Real Men Don't Quit (4 page)

“Yeah, really.” Ally rubbed at a spot as if her life depended on it.

The shop was temporarily empty, and Chloe was at her corner table playing with Mr. Piggy. Tyler touched her friend on the shoulder. “We both know you’re a hopeless liar. Now tell me what’s bothering you. Is it the wedding?”

Sighing, Ally balled up her cloth and nodded. “Don’t tell Nate, but I want to postpone it.”

Tyler drew in a breath. “But why? We’ve got the business up and running. Now’s a perfect time for your wedding.”

“I just think we should wait until next year.”

“Next year! I bet Nate wouldn’t be happy to hear that.”

“He’d be crushed.” Ally fiddled with her large engagement ring and her expression clouded. “Oh, Tyler,” she suddenly burst out. “I’m afraid. What if Nate doesn’t show up at the wedding?”

Tyler gaped at her friend. “But honey, that man is crazy in love with you! He’d never do something like that. He worships the ground you walk on.”

“I know he loves me. I know it’s stupid to doubt him.” Ally bit her lip. “I’m being completely irrational, but I can’t stop these awful thoughts entering my head…”

Tyler let out a sigh. She knew why these doubts were plaguing her friend. “Nate is not and never will be Seth,” she said softly but firmly. Seth was the man Ally had once been engaged to, until he’d jilted her on her wedding day by not turning up at the church. And ironically, the man who had fronted up and told her the horrible truth had been none other than Nate.

“I’ve never seen any man more in love with a woman,” Tyler continued. She wasn’t lying. Sometimes the besotted look Nate wore every time he saw his beloved was a bit much for Tyler. At other times she found herself envious of her friend for being so lucky. Not everyone was destined to find her perfect partner.

“I know he loves me and would never purposely let me down.” A tortured expression lingered on Ally’s face. “I’m desperate to marry him. It’s just this wedding. Somehow I wish I could fast-forward my life to the point right after the minister says, ‘I now pronounce you husband and wife.’ If I could just do that, I’d be able to skip all this prewedding anxiety and enjoy becoming Nate’s wife.”

“Well, short of putting you in a medically induced coma, there’s no avoiding the next few weeks.”

“Hmm. How much does this coma cost?”

Tyler aimed a mock punch at Ally’s arm. “You’re being silly. Nate loves you, and your wedding is going to be perfect. Trust me.”

“You promise?”

“Promise.” Tyler squeezed her friend’s arm. “And besides, you can’t go into a coma because I need you. Chloe’s babysitter has come down with shingles. She’ll be out of action for weeks.”

“Oh, heavens. Not to worry. I’ll come in and cover your morning shifts for you.”

“That’s very generous of you, and I might take you up on your offer once in a while, but we’re partners. I’m not shirking my responsibilities. I’m just letting you know Chloe might be around the store more than usual, unless I can find a temporary babysitter I can trust.”

Tyler knew plenty of people, but there weren’t too many she trusted to look after Chloe. Aunt Daphne would help where she could, but she had a busy job herself and not much time to spare.

Ally nodded sympathetically. “It’s a pity you don’t have more family around you can rely on.”

Tyler shrugged. “I prefer relying on myself. That way I don’t get disappointed.” She’d learned that long ago when her mother had dumped her in foster care without explanation and left town. Two years later, Aunt Daphne arrived and rescued her, giving her a loving home and stability. But the damage had been done. Tyler knew what it was like to be left with total strangers, knew firsthand the slow, soul-eating torture of wondering if her mother would ever show up again. With Chloe’s dad out of the picture, Tyler knew the hurt that must cause her little daughter, so she compensated—maybe overcompensated—by vowing to herself that she’d never put Chloe through the same ordeal she’d endured.

Chapter Three

Kingsley Jeffers was a tosser.

Luke had decided that after yet another long, fruitless day in which this made-up man, with whom he’d spent so many months, sulked in some dark recess of his imagination and refused to come out and play. Perhaps his creative well had truly run dry this time. Perhaps his talent was only of middling size. Perhaps he was one of those writers who only had one true book in him.

