Bad Girl Bill (Atlantic Divide) (3 page)

Rosie’s slight weight was plucked from her back as Jack swooped in to the rescue.

“Hey, I managed to get away,” he said as he cuddled his niece and gave his wife a kiss on the mouth.

Bill staggered to her feet, dragged in air, and hoped no one noticed she’d nearly been the victim of kindergarten-induced asphyxiation. No such luck. The blond guy watched from across the other side of the kitchen, his mouth quirked up at one side. How he’d managed to get a cup of coffee in his hand quite so quick, she wasn’t sure. She didn’t think she’d passed out, but maybe he lived in a different time zone. Perhaps she’d simply been occupied longer than she’d realized. Not that she really liked kids.

At ease in Kate and Jack’s house, Bill opened the fridge and took out beers to hand them around to the guys in the room as Kate opened a bottle of white wine and poured a glass each for herself and Lydia. Bill elected to drink beer straight from the bottle just like the boys, like she always had.

As Kate shooed everyone out from under her feet into the garden, the kids headed straight for the play area and the four men followed. Torn for a moment, Bill hesitated. As a rule she would have gone with the boys. This time, she decided to hang around inside with Kate and Lydia. She needed to step back from the strange sensation she got around their brother. Although the truth was, she had started to enjoy female companionship for the first time in her life. She felt clumsy and uncouth around these two dainty, little women, but unlike the local girls, they never tried to make her feel inferior. They accepted her for what she was.

She loved her cousins Jack and Sam and their new families, but she felt like a fish out of water when they were all together. She’d never marched to the same tune. Not that they drew attention to the fact, but she felt it.

Dressed in uniform and on duty with Jack, she was confident and sure of herself. There wasn’t a single incident she couldn’t deal with professionally, not a moment’s hesitation if she needed to see an old boy across the road, arrest someone, draw her gun, or shoot a criminal. In a domestic situation, she was shit.

On an intellectual level, she knew it came from years of being around the girls she grew up with who wanted to befriend her because she had five older brothers. From the age of eight, the older girls used to come around and pretend they liked her and when the boys weren’t watching they’d be mean bitches. So she never made friends and wished desperately she was a boy. After all, she dressed like them in their hand-me-down clothes, acted like them, drank like them, and swore like them. Swore better than them.

Not that she swore in front of Kate and Lydia. Well she tried not to. Although Kate, being a doctor, knew how to turn the air blue herself on occasion, but Bill had never heard a bad word come out of Lydia’s mouth.

She looked at them both now as they sipped their wine and prepared dinner, chatting companionably. She knew they included her in their chatter, but she realized she’d ignored them, absorbed in her own thoughts. She rubbed her hands on her jeans legs and glanced around to see if anything needed doing.

Kate had stacked piles of carrots, potatoes, and broccoli along one side of the counter, enough to feed the small army currently outside. Bill stepped forward, palmed a short, sharp knife, and automatically started to deal with the vegetables. It occurred to her this was how it had been the last few times she had eaten with them. Kate left her to it. Bill was the fastest dispatcher of vegetables in the house, including the boys. She could unzip a potato, chop it, and have it in the pan boiling it to death before you could sneeze. Knife handling was a talent of hers. When strength mattered in an all-boy household and you were the youngest, weakest, and female, you needed to develop a talent they could all admire, and fast.

Taking a slug of her beer, she glanced at the two ladies.

“Thanks for bringing Michael over, Bill. Jack thought he was going to be caught up with the mayor a lot longer than he was.” Kate smiled at her, and Bill tilted her beer bottle at her in acknowledgement, and then turned and started in on the vegetables again.

“That’s okay. I just hope nobody saw him hanging off the back of my Harley. Otherwise he’s going to catch some crap from the boys.”

The knife flew across the chopping board, rapidly sliced the carrots as Bill smiled to herself.

“Really, why’s that?” Lydia asked.

Bill swept the carrots into the pan, put the knife down, and turned to face them.

“It’s a wonder he got on my bike. I tell you, I’ve never known anyone so scared. He hung on so tight, I thought he’d squeeze the life out of me…” Her laughter stumbled to a halt when she caught Lydia’s sideways glance at Kate.

