“Good night, Miss Moppet.” Hunkering down, he tweaked her cheek.
She responded by hugging him fiercely. “Night, night. See you tomorrow.”
Tyler led her away, her heart panging at her daughter’s last words. Would she see Luke tomorrow? Somehow she was nervous of the night ahead. She read Chloe two books more than she usually did at bedtime and waited until she was soundly asleep before quitting the bedroom.
Luke’s tall figure loomed in the narrow hallway. Tyler squeaked. “You startled me.”
“Sorry,” he murmured. Stepping closer, he nodded toward Chloe’s closed bedroom door. “Everything okay in there?”
“Sure.” She began to slide away, but he simply closed the gap between them. She stood there, her breathing accelerating as his nearness befuddled her brain. “Uh, do you want coffee or something?”
“I’ll take the something.” Reaching out, he ran his fingers from the top of her shoulder down the length of her arm. “I’ve been waiting patiently all day for this moment.”
The sensuous heat in his gaze thrilled her, but then she reminded herself of the little girl sleeping just a few meters away. “L-Luke, I don’t think this is a good idea.” The tremor in her voice surprised her. Until now, she hadn’t realized how stirred up she was.
A faint line appeared on his forehead. His fingers stilled around her wrist but didn’t fall away. “Oh? Care to tell me why?”
The caress of his skin against hers scattered her wits. She cleared her throat. What were her arguments again? A second ago they’d been so solid, but now they’d blown away. “I don’t want Chloe getting too attached to you,” she murmured. “I don’t want her to be disappointed when you move away.”
His clever black eyes scrutinized her. “So you never let her form attachments simply because you don’t want her hurt?”
Tyler drew in a breath. It hadn’t escaped her notice that he hadn’t contradicted her about his leaving. She’d said when, not if. “I’m her only parent. I have to protect her.”
“Yes, and you do a damn fine job of that.” He circled her wrist, his firm fingers locating her jumping pulse. “But Tyler, you can’t cut off her friendships just because you assume they won’t last.”
She couldn’t think straight when he literally had his finger on her pulse. Was she too overprotective of Chloe? Wasn’t it a good thing that she’d opened up so naturally with Luke? “It’s just that I’m not used to her connecting so easily with a man that I, uh, I”
“Have the hots for?” His lips quirked teasingly.
Heat slicked through her. His mouth was so sensual and inviting. Memories of what that mouth had done to her last night roiled her blood. She shuffled her feet, trying to rein in her bawdy urges.
“Yeah, okay, you’re hot.”
Laughter sparkled in his eyes. “Whoa, I’d better not let your compliments go to my head.”
She couldn’t help chuckling. “You should know I don’t hand out these compliments to just anyone.”
“Well, I have some very complimentary things to say to you too, hot thing.”
Winding his free arm around her waist, he drew her slowly in to him. His fingers laced with hers as he bent his head and began to whisper in her ear. The honeyed words slipped from his tongue and poured into her, as potent as the most intimate caress, coupling with his body twined around hers to reduce her to a melting pot of desire. She found herself leaning in, the better to soak in his verbal lovemaking. Oh boy, the things he could do with that mouth of his
As he continued his murmuring, he pressed her up against the wall and roamed his hands over her curves. Soon, she couldn’t stop herself. She wrapped one leg around his and popped the top button of his shirt, angling closer to brush her lips against his skin.
Luke’s voice faltered. “We should probably carry this on in your bedroom, angel,” he muttered, lifting his head to stare into her eyes.
The question in his expression was too frank to miss. It was up to her. If she wanted, she could turn him down and send him away. If she did, she’d protect her daughter and herself. That would be the sensible thing to do. But hell, she’d never been the practical type. She’d always been bold, ready to follow her passions. And right now all her passions were screaming out for Luke.
“I hope you ate enough at dinner.” She hitched her other leg around him, causing him to cup his hands around her bum. “’Cause you’re going to need plenty of energy tonight.”
His face darkened with lust. “You’re on. Let’s see who tires first.”
