back. She tasted his mouth and caught his lips with her teeth, angled her head and invited him deeper. When he moaned, her legs trembled. She reached a hand back to grip the island for support. Colin pulled away, releasing her lower lip with a tiny snap. He dropped his hands to his hips and stared into her eyes. Libby swallowed. “Whoa.” Colin licked his lips, and his gaze darted to her wine glass. “That’s the closest I’ve come to taking a drink in years.” “How does it feel?” He grinned, wicked. “A bender’s looking pretty bloody tempting right about now.”
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Libby studied his mouth and hands, so possessive just seconds ago. She wanted to know if the rest of him would feel that way too. His strong arms, the weight of his body, the words he might say. She registered the smell of microwave popcorn and knew it would forever be hardwired in her brain now, an unlikely trigger programmed to make her knees shake. She reached out and touched Colin’s waist again, smoothing her palms over his sides. “What are you thinking, Libby?” She kept her eyes on his chest. “I’m not really sure.” She was thinking about that silly nickname she’d given him. It made sense now, looking at his powerful body, seeing that predatory glint in his eye, hearing that growl in his throat. She curled her fingers into claws against his ribs. “You want me,” she said. “Of course I do. I want you more than any woman I’ve ever met.” His sincerity and fierceness made her skin heat. “I’d take a bullet in the brain for you,” Colin said. “I’d marry you tonight and give you a house full of obnoxious, leggy children if you wanted it.” Libby laughed. “I’d put on a suit and tie and get a sedan and a job in a bank the second you asked me to—” “God, don’t do that.” “Whatever you asked, I’d do it.” She nodded. “It should have been you. You, this entire time. And I was too stupid to see it. Or scared.” “Scared of what?” he asked. “Of…you. Of someone who won’t hold back with me.” He shook his head. “No, I wouldn’t.”
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“What would you do if I asked you to take me to your room?” “Pinch myself.” Her eyes posed the question a second time. “I don’t know, Libby. You’d have to just find out. But if I scare you now, think twice before you cut me loose.” She nodded and let go of his body. She craned her neck and grabbed the glass from behind her, draining the last of the wine in one gulp as he watched. “You want an invitation or an order?” Colin asked. She considered it, so sick to death of patience and kind assurances and permission. Sick to death of running away from this fear. “Order.” His mouth twitched into a smirk. He pressed his body against hers again, lips at her ear. “Get in my fucking bed.” She sucked in a fearful breath, but instead of fighting the sensation, Libby let it flow free in her veins, let herself feel it until it transformed into excitement. She slid from between Colin and the counter and walked to his dark room, sitting on the edge of his bed. He followed, shutting the door behind him. She heard footsteps, then the Christmas lights around the window came on, bathing them in a soft glow. There was fire in Colin’s eyes. Hot. So very different than the icy lake of his brother’s steady gaze. He looked down at her and grinned. “What are you smirking at?” Libby asked. “I have no idea. I don’t know how this is possibly happening.” Libby reached out and grabbed his belt, pulling him down next to her. A strong arm pinned her against his chest, their legs tangling, mouths reconnecting. She slipped her hand under his shirt and ran it up his side. Colin groaned, and she thrilled at his easy reaction. “Yeah?” “Yeah. Touch me.”
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Damn, it was nice getting ordered around. She pressed her palm hard against his skin, dug her short nails into him. He responded with a thrust of his hips that stroked his arousal against her thigh. “Colin.” No hesitation. No seeking of assurances. He let her feel him again and didn’t hide his moan. Libby shoved at his shoulder until he was lying on his back. Straddling his thighs, she pushed his shirt up over his chest, and he peeled it off for her. Again, like his brother, and yet not. Hard, but accessible. Welcoming. A playground. She touched his belly and traced her fingers up over his heart. “Exactly where did you get your body from?” Libby asked, gazing across that tight torso. “The legs and ass makes sense…” He smiled. “Sit-ups, I guess. And we’ve got a punching bag in the basement. I wail on that when I’ve had a bad day.” “You must have a lot of bad days.” “I suppose I did. Until about a month ago.” He watched her hands as they explored him. Libby had a minute to play before Colin’s impatience got the better of him. He reached up, and she helped him take her shirt off. His palms ran over her stomach, her breasts, her shoulders. “Jesus, you’re beautiful.” “I’m yours,” she said. “Do what you want.” “God, where to start.” “I haven’t really done very much,” she reminded him. “But don’t be too gentle with me. I want you how you normally are, in bed. Pretend like I’m any other girl.” Colin laughed, shaking his head. “Impossible.”
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“You know what I mean.” He nodded. He coaxed her to lie next to him, and she luxuriated in his kissing and the feeling of her bare skin against his. She let him take off her bra and cup her small breasts in his broad hands. “Turn around,” he breathed. She rolled over, and he pulled her back and shoulders against his chest. His hand snaked around her waist to pull the drawstring of her pajamas free of its bow. She gasped, barely recognizing the sound as her own. She felt his labored breathing in her hair, listened to the muffled sounds of his excitement as he slipped his hand between her legs, touching her through her panties. Her body seized and arched, craving this feeling—the touch of a man who wanted her this badly. “I’ve thought about this so many times,” he murmured. His other hand lifted her hair off the back of her neck, replacing it with the graze of his lips and the heat of his breath, the flick of his tongue. His fingers against her flash point made her gasp. “I want to know everything you think about, Colin. Tell me.” “About this. And about you touching me.” His hand pulled her thigh wider, and his fingers began to rub her, explicit. She moaned. “I can feel you getting wet for me.” Her breath caught again, from the words and the touch and the truth of it. “Are you big?” she asked. “Yeah,” he said matter-of-factly. “Is that what you like?” “In theory. Are you hard?” “You have no bloody idea.” “Let me feel you,” she said.
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He took her hand and drew it behind her, between their bodies, cupping it over his jeans against his erection. He grunted and his hips pushed him against her palm. His fingers slipped back between her legs. “What do you want me to do to you?” she asked. “Any filthy thing you want.” His voice so close to her ear gave her the most wonderful goose bumps imaginable. “What do you fantasize about me doing to you?” He groaned. “Using me.” He slid his hand under her panties, slid his finger inside her, making her gasp and buck against him. “Taking me. In your greedy hands and your mouth and between your legs, right here.” His fingers delved deep. “I fantasize about you tying me down and fucking my brains out.” She bucked again, from the shock his words sent through her body. “Even now that you know I have no clue what I’m doing?” she managed to ask. “Even more. I want to give you everything you’ve missed.” She considered telling him she’d never climaxed but held her tongue. The thought of him trying and failing, thinking his inability to make her come was his shortcoming…that was one pain she could spare this wonderful man. He moaned against her neck. His hips were pumping in tandem with the thrust of his fingers, pushing his erection into her palm, locking their bodies together. “I need to taste you,” he said. She froze. “I’ve never done that.” “No?” There was surprise in his voice. “Well then, you’re in for a treat.” His hand withdrew and he stood from the bed. “Stand up.”
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She complied, holding her pajamas at her waist. He cupped her breasts and kissed her mouth, and she reached between them to touch his cock, hard and insistent behind his fly. “Unbuckle my belt,” he whispered. She did. She tugged his button open and lowered his zipper, pushed his jeans down his hips. He grabbed her hand and wrapped her fingers around him. “Feel what you do to me.” He held her hand tight and pumped his hips, each thrust showing her how thick and hot she’d made him behind the cotton. Libby felt a rush of power. “You’re so hard.” “Thanks to you.” She swallowed. “Tell me what you want me to do.” “Nothing, yet. You’ve already made me suffer this long. Ten more minutes and I’ll get my revenge.” She liked the sound of that threat. She let him ease her other hand away and her pajamas dropped to the floor. He took a step back, studying her. “Take your knickers off.” She obeyed, standing naked in front of him. “Holy hell.” Colin’s face took on a look of dirty reverence. “You are the hottest woman I have ever seen.” She smiled. Objectification felt good with the right person. “Thanks.” His eyes roamed her entire body, seeming to memorize it. “Sit down.” She perched on the edge of the bed and watched Colin kneel between her legs. He ran his palms over her thighs, and there was a wildness to his energy, that intensity that had scared her so many times. “Doesn’t the floor hurt your knees?” Libby asked, dogged by apprehension.
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“Yes, it does.” He smiled, apparently relishing such a punishment. His eyes took her in. “I’m so thirsty, Libby,” he murmured, and the words cut into her core like a blade, releasing the fear. “Lie back.” She reclined. Strong hands eased her thighs open, and she felt the heat and closeness of his lips, his chin, his nose, his hot exhalations against her skin. “You smell amazing.” She gasped as his tongue traced her lips, quick and firm. “Colin.” He made a happy noise. “Keep saying that.” His hands held her tightly, and his tongue lapped her again, then again, faster. Each time she said his name, he gave her more. Each flick of his tongue seemed to excite him further, until he was moaning, rhythmic and guttural. One of his hands slid up her thigh. Between kisses, two fingers traced her clitoris and the seam of her lips. “Oh, wow.” A current rushed through her, a flash of warmth in her feet that spread up through her legs and belly. He slid his fingers inside her, the pleasure making her hips jerk. “Colin.” His mouth devoured her as his touch went deeper. Libby pushed herself up and ran her short nails over his scalp, wanting to pull him closer, wanting to own him. She let her heels rub frantically against his back. “God, Colin, don’t stop.” He took her rougher. A warm, strange sensation began to build, tensing her body then releasing it. His tongue was winding her up, tight as a spring and so urgent it nearly hurt. He moaned, deep and long, the vibration of his voice compounding her pleasure.
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“Colin.” She wanted to shout it. She wanted to scream, to choke him and make this feeling stop before it suffocated her, but he was relentless. Ravenous. Her entire body clenched as everything came to a sudden head. She grasped for any inch of his skin she could find as the climax ripped through her—flashes of pleasure more exquisite and more violent than she’d dreamed her body capable of experiencing. His mouth and fingers slowed. Colin drew the sensations out, letting them fade, bringing them back. As she came down, he held her thighs tight against his head, as though he wanted to drown in her. When she finally stopped twitching, he let her boneless calves flop from his shoulders. Dizzy, Libby managed to drag her tingly legs up onto the bed. Colin joined her. He pulled her against his chest, tangling a possessive hand in her hair. “Thanks,” he said. She smiled. “You’re welcome, I guess.” He licked his lips and kissed her sweaty forehead. “I can die a happy man now.” “I’d prefer if you didn’t just yet. I’m not done with you.” She paused to let a long breath ooze from her body. “My God. That was incredible.” “That’s my super-power.” “That’s the greatest thing I have ever felt.” “I have no doubt,” he said cockily. “No, I mean…really. That was literally the greatest thing I’ve ever felt.” She looked him square in the face and grinned. “That was my first orgasm.” Libby didn’t think she’d ever seen a pair of eyes that round before. “No fucking way.” She nodded. “My very first.”
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Colin flopped back on the bedspread. “Sweet Christ, shoot me now. I’ve peaked. There’s no point going on.” “Oh, you’re not done yet. Not even close.” A burst of energy took her. “I want to do that to you.” He sat up and nodded. “You can do anything you want to me.” “But I need instructions. I’ve never done it. I might be really crappy at it.” “Libby, I could probably come just watching you do your taxes right now. It’s not your performance you should be worried about.” She laughed. “So, by all means, be as crappy at it as you want. It’ll still be the most amazing head I’ve ever gotten.” “Okay.” She looked around them, unsure how to begin. “Tell me what to do.” “Well, would you like me to wear a condom?” “I don’t know… Should you?” He shrugged. “I’m clean, but it’s your choice.” “I think I’d prefer to take you as you are.” He nodded. “Whatever you like. You want me lie down or stand or…?” “God, I don’t know.” “Here.” He piled a couple pillows and lay back. “This is probably the most comfortable for you.” He pushed his boxer briefs off and spread his thighs, inviting Libby to kneel between them. She studied him for a long moment, all that bare skin laid out for her to do with as she liked. She wrapped her fingers around him again to feel his hard excitement, listened to the happy sounds he made. But even though he was the one on his back, she couldn’t help but feel vulnerable.
