Walking the Line (3 page)

“Why don’t I turn it on instead?”

Before I could blink he’d placed his hands
either side of my barstool, effectively pinning me between the bar
and his all-too-close body.

Bamboozled by his nearness, the lust in his
eyes and the intoxicating scent of hard-working male sweat and
woodsy aftershave, I blurted the first thing that popped into my
head.

“I’m thirty-four.”

“You look twenty-four.” He smiled and I
resisted the urge to dip my finger into that captivating dimple.
“My age, in case you needed more ammunition to keep me at arm’s
length.”

He was a decade younger than me? Jeez. Not
that I had any intention of robbing a cradle, even a cute Irish
one, but the fact we were ten years apart merely accentuated the
divide between us.

I dragged in a deep breath, immediately
wishing I hadn’t when my lungs filled with him. “Move.”

He leaned in closer. “Only if you ask
nicely.”

“Don’t make me hurt you.”

It sounded childish, an empty threat that
made him laugh.

“Like to see you try, babe.”

“I just bet you would.” I glanced away,
irritated by the heat flooding my body and rising into my cheeks.
“It’s been a long day, so could you please just shut up and—”

“I’m staying.”

“Excuse me?”

There was ballsy and charming, and then there
was certifiably insane. No way would I have a one-night stand with
a guy I’d only just met; who happened to be my employee.

“Kye said you had a room upstairs you
occasionally rent?” To my relief, he leaned back, releasing me from
my not-totally-unwelcome prison. “I’m low on funds and have a
feeling any cash I earn from here will disappear as fast in that
hostel where I’m staying, so…” He tried one of his signature smiles
and damn if it didn’t melt me a little. “I was hoping you’d help me
out.”

If working alongside Finn had been hell,
having him across the hall from me upstairs would be madness. But
the longer he stared at me with those guileless eyes filled with
hope, the harder it was to say no.

Steeling my resolve against Irish charmers, I
shook my head. “No.”

His mouth quirked into a wry grin. “Need some
time to think about that?”

I paused and tapped my temple pretending to
think. “Uh…the answer’s still no.”

“It could be fun…” He leaned forward again
and this time I laid a hand on his chest and shoved him backwards.
“Or not.” He laughed, the deep reverberations reaching down to my
soul. Where no man would ever touch again.

“Come into the office, I’ll pay you, and you
can go.” I tried to stand, desperate to escape our nearness, but
his knees bumped mine and I ended up almost on the floor.

“Okay, but not before this.”

His arms shot out to steady me, then he
hauled me closer. Close enough I could see his stubble was a shade
lighter than his auburn-blonde hair. Close enough I could see
indigo flecks in his green eyes. Close enough I could see a tiny
scar on the outer corner of his right eyebrow.

“Let me go—”

He kissed me. Snatching my breath. Stealing
my sanity. Sealing my fate.

Because as Finn’s lips moved against mine and
his tongue demanded entrance I was foolishly willing to give, I
could think of nothing but the heat, the pleasure, the desire to
experience this and so much more.

Our teeth clashed a little. Our noses bumped.
It didn’t matter. What Finn lacked in finesse he more than made up
for with enthusiasm. I’d never been ravaged like this before, as if
he couldn’t get enough. It was pretty damn intoxicating for a
hardened cynic.

I started to pull away but he wouldn’t let
me, deepening the kiss until I was consumed. Unable to think of
anything else but being in this moment, somewhat grateful to turn
off the cold, hard, logical part of me and turn on the womanly
desires I’d long suppressed.

“Let me stay,” he murmured against my mouth,
a second before his hand palmed my breast.

I groaned at the same time reality set in,
his plea serving as a douse of icy water.

Of course that’s what the kiss had been
about. A way of sweetening me up.

God, I was such a fool, believing for a
moment that this sweet, young guy could want me. I should know
better by now but looked like my past mistakes had taught me
nothing.

I shoved and he released me, managing to look
guilty and angelic simultaneously. “Get out.”

“Not ‘til you agree to let me stay.”

I shook my head, annoyed by the
uncharacteristic burn of tears behind my eyes. “You’re a piece of
work, thinking one lousy kiss would sway me to change my mind.”

