Tangling With Ty

6

DRAWING AND DESIGNING were what Ty had been born to do. Envision and create, and then move on.

He was good at it, especially the moving on part. He could do it right now, just pack up and go. Hell, he didn’t have anything he couldn’t buy again. In fact, he had moving down to a science. He could pack up and get out of anywhere within a half hour if he had to.

But Taylor’s building, while appearing to be a dump, had huge potential, and the job stirred his creative juices enough that he didn’t feel like thinking about moving on, not yet.

At the moment he stood on the roof, staring down at the third-floor living-room window-Nicole’s window to be exact-trying to figure out a way to pop it out a little to fit the early-1900s traditional facade of the place. The challenge excited him, and he retrieved his notepad from his pocket and hunkered down, yanking the cap off his pen with his teeth so that he could write. He was a page into it when he heard the screech of tires.

Nicole slammed out of a cab, which reminded him he’d fixed her car for her. He took one look at the strut in her walk, at the fury pouring off her in waves, and wondered what had happened to make her look as though she was spoiling for a fight.

Though he still had measurements to take in the rafters, he told himself he could come back later, and shimmied down from the roof to the mock balcony in front of her living-room window. He’d just landed on his feet when he saw her clearly through the glass, stalking in her front door. Slamming it. She saw him immediately, he could tell by the slight narrowing of her eyes-ah, how lovely to be so welcomed.

With a kick-ass attitude he couldn’t miss, she headed toward him, opening the window so fast he thought for a moment she meant to push him down three stories to his death.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded.

“Just thought I’d drop in.”

“Funny,” she said without a smile. “You hang outside windows often?”

“Just yours.” He cocked his head at the unmistakable unhappiness in her gaze. “You going to invite me in?”

“Nope.”

“What if I say please real nice?”

“Oh, fine.” She turned away. “Suit yourself, you’re going to anyway.”

Yes, he was. And her stress drew him like a magnet. He threw a leg over the sill, climbed through and straightened, studying her stiff spine. Coming up behind her, he put his hands on her shoulders.

“Shh,” he said when she flinched, and gently began to knead at the knots she had in her neck. There was a virtual rock quarry there, not to mention the heat of the rage she was so carefully controlling. Given how much of the world she took on her shoulders on a daily basis, her stress level had to be off the charts. He ached for her.

But in spite of his genuine need to soothe and comfort, there was more. Beneath her white shirt he could see a hint of yellow lace bra, and he wondered if her panties matched. “How did you get so tense today, doc?”

“I tend to get that way when some asshole puts his hands on me uninvited.”

He went still.

“Not you,” she said.

Still, Ty suddenly felt very tense himself. “Who put his hands on you uninvited?”

She lifted a slim shoulder. “Just some jerk at work.”

“Your boss again?”

Another lift of her shoulder.

“Goddammit.” Now he was trying to control his temper, but he had to do it. She didn’t want his anger, and she sure as hell didn’t want compassion, so what was he supposed to do with all this unexpected violence? Keeping his voice light took about all he had. “Do I need to go caveman for you and kick some serious butt?”

That startled a laugh out of her, a genuine one, and he relaxed slightly, keeping his hands working on her neck. If she’d been hurt, she wouldn’t be laughing.

“I handled it,” she assured him.

“Yeah, well, I hope you kicked his balls into next week.”

“Nah, just his ego.”

She said this very proudly, and that made him smile. “Good girl.” He dug for more taut muscles, thinking she was so petite beneath his fingers, so…perfect. “Sure I can’t go reinforce it?”

“No way.” She was quiet a moment, biting her lip as he started on a kink at the base of her shoulder blade.

He didn’t want her to bite her lip, he wanted her to let out the helpless moan, wanted her to give him a sign that he was making her feel good, that he was helping her let go of all the fury, but apparently he couldn’t have everything he wanted.

“Ty?” she said softly after a moment.

“Hmm?”

“Thanks.” Turning to face him, her lips curved. “You know, for having caveman tendencies and wanting to go bash in a head and all.”

The way she was looking at him made him want to beat his chest with his fists and howl at the moon. He’d meant to stay away from her. Why the hell hadn’t he stayed away? “Nicole?”