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“So I just use my mouth?” she asked, trying to downplay her mounting nerves. “Well, not just your mouth. It’s not a porno.” He laughed, kind. “Oh God. You don’t have to deep-throat me or anything.” “What then?” “Hold me, like you are now. Stroke me. Use your mouth on my head, or as far as it’s comfortable for you. Suck me or lick me or whatever you like. Have fun. Just treat me like I’m the most delicious thing in the world.” “Maybe you are,” she said flirtatiously, relieved about the mechanics. She thought of the flock of cute, tattooed Wellington girls who’d kill to be in her position right now, and the gloating satisfaction of it made her smirk. “You smiling with my dick in your hand is the greatest thing I have ever seen in my entire life,” Colin announced. She smiled one last time then leaned close. She took in his scent, savoring it. He transformed as she began to explore him, that strong body suddenly fidgeting beneath her. Libby had always imagined this would feel like an imposition, but the intoxication it triggered was shocking. She let her herself experiment, thrilling at Colin’s size and taste and all the sounds he made, trying things for her own enjoyment. If she was doing an amateur job, he didn’t seem to care. She loved how his hips tensed, desperate for more. She cupped a hand between his thighs and his back arched in tandem with a loud moan. Helpless. She freed her mouth up for a moment. “What else?” “Just this,” he grunted. “It feels so fucking good. I can’t believe I’m in your mouth. Make me feel good, Libby.” “I will. Keep talking.” She upped the intensity of everything she was doing. Colin’s hands were balled into fists at his sides, gripping the bedspread. She stole glances at him as
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her fingers and tongue explored him, admired the long muscles of his body, strained from what her touch was doing to him. “God, I want to come,” he groaned, an order wrapped in a plea. She stroked him harder to indicate he should do exactly that. “More. Suck me, Libby. Hard. I’ll let you taste me.” She moaned against him, feeling simultaneously servile and masterful—the sexiest feeling in the world. His body was twitching, as hers had. She took more of him and his pleasure was instantaneous. His fingers tangled in her hair. “Fuck, take me. Suck me.” His hips begged for more and she gave it gladly. The deeper she took him, the hotter his body seemed to blaze, until he couldn’t hold on any longer. “Libby—” Colin’s fists clenched and unclenched as he gave in. All his muscles locked, and Libby tasted the exotic tang of his hot release in her mouth. She swallowed as he relaxed against the pillows. She sat back on her knees, triumphant. “I did it!” “Holy shit.” Colin dragged himself to sitting and handed Libby a glass of water from the bedside table. “Did I do a good job?” He took the glass back and smiled at her hazily. “If you get much better at that you’ll be downright dangerous. Holy hell.” He glanced around the room as though he didn’t recognize where he was. “Damn, that was fun.” Libby rubbed her hand over the underside of his strong calf. “What’s next?” He laughed. “Give me ten minutes to recover and I’ll think of something.” Reece arranged the last of the dirty glasses in the dishwasher and switched it on. He ran a wet towel over the bar. He flipped the stools upside down on the
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tables so his mother wouldn’t have to when she swept in the morning. He let himself feel the apprehension that came with turning off the lights and doublechecking the locks, knowing his next step was going upstairs and facing Libby. Feeling distinctly like a coward, he prayed she’d be asleep, but when he opened the door to the stairs he heard the television droning. He resigned himself to at least chatting with her, if not actually addressing the awkward way they’d parted the night before. Colin was right—Reece was rubbish with women sometimes. When he’d come back from his shower and looked at her silver shoes next to his bed, he’d finally understood they were for him. That whole outfit had been for him, but he’d been too thick to see it. And Colin had been right about something else. Libby was good for their family. A friend would tell her that to her face. A real man would. Reece would, right now. He opened the door to the flat, already choosing his words, but— No one. Just two pairs of red high-tops sitting side by side next to the coffee table, and Colin’s bedroom door, shut. Reece felt his stomach turn and his blood run cold.
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Chapter Nineteen
Colin was jolted from his blissful reverie when the television suddenly fell silent, two rooms over. The alarm clock on the bedside table read one eighteen. Libby noticed too. Her hand, which she’d been running absently over his stomach, froze. More sounds followed—the remote being set on the coffee table, the thump of shoes dropping to the floor, the click of the deadbolt. Then Reece’s footsteps, fading as he walked to his side of the flat, then nothing. Fear rose in Colin’s chest. Libby’s hand moved again, stopping above his pounding heart. “What’s wrong?” He closed his eyes. “Just bullshit.” “What kind of bullshit?” “Just my brain, filling up with ugly thoughts.” “Like what?” He turned onto his side to face her. “That I’m your consolation prize.” Libby’s mouth dropped open, horrified. “No,” she said, squeezing his arm. “That’s what I felt. I’m not saying it’s true.” “Well, you’re not.” She pushed herself up, sitting cross-legged in the center of the bed. She beckoned Colin to join her. He sat up and let Libby pull his ankles forward, crossing her thighs over his and scooting close. Her warm, slender hands stroked his face as they locked eyes. She traced his scar with her thumb and smiled at him. “I’ve been an idiot,” she said. “To not see what was right in front of me.”
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“What? The fuck-up?” Her eyebrows pinched into a scowl and she punched his shoulder. “Ow.” “Don’t ever say that about yourself again. Would you let me get away with saying something horrible like that?” “I don’t reckon I’d hit you… But no, I wouldn’t.” “Then don’t say it about yourself. You’re not the fuck-up. You’re the best man I’ve ever met. And I’d have seen it before, if I hadn’t be so scared of getting close to someone who could actually offer me any kind of real affection.” Colin let her tilt his shoulders down and press her lips to the crown of his head. Her palms grazed his hair and neck, and he swallowed the great hunk of emotion that had caught in his throat during her pep talk. Libby coaxed his chin up and kissed him. Then deeper. “You’re the one I’m supposed to be with.” Her tongue tracing the edge of her lips in that way that drove him mad. “You’re the one I want.” He kissed her back, hard. All the longing that had haunted him for the past few weeks shot up through the core of his body and into his mouth and hands and throat and between his thighs. His kiss was fierce and aggressive with gratitude and fear and possessiveness all jumbled together. He pulled her close by the hips until her breasts touched his chest. His dick stiffened as her fingers wrapped around him, stroking. “Yes.” “I want you,” she said. He was lost in the sensations. This was real. Libby was touching him. She wanted him. The thing he’d dreamed about, when both awake and asleep. Those familiar hands, holding him, giving him this pleasure. He drew himself back into coherence.
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“Are you ready?” he managed to choke out. “I think so.” He slipped his fingers between her thighs to confirm. “Goddamn.” He coaxed her back against the pillows and leaned over to rummage in the bedside table drawer. “Do we need lube?” “Crikey, no—we’ve got you.” He grinned to himself. “Am I enough?” He shook his head in exaggerated disbelief. “Are you enough? Are you mad?” Libby bit her lip and looked away. “But I’ll give you six more orgasms before we fuck, if you want to be sure.” Libby laughed at this threat. “I’ll bet you could, but I don’t think I can wait that long. I’ll take your word for it.” “Good.” He found a condom and sat back down. “So, do you know what you like?” “Not really… I like looking at you. And seeing you excited. And I want to hear you.” “The lady likes feedback.” Libby smiled mischievously and stroked him again, tighter. “You’re good at sex, aren’t you?” “I am fantastic at sex.” Colin suspected neither one of them was certain if he was being serious or not…and he couldn’t concentrate on anything as long as Libby’s fingers were wrapped around him. “Then do whatever you think I’ll like, since you’re the expert.” “Deal. You just need to tell me if I’m doing anything that’s hurting you,” he said, ripping the packet open. “Or weirding you out.”
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“I will.” Her eyes glimmered with that insistent, wicked look women got at this moment, one Colin was used to seeing, yet one he’d never guessed he’d get to see directed at him by this particular woman. He knelt between her legs. How was this possibly happening? “Are you relaxed?” “I’m impatient.” He laughed. “Okay, then. You’re an apt pupil, eh?” She tugged at his hips to emphasize her eagerness. He tugged back, pulling her against him. He stroked himself, wanting to be as hard as possible when he took her. “Keep doing that,” Libby breathed, eyes fixed on his hand. “You want to watch me?” “Yes. Keep doing that.” Her tongue flirted with the corner of her mouth. He gave her what she wanted to see. “I’ve thought about you so many times. Lying right there, where you are now.” “What did you think about?” His hand quickened as he pondered it. “About what we just did. And what we’re about to do.” She pulled at his hips again, her curious eyes apparently sated. He guided himself with his hand to that warm, welcoming place. This gorgeous moment, his favorite feeling in the world. Earning it, being offered it, being begged for it… Oh, but this… Libby. Being invited to do this by Libby. And here she was, somehow, right here beneath him. “I’ll go slow,” he promised, easing in the first inch. “Oh.” He paused. “Does it hurt?” “No, it feels…a little intimidating.”
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“I can stop.” “Oh, God no. I think I like when you’re intimidating,” she said with a nervous smile. Her gaze was trained between their bodies. “More.” “All right.” He slid a little deeper inside her. Her breath hitched then relaxed. “Keep going. It’s just a lot to get used to.” Colin basked in this quasi-compliment for a moment. He braced himself on one arm and reached his other hand between them. “I’m going to do this,” he said, playing with her clit. “And when you’re ready for me go deeper, you tell me.” Libby groaned beneath him, the most beautiful sound in creation. His two fingers rubbed her lightly, the way she’d reacted to earlier, and he felt her hands on his backside, welcoming him closer. Another inch. She made a distinctly approving noise. Colin eased out, then drove back in to that same depth. “Goddamn, you feel so bloody amazing.” Cautiously, he began to pump his hips. “Oh, wow.” “Is this too much?” “No, this is awesome. More. Go a little deeper.” Colin complied and rubbed her clit more intensely, rewarded with a wondrous grunt. “Oh, more.” Soon he was all the way in, body pulsing with impatience. “I’m going to start moving, if you’re comfortable.” “I want you to do it however you like.” She sounded almost comically excited. “And say filthy things.” “You can boss me around. Slap my ass if you want it faster.” “How many speed settings do you come with?” she teased.
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“Or harder…” Colin trailed off and gave in to his body’s wishes, happy to show Libby all the selfish things he desired. He pushed into her deep and slow, savoring the feelings and the sounds she made. Her long legs wrapped around him and her hips tilted, wanting more. He was fighting a hard-waged battle between his dick and his ego—between the painful, aching need in his body and the desperate fear that this might be his first and last chance to be with her. He felt her hands run up his stomach and chest, eyes following, a smile on her lips. “Colin,” she murmured. He stilled, smiling back at her. “What?” She scanned him up and down. “You’re so beautiful.” He laughed. It was a sweet thing to say—a wonderful thing to say, but he wanted reassurance of a different nature. Needed it. “Am I making you feel good?” “Yes. You feel amazing. I…” Libby faltered. “You feel so…right. You fit.” “And you’re glad we’re making love?” “Yeah.” She bit her lip, looking as if she’d been unsure until this moment what was happening between them. “It’s…it’s awesome. It’s everything I could want.” He began to move, wanting to see the proof in her body’s reactions. She smirked again. “I love your dick.” “Tell me more,” he said, smirking right back. “It feels so good. And looks pretty great too,” she added with a blatant glance between their bodies. “You’ve got the good view.” His fingers teased until she groaned again. “So, I feel good to you?” he asked, wanting to hear it again. “Amazing.”