Confusion clouded his expression, before I
glimpsed hurt. “That’s not why I kissed you.”

“Then why did you?”

“Because I’ve wanted to do it all frigging
day, sweetheart, from the moment you strutted out here this
morning.” He grabbed my hand and pressed it against his fly. Yowza.
Impressive bulge. “I want you. And I’m sick of spending my life not
saying what I really want because of what other people may
think.”

All too soon, he released my hand and I
surreptitiously flexed my fingers at the loss of heat. “You won’t
understand but being the perfect son, the eternal nice guy, gets
you frigging nowhere.”

Damn, he’d done it again, honing in on my
weak spot without knowing. Because I did understand how being a
good person got you nowhere. It’s exactly what had happened to me,
why I’d left Dubbo to start afresh in Sydney.

My Mr. Nice had crapped on me from a great
height, leaving my dreams shattered and my life in tatters. Being
naive, trusting and nice sucked, which is why I’d done everything
in my power to be the exact opposite in my new life here. So why
the hell was I contemplating taking a softer approach on this guy,
just because I felt an unwelcome empathy?

“Look, Ellie, you’ve been great to me today,
throwing me a lifeline with this job ‘til I replenish my bank
balance.” He rubbed a hand over his face, before eyeballing me with
his too-honest stare. “You’re hot. That’s why I kissed you. End of
story.”

He pointed upstairs. “As for the room,
consider it your good deed for the day, taking pity on a dumb
schmuck who trusts too easily.”

Hated to admit it, but his bluntness got to
me as much as his charm. And a small part of me really wanted to
believe he kissed me because of the underlying spark between us. I
shouldn’t believe him, I wouldn’t, but what if for the short time
he was in Sydney I could…

“Already done my good deed for the day,
giving you a job in the first place,” I said, my gruffness hiding
how much I liked his refreshing honesty.

He smiled and damned if I didn’t want to kiss
him again. “Haven’t you heard? Do an Irishman a favor, you’ll have
luck for a week. Do him another, and you’ll get really lucky.”

I didn’t need to see the naughty gleam in his
eyes to know how he wanted to get lucky with me.

“You’re a pain in the arse,” I said, shaking
my head, on the verge of admitting defeat. It must’ve shown,
because he grinned like I’d handed him the keys to the Opera
House.

“And you’re the best.” He swooped in and
kissed me on the cheek, before doing an Irish jig that had me
laughing against my better judgment. “I’ll crash here tonight and
get my stuff in the morning.”

“Technically, I haven’t said yes.”

“But you want to.” He cupped my cheek, his
thumb brushing my lower lip and I couldn’t have moved if I wanted
to. “I like you, Ellie Finch.”

As he lowered his head to brush his lips
across mine, a little voice inside my head whispered, ‘I like you
too’.

This time, his kiss was soft and tender, over
before it had begun, leaving me wanting more.

“Go out with me,” he said, snagging my hand.
“A date. Somewhere nice.”

“Thought you were broke?”

The corners of his mouth curved upward.
“Romance doesn’t require a lot of dollars.”

“Romance?” I snorted. “Maybe you were right
about being a dumb schmuck.”

“Don’t you believe in it?”

I blew a raspberry.

“I’ll take that as a no.” He chuckled and
squeezed my hand, surprising me when I realized I hadn’t yanked
away from him yet.

“I don’t date.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Ever?”

“Not interested.”

“In guys?” he asked, a teasing lilt in his
voice.

“In mess.” This time I succeeded in pulling
my hand out of his.

“It’s just a date.” He reached for me again
and I sidestepped.

“And my answer’s still no.”

I headed for the back to lock up before he
could undermine me further with those mischievous eyes and
delectable dimple.

“You know I’ll keep asking, right?” he called
out.

“Not going to change my mind,” I said,
ignoring the way his taunting chuckles made my insides clench with
desire and made me want to yell ‘hell yeah’ to any damn question he
may ask.

FINN

I wiped down the bar, watching Kye hustle a
drunk preppy businessman out the door.

It had been his third eviction of the night
and Ellie didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she had that adoring look
most women had for heroic deeds. Yeah, like being an unofficial
bouncer was so hard.

