Chapter Seven

Sera’s eyes widened. Then she backed away from Murdoch’s touch and smacked a hand over her mouth. And hiccupped again.

“This is your fault!” she said from behind her hand.

“I give you hiccups?” Murdoch asked, the strain at keeping himself in check when he’d gotten so close evident in his throttled voice.

She nodded. Then laughed. And laughed. And laughed.

Her spirit was so wide open, and he felt so stripped bare, it was all he could do not to fall right in.

“You know what’s good for getting rid of hiccups?” he asked, reaching for her again. He ran his thumb over the corner of her mouth, hypnotised by the way her tongue traced the spot, chasing the pleasure.

“If you say ‘boo’,” she said, her laughter falling away, her voice breathy, “I’ll never let you live it down.”

“Hold your breath,” he rumbled.

“Tried that last time.” Hiccup. “Didn’t work.”

His voice was a fraction off a growl as his gaze dropped to her mouth and he said, “Then let me help.”

He used his hand to draw her closer. Close enough to count the colours in her eyes.

There he paused, his nerves crying out for release, for relief. But beneath the near desperate compulsion to taste her, to know her, he knew what he was about to do was wrong.

He needed to give her the chance to tell him no. He was too far past the edge of sense to make that decision for himself.

She hiccupped again but stayed right where she was. Close enough for him to note the savage flare of heat brightening her eyes before her eyelids fluttered closed.

Then she sank in the final inch and with unerring accuracy touched her lips to his.

With a clutch behind his ribs that made breathing impossible, Murdoch stilled. Her lips were cool, chilled from her drink. Until behind them he felt a shot of warmth that was all her.

With the slightest pressure he changed angle. Tasting her. Feeding her. Dragging his lips across hers before sealing them with his own.

Her soft, sweet moan filled him with such a rush of wild heat, he white-knuckled the stool with his spare hand in order to keep in touch with any last shred of self-control.

Sera had no such compunction. One hand whipped out to grab a handful of his shirt, the other sliding around his neck, her nails scraping against skin before settling into his hair.

Then she slipped from the stool, her body leaning into his. When she found a nook between his legs she pressed all the way against him as if she wanted to climb inside his clothes.

Then she tilted her head. Opened her mouth to him. Slid her tongue inside. And the slow, sweet pressure took him to a knife’s edge of pleasure that made him forget everything but her touch, her taste, the warmth filling him from the inside out.

Something beat hard inside of him, something primal. Whump, whump, whump.

He realised a second later it was actually something outside of him. Something slapping him on the leg. And something else licking him on the hand.

“Woof!”

Murdoch drew his lips from Sera’s. She pressed onto her toes, following. When she realised she’d lost him she gripped his shirt like her life depended on it, her forehead dropping to lean against his chest. And she trembled in his arms.

Murdoch opened his eyes to find Dozer sitting at his feet, tongue lolling out of his mouth as his tail wagged happily against Murdoch’s leg.

Then the brick pavers at his feet, his dusty boots, and the chipped wood of the legs of the barstool tugged Murdoch back to the present, reminding him where he was. Who he was. And why kissing Hazel’s girl was the last thing he should have done.

What the hell had become of his self-control? Focus –blinkered concentration – was all that had led him to where he was today. Refusing to let his brother slip off the rails, or let his mother disappear into her grief, he’d taken his family by the scruff of the neck and dragged them into a future without his father at the helm. And they’d gotten there. Whole and mostly okay.

His self-control was his bedrock. It was what had kept him from making mistakes, from letting life get in his way, from letting those he cared for most get hurt.

One touch from this woman and his self-control went right out the window.

As for her... No mother. Single father. Staying friends with all her ex-boyfriends. For all her assertiveness, she was naive.

Her heart practically beat right out of her chest for him. He could feel it pulsing through her even now. So much so it bled right into him.

But he was not the man she thought he was. Sweet? Not even close. He’d been shattered more than once in his life and while he’d put the pieces back together they’d never been the same.

The fact that he wanted her still, despite knowing the time would come when he’d move on without a backward glance, proved it.

“It worked,” she said, her breath brushing over his neck.

When he didn’t respond, his throat too tight to speak, she lifted her head, slowly, as if her whole body was still heavy with desire.