But deep down he knew the real reason:
Kinglsey Jeffers’s Journey
was a pretentious book, despite the universal praise. In fact, the acclaim only increased his aversion to his bestseller. The painful realization had been a while in coming. Now he was stuck with the character he’d created, a character he was beginning to dislike with a vengeance.

In the middle of the morning, he’d received another call from Helen, the eldest of his four older sisters. She was still annoyed that he’d quit their mother’s house without telling her, but he’d simply responded with noncommittal grunts.

“I saw Jennifer on TV last night.” Helen had lobbed that into the conversation. “She looked great. Did a fantastic interview with that actor.”

Both his mother and his eldest sister had been thrilled when he and the TV star had gotten together. He and Jennifer had been friends since university, and she’d met his family several times. He hadn’t seen her in a while until last year when she’d interviewed him, and their friendship had suddenly morphed into something more. He hadn’t given their relationship much thought—it was nice and easy and enjoyable, and with Jennifer devoted to her career and he itinerant, it seemed a given the affair was strictly temporary.

A couple of months on, he’d been shocked to discover how serious she was. Seemed she’d always carried a torch for him and wanted him to marry her and start a family, even though they hadn’t even been living together. He didn’t like hurting her or losing her friendship, but he wasn’t going to be steamrollered into something he’d always avoided. The split had been dignified if not amicable. Too bad Jennifer had caught the flu at the time of the breakup and the gossip magazines had gone into a frenzy about her supposed “breakdown.” The blather had intensified the guilt he felt over injuring someone he cared about, and all because of a misunderstanding of the situation.

As soon as he’d managed to shake his sister off the phone, it rang again. The second caller had been his agent, Elliot Elliston, who’d been just as unsubtle as his sister. “When am I going to see that damn manuscript?” he’d griped as soon as Luke answered the call. “You’ve already missed the first deadline by eight months. People are starting to ask questions. Publishing’s a small business. You don’t want to get a bad reputation.”

It couldn’t be a coincidence that Luke’s writer’s block had started around the same time as his mother’s sudden death. The two were inextricably linked. But Luke had no intention of discussing this with anyone, least of all his hard-nosed agent. Instead, he’d assured Elliot that since he now had the peace and quiet of his weekender, it would be no problem completing the hundred-thousand-word manuscript he’d been contracted to deliver.

Now, at four in the afternoon, he stretched out his back and closed his laptop so he wouldn’t have to see that empty screen. This was only his second day at Elliot’s place, and he was still settling in, he told himself. The writing would pick up soon.

He fetched a can of Coke from the fridge and stepped out onto the deck for a breather. The air shimmered with heat, crinkling the hairs on his arms. He’d been inside all day and hadn’t realized how hot it was, but now he could feel a faint sheen building on the back of his neck. The trees drooped, and when he walked onto the lawn, the grass was dry and crisp beneath his bare feet.

From across the fence separating the neighboring property came a young voice, sounding cross. “But he promised,” Chloe said with a moan.

Tyler murmured something back, which Luke couldn’t make out.

“He did too, Mumma!” He had no problem hearing that.

“Oh, baby, we can’t go disturbing him. Don’t you like this pool? Look, it has dolphins on it.”

“But he pinkie promised,” Chloe insisted.

Luke walked across the lawn and stuck his head over the fence to see mother and daughter facing off, a forlorn, blowup plastic pool half-filled with water listing between them. Both females glanced up at him.

“I’m afraid I did pinkie promise Chloe she could swim in the pool,” he said. “You can come over now if you like.”

The little girl let out a squeal, but Tyler didn’t seem as delighted. “I know you only did that to lure her away. I’m not holding you to it. Besides, Chloe needs to learn that when I say ‘no’ I mean it.” She aimed a stern look at her daughter.

But Chloe was too busy hopping with excitement. “Ooh, let’s go swimming.”

Luke concentrated on Tyler. He hadn’t seen her since yesterday morning when he’d hightailed it out of her shop to get away from that bookstore woman. He didn’t know if Tyler had had her car fixed or caught the bus this morning because he’d kept himself inside all day. Not that he hadn’t thought about her from time to time. Maybe a bit too much. When Kingsley Jeffers wouldn’t be coaxed out, it was far easier to let his thoughts wander to his attractive new neighbor. Easier, and far more pleasurable.