“What?” She narrowed her eyes, pinned the women with a stare. “Tell me.”

“Well…” Lydia began, looking for support from her sister, but getting none as Kate leaned back against the kitchen unit, took a slow sip of her wine, and calmly met Bill’s eyes.

“Michael’s had his own motorbike since he was eighteen. He has a Ducati back home.”

Bill felt her eyes bug out of her head as she clapped a hand over her mouth. Breath raced through her nose as she stared in disbelief at the women in front of her. She couldn’t believe what she heard. There was no way. Why the hell would he have made out he was frightened? She blinked, remembered his arms tight around her. Blinked again.

“You’re kidding me, right?”

His sisters stared back at her, puzzled looks on their faces. She drew in another heavy breath, and every moment of that bike ride flashed through head. She didn’t think she could breathe. Every movement he made, his legs had squeezed a little too tight. “Dear God.” His arms had clung. “He made me think he was scared. He…” She imitated his arms wrapped around her. Kate and Lydia stared, speechless, “…held on real tight.”

“Oops,” Kate murmured, “I think you might be mistaken. He knows what he’s doing on a bike.”

She thought of his hot, hard erection pressed into her, and her face flamed with the memory. Possibly not the best thing to discuss with his sisters.

“No mistake, he made some real strange noises, like…” She remembered the grunts, the groans. “Holy shit.” She gasped. “He suckered me. I know he’s your brother, but…he enjoyed it, the dirty, rotten, lecherous…”

Furious, she glared first at one sister, and then the other. Lydia appeared a little concerned, Kate was trying not to laugh, but they both watched her.

“They sent me in for more beer.” Michael smiled as he swung through the doorway, all signs of a stutter had evaporated. “Hey, what’s going on?” he asked as he glanced around the room.

Kate grabbed a four-pack out of the fridge with one hand and Lydia’s arm with the other and backed her out of the kitchen, as she sniggered over her shoulder.

“We’ll see to the beers. I think Bill might want a word.”

Michael walked toward her, a confused look on his face, but she hadn’t moved. She could still feel her eyes almost popping out of her head as she stared at him, one hand covered her mouth as she tried not to scream at him.

“Are you all right?”

She moved across the room at him fast, her fist came in with a neat uppercut, under his ribs, and as he doubled over, she stomped with all her might on his foot. While he howled with pain, she moved in to knee him in the balls, and lucky for him he was fast enough as he blocked her knee with his thigh.

The movement jarred both of them, but it didn’t stop her as she came at him again, and her fist shot toward his chin. He blocked it, enveloped it in his hand, and with a swift movement, had her backed against the opposite wall using her straight arm as his defense, his hands held her fists, his body pinned hers.

“What the hell is this about?” he demanded as he looked into her raging-hot face, his own was cold, his eyes deep and dangerous.

“Your sisters just told me you’re a biker,” she hissed into his face. “You messed with me, you made me think you were scared on the back of my bike, and all the time you just wanted a cheap grope.” She panted.

He went utterly still. He stared at her for a long moment before he answered.

“I did not mess with you. You never asked if I’d been on the back of a bike before. I did not want a cheap grope, nor did I get one,” he enunciated, clear and precise. It wasn’t an apology, merely a statement of facts. “I only put my arms around you when we got to the dirt track, so I didn’t get flung off your bike.”

She heaved a breath, pushed her face close to his. “You liar, you pressed yourself up against me; I felt you rub up against my butt.” His eyebrows shot up, green eyes surprised. “You squeezed your thighs around me.” Her face was in his, eye to eye, furious, and she watched close as his gaze dipped to her lips.

“I never rubbed against you, and my thighs were the only things holding me on that bike.” His voice was quiet, placid, and she relaxed a little, felt his hands loosen on hers. “You do drive like a lunatic, though.” He finished with a sly smile that kicked her annoyance back up again. Nose to nose, she lifted her chin a notch. There was no way she would back down.

“You did so rub against me, I could feel you, you were…you were…” She paused, heaved in a breath, as she realized where she was about to go with this.

“I was what?” he demanded. He looked deep into her eyes, and his eyebrows twitched. Her own fury had dissipated, but the intensity was still there. She saw his small smile and realized he was amused as her face heated, and she squirmed in embarrassment.