While most of her anger had faded, she still had a good amount of wariness in those jaded eyes. “Yeah?”

“I’m going to put my hands on you.”

“You already have.”

“More hands.”

“Why are you announcing this?”

“So you don’t kick my balls or ego into next week, warrior princess.” Cupping her face, he tilted it up. Slowly. Giving her plenty of time to settle in.

Or back away.

She didn’t back away, but neither did she settle in. Instead, she stiffened, just a little, just enough to break his heart. “No, don’t get all tight again.” His lips whispered against hers. “I’m going to kiss you now. Say yes.”

“Ty-”

“Yes or no, Nicole. I don’t want you to mistake me for any other asshole doing this without permission.”

“I-I know who you are.”

“Yes or no.”

“Yes. Okay? Yes! Put your hands on me.” Her arms snaked up around his neck. Fisted in his hair. “Kiss it all away, Ty. Can you do that?”

“Oh yeah.” His hands slid from her face to her hips and he pulled her close. “I can do that.”

She went up on her tiptoes to meet him halfway as he covered her mouth with his, cutting off anything else hanging between them, of which there was plenty. With a rough, appreciative groan, he invaded her mouth with one sure glide of his tongue, figuring she’d either kiss him back or belt him one.

She kissed him back. In fact, she mewled and arched her body to his like a cat in heat. His arms banded around her more tightly, lifting her off the ground as his mouth slashed across hers in a fiery kiss that only left him needing more, more, more. And when they finally broke apart, she staggered back, placed a hand over her heart and licked her wet lips. “What the hell was that?”

“Not sure.” He hauled her back against him. “Let’s try it again and see if we can figure it out.”

“Hmm.” Then they were kissing again, tongues caressing and plundering, hands touching anywhere they could land as they ate each other up.

Ty had never felt anything as fast and as hot and as combustive as this. Her hands pushed up his shirt. He shoved up her light shirt. She kicked off her shoes, went up on her tiptoes and hooked a leg around his hip, straining against the biggest erection he’d ever sported.

Never letting go of her mouth, he had his hands up her shirt and she had hers on his zipper when the beep, beep, beep of her pager nearly jerked his heart right out of his chest. “Don’t listen,” he said against her lips, gripping her at the waist to hold her still.

With a soft little moan, she opened her eyes. “I have to.”

“Nicole-”

“I have to.” Stepping back, she licked her lips again, as if she needed that very last taste of him, and pulled down her shirt with fingers that trembled. She avoided his gaze as she went looking for the offending beeper. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let it go that far.”

“There were two of us inhaling each other.”

“Still, I should have-” She looked down at the pager.

“Let me guess. You have to go.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.” He backed away, shoving his hands in his pockets to keep them off her. “Goodbye, Nicole.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me, too.” And he left before she could count off each and every reason why they should never have let anything like this happen.

He already knew every single one of them.

He just couldn’t remember why they mattered.

SOMETIME IN THE MIDDLE of the night Ty gave up staring at the ceiling and went into his office. Not one to waste precious hours, he sat at his desk and decided he’d work off the restlessness.

Okay, horniness.

He should have kept his hands and mouth to himself. Should have, would have, could have.

Regrets? Is that what he felt, when he’d promised himself to never have them? Never to look back? Live life to its fullest, he’d always told himself. Get everything you want, and smile all the way to the bank as you do it.

It turned out it was no easier to work with a hard-on than it had been to sleep with one. So he turned on his computer, where he found another e-mail from his friendly stranger.

Dear Ty Patrick O’Grady of Dublin,

You asked who I am. Of course you want to know! I’m Margaret Mary Mulligan of Dublin. I’m twenty-four years of age, and I’m also the daughter of Anne Mary Mulligan.

Which makes me your half sister.

Actually, I’m not sure about the half part because I don’t know who my father is. Our mother, as you probably know, is dead.

You’re my only family. I want to know you. Please write back.

Margaret Mary

Ty stared at the e-mail for so long the words leaped and jumped in front of him. A sister? He had a sister?

Was it even possible?