Now, he found himself appreciating her anew. In her raggedy shorts and casual T-shirt, with her hair scrunched into a messy ponytail, she was dressed for comfort but still managed to appear provocative. Or maybe that was his hormones misinterpreting.

“I was going to take a swim myself anyway,” he said as Tyler continued to look doubtful. “So you wouldn’t be disturbing me at all.” At least, not in the way he’d implied. But there were a whole lot of other ways she could disturb him.

“Okay, then.” She smiled. “We’ll be over there in a few.”

Five minutes later, Luke had put on his board shorts and was in the pool when Tyler and Chloe arrived. Chloe, dressed in a pink bathing flotation suit and carrying a bucketful of plastic dolls, tugged at her mother’s hand impatiently, her red curls bouncing. Refusing to be hurried, Tyler removed the towels draped over her shoulders and dropped them on a chair before sauntering up to the edge of the pool with her daughter.

Luke’s throat dried up as he took in the full glory of Tyler’s half-naked body. It wasn’t that her fuchsia bikini was particularly skimpy, but there was something in the way she wore it that got his juices working. He couldn’t take his eyes off her centerfold figure—ripe breasts, trim waist, curvaceous hips, graceful legs. Most women with such assets wouldn’t be able to stop flaunting themselves, but with Tyler there was no parading herself and no fake modesty, either. Instead, she carried an air of breezy self-assurance, as if to say,
Sure, I’m sexy, but get over it
.

Still riveted, he watched as she jumped into the pool and held out her arms to Chloe, who was dancing excitedly on the edge. With an ear-splitting squeal, the girl launched herself at Tyler, and both of them submerged beneath the water. Chloe bobbed up first, laughing and kicking, then Tyler rose, water cascading over her body. Rivulets trickled on her slick skin, licking her cleavage, tightening the bikini around her breasts. Blood thudded in Luke’s veins, and before he knew it he had a big problem in his shorts.
Hell
. This was so inappropriate. Thank God he was chest-deep in water. He moved farther away from them into the deep end, trying to think of glaciers, ice, penguins, anything to take his mind off the gorgeous woman in his pool.

Mercifully, he regained control of himself. Determined to keep his thoughts clean, he swam back to them and focused his attention on Chloe. At first she was a little shy of him, but soon he gained her confidence by allowing her to dunk him, and they horsed around the water for ages. Eventually the girl decided her plastic dolls were more fun and climbed out to play with them.

Tyler was sitting on the edge of the pool, long legs dangling in the water. “You’re great with Chloe,” she said as he waded up to her. “She’s usually not so free with people she’s just met.”

“I’ve had experience.” He shrugged, trying not to stare at her bikini.

Her eyebrows rose. “You’ve got children, too?”

“No, nephews and nieces. Eight of ’em.”

“Eight! That’s impressive.”

“I have four older sisters.”

She grinned at him. “That’s some advantage.”

“How so?”

“They must have taught you a thing or two about women.”

“I know about PMS and chocolate and waxing versus shaving, if that’s what you mean.” He smiled wryly.

“There you go, then.” Using her feet, she flicked some water at him. “All vital inside information on females.”

Yes, thanks to his sisters, he’d never had a problem relating to women. He’d also never wanted to settle down with one. But that wasn’t the fault of his sisters. That was all his own decision.

“Yeah, I’ve been handed the secret insider’s guide to women.” He altered his tone, deepening it to fake solemnity. “But with great power comes great responsibility.”

She laughed and kicked some more water at him, and for a moment he was sorely tempted to reach out and grasp her ankle. What would she feel like in his grip? How would she react if he slid his hand all the way up to the silken skin of her inner thigh? Before he knew it, his arm was stretching toward her.

“Mumma, I’m hungry,” Chloe said.

Luke sucked in a breath and dropped his arm back in the water.

Tyler squinted at the setting sun. “Oh, wow, I didn’t realize how late it was. Come on, Chloe, we’d better get going.” She rose to her feet, all long legs and wet skin and damp hair trailing over her shoulders. “Why don’t you come over for dinner?”