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“Big enough?” He drove deep. “God, yes. And thick.” “Hard enough?” He made his strokes rougher. “Yeah.” The syllable came out breathy and distracted. “I want to make you feel so good, Libby. Tell me what you want.” “I’m not sure yet.” “Yeah, you do.” He drove deep, luxuriating in her moans. “Your body knows. You like the same things I do.” “Oh, good.” “Watch me.” He drew his hand away and sat back on his heels, held her hips hard against his and let her see it all. Let himself see. “Colin…” “Touch yourself for me.” He watched her fingers take over where his had left off and drove himself into her, rhythmic and sensual. “Look at me,” he whispered. He knew he was good at this. He was great at this. He wanted the sight of him gliding in and out of her forever burned into her memory, branded as hot and black as it would be in his. She stared between them, her mouth falling open. She felt unbelievable, but Colin wanted to make this last. Needed to. He needed to make this beautiful, brief episode in his life go on for as long as it possibly could. He needed to block out the sensations—the warmth of her, the tight hold she had on him. He closed his eyes and tried to make his brain exit the room so he could stand a chance at not losing himself too fast. Libby noticed his concentration. “What are you thinking about?” “Rugby.” He heard her chuckle. “Are you on the brink?” He groaned, mock exasperation.
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“I don’t mind if you come. I can’t bear to watch you suffer.” “I wanted this to be perfect,” he said with a frustrated laugh. “I wanted to be so good for you.” “You are. It is perfect. Go on. I want to see you come. It’s what I want.” “Oh, God, fine.” He opened his eyes and took her harder. Rougher and faster, the way his aching body craved. She moaned. Beautiful. “You like it deep,” he observed with a fresh thrill. She moaned again, setting his entire body on fire. He gave her more, watched her arousal mounting, her fingers’ frantic motions. “And hard. Come on.” His body followed her cues—giving, taking, demanding, obeying, all melting into a frantic blur. “Oh, my God—Colin.” Another flash of that fire. “Come on. Say it again.” “Colin…” It came out in four syllables and he knew she was falling over the edge. He pounded into her, fierce, sweat running down his skin with the glorious effort of it. Her core gripped his dick as her back arched, his half-spoken name trapped in the back of her throat. “Oh, Libby.” Her mouth dropped open, wordless, and her fingers flew to his hips. He drove deep and held there, feeling her body flutter around him. Slowly, Libby reclaimed her senses. Colin was braced patiently above her. She could feel him twitching deep inside her, and he was grinning like a man who’d just won the lottery. She grinned right back. “What?” “You just came on my dick.”
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“You got that right.” “That is the most fantastic thing that has ever happened. Ever. Anywhere. To anyone.” “I won’t argue with you.” He sighed and looked around the room, eyes a bit crazy. “I’m going to die if I don’t come now.” She smiled, feeling invincible. “By all means.” Colin’s body came down against hers, his chest and stomach slick with sweat, the smell of him intoxicating. He found his rhythm again, excitement mounting fast. “Good,” she said, in awe of his strength. “Ride me. Please.” “I’ll try.” She let him pull her up and wrap her legs around his waist. His hands held her hips, guiding her. His own hips began to pump, quickly turning fast and greedy. The feeling of him, hard and thick and urgent, thrilled her all over again. “Libby.” “Take it. Anything you want.” She gave what his hands demanded, needing to see this side of him. Needing to hear the strain in his voice and feel the heat emanating from this powerful body. To feel a man who wanted this from her. “God, Libby.” He held his panting mouth against the corner of her lips, his breath burning hot on her skin. She stroked his strong back and arms, and reveling in his strength and desperation, in this mutual giving and taking. He moaned. “Make me come, Libby.” His hands commanded her hips, rough and fast. “Colin…”
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He lost control. “I love you,” he groaned. He repeated it with each spasm, until his body quieted and all Libby could feel was the frantic rhythm of his breathing. Until all she could hear were his ragged exhalations and the echo of his words in her ears.
A weak, early sun filtered through the blinds, waking Colin from one of the deepest sleeps he’d ever experienced. Within seconds, his heart was pounding. Pounding, when he remembered what had happened the previous night. Pounding, when he realized Libby wasn’t with him in the bed. That can’t be good. He jumped to a thousand conclusions, acceptances, hopes and agonies in the thirty seconds it took to stand and tug on a T-shirt and track pants. By the time his hand touched the doorknob, Colin had settled on an emotional cocktail of grim acceptance and morbid gratitude. He imagined scouring the city for Libby again, to try to make right what had surely been a terrible mistake—an ill-advised slip of her common sense. But it turned out his search for Libby was extremely short. She was in the kitchen. Dressed in her pajama bottoms and the shirt Colin had been wearing the night before, she was standing by the sputtering coffeemaker, flipping through a supermarket circular. She looked up as Colin appeared. She frowned deeply and his chest clenched. She raised the paper up to cover her mouth and nose then lowered it, her frown replaced with a wide grin. Colin’s impending heart attack subsided. He wandered over to lean against the center island. “Sleep all right?” he asked, sounding about half as shy as he felt.
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Libby didn’t reply but set down her reading materials and stepped to him. Slipping her arms beneath his, she wrapped him in a hug that spread warmth— and no small measure of relief—through his entire body. She rested her head on his shoulder, and he breathed in that ocean smell of her hair as his hands ran over her back. He could have spent the next fifty years in this embrace. Libby pulled back after a few glorious seconds, keeping her hands on his waist and looking into his eyes. “Coffee’s almost ready.” “Ta.” She bit her lip and smiled dopily, glancing away. He swept her messy hair off her face and hoped she’d never start wearing makeup. Her long arms wrapped around him again and pulled their chests together. Colin tried to ignore his body’s baser interests as he returned the hug. “Thanks,” Libby said against his collarbone. He laughed. “My rate’s forty an hour, so you owe me…let me do the math…plus gratuity…” She smacked his back. “Shut up.” He heard the smile in her voice. Then suddenly her body tensed and she pulled away. Colin turned to find Reece leaning in the threshold. His brother’s face was cold and unreadable, arms crossed over his chest, an empty glass in one hand. Libby’s hands dropped from Colin’s sides, and she stepped back a pace. “Morning.” “Hey.” Reece’s voice was tight, but with what well-hidden emotion, Colin couldn’t guess. Libby’s jaw was set. “Coffee’s just about ready.” “Just needed some water, thanks.” Reece walked to the fridge for the pitcher.
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Awkwardness descended like a heavy curtain, and Libby rooted through the drying rack for two mugs and filled them from the coffee pot. Colin held his ground, not moving until Reece exited. Libby hissed out a tense breath. “Fuck, that was weird. Sorry.” “Don’t worry about it.” He took the mug she handed him. “Let him think whatever he wants.” “He never wanted me to…mess with your head, I think he said.” Libby looked odd when she was worried, like a different woman. “Yeah, well, he can shove it. He’s treated me like some kind of powder-keg pity case for the past six years.” He felt his chest constrict. “And I hope you don’t—” “Of course I don’t.” “I’m just saying, if last night was a mistake for you, it’s okay. Don’t worry about hurting my feelings if you regret it. I’m hard to damage.” Libby’s face went pale and her eyebrows shot up. “Oh my God.” She set her mug down and came close, putting her hands on his shoulders. She ran them down his arms, jostling his hand and making hot coffee slop over her arm. “Ow.” Colin smiled and extricated himself enough to set the mug down. “Last night was definitely not a mistake.” She licked the coffee off her wrist in her undignified but charming way. “Last night was awesome. I want every night from now until I get kicked out of New Zealand to be exactly like last night.” “Yeah?” Colin couldn’t stifle his grin. “Good God, yes.” She smiled and looked him in the eye. “Exactly how many nights might that be?” “If my extension comes through, I’ll probably get the boot in a little over three months.”
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Sadness squirmed in Colin’s midsection. Libby’s appearance as a daily fixture in his life had happened so abruptly, yet already it was impossible to imagine this town, this flat, his family, any of the places that comprised his home, without her. And now she could be gone, just as abruptly, yanked back to the opposite side of the globe. Three months was not enough time. Three months was a heartbeat. “You’re quiet, Tiger.” “Yeah. It’s hard to imagine you not being here.” “Really?” He nodded, not feeling up to elaborating. Libby sipped her coffee, staring into space. “I have to go into the city. I promised to help a friend move this morning,” Colin said. He glanced at the clock on the microwave. “I don’t know if you want to stay here, with Reece, or…” “I should talk to him.” She looked into her mug, seeming to steel herself. “So things aren’t too weird. You go on.” He cleared his throat. “Will I see you tonight?” “Yeah, if you want to.” She smiled in a coquettish manner that dissolved into a smirk. “I think you can guess the answer to that question. I’m behind the bar, from six onward. But if you want to do something afterward…” “You’re cute when you’re shy. And yeah, I’ve got some things I’d like to do with you later. I’ll come by after six.” “Good.” He pulled her to him again and pressed a kiss into her forehead. “I’ve better go get ready. Good luck with him.”
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A quiet knock roused Reece from a pathetic pantomime of meditation. He’d been too agitated to clear his mind—any junk he’d managed to sweep away had just uncovered another pile of emotional clutter. He uncrossed his legs and stood from the bed, expecting to find Colin at the door. “Hey,” Libby said. His heart hardened. “Nice shirt.” Her eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed. “Sarcasm doesn’t become you.” “What do you want?” “I want to talk to you, so things don’t have to be awkward.” “You don’t want things to be awkward?” “No, I don’t.” Reece laughed, incredulous. “Well, then maybe you shouldn’t have fucked my brother.” “Hey—” “Do you get how twisted that is?” “It’s not—” “He cares about you,” Reece said. “A lot, maybe. And you’re using him to get back at me.” Libby’s long arms locked across her chest. “Oh, hold it right there. I am not using him. Don’t flatter yourself, Nolan.” “I’m not stupid, Libby. You were trying to convince me to sleep with you a couple days ago, then I told you I’m not interested and you’re suddenly all over my brother? Who I expressly told you to stay the fuck away from weeks ago?” “He doesn’t need protecting. He’s an adult. And he’s a hundred times more literate about his feelings and other people’s than you are.” “You don’t know him. Not the way I do.”
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“I understand him better than you ever could.” Libby paused as footsteps approached. Colin appeared beside her in the doorway, dressed to leave for the city. He glanced between them. “This isn’t the quiet chat you two were meant to be having. What’s going on?” Libby glared at Reece. Reece looked off to one side, equally incensed. “I know you’re talking about me, so say whatever it is you want to say, Reece.” Reece met his brother’s eyes. “She doesn’t love you.” Libby made a noise of protest or disgust that Colin silenced with a hand on her shoulder. “So what?” “She’s using you, to piss me off,” Reece said. “So what?” Reece didn’t reply. “Look, I don’t care if she’s using me. You’re using her, for the money. She’s been using you, for company, or control over her dad or whatever. I’m using her, because she makes me feel like a human being again for the first time in forever.” A tendon in Colin’s neck twitched. “So what? I love her. And I want to get used, all right? I’ve been so broken, Reece, nothing can hurt me anymore. So don’t fucking worry about it, okay?” “She doesn’t know what you’ve been through.” “She does. She understands it better than you do, so don’t fucking protect me.” Colin’s face was tense, eyes dangerous. “You haven’t known me since I was twenty-two, so stop bloody acting like I’m even remotely that same person. This family didn’t stand still while you were away, waiting for the fucking prodigal son to return and make everything all right again.”
