Aussie Rules Read online

  Yeah.

  Unfortunately, he wasn’t always smart…

  Mel had a simple plan for the evening—relaxation. After a two-mile run on the beach, she called for Chinese to be delivered in an hour, then stripped, stepped into her bathtub, and let out a long sigh. Ah, the power of hot, hot water and bubble bath. She shampooed her hair, added a desperately needed ten-minute deep conditioner, then stuffed her hair beneath a shower cap. She lathered up a leg to shave, and the doorbell rang.

  Naturally.

  The Chinese food was early. Grumbling, she got out of the tub with one leg still lathered, wrapped her torso in a towel and went to the door. “Thanks,” she said as she pulled the door open a crack, then froze.

  Not Chinese.

  Bo stood there in loose black jeans and a snug black T-shirt, looking darker than sin and just as tempting, a fat file tucked beneath one arm, a look on his face that…Well, she couldn’t miss the temper, but she could have resisted it. But she couldn’t miss or resist the sadness.

  She reminded herself that she didn’t care. She even tried to shut the door on him but as she already knew, he had the reflexes of a cat, and he simply reached out and slapped a hand on the wood. With heart-stopping trouble in his gaze, he looked her over. “Is it Halloween?”

  “What?”

  He touched the cap on her head and she remembered. Naked except for her towel and the lovely plastic shower cap on her head.

  “Sexy,” he said.

  She shifted her gaze to the ceiling. Dear God, are you listening? I know it’s been awhile, but if you could open up a huge hole and swallow me up, I’d appreciate it.

  But no big hole gobbled her up. “I’m conditioning my hair.”

  “Ah,” he said with a little smile.

  Shaving gel plopped from her unshaved leg to the ground.

  Bo raised a brow.

  “And I’m shaving,” she said through her teeth. “Actually, I’m bathing, so if you’ll—”

  He continued to hold the door open, looking her over slowly, making her squirm. Why was it that this man always managed to see her at her most absolute worst?

  “You should see your face,” he said, amused.

  Yep, this was how she looked while planning murder. His.

  “Let me in, darlin’.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “What if I said I have something you’re going to want to see?”

  “There is nothing of yours I want to see.”

  That had his grin spreading, the rat fink bastard. “You are such a liar.”

  Unfortunately true. She wanted to tell him to go to hell, but his smile had faded, and there was something about his expression now, an utter solemnity, a knowledge…

  And misery.

  And though he was extremely careful to try to hide it, he was also mad.

  Oh, God. What now? Could there be more? And what would he say to all she hadn’t told him, that though she couldn’t hand him Sally’s location, or even her phone number, she—or maybe it had been him, or some combination of both—had stirred things up enough that someone was now sending her threatening e-mails and letters…

  She’d attribute them to spam, but her spam was usually along the lines of “lengthen your penis” or “grow your hair back”…not leave it alone, or back off or else…

  She tightened her grip on her towel. Wracked her brain for a good reason to turn him away when everything inside her knew she had to face this.

  Him.

  “You going to let me in, Mel?”

  Funny thing was, she’d already let him inside her heart, at least a foot, or two. He just didn’t know it. So in the end, she let him all the way in, stepping aside to once again let the big bad wolf into her house of straw.

  Chapter 15

  With difficulty, Bo tore his gaze off Mel’s extremely hot, extremely wet body and closed his mouth so he didn’t start noticeably drooling. He stepped over the threshold of her cottage and looked around to distract himself.

  Her place was tiny, but well cared for. An overstuffed loveseat faced the small woodstove with a potted fern on either side. There were pictures on the walls, Al’s no doubt; some prints, some actual photographs, all of airplanes except the personal photos, though there were few of those. She had one of herself and Dimi mugging for the camera inside a biplane. Another of Charlene and Al painting Sunshine Café, both covered in yellow paint. And yet another of the woman who’d changed Bo’s life forever.

  Sally. Dark-haired, blue-eyed, smiling, gorgeous, vivacious, suck-’em-in-and-kill-’em Sally. With a tic in his jaw, he turned away. If he was being fair, he could understand that Mel didn’t know the real Sally. And in that same fairness, he also understood that once he gave her the proof of the real Sally, she wasn’t going to be happy with him for showing her that the only woman who’d ever been there for her, the only positive adult influence she’d had as a child, was a criminal.

  Throw rugs dotted the scarred wood floor. There was lace at the windows, which surprised him. She’d made herself a home here away from the airport, probably her first. “Look at that,” he murmured. “You have a secret Martha Stewart thing going on.”

  She rolled her eyes, but it didn’t hide her blush.

  God, she was sweet. In a sort of porcupine way. And she was also so damned sexy scowling at him, he could hardly stand it.

  “Any idiot can go to Target or Wal-Mart,” she muttered.

  “Don’t ruin it for me.” He smiled, which was almost unbelievable considering why he’d come. “I like picturing you as a homebody. You pining away for a hubby and kids, Warrior Mel?”

  “Shut up.” She tightened her towel and stalked toward the bathroom, from which wafted steam and the scent of bubble bath. “I’ll be right—Hey!” she squeaked as he snagged her by the back of her towel and slowly but inexorably pulled her back against him.

  “Hey yourself,” he said softly, enjoying very much the feel of her backside as she wriggled, which had the predictable effect, and when she felt it, she went still as stone.

  Oh, yeah, darlin’, he thought. That’s exactly what you think it is. He tossed the file down to the couch to wrap both arms around her, holding her stiff spine to his chest as he put his mouth to the sweet spot on the back of her neck and nuzzled. “You smell good.”

  “I—” This broke off with a low, sexy moan that escaped her lips when he gently sank his teeth into the side of her throat. “Stop that.”

  “Okay, I’ll stop that.” He turned her around and tugged off the ridiculous shower cap, ignoring the shaving gel soaking into the legs of his pants as he ran a finger down between her breasts to loosen her towel.

  She slapped at his hand, but weakly, he noted. “Don’t look at me. I have conditioner in my hair and I need to shave.”

  “Call the fashion police,” he said. “What’s the punishment, do you think? The rest of the night in bed without dinner?” Christ, what was he doing? He’d come for something else entirely but now this was all he wanted. She was all he wanted.

  “Bo, stop. I mean, look at me, I’m a mess—”

  “I’m looking. I don’t see a mess.” She was gorgeous. He captured her fingers in his and brought them up to his mouth.

  “This is ridiculous,” she whispered, then staring at his mouth as he sucked on one of her fingers.

  “You didn’t think it was stupid the other night.”

  “It’s just some sort of physical thing.”

  “No kidding, it’s physical.” He was currently hard enough to pound nails, and she hadn’t even touched him. And she smelled like heaven. To get more of it, he bent his head and sniffed at her like a puppy. He dragged his mouth over her bare shoulder, touching her skin with his tongue.

  Her fingers dug into his arms as a low but undeniable moan escaped her. Thrilling to the sound, he sank his teeth into her.

  “Bo,” she hissed.

  “Right here.”

  She lifted her head and for one beat they sta