He realized she was talking to him. “Dinner?”

“Yes, dinner.” A teasing smile hovered on her lips. “As a thank-you for letting us use your pool.” She paused, then added, “I’m not a bad cook, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

That
wasn’t what worried him. He was more worried that he’d never rid his memory of her smile, her eyes, and that damn purple-red bikini clinging to her curves. That was what concerned him.

Being around Tyler turned him into a slave to his carnal appetites, and he didn’t like the loss of control. On the other hand, he hadn’t eaten all day, and the only things in his kitchen were some sourdough bread and a bag of apples. Besides, if he said no, he’d spend the rest of the evening wondering what was going on next door and regretting his decision.

“Sure, that would be great,” he said.

“Good.” She wrapped a beach towel around Chloe and picked her up before turning back to Luke. “Give me an hour to prepare and get this little one cleaned up.”

He watched them walk off. Chloe had her arms wrapped tightly around her mother’s neck, but she peeled one away to wave at Luke, giving him a tired little grin. He waved back before slowly climbing out of the pool and reaching for his towel. In the dry wind, the trees rustled as if sighing at his lack of judgment.

An hour later, he walked next door. Tyler’s place was an old timber cottage sitting in a straggling, overgrown garden. Shrubs and trees flourished unchecked, while a vigorous jasmine vine threatened to smother the front veranda. The house was well overdue a lick of paint but somehow retained a weathered charm. As he stepped onto the porch, several unusually shaped wind chimes—definitely Tyler’s work—tinkled in the evening breeze.

On his second knock, Tyler opened the door and ushered him inside. Some of the chaos of yesterday morning had gone, but her living room was still a jungle. The place wasn’t grubby or squalid, but there was so much stuff—couches, armchairs, cushions, rugs, side tables, lamps, cabinets. Yesterday he’d been too fired up to take stock, but now, as he stood there surrounded by a kaleidoscope of textures and shapes, he felt as if he could barely breathe.

“I vacuumed the whole house this afternoon,” Tyler said as she bundled a throw rug into a trunk.

Instantly he felt bad. She’d cottoned onto his reaction so easily. “Uh, you’re making me feel like a dick now.”

“Don’t be. I know my place seems cluttered to most people.” She gestured around the room. “I’m the first to admit I’ve got enough stuff to open a secondhand store.”

“Well, you do have some nice pieces.” He wasn’t just flattering her. Though worn and inexpensive, her furniture had an unusual charm. There was just too much of it, in his opinion.

“Thanks.” She grinned. “I think they suit this old house, too.”

“You renting here?”

She nodded, making a wry face. “Yup. There’s no way I could afford to buy this place. It’s the worst house on the best street. Luckily, my landlord isn’t interested in renovating or selling to make a quick buck.” She hooked her thumb over her shoulder. “Come into the kitchen. Chloe’s finishing her dinner before she goes to bed.”

The little girl was at the kitchen table, one hand propping up her drooping mop of curls while she picked at a plate of vegetables. As soon as she caught sight of Luke, she perked up and smiled. “Hi, Mr. Luke! Can you sit with me?”

“How could I resist such an offer?” He pulled out a chair and sat next to her.

“Do you like carrots?” She held one up temptingly.

“Chloe,” Tyler warned. “Those carrots are for you.”

“But he wants them. Don’tcha?” The little girl aimed her blue eyes at him.

“Hmm, well, I’d love to eat your carrots,” Luke said to her, “but these are special carrots your mum cooked just for you. They’re X-ray-vision carrots to help you see better in the dark.”

She wrinkled up her nose as if she didn’t quite believe him, then sighed and popped the carrot into her mouth. “All finished, Mumma,” she mumbled, holding up her plate.

There were still two carrots left, but Tyler kissed her daughter’s hair and lifted her up. “Well done. Bedtime, now. Say good night to Mr. Luke.” Glancing at him, she added, “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Night, night, Mr. Luke.” Chloe waved tiredly at Luke as Tyler carried her out the kitchen.

“Good night, Little Miss Moppet.”