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“I didn’t—” “So thanks for the bloody money, Reece. It’s so worth not having you here with me while I watched Dad dying in a hospital bed.” Reece felt blood pounding in his temples. “I wanted to be here.” “Yeah, so fucking bad you didn’t come home.” “Watch it.” Colin wound his hands around the strap of his bag as if to restrain them. “I want you out of this flat.” Libby attempted to interject but he cut her off. “I want you to go off, Reece, and do whatever it is you actually want to do with your life, and quit with the fucking lip service you’re paying this family.” Reece bit back his anger and shock and a hundred retorts, finding his cool outer shell and slipping inside its safety. “Fine.” “Brilliant.” “Dig your own grave with her,” Reece added, pointing to Libby. She stepped back a pace into the hall, stricken. Colin’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve got some fucking nerve on you.” “She—you,” Reece amended, firing a glance at Libby. “She’s a selfish, selfserving person. She only ‘helped’ our family because it benefited her. She’s here having a laugh on her bloody trust fund, on a goddamned holiday, watching us work ourselves into the ground to keep this place afloat. It’s what she does.” “Bull.” “She gets off on causing chaos for other people. She flits from one whim to the next on other people’s money.” Colin let silence settle for a moment before he spoke again. “Do you even know what Libby did to piss her father off? Aside from accidentally getting pregnant and thrown into an institution?”
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Reece said nothing. The news of a pregnancy gave him pause, but nowhere near enough to soften him. “No? Well, I do. I looked her up.” Colin glanced back at Libby, searching for a sign that she wanted him to stop talking. She looked frozen. “She’s an inciter, Reece. She helps start riots. In South Africa, and in India and South America. In the States. She finagles grants and invitations to other countries for academic projects, and then she helps organize people.” Reece stared at Libby like he was seeing her for the first time. He’d known she must have done something significant to worry her father, but he’d assumed it had been something embarrassing, or mildly illegal. Not downright dangerous. “What over?” he asked, looking at her but addressing his brother. “Workers’ rights, female circumcision, child trafficking. You know, just silly, frivolous things.” Colin’s casual tone did nothing to mask how angry he was. “Just the sorts of selfish things you’d expect, Reece.” “Why aren’t you in jail?” Reece asked her. “How come you’re still allowed to travel?” Libby opened her mouth but no words came out. “Because her father waves his magic wallet and makes it all go away,” Colin supplied. “And some crooked government official somewhere suddenly has a new car. Google her. She’s been acquitted of about a half a dozen charges of riot incitement. It’s mighty mysterious. You want to see some pictures of Libby? She’s out there, waving signs and shouting into bullhorns and smiling from jail cells, and then poof, she gets yanked out, record clean again.” Reece forced a laugh. “And I’m supposed to find that admirable? Breaking the law, then letting your father fix it all for you?” Libby finally stepped forward. “I didn’t let him do anything. I wanted to get arrested.”
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“Why?” “Because if the daughter of a powerful American university head gets thrown in a foreign prison, the media might want to know why. I thought I could help expose things. Corruption or abuses. I used to believe in things like that,” she said, voice fading. “What are you planning to do here?” Reece demanded, his eyes narrowing. She shook her head. “Nothing. I gave up. I spent five years trying to make a difference, and I didn’t fix a damn thing. I couldn’t help myself when I was sixteen and I haven’t helped anybody since then. I just make a big mess, wherever I go. I make things worse, the harder I try.” She tossed her hands up. “I just…I wanted to help your family, I guess. I thought maybe I could manage to do that—” “This family doesn’t need your fucking fix,” Reece spat. His opinion of her hadn’t improved. If anything, with her posture changed, her expression uncertain and vulnerable, she struck him as rather pathetic. “I’m off ’til the afternoon,” Colin announced. “When I get back, I don’t want you here.” Reece said nothing. He stared at his brother until he left, Libby lingering limply in his wake. “Go, Libby.” The slam of the front door made her jump. “I didn’t want that. For you two to fight.” “Well, how upsetting for you. Too bad no one ever thought to warn you not to fuck with my family.” Reece turned his back to her, beginning to toss his few unpacked possessions onto the bed. “Sometimes I wonder if your father isn’t right about you,” he added a few moments later, nearly regretting it but still wanting to hurt her. “You come
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crashing into people’s lives and disrupt everything, to get your fucking kicks or whatever. I used to think maybe I wished I’d never met you,” he said. “But now I know it.” She didn’t reply. “I’m meeting with your father this afternoon. I’m going to tell him I can’t do this anymore, and that you’re fine. I’m going to tell him to leave you alone. And maybe he’ll even listen, but you know him better than me.” He overturned a drawer onto the bedspread. “I hope you won’t ever tell him that I betrayed his trust, because believe it or not, I do care about my family. I need my record clean so I can join the police and try and help save the bloody business and my mum’s house. So please do that.” Her voice was small. “I will.” “Thank you.” “Reece.” He didn’t respond. “I wasn’t trying to come between you two.” A pause. “Close the door behind you, Libby.”
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Chapter Twenty
Reece knocked three times and waited on his sister’s back step. “Reece,” she said as the screen door swung open. “You have to be quiet. I just put the baby down.” He stepped inside and Annie pulled out a chair for him at the kitchen table. “Tea?” “Nah. I have a favor to ask.” “All right then.” They sat and Reece blew out a weary breath. “Can I stay here for a few days?” Annie’s brow furrowed. “Well, yeah, of course. As long as you’re willing to change nappies. But why?” “Me and Colin.” “Ah. Too cozy in that flat?” He nodded. “You could say that. I think it’s best if I find a place in town.” “Can I ask what brought this on?” “We had a row. An ugly one. About my being gone, and some other things. About how I treat him, I guess.” “Like he’s still a kid?” Reece blinked, surprised. “Do I really do that?” “Yeah, you really do.” Annie might not be comforting, but at least she was frank. “Well, he gave me a lot of shit about not being here for the family.”
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“We know you had good reasons, Reece.” “He doesn’t seem to agree.” Reece wasn’t sure he agreed, himself. Colin was right—he’d missed the final months of his father’s life, too scared to come home, always putting it off until next week, then the week after that, until it had been too late. But for Colin, he’d come home. He flew back after the accident, and if he’d only been deemed worthy of knowing about the suicide attempt, he sure as hell would’ve been on the first plane out of London. “Colin feels passionately about things,” Annie offered. Another thought flashed across her face for a moment, and Reece waited as she decided whether or not to share it. “You don’t know how things were,” she said with a tight smile. “With Dad. It was really terrible. And Colin was the only one who could handle it sometimes. He was the one who kept it together when Dad was…bad. And he drove him to his treatments, and stayed with him overnight—” “Colin drove?” “Yeah, he did. Mum couldn’t do it. She was too… She just couldn’t. Not at first. I’m not taking sides or anything—I don’t think there’s any to take. But you don’t understand how much Colin did for this family when you were away. For me, too. And he still does. He worked about a hundred hours a week when you were gone, and did everything for the pub while Mom was a wreck, and all that hospital stuff. He took me to my bloody birthing classes, when Mark had to go out of town for work. He must be like sixty years old now, for all the shit he’s been through.” “Why didn’t anybody tell me?” Reece asked. “I don’t know. I guess none of us wanted you to feel guilty.” “Well, I felt pretty bloody guilty now—” Annie pressed a finger to her lips. He lowered his voice to a loud whisper. “Sorry. But I wish I’d known.”
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She shrugged. “You know now.” “Yeah. And at least this time I didn’t hear it from a fucking acquaintance—” “Reece.” He shook his head, trying to clear it. “I said some things about Libby. About her using him. And getting too involved in our problems.” “I can see why you’d feel threatened by that.” Reece hated his sister’s choice of words but he couldn’t deny them. “Anyhow, Colin’s pissed.” Annie nodded. “He’s got it bad for her. Like, really bad. And I’ll be honest with you, Reece, I’m happy about it. Colin deserves to get attached to someone. It’s been ages since he trusted himself like that.” “I should talk to him,” Reece said. “You should give him a day to cool off, if it was nasty. Stay here tonight. Talk to him tomorrow.” Fuck fuck fuck. Libby sat on a bench in the little brick park by the post office in Courtenay Place. She clutched the letter tight, as if that might change the words on it. It was drizzling and the paper softened until it finally ripped, and she shoved it into her jeans pocket. She hadn’t seen this coming. She’d felt so sure that what had happened between her and Colin was going to change things—make everything okay, somehow. She’d wanted to help these people but now everything was a million times worse. She was cursed. Wherever she went, she wrought chaos and solved nothing. All she ever managed to do was hurt people.
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She needed to get away. Run far, far away from what had happened last night. She needed to run so far away that even the memory of it couldn’t find her. Reece had been right all along. She should have stayed the fuck away from him. Across the table from Reece, Tom Prentiss interlaced his fingers beside his coffee cup and nodded his acceptance. “I’m very sorry to hear that, Mister Nolan.” Reece exhaled, relieved their arrangement seemed poised to end smoothly. He’d entered the restaurant that afternoon with his heart pounding, scared witless, knowing he could walk out with his future ruined if he managed to displease this man. “I’ve been very grateful for the position, like I said. But I’m going to be starting a new career in a few weeks, and I really need to focus my attention on it. For my family’s sake.” “I can appreciate your priorities,” Tom Prentiss said. “But I can’t say I’m not disappointed. You’ve done a good job. What you’ve shown me has been very encouraging.” “Well, good.” “With one exception.” Prentiss’s tone went cold. “Oh?” He ran a hand shrewdly over his chin. “My daughter brought a man to dinner with her last night. A man she seems very close to. A man who seems to feel quite strongly about her.” “I see.” “I fail to understand how it is you never happened upon this relationship.”
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“Well—” “And I fail to understand, furthermore, how you could fail to realize my daughter is involved with your brother. I find that fact particularly unbelievable.” “Mr. Prentiss—” “You have been lying to me,” he said, point-blank. Reece could just about see the dust rising as his future crumbled down around him. “And I’d like to know why you lied to me.” Reece swallowed. “Your daughter…” “Yes?” “She’s not that bad, Mr. Prentiss,” Reece said with a tiny smile, feeling ridiculous. “She’s fine. She’s really not getting in trouble at all, here. I know her. She found me out, straightaway. We’re friends. Or were. I know she used to be a lot more reckless, but she’s not looking to start anything here, or anywhere else, again.” “Go on.” “Libby’s too smart and she’s…frankly, she’s too old to be protected. And the simple reason I lied to you was because my family needs the money. I’ll give you back every dollar. But I’m asking you, as one man to another, please don’t make this more difficult than it has to be. For me. Professionally. I’ve got no right to ask that of you, but I’m going to anyway.” Tom Prentiss took a stoical sip of his coffee and stared out the window at the traffic for a full minute while Reece waited. His eyes were dark, gray-blue like his daughter’s. “Your brother,” he finally said. “What about him?” “I don’t like him. He treated me with a shocking amount of disrespect.”
