Nobody but Him (13 page)

Spending time with him was going to be so much harder than she thought.

‘So, if your interrogation is over,’ he queried, ‘it’s my turn now. What restaurant do you work at in Melbourne?’

‘Huh?’ she said. A flick of paint hit Julia in the eye and she winced.

‘What’s the name of the restaurant you work in. Would I have heard of it?’

Julia gripped on to the ladder to steady herself. ‘You think I’m a
waitress
?’

‘Judging by that reaction I’m guessing you’re not a waitress.’

‘There is absolutely nothing wrong with being a waitress, but no, I’m not one.’

‘You were helping out at the pub, so I leapt to an obviously well-intentioned but non-judgmental conclusion.’

‘While I do love restaurants, and I spend a lot of time in them, it’s usually eating and drinking, not working.’

‘Okay. I’ll try again. What do you do in Melbourne if you’re not a waitress?’

Julia puffed out her chest. ‘I’m a crisis management consultant.’

‘Really?’ She could hear the surprise in his voice and she rolled her eyes.

‘Don’t worry, I get that a lot.’

‘No, it’s not that, it’s just that I know people in Adelaide who do the same sort of job.’ He’d hired them when things had gone pear-shaped with Blackburn and Son. ‘Do you like it, being a crisis management consultant?’

‘I love it. And I’m really good at it.’

‘So you handle everyone else’s shit sandwiches. That’s really impressive, Julia.’ There was nothing but admiration and sincerity in his expression, but why did she have to feel so narky all of a sudden?

‘Yeah, who would have thought little Julia Jones from Middle Point would end up with a job like that, huh?’

Julia heard a clunk and his footsteps across the empty room. The ladder shuddered and she suddenly felt unsafe and uncertain. Ry’s chest was pressing against the back of her legs. She gripped tightly with one hand, clasped the paintbrush in the other, checking over her shoulder to find him looking up at her with a determined expression.

‘Ry, stop it. You’re shaking the ladder.’

‘Can you come down from there?’

Julia considered his request for a moment before acquiescing. She turned and stepped down until she was on the first rung, eye to eye with him. Ry didn’t give an inch, but leaned forward to hold the ladder on either side of her, closing her in, making sure she was safe, too. She found herself in a squeeze between his chest and the hard aluminium rungs. She didn’t want to meet his eyes so she stared at his chest instead. Which didn’t help her nerves one bit.

‘Look at me,’ he said, his voice husky and low. When her eyes found his, she saw confusion. Ry’s finger traced a slow line from her chin down her throat and then used his whole hand to cup the back of her head through the tangle of her hair.

‘So what’s with the chip on your shoulder?’ His tone wasn’t accusing or mocking but curious as his gaze shifted from her eyes to her lips and back again.

‘What are you talking about?’

‘It might suit small-town Julia Jones from Middle Point to think of me as the rich boy property tycoon, but that’s not who I am.’

‘All evidence to the contrary,’ she breathed.

Ry watched her caramel brown eyes drop to his mouth. It was the damndest thing.
She wants me to kiss her.
‘Don’t put me in a box with a label that suits you because you’ll be wrong.’

‘Oh bullshit, Ry. I know people like you.’

‘You do, huh?’

‘I deal with suits like you every day of my working life.’

‘Suits? C’mon Julia. You think you aren’t one of them now? No matter where you started out, you’ve got a swanky job with a wanky title just like the rest of us.’

Julia wriggled but Ry strengthened his hold on her, one arm moving around her waist and drawing her the tight distance closer. They were pressed against each other from his thighs to her breasts.

He reacted as any man would. When he pushed his erection into her, he was stunned to realise she was returning the pressure. Fuck, he wanted her
and it damn well felt like she wanted him too. Her nuzzled her neck, breathing in her scent, fresh flowers and paint, feeling her silky hair caress his cheek.

‘Ry,’ she whispered, her fingers gently tugging at his T-shirt. ‘This isn’t a good idea.’

‘Yeah, I know.’ His words a groan under his breath.

‘Too much history,’ she said.

‘Feels more like too much biology to me.’ He released her and stepped back from the ladder.