He thought of his mother, professional trouble-seeker, professional man-screwer, and knew it was entirely possible. With a sigh, he hit Reply.

Dear Margaret Mary…

Ty sat there, fingers poised over the keys, and couldn’t figure out what he wanted to say. How are you? Too formal.

How about What do you want from me? Nah, too defensive.

Dear Margaret Mary. Of Dublin.

He stopped to laugh. So formal, this mystery half sister. But then his smile faded. This could only bring trouble and rotten memories, neither of which he wanted. Thinking that, he typed:

Why now? Why me?

Besides, there could be a dozen of us for all I know.

Maybe you should try one of them.

Ty Patrick O’Grady

He hit Send, then sat there staring at nothing for who knew how long, until his computer beeped, indicating an incoming e-mail.

“So you can’t sleep either,” he murmured and leaned forward.

Dear Ty,

I’m so glad you wrote. You have questions, questions are good.

But there is no one else. She told me herself before she died. Not that her word ever meant anything, but on this, I want to believe her.

It’s just you and me.

Aren’t you even curious?

Margaret Mary

Curious? Hell, no. He’d rather not think about his past at all. He’d rather look around him and see where he was right this moment. How far he’d come. And he’d come pretty damn far.

It’s just you and me.

Damn her for that, for putting it into words so simply. So strongly. Clearly she didn’t relish being alone, as he did.

She was young, very young, and probably had idealistic hopes about a family around her, hopes he’d never entertained for himself.

Ah, hell. He hit Reply.

Margaret Mary,

If you’re looking for family to be a comfort, forget it. I didn’t get the comfort gene. If you’re looking for a handout, you’d have better luck with our mum herself, dead or otherwise.

Best leave it alone.

Ty Patrick O’Grady

He hit Send. It was the right thing to do, he’d been on his own so long he didn’t have any business opening his life to another person.

He was a loner, through and through. No family, no long-term lover. And if he gave a fleeting thought to what it might be like to be different, to let Margaret Mary in, to let Nicole in, he let it go.

Not his thing. Besides, he didn’t know how to let anyone in.

Since he couldn’t seem to sleep or entertain himself, he figured he might as well start his day. That meant pulling out the plans he was working up for Taylor’s building.

It was the attic that was concerning him today, as Taylor had fond hopes of a place to store all the antiques she couldn’t seem to stop collecting. The last time he’d been there, he’d gotten distracted by Nicole.

Seeing as Nicole was no doubt killing herself at work, he decided the crack of dawn was a perfectly fine time to crawl around in the attic to his heart’s content without disturbing a soul.

And he did just that, getting filthy in the process as he crawled through spiderwebs the size of his car. Straddling a beam, he pulled out his pad, and was happily making notes when he heard a door open. The sound came so close, he looked around, baffled, until he realized it was the apartment door directly beneath him.

Nicole’s.

Because of the way the building was built-on a slight incline-the roof was really on two different tiers. On the higher level was the attic. Right next to that, but a full level below, was the loft apartment. There were two ways into the attic, the way he’d come in, through the third-floor hallway, or through a trap door at the far corner of Nicole’s living room.

Due to a vicious storm only a few months ago, when a tree had fallen through the bedroom area of the loft, much of that part of the roof had been redone. But not the attic portion, which was still incredibly rickety. Reaching down, he opened the trap door.

It made a loud creaking sound, but Nicole, standing just inside her front door, never looked up. Ty realized this was because she had on a set of headphones, which, given the volume of her singing-so off-key he had to smile-meant she couldn’t hear anything.

Before he could attract her attention, she’d kicked off her shoes, then crossed her arms in front of her and whipped off her top.

She wore a tiger-striped bra-did she have any idea how sexy her secret lingerie fetish was?-and then put her hands to the button on her pants. Oh, boy. “Nicole!” He was barely braced on the studs now, but he leaned over way farther than he should, knowing he had to make her see him or she’d be good and pissed by the time she was naked, and generally he liked his women soft and smiling and mewling with lust when they were naked.

Still singing, she shucked her pants, kicking them across the room with an abandon that normally would have made him grin.