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Reece nodded. “I gathered that. I’m sorry.” “But my daughter has not always chosen her lovers wisely, Mr. Nolan. She has been used and thrown away before, and I have done everything in my power to protect her and keep her future bright. To keep trash like that away from her whenever it was humanly possible.” Reece’s temper roused. “I assure you—” “And your brother isn’t like that, Mr. Nolan.” Reece sat back in his chair, pacified. “Though I find your brother extremely worrisome, I must admit. And I have read enough about him in the past twelve hours to understand that I am not the first father to feel that way.” Reece tensed. “I’m sure that’s true, but my brother’s accident was just that. It was an accident.” “So I read.” “My brother wasn’t drunk, and he hasn’t let himself have a drink since that night, it gutted him so badly. He doesn’t even drive, unless it’s an emergency—” “I—” “I’ll ask you not to interrupt me, please. My brother’s punished himself harder over that night than any prison sentence or any grief-stricken parent could ever dream to. He’s paid his penance. And it was an accident.” Reece paused before making a dangerous decision to keep talking. “Surely you’ve done things in your life that hurt people? Even though it wasn’t your intention?” “You don’t need to spell it out for me, Mr. Nolan. And I’ll suggest that you know as little about it as I claim to know about your brother’s…accident.” Reece drummed his fingers on the table. The waitress approached, and his companion waved her off with a gracious hand. “I’m not my brother’s keeper,” Reece said, flustered.
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“No, but I am my daughter’s father.” “Yes.” Prentiss leaned back and clasped his hands atop the table. “I’ll tell you what’s going to happen now, Mr. Nolan.”
Eight thirty. No Libby. Too early to panic. So why was Colin panicking? When his shift had started, he’d been happy. Truly happy for the first time in years, even after the way he’d left things with his brother. Reece had been gone when Colin got home, his room as bare as it had been before he’d moved in. Their mother had been cheerful when Colin returned from the city, and he didn’t breathe a word of the fight. He hoped he and Reece could reach a diplomatic ceasefire and spare her the stress. Colin had been optimistic today. Uncharacteristically so. All day, thinking of Libby’s arms around him, the memory making him warm. Making him hot, thinking of the other contact they’d shared… Now the heat was waning. The glow he’d felt the entire day had started to dim as soon as the hour hand hit six. Colin needed her to show up. He needed the reassurance. The confirmation and the proof. He paced in the narrow space behind the bar, feeling caged. He’d wanted her to show up at six ten. No, at six, sharp. Smiling. Unwilling to wait any longer, unwilling to waste even those few minutes, knowing their time was ultimately limited. But now…nine o’clock? A torturous pattern set in. Greet a customer. Pour a drink. Stare at the door. Each time it swung in, a sick feeling of hope and dread rose in him, dread always
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prevailing. Each patron who came in and didn’t end up being Libby… Colin hated each of them a little more than the person before. Nine thirty. He wanted to call her, but the desire wasn’t enough—she didn’t own a fucking phone. Ten o’clock. Colin wasn’t a proud man. If this were reversed, he’d have been camped out like a dog by five, waiting for her to arrive. But he’d never expect her to do the same. For all her chaotic airs, she was a cautious woman, and she was the sort of woman who would make a man wait. Make him sweat. But last night had seemed stripped bare of politics and games. So had that morning in the kitchen. Ten thirty. What had gone on after he’d left? What could she and Reece have talked about? What terms had they parted on, and what threats could his brother have made? And what if… What if Reece did care for her? He’d certainly been pissed to high heaven that morning. What if seeing them together, Colin and Libby, what if that had been the one thing strong enough to get Reece to admit his feelings? No, that was madness. Or was it? Fuck, why wasn’t she here? Colin had known all along this would happen. She didn’t care for him that way. She’d told him exactly that, and he’d been able to accept it for the past month. One night of great sex wasn’t going to change things, not for good. It had been more than great sex for him, of course. It had been the single most desperately, painfully, heartbreakingly satisfying night of his life, and the closest he’d ever felt to another person. But that was him. Why assume Libby would feel the same? She’d been hoping to feel that too, but with Reece. She wanted his brother as much as Colin wanted her. God, he’d been right. He was a
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consolation prize. A pity-fuck, even, or a pale facsimile of the lover she’d really been after. Eleven o’clock. Midnight. One. One thirty, and he had to get the customers out before he risked a visit from the cops for serving past their legal hours. He was tempted to invite people to stay for a lock-in, just for the company. Hell, he was tempted to have a drink himself, for the first time in all these years. How about that. The things that woman could do… He’d been right, weeks ago—a siren. Luring men to their peril. Smart men like Reece stayed away, far from the waves, safe on shore with their hands clamped over their ears. Colin clicked the television off. “All right, everybody get your skates on. Go home to your families.”
Wellington’s infamous wind whipped Reece in the face, threatening to snatch the envelope from his hand as he walked across the sand. Cold seawater pooled around his sneakers. His stomach flipped, and for once it had very little to do with the ocean. Unmistakable platinum hair flapped above a black wetsuit, thirty yards out. The sun was fading and surfers were starting to come in for the night. Reece stood and watched for twenty minutes. Waited. Rehearsed words in his head but didn’t retain them. When Libby finally came in, he walked down the beach to meet her.
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Her face changed when she realized who was approaching. Her board shifted under one arm, like a shield twitching in a warrior’s hand. “All right, Libby?” Reece offered. She flipped her dripping hair out of her face, and he noticed, as though seeing her for the first time, that she was beautiful. “What do you want?” she asked, shifty. Scared. Just the way she’d looked the previous morning. “I have a letter from your father.” “Oh.” “And I owe you an apology,” Reece said. She tossed her head. “How did you find me?” “I saw your board was gone, from your boat. I recognized your towel.” He nodded to where it lay a few meters down the beach. “Clever boy.” “I’m sorry I was so harsh with you yesterday morning. That wasn’t fair.” “No, it wasn’t.” “That’s all I wanted to say. And here’s this.” He held the letter out. She bit her lip, seeming to think. “My hands are all wet. Why don’t you drive me back to the marina, and I’ll take it there.” “All right.” They walked and then drove in silence, neither speaking until they were headed down the main dock toward her boat. Reece swallowed. “How’s Colin?” “I don’t know.” Her voice sounded hollow. “I haven’t been back yet.” “Oh.” “I was supposed to go last night. But I got some bad news yesterday…” “Oh?”
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A tight nod. “My request for a visa extension was denied. I have to pack my bags in ten days.” “Does he know?” She shook her head. “No. I’m afraid to see him.” Libby looked close to tears. “I can’t go back there. I’ve fucked everything up so badly. You were right—I should never have gotten involved with you guys. Everything’s so much worse, and now you two are fighting…” “Libby… That fight, that was a long time coming. That had nothing to do with you.” “Yeah, right.” “No, it was. That row was between my brother and me. You just lit the fuse, is all.” “Sounds like me,” she said in a choked voice. They stopped beside her boat. “Trust me,” Reece said. “You didn’t break my family. We’ll be okay. We’re never going to see eye to eye, me and Colin. Just like me and my dad never did. And you and your dad. It’s okay.” “Why are you being nice to me?” Libby asked with an undignified sniff. “Because I love my brother.” “Oh.” Reece waited patiently while Libby processed everything he’d said. “I love your brother too, you know.” “I believe you.” They were quiet for a few moments. “You should come back,” Reece said. “He’s probably a wreck, now.” “Yeah, I know. This is going to sound really stupid…” “That’s fine.”
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“I don’t want to have to say goodbye. To him. I’ve never been this attached to anyone. Not in years and years. I don’t know what to do.” Reece shrugged. “You just…show up. And in ten days, you say goodbye. But you don’t run away. Trust me. I’ve done plenty of that myself.” Libby nodded. “You want to come back to Kaiwharawhara with me now?” She exhaled. “I don’t know.” “Yeah, you do. He needs to see you.” He gave her a clap on the shoulder. “I’ll tell you how my meeting with your father went on the way. You could probably use a laugh.” Colin heard the pub’s door open a few minutes into his Monday evening shift, felt the early winter breeze that drifted in. Another patron, another beer to pour. He didn’t have it in him offer a cheerful greeting. “Hey.” He looked up to find Libby settling herself on a stool. Behind her stood Reece, making no attempt to get comfortable. Colin nodded at them. He felt nothing, not even pain. Just numb. “Hey, yourselves.” Reece approached the bar, setting a shopping bag on the wood. Colin glanced inside at his and Libby’s jackets. “Her dad brought them to our meeting.” Reece cleared his throat. “Why don’t you let me watch the pub for a little while.” Not a question. Colin looked between them. They’d shown up together. They looked cagey and united in some mission. He didn’t know what this meant and it terrified him. He suddenly missed the numbness. He flipped the bar up and handed Reece his towel. “Yeah, go on, then.”
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Libby led him up to the flat and closed the door behind them. His heart was pounding. Hammering. Breaking. Positive what this must mean. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with so much stubble,” Libby said nervously, eyeing his chin. He hadn’t seen the point in shaving that morning. He hadn’t been able to see much point in anything. When he didn’t reply, Libby looked down and added, “I’m so sorry I didn’t come last night.” “It’s okay, Libby. I think I know what you’re about to say.” She continued anyway. “My visa got denied. I have to leave in ten days.” Colin felt a tug in his middle. “Oh. Sorry. That sucks.” “Yeah, it does.” She stepped forward and put her fingertips on his sides. “I found out after I left here yesterday and I…I just didn’t know what to do. I was scared to see you.” “Why? Because of what we did?” “No. Well, yes, but not like that. Because of what I caused between you and Reece. And because of how I feel about you.” He cleared his throat but the uncertainty lodged there didn’t budge. “How do you feel about me?” Her palms held his hips, thumbs rubbing at his shirt. “I love you,” she said, looking down, then up into his eyes. There were tears stuck in her lashes. Colin froze. “Do you?” She smiled and started crying officially—laughing, sobbing, blushing. “Yeah, I do. How about that, huh?” She gave him a sheepish grin, and the tears rolled down, catching in the corners of her mouth. “Well, that’s…that’s the greatest thing I’ve ever heard.” Colin’s arms, which had been hanging limply by his sides, found they could move once more, and he
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pulled her hard against him. He felt her shoulders jerking against his chest, and his heart exploding inside it. Her voice was muffled at his neck. “I’m sorry I didn’t show up.” “It’s okay. Love’s pretty fucking terrifying.” “Yeah…” “Why’s my brother here?” “He had to give me something from my dad.” She pulled away and wiped her nose on her sleeve. “My dad knows, by the way. Who you are.” “Oh, fuck me.” “I’ll let Reece tell you about it. He apologized to me. And he talked me into coming back, when I told him what a big frigging coward I’d been after I got the news about my paperwork.” She looked away. “God, I don’t want to go.” “I’m sorry. I don’t want you to go, either.” Ten days… “How would you feel about that sham marriage?” She grinned, half-silly, half-desperate. “I would sham marry you in a heartbeat, but I’d prefer to propose once you’ve had a few weeks to change your mind.” “I don’t have a few weeks.” “Can we just focus on the time we do have, then?” She nodded. “How should we start?” “Splash some cold water on your face, and we’ll go back downstairs so I can finish my shift.” “Reece would probably take over for you. He’s not angry anymore.” He shook his head. “That’s good, but I could use a few hours to process this. And you owe me a night of torturous waiting—of the good variety—after last night.” “That’s fair.”
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“I better go find out how Reece got on with your dad. If we need to come up the cash to pay him back, we’re royally fucked.” “It’s my fault it got ruined,” Libby said. “Or was shady to begin with. You should let me—” “Forget it,” Colin said with a stern smile. “I’m not even having that conversation with you.” She nodded. “I figured. Why don’t you go down first? I’ll get myself composed for a few minutes. You guys can talk.” Colin took her face in his hands, pressing his mouth to hers before he let her go. “See you in a few.” He went back to the pub. Reece glanced over as he poured a beer and handed it off to a customer. He raised his eyebrows as Colin approached. “All right, Reece?” He nodded. Colin wished Reece was the sort of man who’d step out from behind the bar and hug him, let him know where they stood…but twenty-eight years’ experience told him he shouldn’t hold his breath. “How did you get on with Tom Prentiss?” “He won’t be joining your fan club anytime soon,” Reece said. “But believe it or not, he thinks you’re okay. For Libby.” Colin blinked. “Oh. Well. I meant about the money, really. Are we totally buggered?” Reece shrugged. “He didn’t ask for anything back. I mean, how could he? He paid in cash, and it’s not the most upstanding arrangement. He said as much himself. That said, I can’t imagine any payments will be showing up for this week’s work.”