“The hiccups are gone.”

The—? Well what do you know? He’d forgotten about the hiccups. Hell, he’d forgotten himself.

He lifted his eyes to hers. Her hair was ruffled, her cheeks pink, her eyes soft and sleepy. The urge to throw her over his shoulder and take her, anywhere, was absolute.

It took every bit of willpower he could muster to put his hands on her shoulders and press her back down onto the stool. He used the tatters to remove his hands from her and rearrange his seating before he castrated himself.

Sera ran a hand over her hair before her finger came to rest on her bottom lip.

“So that happened,” she said, voice husky and sexy as all get out.

“Yeah,” he said, rubbing a hand up the back of head.

“Whoa,” she said, a deep crease forming above her nose and staying there.

He dropped his hand. “What?”

“That – rubbing your hand up the back of your head. Single dad, remember, with a lot of male friends. That’s a ‘chagrin’ move. It lands somewhere between ‘aw, shucks’ and ‘holy crap’. So which is it?”

He held up both hands to still her. He was still seeing the world edged in red.

She crossed her arms. “That’s fine. I understand. You were caught off guard. All the talk of boyhood dogs...that’s the kind of thing that hits a man right where it matters. I know. Sociology, anthropology, psychology and the rest. Let’s chalk it up to that, shall we?”

She stood, pushed back the stool hard enough it scraped against the floor. Looked around for her bag. Bent down to lift Dozer’s leg, which had somehow curled around the strap, and made to leave.

A loud voice inside Murdoch’s head boomed for him to let her go. He never should have touched her. Never should have even thought about it. Because now he’d had a taste of her, he wanted her more than ever.

“I’ll see you, Murdoch,” she said.

He tilted his chin in response.

She looked at him then, with those big, wild, devastating eyes, as if trying to figure him out.

And again he felt that flash of familiarity. Of understanding. As if she alone saw that he’d been broken and healed all wrong. Maybe because she had, too.

Then she was leaving.

At the last second, his hand darted out and caught her wrist.

Behind the fall of her hair he saw her close her eyes, nostrils flaring as she took a breath before turning back to face him. Go on then, buddy, her expression said. I can take it. I can take it all.

“I wanted to kiss you,” he said, his voice subterranean.

“I got that.”

“But I don’t think we should do it again.”

“Yeah. I got that, too. What I don’t get is why?”

“Working together,” he said by way of leading into the real why.

But she was having none of that. “We’ve managed to avoid one another pretty well so far and can keep doing so.”

He ran his thumb over the soft skin on the inside of her wrist, feeling her pulse, her heat. Even as he said, “Hazel.”

“Yeah,” she said, deflating in a way that made him want to do whatever it took to buoy her up. “Hazel.” Then she looked at him through squinted eyes. “Don’t you get the feeling that she wouldn’t mind?”

“Hazel doesn’t know what she wants right now.”

Sera’s eyebrows slid up her forehead. “She seems pretty sure of herself to me. In fact, the only one who seems unsure, is you.” She poked Murdoch in the chest to punctuate her point.

Then let her finger curl into the neckline of his shirt. She pulled it forward, looked down his top and sighed. Happily. As if she had plans for getting in there and going to town.

It was the final straw.

Attraction, need, and years of self-denial all smashed together inside of him. He tugged, toppling her back into his arms. She went, without a fight, sinking into him with another sigh.

He couldn’t be sure, but his hands felt like they were shaking as he tucked her hair behind both ears. He was damn sure about letting his thumbs linger for a moment on the pulse thumping in her soft throat. Beating hard and strong. Beating for him.

He felt a flash of self-loathing at how much he loved the hitch in her breath, the honeyed sigh that left her body as he touched her.

She was so responsive. So open. And she had no idea what he was capable of. Or more precisely, what he wasn’t.

If he couldn’t give his all to Carly, the woman who’d given him exactly what he’d needed right when he’d needed it most, how could he believe he had it in him to love anyone?

He needed to show Sera this wasn’t some innocent flirtation. He needed her to know how close to the fire they were treading. How dangerous he could be.

