Nobody But Him Page 11

  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?’

  CHAPTER

  12

  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.

  ‘Oh please, call me Barbra!’ And to Julia’s shock, Ry’s mother gathered her up in a bear hug just as strong as the one she’d bestowed on her son.

  ‘So what’s going on here? Some redecoration?’ Barbra took in the empty space and sniffed the fresh paint smell.

  ‘I’m freshening it up so I can put it on the market. This was my mother’s place. She died a year ago.’

  ‘Oh Julia, that’s a hard thing.’ Barbra touched her gently on the shoulder and gave her another squeeze. ‘Judging by the state of you, it looks like you two have been working like demons all day.’ She turned to Ry and then Julia. ‘Why don’t you clean up? I’ve brought a spicy beef curry with me. It’s in the car and only needs warming.’

  Dinner with Ry and his mother.

  Julia’s insides shrivelled. Every skerrick of sexy she’d felt a minute ago at the sink, under Ry’s control, his eyes blazing down at her as if he wanted to drag her down onto the floor to relieve his suffering, vanished into an ice cube in the pit of her stomach. The promise of hot and hungry sex had just sloughed away like dirty water down the plughole and all she really wanted to do instead was watch Love Actually and drink copious amounts of wine. All by herself.

  Ry and Barbra were staring at her, waiting for an answer. Barbra stood cheerily by her son’s side, their eyebrows raised in an identical question mark, their blue eyes smiling. There was no mistaking they were family.

  Family. The thought really hit her, for the first time, that she didn’t have one anymore. She didn’t have the security of knowing her own mother was simply a phone call or a plane ticket away. That comfort was gone, forever. The thought stung. Maybe playing happy families with Ry was wrong on a whole range of levels. She’d better decline. Yes, that would be the smart thing to do.

  ‘Please, don’t feel obliged,’ she said to them both. ‘I’m sure you want to spend some time together, just the two of you. It’s been a really long day and although Ry is much too polite to mention it, I think I desperately need a shower.’

  Ry moved to her, one eyebrow raised, a grin on his face that had her heart thumping so wildly in her chest she was sure it was visible from space. He reached out his hand to her, sliding his fingers down her right forearm gently, coaxing. When he moved his hand behind her wrist to take her fingers between his, she shivered. She was pleased and a little flattered that he didn’t seem to want to hide this from his mother, this … whatever it was they were dancing around.

  ‘C’mon,’ he teased, tugging her towards him. ‘You haven’t lived until you’ve tried Mum’s curry. And frankly, Julia, I’ve seen what’s in your fridge. I’d take the offer if I were you.’

  Barbra bent to lift her handbag from the floor. ‘I’d ignore that insult, Julia, and extract your revenge by drinking a lot of his expensive wine.’

  ‘We’ve certainly worked up an appetite, haven’t we, JJ?’ Ry gave her hand a squeeze and bestowed another one of his killer smiles on her.

  She shouldn’t. She really shouldn’t.

  ‘Only if you’re sure it’s not too much trouble.’

  The thought of a decent meal that she hadn’t cooked was way too tantalising and she would kill for a decent glass of wine. All she would have to do to get through the evening was put aside all thoughts about shagging and she would be all right. The presence of Ry’s mother would be a certified passion-killer anyway.

  ‘Of course it’s not too much trouble,’ Barbra scoffed. ‘I’ll go and unpack and freshen up. See you in half an hour?’

  ‘That sounds fantastic.’ Julia smiled and Ry tossed her a sexy grin as they left.

  Oh no. What on earth had she done?

  As soon as the door closed behind them, Julia tore off her clothes and jumped into the shower. She lathered herself from head to toe with one of her mother’s favourite lavender-scented soaps, pushing aside all thoughts about smelling like a nanna. She scrubbed at every splotch of paint on her hands and her arms, shaved her legs and underarms, shampooed and conditioned her hair. As the hot water massaged her head, flattening out the curls and dr
izzling down her shoulders and breasts, she let the thousand jumbled thoughts inside her head have their way with her.

  If Barbra hadn’t arrived when she had, Julia knew there was a very high probability she wouldn’t be in the shower alone right now, and that thought had her belly aching in commiseration. She closed her eyes, letting a picture emerge in her mind of what Ry would look like naked now he was a man. Of course she’d seen him like that before, but they’d been teenagers then, and he looked — and felt — a whole hell of a lot bigger now, in every conceivable way.