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Colin clasped the bar, relieved beyond words. “Well, that’s a bloody blessing. At least we’re free to keep dying a slow death over the next few months. Even if we just lost our tourniquet.” Reece nodded. “That’s not the best news, actually. I was shitting myself, waiting to hear if he was going to ruin my chances with the police. And I don’t reckon he will. I think he just wants it all done and dusted.” “Since when has our luck decided to change?” “Since you told him off, I think. Go figure.” “So,” Colin began. “You’re okay with this whole Libby situation?” Reece met his eyes and nodded. “I think she and I are square. And Annie set me straight on a few things, after you and I rowed. I’m keeping my nose out.” Colin suspected this was as close to an apology as he was likely to get and accepted it. “Cheers. And I’m sorry about what I said. About you not being here.” Reece smiled tightly and Colin left it there. Some wounds were still too fresh even to bandage. “Move back in, whenever you want,” he added. Reece shook his head. “I think I’ll find a flat downtown, closer to my future job. This is your place anyway.” He glanced around, seeming to mean the pub as a whole. “Understood.” Libby appeared then, joining Colin in leaning on the bar. “Sorry you’re not my stalker anymore,” she said to Reece, smiling. “That was my fault, that you lost your gig.” “You did me a favor.” Reece swung the door to the bar up and switched places with Colin. “I couldn’t keep that up much longer.” She nodded.
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“I’ll see you guys later.” Reece clapped Colin on the arm as he headed for the door. Libby admired her bartender as he filled a drink order. She studied him from her seat across the counter, fascinated. That strong, tall man. Her strong, tall man. Her affectionate feelings had turned darker as the night had worn on, and she grinned at him, hungry. Colin smirked back. “What?” Her gaze wandered up and down his body behind his T-shirt and jeans. “You’re mine.” “For as long as you want me.” “Do you still want me?” she asked in a low whisper. He laughed. “Always.” She leaned on her elbows, watching him prepare a gin and tonic, watching his arms flex. She wanted every last inch of that body above her, all those talented muscles laboring for her pleasure. His mouth. His intimate smells. That deep voice moaning in her ear, murmuring the kinds of dark words she ached to hear. All those things she’d spent so much of her life avoiding… It was torture, waiting for one o’clock to arrive. A few customers came and went, and Libby asked, “Do you like this job, Colin?” He slung his bar towel over his shoulder and nodded. “I do. I liked it better before we were in trouble, but yeah. This place might be shabby, but it’s my dad’s dream. I’d like to make it how he wanted it to be, someday. How it used to be.” “What would you be doing if you weren’t working here?” “Making violent love to you.”
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She rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean.” “Well, I’m not sure. I like it here, when I can forget about the money worries. Keeps me close to my family. And I quite like being the neighborhood shrink.” He grinned at her. “Not ambitious enough?” “Oh no, I wasn’t implying that at all. I mean, credentials aside, what the heck am I doing with my life? I’m jealous, actually. I’ll miss this, when I go. I never felt like a part of a family before I found this bar.” “You’re always welcome here, if we can manage to stay in business. But you’ll probably come back in a year or two and find this place shuttered. Sad but true.” “I’m more afraid I’ll come back in a year or two and find you married.” Saying it made her stomach churn. He laughed. “Yeah, right. It only took me twenty-eight years to find you. You’re so replaceable.” Libby blushed. “Maybe it’s time for a new tattoo, eh?” He made his hands into brackets and framed them around his heart. “What’s your full first name?” “Trust me, Bigfoot would be more fitting.” Libby reached over the bar and placed her palm on the spot. “There. Just trace my hand with a dotted line. Put ‘reserved’ in the middle.” Colin smiled, looking equals parts happy and sad. “I’ll think of something good. Something to do with the ocean. A nautilus, maybe.” “So long as it’s got tentacles. I’m feeling very possessive.” He smiled again, tight and shy, and cast his eyes down. A patron drew him away, and Libby watched, recording every little detail of him. She felt cheated. By herself. This man, this wonderful person—her lover—and she’d only now let herself be with him.
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He turned back. “Why are you frowning?” “I was so stupid. Taking this long to see what you were offering me.” He shrugged. “Don’t forget who I grew up with. I’ve been dealing with you cautious types my whole life.” “I never thought of myself that way.” He nodded. “I bet most people wouldn’t.” “Maybe not…” She trailed off, melancholy. “What did the letter from your dad say, anyway?” Libby laughed. “Oh God, who knows. I’ll read it later.” She zigzagged her gaze over him. “My mind is on other things.” “What about your sister? Did you call her?” “Not yet. I was too upset.” And cowardly. “Call her tomorrow, or I won’t put out.” Libby sighed. “That’s a very mean threat.” He glanced at the clock. “Five hours.” She bit her lip and squinted at him, scheming. “What are you thinking?” “Maybe I could pretend to drop a contact lens behind the bar.” She zeroed in on his crotch and licked her lips. “Could take a long time to find it…” Colin laughed. “Woman, so help me I will rut you senseless in the stock cupboard if you’re not careful. Don’t tempt me.” “But I like tempting you. You’re fun.” He shook his head. “Nah, I’m just easy, and you like winning.” “So let me.” Colin leaned in close. “The second this pub shuts down tonight I am going to do terrible things to you up against that jukebox, but in the meantime, let me have my painful hours of waiting. I’ve earned them.” He straightened. “There’s
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Carly Simon in there. Why don’t you go put ‘Anticipation’ on and make me suffer?” “Now you’re beating me at my game.” “Go read your letter, Libby.” “In a minute.” “Now.” She crossed her arms. “If this pub goes out of business, this will be one of the last times I’ll get to sit here like this, with you. You can’t rob me of those precious moments.” “Well, you’ve got closure on everything else, now. I don’t want anything looming, casting shadows over the…” He consulted the clock. “Nine days, four hours and six minutes we’ve got left before you leave me. Go read it, and if it’s horrible, I’ll pour you a drink and you can tell your bartender all about it.” Dear Liberty, I will keep this short. It was good to see you looking so well yesterday at dinner. I regret it had to be such a brief reunion. I want you to know that everything I have done, I did in what I believed to be your best interest. I admit that some of my decisions during the crisis of your teenage years were made from a place of fear and uncertainty. I don’t think you would deny that you and I have never understood one another. Even when you were a child, I felt as if we spoke two different languages. But the decisions I made for you, some of which you may feel were cruel or punitive, I made because I wanted only to keep you safe. I regret that I wasn’t able to offer you the understanding you probably needed then, but please trust that I gave you what I felt was the best solution to a problem I felt powerless to fix. It will come as no surprise when I say that I do not approve of your boyfriend. But I also cannot imagine that my approval is something that will, or ever has, held much esteem in your eyes. I will say that I am glad you have found someone who clearly 364
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respects you and feels compelled to defend you. If this young man is someone you feel deeply for, I wish you the best. I hope that one day you and I will find it possible to forgive one another our decisions. In the meantime, I want you to know that I will no longer be making your life my business, although letting you go will cause me great anxiety. I worry about you every day, but I promise I will trust you to find your path, even though I may not understand it. I hope that one day you might choose to come to me, to reestablish a relationship on whatever terms you wish, but I promise I will not contact you. Your mother and I love you very much, and wish you all the best in your life. I hope you figure out where it is you belong, and find happiness there. Love, Dad
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Epilogue
Seven months later The midsummer sun streamed through the front window, bouncing off the beer glasses as Paul Nolan’s Pub bustled with a capacity crowd. Reece clambered onto a table and tapped his glass with a spoon until the chatter quieted. “It’s time for a toast!” “Oi!” Colin shouted from somewhere toward the back of the room. “You’re not staff, anymore. Get off the bloody furniture.” “Firstly, I would like to thank everybody for coming this afternoon,” Reece began, looking out across the small sea of family and friends and familiar neighborhood faces. “We’re calling this a reopening, although those of you who have been here amid the dust and clutter for past couple months will remind me that we didn’t actually close, and we thank you for your patience.” “Cheers, Graham,” Annie yelled. “But at any rate, I would like to make it clear that I deserve none of the credit for any of this. Some of you know Libby, now—Libby, raise your freakishly long arm, would you? There you are. Yes, you can put your finger down, now. Libby Prentiss is the one to thank for all of the new improvements. She has a shiny new…business investor’s visa, is it called? And she is solely responsible for everything you will like or hate that’s changing around here.” “Our solvency, for one,” Colin interjected. “True enough. And also for the karaoke night that’s going to keep whatever poor sod moves into my old room awake until the wee hours every Saturday.
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Colin also thanks her for her bartending, so he can finally have a blooming day off. So cheers, to Libby!” Reece paused for the clapping and whoops. “A toast to Libby also for…everything. For everything she has done for this family in the past, what? Nine months? She and I have had our differences of opinion—” A loud laugh from Libby. “But I can honestly say that she and my brother are possibly the most wellsuited couple I have ever seen, and I hope the next time I give a toast it will be as her brother-in-law.” The crowd let out a collective Awwwww. “She hasn’t got a ring on him yet, but the helmet’s a bloody good start.” “Hear, hear!” Annie shouted. “But of course the biggest thanks of all go to my brother, Colin, who as everybody knows has kept this pub and this family together and afloat for the last couple years, and even before that. It’s because of him that we’re standing here now.” Reece set down his glass to lead the applause. “I should also add ‘happy birthday’, so you people will stop asking me whether or not this is a Valentine’s party. So happy birthday, Col. If you’re anything like Annie, this will be the first but not the last time you turn twentynine.” “Oh, ha ha ha.” “Mum, anything to add? Hang on, she’s already crying.” Marjorie pulled herself together and moved to the bar. She cleared her throat. “This pub was Paul’s biggest dream… Oh, here I go again.” She took a tissue from Annie and recomposed herself. “Okay. Thank you, thank you, thank you, Reece, for coming home when we needed you. And thank you to Annie and Mark, who met in this very pub, of course. And to all our wonderful customers
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and neighbors, and to Libby, especially, for everything she’s done for this family and for my son. And to Colin, who has been my rock for years and years. Your father would be so proud of you today.” She waved her hand to say she was too overwrought to go on. Colin cut through the crowd and hugged her before taking Reece’s place on top of the table. “Thank you, Mum, and thank you, Constable Nolan,” Colin said once the heartfelt clapping died down. “I’ll reiterate everyone’s thanks to Libby, for everything she’s done for this place. Some of you will note that the so-called function room is actually functioning again for the first time since the late nineties. We’ve got a new pool table and a digital jukebox, and, as Reece said, karaoke. Reece will be getting his karaoke cherry popped tonight, if his word is any good.” He looked down at his brother. “What do you think, ‘I Fought the Law’? Something by the Police? Public Enemy? Something fitting, at any rate, so look forward to that once he’s got a few more in him. Oh, and pub trivia, right? Mondays, we think, coming someday soon. Libby will not be allowed to play because she’s too bloody smart. Also, we can afford to hire staff for the first time in years, so it won’t just be sad old me behind the bar for your entertainment.” A couple of girls expressed their exaggerated disappointment. “Settle down, ladies. And we’ve replaced our horrible house wine with something actually potable, so cheers for that, Libby. You’re the only one who drinks it, anyway. And thank you for… Everything.” He cut his toast off with a weak smile. “So have at it, everyone. We’ll be starting the barbecue up on the roof in a bit, and the kegs are open for business. Cheers!” “Cheers!” everyone echoed. “Wait, wait, wait,” Libby interrupted, coming forward. “Doesn’t the new coowner get to say a few words?” “Silent partner,” Colin corrected with a zipping motion across his lips.