Kye waited by the front door as the last two
patrons, barely legal women who’d ingested too many Margaritas,
tottered out into the cesspool that was Kings Cross at night.

In the week I’d been here, I’d seen crowds
stream along Darlinghurst Road, particularly between eleven pm and
two am, when Ellie closed on the weekends. She’d casually mentioned
the Cross had the highest murder and crime stats in the city and
with some of the lowlifes I’d seen, I could believe it. What
intrigued me though were the hip inner city types strolling
alongside them, searching for entertainment, good food or a
drink.

The Cross was intriguingly cosmopolitan and
now that I was working here I loved its vibe, perfect for a guy
like me to discover there was more to life than Mum’s weekly Sunday
roast and potato stew.

What I didn’t love was Ellie’s tough outer
shell. I hadn’t been able to wear her down into accepting a date.
In fact, over the last seven days, she’d done her best to avoid me.
When I worked, she didn’t. When I was upstairs, she was out or
hiding away in her apartment, which I gleaned was an unexpected
bonus of staying here; she lived upstairs too. When I spoke to her,
she kept her responses terse.

Gone was the woman who’d kissed me like she
couldn’t get enough, the softer woman who’d given an idiot a
break.

Which meant one thing. I needed to enlist the
help of her golden boy.

“You’re in a bad mood,” I said, as Kye
finished locking up and took a seat at the bar. “That time of the
month?”

“Fuck off.” He pinched the bridge of his
nose. “God, I hate those yuppie pricks.”

Sensing there was more behind Kye’s intense
dislike of guys in suits, I casually asked, “Why?”

“Because they’re all the same.” He scowled.
“They’re like the privileged pricks I went to boarding school with.
The type of rich arseholes who said horrible things about my Mum
because of what she did, about the girls who worked at her
club.”

Kye’s fingers clenched into fists. “Those
idiots didn’t have a clue that most of the women who stripped were
funding their way through uni or single mums trying to make ends
meet.”

He jabbed a finger toward the door. “The
dickheads who come in here, getting liquored up before they head
down the street to a live sex show are those narrow-minded,
judgmental students grown up.” He shook his head. “Makes me so
fucking mad.”

“Easy there, big fella.” I pulled a beer and
slid it across to him. “Sounds like you need this.”

Kye nodded his thanks, but he hadn’t lost the
tightness around his mouth or the clenched jaw. “I get this way
sometimes.”

“Mad at the injustices of the world?”

“Just mad. Crazy angry…” he trailed off, his
fingers wrapped around the glass so tight I wondered if it’d break.
“It’s why I picked up a tennis racket in the first place, to work
off my frustration.”

“How old were you?”

“Thirteen.

I whistled low. “You’ve been an angry
son-of-a-bitch for seven years?”

“Helps on the court,” he said, with a casual
shrug. “Plus no dweeb wants to approach me at the academy.”

I stared at Kye with a newfound respect. He
may be four years younger than me but attitude-wise he was years
ahead. “Tell me this. If you’re so angry all the time, why didn’t
you slug me that first day?”

“Because you’re a pussy.” For the first time
all night, Kye grinned. “Who knows, maybe you’re so soft you
brought out the sensitive new age guy in me?”

I laughed. “Care to put your inner SNAG to
good use?”

“Don’t push your luck,” he said, draining
half his beer in two gulps.

“I need help with Ellie.”

Kye put his beer down, suddenly serious. “Is
she okay?”

I nodded. “She won’t say yes to a date with
me.”

Kye’s mouth stretched into an ear-splitting
grin. “That’s why she’s been hiding away this week?”

“You noticed?”

“Hell yeah. Barely seen her. She’s constantly
busy with replenishing stock or meeting with new distributors or
some crap.”

“You’re not mad?” I started stacking beer
glasses upside down on a tray. “You two are close and I thought you
might have a problem with me dating her.”

Kye shook his head. “Mate, she’s been a
second mum to me and I’d deliver her hogtied at your feet if I
could.”

Relieved that Kye had just confirmed there
was nothing more than friendship between him and Ellie, I chuckled.
“Is that your way of saying she needs a date real bad?”

Kye paused, staring into his beer, as if
contemplating the wisdom of saying more. I waited, trusting the guy
who knew Ellie well to give me some sound advice.