Tangling With Ty Read online

  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—