Determination burned inside of him as he sank his hand into her hair and kissed her; open mouthed, hot, hard. Expecting surprise, instead he got a pair of arms about his neck. She melted against him, body to body, and held on tight.

And in her kiss, Murdoch lost himself.

There could have been a million people in the beer garden for all he cared. The woman took him someplace other. Where he wasn’t somebody’s boss, or shoulder to cry on. Where he wasn’t protective brother or good son. Where he felt desperate and dangerous, and scorching, fucking hot.

Years of denying this part of himself – the undisciplined, the lawless – sent him tumbling down a deep funnel of desire. It was addictive. She was addictive.

If he was trying to prove something to her, he felt well and truly schooled.

But he’d been there before. Or somewhere close. Needing, taking, losing himself in a woman in order to take some respite from the reality of his life.

That was enough to tug him back from the brink.

Somehow, he managed to unhook himself from her sweet taste. The kiss slowed. Ended. While Murdoch felt like he could have kept going forever. Staying in that lost place.

“I should go,” she whispered, as if that was all the voice she could dredge up. “Before...stuff happens.”

“You should.”

She laughed through her nose. “See you Monday.”

Murdoch hesitated. She didn’t notice. Her wide, hot eyes looked around as if she was trying to remember exactly where she was. “Say bye to Guy for me.”

He nodded.

She tucked the long strap of her bag over her head and made a not too straight path out the side gate.

An age later Murdoch felt a whack on his back.

“Where’s the girl?” Guy asked cheerfully.

“She had to go.”

“Aw, man, you crashed and burned that bad? Please tell me you didn’t give her the whole sob story – how you always need to be the better man, to shoulder the responsibility of the whole world, and why you two can never be?”

Murdoch said nothing.

While Guy extrapolated.

“Ah. It went that well? Is she handsy? Does she do that little sigh thing? I love that.”

Murdoch was off the stool – tip on the bar, Dozer in hand – before Guy said another word.

Guy grinned. Threw a smaller tip on top of Murdoch’s. Called out thanks to the bartender. Jogged to catch up with Murdoch who was halfway out the gate. “Knew you couldn’t help yourself.”

“Help what?”

“Flirt, charm, dazzle.”

“Jesus... I’ve never dazzled in my life.”

“Ah, but you have. You do. I see them watching you – the women in the office, the girls at the cafe, even the spindly architect lady over at Macquarie. Dazzled to a one. It’s in the blood for men such as we.”

Murdoch glanced left. Right. Jogged across the street. “Heaven help me if my blood is anything like yours.”

Guy pointed to his chest. “At least my charms are blatant. They lie in my adorable inability to grow up. Your charm is trickier. Darker. Coloured by how you became a man so young. Add the tragedy that was Carly and blammo – chick bait.” A beat, then, “Speaking of Carly—”

Murdoch’s lip curled. “I wasn’t.”

“When did you meet Sera? A week ago? And at some point between then and now Carly’s name has come up.”

“In passing.”

“Mate, you don’t even talk to me about Carly; in passing or otherwise. You must really like this one.”

Murdoch rubbed a hand up the back of his neck, before noticing and tearing his hand away. “Fine. I like her. Happy?”

“Delirious,” said Guy, finally seeming to relax. “I like her, too.”

Murdoch glared at Guy’s hand, where he was subconsciously scratching away the name of the last girl he’d taken out. “She’s a likeable girl.”

Guy saw the angle of her gaze and grinned. “It’s good that your dark and twisties are out there from the outset. Honesty has to be a good thing.”

“This from a man who dates so many women he has to write their names on his hand so he doesn’t call out the wrong name at the wrong moment.”

Reaching the Ute, Murdoch went to tie Dozer up in the tray but the temperature had dropped fast. He let Dozer in the back of the cab, picked a blanket from the seat and threw it into the foot well where the pup curled himself up and sat, tongue lolling, eyes clear and warm.

Honesty, he thought, barely registering the sound of Guy getting into the passenger front seat. It was honesty had sent Carly careening off in his car that god awful night...

In all honesty Sera deserved better than someone with dark and twisties. The shadows they cast were long and wide. Insurmountable.

He knew. He’d tried. But no matter how many buildings he tore down and built up again in an effort to put things right, it was never enough.