Julia didn’t move, couldn’t. He turned away from her, running his hands through his hair.
He wanted her too.
She’d felt the hard evidence, had seen it in his eyes. After all this time, after all these years, after what she’d done to him. What kind of a man was he to still want her?

And hold the phone. What kind of a man was he to be crushing up against her when he had a wife? Even if they had a history together. Julia instantly felt like a total slut. She’d wanted him as much as he wanted her. And she knew he was married. She’d let that inconvenient truth be buried for far too long.

‘I reckon I’ll be able to finish the ceiling this afternoon.’ Ry looked upwards to survey his work, carefully avoiding making eye contact.

‘Don’t worry, Ry.’
Stay calm and cool
, she willed herself. ‘I can take it from here. You should probably go home, call your wife.’ It came out before she could edit the thought and she swore under her breath.

Ry stopped. ‘My
what
?’

‘Your wife.’ A cold feeling swept over her from head to toe and she felt a shrinking in her chest.
Please don’t let him see the disappointment in my face.

‘Julia, I’m not married.’

‘Sorry, girlfriend then.’ He turned to regard her with an expressionless face.

‘I don’t have a girlfriend.’

What game was he playing? Either he was lying through his teeth or telling the truth. Why on earth would a man like Ry Blackburn still be on the market? If he wasn’t married or taken, who the hell was Amanda to him? And why the hell did she care so much? In a pathetic attempt to recover, she went for a joke to lighten the mood.

‘
Girlfriend
. That’s such a ridiculous word for people our age, isn’t it? I
mean your partner. Your friend with benefits. Your …’ she hesitated on her final choice, ‘… Friday night fuck buddy?’

It seemed like forever before he spoke. She could see a million questions popping in his eyes, his lids closing ever so slightly as he concentrated on what to say. Then a smile tugged at the corner of his lips and he met her eyes.

‘You’re talking about
Amanda
.’

She nodded as if it didn’t matter.

‘She’s not anything to me. She’s the daughter of a friend of mine, that’s all.’

‘Oh.’

‘And besides, I could never be interested in someone who’s that rude to my staff. Or my ex-staff.’

Julia turned away, suddenly making a great fuss of her paintbrush. She felt heat flame her cheeks and couldn’t suppress her smile.

‘So what about you, JJ? Any husband, friend with benefits, partner or Friday night fuck buddy I should know about?’

‘No. No one.’ And wasn’t that the deep, dark truth of her life. She couldn’t meet Ry’s eyes, not when she was afraid everything she was feeling was right there on her face. ‘Shall we finish up for today?’

Ry pointed to a section of the ceiling. ‘One more patch to go and then I think I need a beer. Or three.’

‘Now that sounds like a plan.’

Julia fumbled her paintbrush and it fell handle first into the paint tin. She swore out loud. Dipping her fingers into the cool and sticky mixture, she chided herself for her lack of concentration. For the past hour while they’d continued to work side by side, she’d felt like a skittish fool. The very fact that he was only a glance away had her sexual radar going off the charts. She had been trying desperately not to think about how it had felt to have his hard, masculine body pressed up against hers, the evidence of his want digging in to her belly. And she’d returned the feeling, overcome with a hunger for him and his touch and desperate to return it.

The unconcealed desire she’d seen in his eyes had, she knew, been clearly reflected in her own, no matter how hard she’d tried to hide it.

Crouching down over the paint tin, letting the paint dribble from the brush and her fingers in slow drips, she looked over at Ry. He was in the
opposite corner of the room, legs astride, eyes to the ceiling and wielding the long-handled roller like an expert.

Don’t put me in a box with a label that suits you because you’ll be wrong.

She’d tried to put him in a box, the ‘married with a beautiful wife, children and a labrador’ box and she’d been spectacularly wrong. Pleasantly wrong.

On the other hand, why should finding out that he was single change anything? Whether the problem was too much history — or too much biology — it wouldn’t be sensible to go back. No matter how much sexual chemistry was zinging in the air between them.

Julia scraped her fingers along the rim of the tin to get rid of as much paint as she could, but it clung stubbornly to the small wrinkles around her knuckles, in her cuticles and under her nails. Standing, she turned to walk over to the sink and saw him.

He was watching her.