  As she arched her neck back to let the hot water hit the crown of her head, she pictured Ry’s face, his penetrating sapphire eyes and his sultry smile. Imagined how he might part those lips and

  show her his white-as-snow teeth just before they nuzzled her neck. And then she remembered his shoulders, broad and tanned, flexing under her touch, framing his muscled arms, like a footballer’s, defined and tanned.

  If he were there in the shower with her, he might be behind her, his hard body pressed against her, slick and wet, his erection strong against her, his big hands cupping her breasts and his thumbs flicking her nipples tight. She turned to face the nozzle and let the water drizzle over her face, lifting her palms to rest on the slippery tiles of the shower stall. Instead of the hard and cool surface under her fingers, she imagined instead his solid, muscled chest, his strapping pecs and corrugated abs, wondered what it would feel like to slide her hands down his belly to his curved obliques and then lower still until she could wrap her fingers around his …

  Ice!

  Her shrieking scared the hell out of her and echoed in the tiny space. Sub-zero bullets of water were spraying out of the showerhead like icicles and Julia contorted herself to stay out of their way.

  She cursed and twisted the taps savagely to stop the flow.

  ‘Damn you, you stupid hot water system!’

  Standing there in the cold silence, unexpectedly freezing her arse off, Julia realised she was now in exactly the right mood to have dinner with Ry and his mother. The sexual energy she’d had buzzing through her body had literally washed down the drain. Funny thing about a cold shower, physically and metaphorically.

  Grabbing a towel, she dried herself hurriedly, bent over to wrap her hair turban-style and flipped her head up.

  Would it really be so bad to sleep with Ry Blackburn? They were both grown-ups, able to make rational decisions about what was and wasn’t good for them. He wasn’t married or taken, she’d finally discovered, and neither was she. The slow burn between them needed to be resolved, she could feel it in her bones, and neither of them was angling for anything more complex than one night together. Were they?

  Would this be something she would regret in the morning? No freaking way. She didn’t want to add up the months it had been since she’d had sex, but it was double figures. A night with Ry would be just what she needed, and then they could go about their lives, nothing more to see here, thank you. How easy could it be? She shook her head and started lecturing herself.

  ‘You think too much, Julia Jones. This is not a crisis that needs managing. For God’s sake, just let go and enjoy yourself.’

  So she brushed her teeth and moisturised, then pondered what to wear from her limited wardrobe. Almost every time Ry had seen her she’d been wearing pyjamas or track pants so she resolved to make the most of the chance to be seen in actual clothes. She dug out her slim cut denims from the bottom of the suitcase, and pulled her boots over them. She found her chocolate cashmere jumper, one she’d bought in a shop in Collins Street in Melbourne, only because the sales assistant had convinced her it matched the exact colour of her eyes. A quick blow-dry, a swipe of mascara and a hint of berry-coloured lipstick and she was ready. Tossing her pashmina around her shoulders, she pulled the front door shut behind her.

  A dozen steps later, and after a confident knock on a heavy door, Ry greeted her with a ravenous grin.

  ‘Come in.’ Good God, she thought and swallowed hard, it’s not hard to like being looked at by someone like him. He’d changed into different denims and a long-sleeved T-shirt, pushed casually up his strong forearms. His hair was still damp and dishevelled and he smelled like soap. She took him in from head to toe and noticed he was barefoot.

  Kill me now. How the hell am I going to keep my hands off him?

  ‘Sorry I’m late, I had a … long shower.’

  He took her in slowly, letting his gaze rest on her lips, then her breasts, and lower. When he noticed her boots, he blew out a breath and clapped a hand to his chest.

  ‘Believe me, I’m the one who’s sorry,’ he whispered conspiratorially. ‘I had no idea she was coming down tonight, I swear.’

  He ushered her in and, to her immense surprise, moved to her, took her in his arms and held her, planting a tender kiss on her cheek. She felt the warm comfort of his embrace and sighed into it, only hesitating for a moment before encircling his waist with her arms in return. It didn’t last as long as either of them wanted it to and, as they released each other, Julia could see his wrinkled brow and a what the hell expression on his face. Her hand flew to her cheek without even thinking about it, touching the spot where his lips had so gently marked her.

  ‘Welcome to the ugliest house in Middle Point.’ Ry held out an arm in a sweeping gesture and she stepped into the main living space.