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She crossed her arms and stuck out her tongue. Colin hopped down, and she joined him behind the bar, setting out stacks of clean glasses. “Excited?” she asked. “Not as excited as the day you landed, but yeah. This will go down as one of my life’s highlights, I reckon. You?” “Ditto. I’m glad you finally decided to accept my help.” Colin laughed. “Help, nothing. This place is half your responsibility now, sucker.” “I’ll take it.” Colin laid a discreet hand on her lower back as he wiped the bar, racing to keep up with the chaos. “Probably not exactly the future you dreamed of when you were studying chemistry or plotting to save the third world, though, eh?” She smiled, grabbing dirty glasses and loading them in the washer. “No, I can’t say I ever pictured myself becoming a businesswoman… But I also never thought I’d fall in love. Being wrong feels pretty fantastic, though, so you won’t catch me complaining. I like wrong.” “That’s good, because I’m going to do some things to you later that are probably downright illegal.” She pushed the dishwasher door closed with her hip and grinned. “Is that any way to talk to the boss?” “Partner,” he corrected. “Though we shouldn’t be allowed to work together,” Colin said, looking her up and down. “Can’t risk the distraction.” “Yes, heaven forbid. Plus we need your tips if we’re ever going to get the floor refinished.” She studied his face a long moment. “Happy birthday, by the way.” “Cheers. Did you get me a prezzie?”
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She smirked. “Not yet. I wanted to talk to you about that, actually. You’ve earned yourself a break. I think we need to start looking at travel guides. In a few weeks, once everything’s settled here, I’m taking you on a trip. Anywhere you like.” He nodded thoughtfully. “Upstairs, then.” She punched his arm. “Honestly, I am exactly where I want be, now that you’re here.” “Well, get used to me,” Libby said. “I’m not going anywhere.” Colin braced an arm on the bar on either side of her waist, and kissed her forehead. “You’re bloody right about that. I’m burning your passport.” He glanced at the clock. “I have to go start the barbecue. Reece is useless with a steak. You okay down here for now? I’ll send Annie over to help.” “Of course.” “I’ll be back down in a couple hours, just in time to help you break in your new karaoke setup.” “Damn straight. Get those pipes warmed up for me.” He smiled. “As you wish.” She brushed her lips against his. “I’ll save you a good one.”
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About the Author
Before becoming a writer, Meg worked as a record store bitch, a lousy barista, a decent designer, and an over-enthusiastic penguin handler. She loves writing sexy, character-driven stories about strong-willed men and women who keep each other on their toes…and bring one another to their knees. Meg now writes full-time and lives north of Boston with her extremely goodnatured and permissive husband. When she’s not trapped in her own head, she can usually be found in the kitchen, the coffee shop, or jogging around the nearest duck-filled pond. Meg welcomes reader feedback. E-mail her at
[email protected], follow her on Twitter @megguire, or visit her website at www.megmaguire.com.
Look for these titles by Meg Maguire
Now Available: The Reluctant Nude Trespass
He opened his home. She stole his heart…and his money.
Trespass
© 2011 Meg Maguire Many would envy veterinarian Russ Gray’s life in rural Montana’s wideopen spaces. Russ calls it lonely. In a country with more cattle than eligible females, he doesn’t envision his seven years as a widower ending anytime soon. Until a mysterious woman lands at his door in the dead of night, riddled with buckshot. Sarah Novak hates lying to such a kind, handsome man, but if an upstanding citizen like Russ finds out why she’s been three weeks on the run, he’d surely turn her in. Yet she can’t refuse his offer to let her stay until she heals, no questions asked. From the start they fall into an easy companionship, then teasing flirtation flares into an unexpected intimate connection. But no matter how right it feels in his arms, guilt tugs at Sarah’s heart. Russ doesn’t deserve what she must do next. When Russ wakes up with an empty bed—and an empty wallet—his first instinct isn’t to call the cops…it’s to catch her and find out why his urge to protect her overshadows all reason. Because he’s had a taste of real passion, and he’s not letting it slip away without a fight. Enjoy the following excerpt for Trespass: Sarah rose first and cleared Russ’s yolk-stained plate. He let her do the dishes and start a fresh pot of coffee, turning back to his newspaper while she puttered. She did an overly thorough job of wiping down the counter, watching him through the open space in the wall that separated the kitchen and den. He had a dab of yellow at the corner of his mouth, sleep-mussed hair glowing gold
at the edges from the morning sunshine. She glanced at the pocket watch before her on the ledge and the antique medicine bottle beside it, its thick, cloudy glass the same gray-green as Russ’s eyes. “Tonight,” she began, gaze still locked on the glass. He looked up, attentive. “Yeah?” She remembered how he’d felt when he’d slid in behind her on the couch, that comforting, forceful combination of need and demand. She felt prematurely like a cad. “I need to sleep alone tonight.” His attention shifted to the window and he nodded. “Sure. Of course.” She set the sponge down and rinsed her hands, drying them on her jeans as she walked over to him. “I don’t mean I don’t want to…you know. Mess around.” “No?” That look again—adorable, desperate hope. She shook her head, stepping close enough to put her fingertips to his shoulders. “No, I’d like that, if you would.” He nodded, setting a hand at her waist. “Yeah, I’d like that.” “But afterward, I just want to be alone, on the couch, so I can catch up on the sleep I’ve been missing. I told you I’m kind of restless.” “Yeah.” “Actually,” she added, as though she’d just thought of it. “You don’t have any sleeping pills, do you? Or even like nighttime flu medicine? I know that sounds pathetic—” “No, it doesn’t. And I think I do. I’ll check this afternoon.” Worries swirled around in her head and she fumbled for a way to get the information she most needed from him. “Cool, thanks. I didn’t know if you only had animal sleeping pills lying around…” Russ laughed. “I’m sure I can find you something a bit gentler than what I’d
use on a horse.” What about a dog? She dropped the baiting for the time being, too close to sounding suspicious. “Anyway. You know when you want to sleep but it’s just not happening?” She thrust her lip out in a frustrated pout. “I thought that’s what whiskey was invented for.” She smiled and ran her fingers through his messy hair, down his stubbly cheek. “Anyhow, thanks. But for now, chores. Then dinner, then who knows.” She grazed a conspiring hand over his neck. “But after that I’m catching up on my beauty sleep.” Russ looked as if he was resisting the urge to turn that comment into a corny flirtation. Instead he stood and put his hand in her hair the way he seemed to love doing, leaned in and kissed her. Mouth closed, eyes closed, warm lips holding in a faint noise, a grunt or sigh. He let her go and she stared at his chin, a little drunk from him. She reached up to wipe the yolk from beside his smiling lips. “Okay. Put me to work.” An hour later Sarah could confirm that shampooing a horse was indeed very much like washing a car, right down to the hose she was using to rinse the suds from Mitch. She craned her neck, looking to where Russ was standing in the pen, fussing over Lizzie’s gums. He’d ditched his sweater as the sun had risen, and he looked good in his dusty jeans, those strong, tanned arms, shoulder blades flexing under his T-shirt. That hat like a cliché, so endearing. She chewed her lip, only fretting for a moment about whether or not to be evil to him. She let the hose trigger go, pumped it a couple times. “Russ?” He turned. “Yeah?”
“Hose is acting weird.” His eyebrows rose. He gave Lizzie a pat then left her be, walking over. “What’s it doing?” “It’s just kind of—” She squeezed the handle, soaked Russ from head to toe and sent his hat flying off behind him. When she finally released it, he blinked at her, hair dripping, shirt plastered to his chest, the front side of his jeans dark and drenched. “Seriously?” he asked. She bit her lip. “Yeah.” Russ smiled, a deadly Jack Nicholson sort of smile, eyes narrowing. He took a step closer. “Seriously?” She nodded. “How fast can you run?” he asked. “Real fast.” “You better hope so.” He took another step, and she tossed the hose aside, bolting past him into the pen and ducking between the wooden fence rails. She felt him grab her sneaker for a second, heard his feet hit the ground behind as she took off into the yard. He caught her easily after only a few seconds’ sprint into the tall grass. She yelped as he hooked her around the waist and brought them both crashing to the ground, Russ taking the bulk of the impact. Rolling her onto her back, he pressed his dripping front against her and made her feel six years old, made all the horrors from the past few weeks dissolve until the entire world consisted of just their two bodies, this patch of earth under this exact sky. She began to laugh, convulsive, cathartic sobbing laughs as Russ flipped her over on top of him. She kissed him, square on the mouth with her eyes open, and decided he was the handsomest man she’d ever seen or touched or tasted.
He made the kisses deeper, dirty hands in her formerly clean hair. She locked her thighs around his hips, wanting to stay right here for a month, so filled with good feelings there was no room left for bad ones. She felt Russ grow hard and contemplated a near-literal roll in the hay, then decided the risk of ticks and every other thing lurking in the grass was a mood killer. She let the kissing linger for another minute then freed her mouth. “You feel like a shower?” “I feel like you just gave me one back in the paddock.” “Do you feel like a proper one, with soap and hot water and naked strangers corrupting your cramped little ancient bathtub?” He smiled, expression shifting in a way she adored. “Yeah, I could go for that.” She got to her feet and let Russ take her dirty hand in his for the short walk back to the pen. He let Mitch out into the main yard and put away a few things and led them inside. They ditched their shoes at the door and headed for the bathroom. Russ got the shower running and they watched one another undress. She loved his body…unlike any man’s body she’d been intimate with before. Not skinny, not bulky, strong and muscular but not from the gym. Just exactly what a man ought to look like, she decided. Russ had sexy shoulders, triceps so defined she wanted to bite them. He also had the very start of what would be an inevitable middle-aged belly, a charming flaw flying in the face of his otherwise too perfect working man’s body. Russ shed his shorts, his sudden and complete nakedness pulling her out of her spacey admiration and into darker, curious realms. She undid her bra and let him step forward and push her panties down, his erection brushing her navel. She was about ready to trade a kidney for a box of condoms.
Strong hands took hold of her jaw, and she melted into him, into his forceful mouth and eager body, into the moans humming in his throat, begging to be unleashed. She slid her hand between them and stroked his soft chest hair, squeezed the hard swells of his shoulders. For a few greedy seconds, she explored his back and that textbook-perfect ass, then he pulled away, grinning. Sliding the shower curtain open, he gestured for her to get inside. It wasn’t the ideal tub for a tryst—narrow and rounded—but with Russ here she couldn’t imagine a better place to be. He climbed in after her, dragging the clear curtain around them and angling the showerhead at her back. “Jesus.” His gaze slid up and down her front. “You’re gorgeous.” She bit her tongue, tempted to contradict him. Tempted to say she’d prefer to weigh ten pounds more and be filling her modest B-cups again, lose the ribs, lose the holes in her side and the bruises that peppered her like finger-paint smudges. Instead she let him ogle, let him feast on whatever he saw and whatever made his green eyes narrow the way they did now. She reached around the curtain for the shampoo bottle on the windowsill, snapping it open and getting her hands full of lather. Russ leaned in and let her wash his hair before he returned the favor, his fingers dawdling well after the suds had disappeared down the drain. They passed the soap back and forth and explored one another’s bodies. Their curious, slippery hands lingered here and there, eyes darting as though they’d invented all this nonsense and couldn’t quite comprehend their own genius.