Ry was standing stock-still, his blue eyes serious and his lips together in a thin line. She could see the muscles in his jaw tighten and the subtle rise and fall of his chest under his soft white T-shirt.

She walked quickly to the kitchen sink and wrenched on the cold-water tap, trying hard to concentrate on the view through the kitchen window, rather than think about the fact that Ry was ten feet away and looking at her like that.

Outside, the sky was beginning to darken and a wind had whipped up, gusting through the silver leaves of the saltbush growing along the side fence. Julia let the cold water drizzle through her fingers and settle in a pool in her cupped palms, hoping the growing, numbing feeling might spread further up her arms, to her head, her chest and the spot low in her belly that was twisted in knots.

She simply couldn’t feel this way about Ry Blackburn. She knew that more than anything.

And then he was next to her. Close. His hot body brushing against hers, his thigh grazing her rounded hip. And her resolve was suddenly shaky.

The only sound was the running water and their breathing and, in the distance, the rhythmic pounding of waves on the beach.

Every nerve ending in Julia’s body soared to red alert. She willed herself to keep her fingers under the running water, knowing that if she were to
move they would fly, uncontrolled, straight to his chest.

Ry felt Julia’s body tremble and knew in his gut that it wasn’t from the cold water. He leaned over towards the sink, towards Julia, and let his forearm brush hers. Next to his tanned arms, hers were pale and fine, her skin faintly dotted with paint spots. He breathed in the scent of her, lavender, one that he would always remember as distinctly Julia. He needed to touch her, to feel her skin, so he joined his hands with hers under the icy flow, and rubbed up and down each of her fingers, sloughing off the paint that clung to her.

It happened so quickly he almost couldn’t remember doing it. The tap was wrenched shut, her wrists were tight in his grip and he’d pulled her close, crushing her breasts up against him. God, it felt good. Right. He reached around until she was firmly in his grasp and they were squeezed together, body-to-body, breath-to-breath, lips almost touching. He held her, entrapped her against his body, his length.

She let out a small moan and at the sexy sound Ry searched out her wide eyes and parted lips, looking for encouragement.

‘Ry,’ she murmured.

His own breathing came raggedly now, his heart beating a blues rhythm in his chest. He had the distinct feeling there was no turning back from this very moment. And he didn’t care. He leaned in closer to her lips, just a breath away from hers, almost so close he could taste her.

They both heard it, stopped. Searched each other’s eyes.

There was another polite knock at the front door and a voice Ry knew.

‘Ry? Is that you?’

Ry let go of Julia’s wrists and sprang back like she was a live wire.

‘I’m so sorry about this.’ There was a flash of annoyance in his blue eyes as he turned and trudged to the front door, his hands pushing in frustrated strokes through his hair.

He reached out for the doorknob and, giving himself a moment to catch his breath, slowly opened the front door.

‘Mum.’

‘Hello, my darling!’ Barbra Blackburn stepped into the house, dropped an enormous purple handbag on the floor with a thud and threw her arms around her son for a fierce hug. She had to reach up on tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek.

‘What are you doing here?’

‘There was no answer next door and I could see all the lights on in here. I caught a glimpse of someone through the window and thought it looked like my favourite son.’

‘I’m your only son.’

‘Then you must be my favourite.’

Julia gripped the cool edge of the stainless steel kitchen sink. She needed a minute to give her flaming cheeks, her throbbing thighs and her racing heart time to return to normal. Thank God his mother hadn’t arrived thirty seconds later. The way things had been going, at least one of them would have been naked and someone might have had a tongue down someone else’s throat. That thought didn’t help Julia regain her composure.

Stop.
Breathe
.

‘Julia?’ Ry called to her.

Giving herself a few breaths to create a relaxed and welcoming expression, she turned and stilled at the sight of mother and son. Ry clearly got his height from his father, as well as his shoulders, strong jaw and blonde hair, but they shared a smile. Julia took another deep breath and walked towards them.

‘Mum, this is Julia. An … old friend.’ He guided his mother towards
Julia, his hand at the small of her back. ‘Turns out we’re neighbours.’

‘Mrs Blackburn, it’s so nice to meet you,’ Julia quickly wiped a hand on her jeans before extending it. She couldn’t help but notice the momentary exchange of looks between mother and son.