Her panties did not match her bra. They were purple, lacy and very, very tiny. Turning in circles in a little shimmy of a dance, she headed toward her bedroom, giving him a good, long look at her backside as she wriggled and shook.

“Oh man,” he whispered to himself, and leaned out as far as he dared. “Nicole-”

He crashed right through the ceiling. The air whipped his face; the floor rushed up to greet him, but all he saw was a tiger-striped bra and purple lace panties.

NOT MUCH SCARED Nicole. But Ty falling through her ceiling shook her to the core. By the time she reached him, which took longer than it should have since she wasted five seconds just staring at the huge mass of him on her floor, he hadn’t budged.

“Oh my God, Ty. Ty.”

He was on his side, face gray through all the dry-wall dust. Dropping to her knees at his hip, she leaned over him. “Ty, can you hear me?”

Nothing. But she could see his chest rising and falling, and she nearly sobbed in relief. “Okay. You’re going to be okay. You are.”

Surging up, she grabbed her portable phone, dialed for an ambulance; calm, cool, in control. As she always was in an emergency.

Then she looked down at the big, handsome, far-too-still man on her floor and wanted to fall apart. Her hands shook as she gently put them on him. What to do? God, what to do? Every ounce of medical training she’d ever had flew right out the window. “Damn it, get it together, Nicole.” She ran her hands down his limbs, frowning at his right ankle. Not broken, she didn’t think, but already swollen. Then she got to his right side, and the possibly cracked ribs, and had to take a deep, calming breath. “You’re going to be okay,” she whispered, having no idea which of them she was talking to.

There was a huge knot forming on his head, and he hadn’t regained consciousness. “Ty.” She cupped his face, his beautiful, too-still face, with the long dark lashes and strong, sharp jaw. “Come on, Ty. Come back to me. Wake up.” She checked his pupils. Uneven. Concussion, if he was lucky. “Please, Ty. Please wake up. For me, do it for me, okay? Wake up and I’ll-”

He groaned. Coughed. Rolled from his side to his back and groaned again, eyes still closed. “Shh, darlin’,” he said in a rough whisper. “It’s too early to be yelling.”

“Ty.” Her eyes burned with the relief. “You’re back.”

“You…didn’t finish your sentence. What will…you do…if I wake up?”

That he could joke, even now, horrified her. Then he tried to sit up, his face in a grimace of agony as he held his head.

“Don’t move,” she said in a rush, helping him lie back. He’d turned green. “You might have broken something, at the very least your big fat head. Don’t,” she repeated when he kept trying. “Just hang on a damn second.”

“Shh,” he begged, eyes still closed. “No noise.”

“Are you nauseous?”

He cracked one eye open, ran it over her, then closed it again. “I am, yes. Though I refuse to puke on the very lovely underwear you’re wearing. You’re so pretty, Nicole.” He sighed, then went utterly still and silent, terrifying her.

“Ty!”

“Yeah, here.” He didn’t open his eyes. “Did you know that when you say my name in that soft, sexy voice of yours, I almost wish we were going to go for it. You and me.”

“Ty-” But a sudden pounding at her front door had her leaping up, reaching for her clothes. “Hold on!” she called, hopping back into her pants.

“Nicole?” Taylor knocked louder. “Honey, what was that crash?”

Nicole pulled on her shirt and hauled open the door. “Ty fell through my ceiling. The ambulance is coming. Oh, God, Taylor, look at him. He hit his head, he’s concussed, and I can’t remember what to do!”

Taylor grabbed her hand and ran toward Ty. “Oh, you poor, big, sexy baby. You’re not going to be sick all over my floor, are you?”

Ty choked out a laugh that ended on a groan and some fairly inventive bad words.

“Don’t make him talk,” Nicole begged, ridiculously panicked. It was just a bump on the noggin. Lord knew, his head was hard enough to handle it.

Taylor grabbed Nicole’s shoulders and gave her a little shake. “I’ll go wait for the ambulance. Stay with him.” She hugged her hard. “It’ll be okay, honey.”

“That’s my line,” Nicole whispered as Taylor ran out, leaving her with the big, bad, broken Ty lying at her feet.