When Sera got home that night it was to find Marcy sitting on her front stoop, a hunch-shouldered creature beneath the warm glow of the porch light.

She adored the girl like a sister, but her head was spinning too much to deal with...well breathing in the correct manner. It was a miracle she’d driven home without veering into a tree.

Not a coy girl, if she wanted to know what a man tasted like she tasted. But she’d been wholly unprepared for the likes of big, gruff Murdoch.

Such a mercurial mix of rugged smiles, intense glances, and irascible words, she had not seen the kiss coming at all. In fact she’d have put money on the fact that Guy had put him up to asking her along at all. And then –

Bam!

The kiss. Kisses. Plural.

The man’s mouth...wow. And his moves...sigh. Because those lips...bliss. Gentle and sure, and then hot and determined. The way he’d held her, wrapping her up like a gift till she’d felt him trembling with the effort of not eating her alive.

Yet beneath the delicious hum that still had her vibrating off the seat was the memory of his back-of-the-head rub, placing his reaction somewhere in between ‘that happened’ and ‘how did I let that happen’.

Which could only mean one thing—she was more into him than he was into her.

She wrapped her arms across the steering wheel.

That was why she dated nice guys, easygoing guys, guys who had no chance of blindsiding her. She’d seen up close and personal how that kind of imbalance panned out.

It was also why she broke things off when they starting getting ideas. And why she’d managed to stay friends with them all. Because she’d never let any of them get close. Not really. Not once.

Sera’s head fell through the cradle of her arms and hit the horn which let out a woozy old beep.

She sat up with a fright to find Marcy waving at her.

She bumped and hustled her way out of the car, then headed to the stoop to plop down next to Marcy. “Hey, kiddo.”

“Hey.” Marcy looked up at her. “So, I quit school today.”

“Marcy, honey, no!” Sera glanced past the rose bushes in the hopes of finding Marcy’s mum’s Mazda in the drive, but as usual it wasn’t there.

Marcy shrugged, barely. “Mum and I had the exit interview with the headmonster this morning.”

Wow. That was fast. Sera shifted so she was facing Marcy, their knees knocking.

Funny how knocking knees with Marcy felt like, well, knocking knees. While knocking knees with Murdoch felt like she’d stuck her toes in an electric socket and... No. Focus!

“We can find you another school,” she said, taking Marcy by the hands. “I can move my hours around.” Hopefully. She’d think about that later. Right now she had to take care of Marcy. “I can take you to school. Pick you up. If your mum’s finding it hard with her work hours.”

“It’s not that. I mean, of course, that’s part of it. But I can count, I can read. I don’t need to be on the debate team to know how to win an argument. I know where I am in the world. What else can it ever teach me other than that kids can be mean and teachers can’t wait for the weekends any more than the rest of us?”

Behind the gumption and tight jaw, Sera saw the flicker of desperation in Marcy’s eyes. Marcy seemed to be holding herself together, just. Sera had never had a mother, at least not long enough to know how to do this. But she’d known Marcy since she was a baby, and she knew how to listen. So she let Marcy talk.

“So, what can I do to help?”

“I want a job, Sera. A real job. Something with pay commensurate to what I deserve. Something with a future.”

Marcy didn’t say it, but it was there, clear beneath her words – she didn’t want to end up like her mother.

Sera heard that. Her hand even went to her bag in the hopes of a secret chocolate stash. Worse than hoping she’d never end up in the same romantic disaster as her dad was the fear of being anything like her mother.

That and the fact the kid had used the word commensurate without a hint of irony, had Sera letting it go.

“What have you got in your hot, little hands,” she said, tilting her chin towards the papers scrunched in Marcy’s white knuckles.

“Résumé.”

“How about I take a look?” Sera helped the girl to her feet, and arm around hers shoulder herded her inside her warm, welcoming home, with every intention of doing whatever it took to get both Marcy back on solid ground.

She could do with some of that too. There was more than enough drama in her life already. No point inviting more.

Kissing a guy she was fast becoming smitten with hit too close to home. Especially when he was having second thoughts about kissing her.

Lesson learned. Time to cool things down.

Thank goodness it was the weekend which gave her more time to convince herself of all that.