Oh, she did love a challenge.
Luke pulled up at the Rocking Horse Motel, wishing he were anywhere but here. Worn cinder block buildings formed a U-shape around a central courtyard. His dad’s aging Mercedes sat outside one of the nondescript units. Hauling in a breath, he rapped on the faded door.
“Son, it’s good to see you.” Patrick Maguire greeted him with an unctuous smile. He was more informally dressed, without his jacket or tie, though he still had on a white dress shirt, pressed trousers, and polished shoes.
Luke grunted a greeting and reluctantly stepped inside. The unit was a nightmare of striped wallpaper, floral nylon bedspreads, and poo-brown carpet. An aura of greasy apathy hung over the joint. Luke had dossed down in some pretty dodgy places, but this motel gave him the creeps.
“How about a cup of tea?” his father eagerly offered.
Luke glanced at the chipped mugs and stained jug on the sideboard and shook his head. “Thanks, but I’m good.”
His father sank down on the vinyl sofa, so Luke had no choice but to take the matching plastic armchair. The armrests were sticky, and it smelled.
“Let’s cut to the chase,” Luke said, impatient to get the visit over. “Are you really destitute?”
His father lurched back, eyebrows lifting. “That’s a harsh term to use.”
“How would you describe your circumstances, then?”
Patrick clasped and unclasped his fingers in his lap. “I’ve had a run of bad luck. People I thought were trustworthy turned out to be otherwise. Investments I thought were fireproof failed. And then I became ill. You can’t control that.”
In other words, everyone else was to blame, and Patrick was just a victim of bad luck. “You drank and smoked,” Luke pointed out. “You couldn’t control that?”
“A man has to have some pleasures. Otherwise what’s the point in living?”
Luke clenched the grubby armrests. “What exactly do you want from me? And tell me the plain truth, or I’ll walk out of here.”
Patrick sighed and crossed his legs. “I hear you inherited the house from your mother.”
As the meaning behind his father’s words dawned on him, Luke gaped. “Don’t tell me you want to move into Mum’s house!”
“I don’t see why not. You don’t live there, and it’s just standing empty.”
A growl rumbled in his chest. “And you think you can just wander in and put your feet up? In the same house you left Mum with five kids to look after? Do you know how she struggled to pay the rent? How she juggled two jobs and went without just to keep a roof over our heads? And now you have the gall to assume you can weasel back in when it suits you.” He heaved himself to his feet, glowering at his father. “Helen was right. To hell with you.”
As he brushed past the sofa, his father grasped at his hand. “Waitdon’t go.”
Luke stared down. The old man was quivering, genuine fear obliterating the habitual overconfidence. The hands that clung to him were spotted and frail, the black eyes that gazed up at him were moist and abject. Pain tore at Luke’s insides. He longed to fling his father’s hold aside and storm out of this depressing motel unit. No one would blame him if he did.
No one except himself.
Gritting his teeth, he snapped, “What?”
“I-I’ve got nowhere else to go.” His father kneaded his hands together. “I thought—I thought one of the twins would step in, but it seems they can’t help me at the moment.”
So he’d been trying to butter up Rosie and Mags, but in a crisis the sisters would always band together. Which meant he was the only hope for his father. But if he helped him, he’d cop some flak from his sisters.
“There is no way in hell I’m letting you live in Mum’s house.” He braced his hands on his hips to emphasize his point.
“It was just a suggestion.” Patrick seemed to shrivel on the cracked sofa.
How can this person be my parent? Luke wondered. This pathetic, opportunistic liar was his father, the same man who’d given him his dark looks, his height, and, most perplexingly, his love of words and reading. Shaking his head, he walked across the room, unwilling to dwell on the similarities they shared.
He turned back to his father. “Do you want to settle around here or go back to Sydney?”
“This town is as good as anywhere else. I have a few old friends I might look up.”
“If you’re set on living around here, I’ll see about renting a place for you.”
Patrick sat up, hopeful. “What kind of place?”