“You were hard!” she accused.

Laughter spluttered out of him, and then he threw back his head and guffawed. His arms relaxed as he let go of her fist and rested his warm hands on either side of her hips.

“Bloody hell, it’s not surprising I was hard. I had a beautiful woman between my legs who jiggled me for the best part of eight miles. It wasn’t deliberate for Christ’s sake. It was the way you rode that bike. Your sweet, little backside moved around and almost gave me friction burns.”

“Oh!” Her face burned as she stared back at him. Stupid—she felt so stupid and naive like she’d accused him of some lewd act, and it had been nothing. Nothing to him. Her mistake.

“I guess you think I’m stupid.” Jaw clenched, she watched as his amusement morphed into a long, slow, sexy smile.

“Hell no, I liked being jiggled. I liked having you between my thighs. I liked having you rub up against me. Feel free to do it anytime you want.” His voice mellowed, deepened. “But I like it this way ’round too. Face-to-face. Do you want to try rubbing up against me a little more?” He slowly drew her closer, allowed his long fingers to slide around and spread across her backside. He leaned in nice and slow. She felt his breath on her face, and her eyes met his sea-green fathomless ones, and he inched closer, tilting his head slightly to the side. Her lips parted; she held her breath.

Mac flung open the kitchen door so hard it bounced off the wall, and Michael whipped round as though he’d been shot, his body positioned directly in front of hers, like he was protecting her.

“The girls thought there might be a situation in here.” Mac’s voice boomed. “Need any help?” He directed his question to her, his left eyebrow raised as he noted her pressed against the opposite wall as Michael’s body entirely covered his view of her almost like he protected her from some danger. Bill peeped over his shoulder. Michael stepped away, dropping his hands to his side.

“Mac, if there was a
situation
, with the right hook she has, I’m damned sure your little sister could sort it out all on her own.” The look of irritation he shot over his shoulder let her know exactly how he felt.

Turning his attention back to Mac, she heard him take a long, calming breath as he ran his fingers through his hair. “I need a shower before dinner.” He walked out of the kitchen without a backward glance.

“What was that about?”

“Nothing, Mac. Leave it alone. It was a mistake, that’s all. My mistake.” Bill grumbled and swaggered out of the room with as much bravado as she could muster.

* * * *

Mac seated Jack one side of Michael and himself on the other at dinner, possibly to keep a close eye on him, possibly to intimidate him—but definitely to make sure he didn’t get too close to his little sister again. Mistake or not, she knew he thought something was going on.

Bill was diagonally opposite, casting Michael and her brother wary looks every so often. She had Rosie to her left and Aaron on her right.

They were giggling again, and she wasn’t quite sure why, except for the fact she’d just picked up Aaron’s cola, instead of her beer and accidentally snorted it out of her nose when she realized her mistake. The kids howled with laughter while she rubbed the back of her hand across her mouth and looked around for something to wipe her nose with. She guessed Kate wouldn’t want her to use the pristine white tablecloth, so she wiped her hands on her jeans, noticing dark cola stains splashed all down her thighs anyway.

She ducked her head in embarrassment and surreptitiously glanced around as the kids continued to chortle to each other, while the rest of the adults continued with their own conversations. Only the green-eyed blond watched with a lazy stillness. And Mac observed the blond with cautious hostility.

She knew what her brother was thinking,
Here’s someone to protect my sister from so she doesn’t get hurt.
But it made Bill wonder what Michael thought, with his cool expression and his close attention. She felt as though he hadn’t stopped watching her since the moment they met. He made her feel uncomfortable and a little naive really. She felt as though she’d made a huge issue out of nothing and now every time she glanced over, his gaze was on her, and she could feel the heat creep up her neck into her cheeks. Wriggling in her chair, Bill glanced around the rest of the table.

She realized no one else was taking any notice of her, and it seemed to give Lydia a break when she entertained the kids as she had been. They weren’t so bad, and they were easy to keep happy just as long as she was willing to make a fool of herself. She’d found it so easy to act the clown all her life, it covered up what she really felt. So she turned her attention back to them and ignored the man on the other side of the table.