He’s the one who taught her to ride. Now all he wants is to ride her.
Rocky Mountain Heat © 2011 Vivian Arend
Six Pack Ranch, Book 1 Blake Coleman is old enough to know that acting on impulse causes nothing but a heap of trouble. But when trouble’s a western-hat-wearing blonde with slim legs that go on forever, what’s a man to do? Wanting the sweet girl next door is just wrong. The responsible thing to do is keep his hands off. Jaxi has other plans for Blake’s hands, and his heart. She may have once considered him a big brother, but that was a long time ago. She’s all grown up now and ready to convince him that she’s perfect for him. Except he can’t seem to see past the big “don’t touch” sign that’s apparently still hanging around her neck. When Jaxi ends up living right under Blake's nose, the undeniable heat between them slides off simmer and leaps up to barn-burning levels. However, a few of the younger six-pack Colemans have decided Jaxi’s brand of trouble is worth risking a few busted bones. That is, if Blake’s finally ready to let go the reins and fight for what he wants… Warning: Sexy cowboys seducing and being seduced in trucks, pool halls and barns. Droolworthy country charm, a little double-teaming, a few secrets and a whole lot of brothers to look forward to. Anyone wanna go for a ride? Enjoy the following excerpt for Rocky Mountain Heat:
Blake dragged a breath of air into his lungs in an attempt to cool his burning body. This wasn’t right. She was a guest in their home, and yet here he was, acting like a hound dog. He should be ashamed of himself. He grabbed his travel kit from under the bed and marched down the hall toward the large shower room in the annex. He, Matt and Daniel had promised to use the larger bathroom and let Jaxi have the privacy of the other for herself. The sound of running water met his ears and Blake stepped into the dimly lit room, wondering why his brothers had turned on only half the lights. Splashing noises echoed. Leaving his kit on the sink counter, he rounded the corner to the showers. And froze. The three showerheads in the open room were separated by nothing but space. Steam filtered the dim lighting into a moonshine glow. All he saw was wet, naked skin. Jaxi’s skin. Every inch of her bare to his gaze as water poured from the middle shower, streaming in waves over her body. She faced away from him, head thrown back as she shifted to allow the water to slip over her face and down her chest. Blake, his body hot and needy, watched in a daze as the shampoo rinsed from her hair and undulated down her back, tiny bubbles racing over the curve of her waist. His gaze followed the bubbles along the gentle swell of her hips and the full curves of her ass. Her skin was pale pink from the heat of the water, faint tan lines showing on her thighs and arms. His mouth went completely dry. Retreat. It had to happen—he had to turn and leave before she spotted him. Yet, no matter how loud his brain screamed at him, his feet remained glued in place as she slid the soap over her body. As she lifted her hands to brush her hair back from where it clung to her shoulders in white ribbons.
Blake’s cock tented his boxers as Jaxi rotated under the showerhead, turning the front of her body to his sight. Her nipples were soft. Tender, juicy pink berries crowning full, taut curves. The perfect size to fill his hands and still allow him to take her into his mouth. Water slid in rivulets over her belly and through the pale blonde curls visible at the junction of the long legs he’d fantasized about so many times. Jaxi’s eyes were closed, and she swayed as she washed, her hands slipping over her body in a way that made Blake heat to near boiling just from watching her. She hummed, quiet and low, her hips moving to the faint tune. Guilt shot through him. He had no right to watch her, no right to invade her privacy and treat her like anything but the beautiful, caring person he knew her to be. She wasn’t his to admire. God help him, he wanted her to be. He swallowed hard and tried to peel his gaze away. Tried to not watch as her hands covered her breasts, then slicked over her belly in slow circles. Tried to glance away as she slipped her fingers gently through the curls covering her pussy, over her ass, washing every inch of her luscious body clean. Blake watched, motionless and noiseless for so long he felt like a statue, every bit of his body gone as hard and rigid as his aching shaft. Indecision held him, immobilized him. The rush of blood through his veins drowned out the part of his common sense saying he needed to leave. The pounding faded everything logical and rational away in him and stripped him bare to need and desire. His eyes needed him to stay here, to fill his brain with the vision of her glowing skin, her seductive movements. His hands needed to touch her, run over her curves in imitation of the water caressing in endless sweeps. His mouth needed to taste—not only her lips, but her breasts and the spot on her back where the skin dimpled above her ass.
He desired her. Every fiber of his being wanted to show her how much, but his conscience kept kicking his feet from under him before he could cross the room. This was Jaxi. He wished he had never walked down the hallway. Jaxi opened her eyes, her gaze unfocused for a second before she noticed him standing in the steamy room like some ghostly Peeping Tom. Her quick intake of breath showed clearly enough she didn’t expect anyone, hadn’t realized she’d been putting on a show. Now was a perfect time for him to drop his head and slip away. He couldn’t do it. She stared back at him through the mist hanging in the air, her eyes as big as silver dollars. She bit her bottom lip, and he fought a mental battle to leave, fought to stay quiet. Then he noticed her nipples change. Tightening even as he looked at her. Electric pulses shot through him, and his hands itched to touch her, to lift the weight of her breasts and lap at those gems that had grown erect beneath his gaze. Jaxi turned off the water and stepped slowly toward him, head held high. She sauntered up, slippery and wet, naked as a jaybird. Her skin glowed with heat as she stopped inches away, staring unendingly with those mesmerizing grey eyes. She reached out, her naked skin brushing his shoulder. She drew back, her arm clasping a towel she’d grasped from the hook beside his head. He thought she’d wrap herself up quick. Instead she rotated her fingers and let the towel hang as she held the fluffy fabric to him. He glanced down, saw the way her hand trembled even as she put on a bold face and kept her body motionless under his heated gaze. He reached for her, his hand moving of its own accord before his brain fully engaged.
What brain? All the blood he needed for thinking had pooled in his groin. This was the second time she’d taken him by surprise, and he couldn’t make the same mistake. He’d been haunted since the first incident. He couldn’t let anything happen. It wasn’t right for them to be together. Blake withdrew his hand. And fled.
This time, he plans to do it with class. Style. And more than a little groveling…
Once and Again © 2011 Lauren Dane
Petal, Georgia, Book 1 Seven years ago, Lily Travis was only too glad to see her hometown of Petal, Georgia, in her rearview mirror. Thanks to her father running off with a twentyyear-old, though, here she is, trying to pick up the pieces. First order of business: meet with her brother’s teacher in a quest to pull his grades out of a downward spiral. Nathan Murphy is pretty much resigned to his bachelor status—until he looks up from his desk to see an all-grown-up Lily walking into his classroom. Of all the women who turned out to be totally wrong for him, she’s the only one who felt right. At least until his foolish, immature mistake drove her away. Lily has to admit that time has been more than kind to gorgeous, sexy Nathan. Except there’s no room on her full plate for another complication. Especially with a man who broke her heart once before. With a little help from his friends, Nathan has a plan to rekindle the flame. It isn’t long before they’re burning up the sheets. Winning her heart? That’s another matter. Warning: Hot, sexy high school teacher in denim and boots. Strong-willed females abound. Bad words and naughtiness, too. Come on, you know you want to read it. Enjoy the following excerpt for Once and Again: There they sat and she liked him. Still. He was funny and charming and sweet even. He’d helped her with Chris, and his apology, though late, was genuine. She knew him enough to understand it in his words.
People made mistakes. She made them too. And she was so tired of avoiding him. But it wasn’t wise to let him back into her heart. He had too much power over her, and she hadn’t been lying when she told him it took her a long time to get over it. She never wanted to feel that kind of misery again. Ever. “I accept your apology. But we can’t date.” His gorgeous features darkened. He was as alpha as they came. Used to getting his own way. It was gloriously sexy, but she had enough to manage. He was a man now, not even a young man in graduate school. He’d be even worse. Which would mean he was way hotter in bed, but she wasn’t going to think about that. Much. At all. Ever in the next ten minutes. “You still don’t like being told no, I see.” That broke his sour expression. “Why can’t we date?” She was totally going to have to make up for the whopper she was about to tell. “First because I’m over you. Second, and far more importantly, because my brother is in your class. He’s got enough to deal with right now. The last thing he needs is to have anyone think he’s getting special treatment because you’re dating his sister. Or for him to worry you’ll retaliate if we broke things off.” He growled a sigh, and her insides got all warm and gooey. She really needed to date nice men who didn’t growl. “Do you really think I’d do that?” “If I did, I wouldn’t have accepted your apology. But this is Petal. Gossip is as common as marshmallows in Jell-O salad. He’s had enough, don’t you think? My lands, the boy can’t even go out for a burger without people knowing his dad left his mom for a girl barely older than him. I can’t be part of anything that would harm him even more.” “You said you were over me.”
“I am. Don’t smirk. What if your face freezes that way?” He laughed and she did too. It felt so good to laugh with him after so long. “I want you back, Lil. I’m telling you that up front. Just so you won’t be surprised when I get you back.” It wouldn’t do to smile at him and encourage this silly behavior, but she did anyway because she’d clearly been dropped on her head as a child. Pie arrived and she was glad for the interruption. And the pie of course. “I need to get back home. I’m glad we cleared the air and all.” She tried to pay half but he pushed the cash back her way. “I invited you, I’ll pay. I’ll walk you to your car too.” Plenty of female attention landed on him as they made their way toward the door. That much hadn’t changed. It used to leave her feeling a little smug. That he was hers and they could look all day long but he wanted Lily Travis, not any of those other bimbos. And then she was wrong. “I can get it from here,” she said once they’d arrived outside. The evening air was cool, and without even asking, he helped her into the coat. “I’m sure you can. Where are you parked?” Bold as you please, as if she’d never spoken. “Around the corner. On Ash.” “Why you parking back there?” He held his arm out and she took it automatically. Once she’d done it, it would have been silly to let go. “It’s dark back there.” “It was daylight when I parked. This is Petal. Main was packed.” “You have a cell phone. Next time, text me and I’ll come get you.” It was dark but quiet, and the moon overhead was beginning to rise. “I’ll do no such thing. And there won’t be any next time, Nathan.” He took her keys and unlocked the door for her. “Just keep telling yourself
that if it gets you through the day. But we both know that’s a bald-faced lie.” He stepped closer and her back hit the car. She was looking for some stern words when he leaned that last distance between them and brushed his lips across hers. All her stern internal reminders swept away when he pressed his body against hers and she found her fingers in his shirt, holding him to her. His hands slid up her sides, coming to rest at her back, just above her ass. Her mouth opened on a sigh, and he swallowed the sound, his tongue slipping between her lips like a thief and then he owned her as if they’d never been apart. She gave in and ran her fingers through his hair as he slid his tongue along hers. He tasted of tea and pie and man. She was lost in the sweet sensation of that kiss until he sucked on her tongue and her nipples hardened to the point of pain, throbbing in time with her clit. Up the block, someone shut a door, and it was enough to reclaim her senses and put her hand on his chest to push him back a bit. He broke the kiss and stared at her lips for long moments, his chest heaving as he struggled to breathe. “I want more of that mouth,” he murmured, bending to kiss the side of her jaw. “I have to go home. I promised Chris I’d watch a movie with him.” Her voice was rusty. She licked her lips and he groaned again, putting some distance between them. “Go on then. I’ll see you soon, Lily. We’re going to be friends once more, if I can’t have friends and then some.” He’d have to be satisfied with that, she told herself as she drove home, because that’s all she had to give.