  Julia glanced around in awe. It was huge. And absolutely stunning. Most of the front part of the house was two storeys, with eight-metre high glass windows opening up the coastal views, and a mezzanine at the rear that curved around towards the front. A bedroom, she imagined, taking advantage of the no-doubt magnificent vistas. On the ground floor, three long white leather sofas were arranged to make the most of the daytime outlook. Strategically placed rugs, nestled between the sofas and underneath a low wooden coffee table, covered the honey-coloured wooden floors. Julia could hear the crackle of an open fire and saw, almost hidden in the wall, a discreet fireplace, already glowing and sparking.

  ‘Hi darling. We’ve just opened a bottle of Ry’s most expensive red wine,’ Barbra called from the kitchen. ‘Can we tempt you?’ The clatter of china and cutlery echoed around the enormous room and Barbra poked her head out from the half-hidden kitchen.

  ‘A red sounds delicious, thanks.’ Julia tugged the pashmina tighter around her, hugging herself as she joined Ry’s mother in the kitchen. Ry poured the wine, and handed her a sparklingly clean glass full of ruby-coloured liquid.

  ‘Thank you.’ She took a quick sip to steady herself, anything to stop her jaw from hitting the floor in gobsmacking wonder of how magnificent his house was. And expensive. With, she was certain, gutters that functioned and showers that didn’t run out of hot water. Yes, the house was flawless. It was a perfect representation of Ry and everything about him, where he’d come from, how hard he must have worked and how successful he was. It sure beat the hell out of her humble place. Her confidence took a tumultuous tumble and she felt tears prick at the back of her eyes.

  ‘So, what do you think of the house?’ Barbra stood at the stove, stirring the contents of a large silver saucepan with a wooden spoon. ‘Isn’t it huge?’

  ‘Yes, it’s big all right.’ Julia was acutely aware of Ry, standing opposite her, his shoulder propped against the immense white wall of cupboards. In one hand he held his wine, the other casually pushed into his pocket. He stared at her with great concentration.

  ‘I think pretentious is the word you’re looking for, Julia. Why on earth does Ry need a place this big? There are four bedrooms and there’s only him. He doesn’t even have a dog!’

  Julia took another glance around the stylish kitchen. ‘I feel like I’m standing in the pages of Vogue Living. All I need is a designer outfit and a pair of very high heels.’ Julia shrugged down at her jeans. ‘Maybe next time.’

  Ry’s face brightened with a crooked smile.

  ‘Oh, it’s a little too Scandinavian for my taste.’ Barbra winked at Julia. ‘I d
on’t want to be worried about trekking sand on the rug or spilling red wine on all that white leather.’

  ‘I am a little worried about Mum spilling that wine,’ he said, looking in Julia’s direction. ‘Once she’s had a few she’s a total slapper.’

  ‘I only spill the good stuff, my darling.’

  It was nice to watch them banter and tease each other. They had such an easy rapport and Julia could see it came from a place of genuine love and acceptance. It was different to simply being related to someone. They seemed to really like each other. For that alone, she was glad she’d come.

  ‘Give me a break, Mum. You know full well that all the furniture came with the place. I didn’t even have to buy sheets. That’s the beauty of someone else’s poor financial planning. But don’t worry I have some ideas. The downstairs will look a whole lot more lived in when I bring down my collection of framed footy jumpers to hang on that wall by the fireplace.’

  Barbra rolled her eyes and Julia laughed at them both. Ry picked up the stack of plates and cutlery Barbra had placed on the kitchen bench and took them over to the dining table. Once he’d set them down, he pulled out one of the white dining chairs and motioned Julia to have a seat.

  ‘Would you like another glass of wine?’

  ‘Yes, thanks. I’d love one.’ She sat down, allowing Ry to push in her chair behind her. He then retrieved the bottle from the kitchen bench, and holding it like a wine waiter, with his thumb inside the dimple at the base of the bottle, he languorously refilled her glass to the halfway mark. She lifted it to her nose.

  ‘What do you think?’ Ry sat down opposite her. Julia took a sip, conscious that he was watching her every move with intense awareness.

  She let the wine roll around her tongue and over her palate.

  ‘Mmm … dark chocolate. Liquorice. Redcurrant.’ She sipped again and scrutinised the complex flavours. ‘Shiraz … no, there’s something else there. A blend?’