Jill Shalvis - Tangling With Ty

“Dr. Mann.”

He looked her over for a long moment, then stepped back, his eyes ice. “I can make your life hell here. You know that.”

“No, I can make your life hell.” God, she hoped that was true.

She was the youngest doctor on board, the newest, and she wasn’t naive enough to forget there were hidden politics in force, or that Dr. Lincoln Watts had all the strings to pull and she had none.

Still, she kept her head up high as she walked past him and out the doors of the hospital. That she had just now remembered she didn’t have her car made a perfectly bad ending to a perfectly bad day. Spoiling for a fight, with no one to go nose-to-nose with, she stalked over to a pay phone to look for the number of a cab company.

DRAWING AND DESIGNING were what Ty had been born to do. Envision and create, and then move on.

He was good at it, especially the moving on part. He could do it right now, just pack up and go. Hell, he didn’t have anything he couldn’t buy again. In fact, he had moving down to a science. He could pack up and get out of anywhere within a half hour if he had to.

But Taylor’s building, while appearing to be a dump, had huge potential, and the job stirred his creative juices enough that he didn’t feel like thinking about moving on, not yet.

At the moment he stood on the roof, staring down at the third-floor living-room window-Nicole’s window to be exact-trying to figure out a way to pop it out a little to fit the early-1900s traditional facade of the place. The challenge excited him, and he retrieved his notepad from his pocket and hunkered down, yanking the cap off his pen with his teeth so that he could write. He was a page into it when he heard the screech of tires.

Nicole slammed out of a cab, which reminded him he’d fixed her car for her. He took one look at the strut in her walk, at the fury pouring off her in waves, and wondered what had happened to make her look as though she was spoiling for a fight.

Though he still had measurements to take in the rafters, he told himself he could come back later, and shimmied down from the roof to the mock balcony in front of her living-room window. He’d just landed on his feet when he saw her clearly through the glass, stalking in her front door. Slamming it. She saw him immediately, he could tell by the slight narrowing of her eyes-ah, how lovely to be so welcomed.

With a kick-ass attitude he couldn’t miss, she headed toward him, opening the window so fast he thought for a moment she meant to push him down three stories to his death.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded.

“Just thought I’d drop in.”

“Funny,” she said without a smile. “You hang outside windows often?”

“Just yours.” He cocked his head at the unmistakable unhappiness in her gaze. “You going to invite me in?”

“Nope.”

“What if I say please real nice?”

“Oh, fine.” She turned away. “Suit yourself, you’re going to anyway.”

Yes, he was. And her stress drew him like a magnet. He threw a leg over the sill, climbed through and straightened, studying her stiff spine. Coming up behind her, he put his hands on her shoulders.

“Shh,” he said when she flinched, and gently began to knead at the knots she had in her neck. There was a virtual rock quarry there, not to mention the heat of the rage she was so carefully controlling. Given how much of the world she took on her shoulders on a daily basis, her stress level had to be off the charts. He ached for her.

But in spite of his genuine need to soothe and comfort, there was more. Beneath her white shirt he could see a hint of yellow lace bra, and he wondered if her panties matched. “How did you get so tense today, doc?”

“I tend to get that way when some asshole puts his hands on me uninvited.”

He went still.

“Not you,” she said.

Still, Ty suddenly felt very tense himself. “Who put his hands on you uninvited?”

She lifted a slim shoulder. “Just some jerk at work.”

“Your boss again?”

Another lift of her shoulder.

“Goddammit.” Now he was trying to control his temper, but he had to do it. She didn’t want his anger, and she sure as hell didn’t want compassion, so what was he supposed to do with all this unexpected violence? Keeping his voice light took about all he had. “Do I need to go caveman for you and kick some serious butt?”

That startled a laugh out of her, a genuine one, and he relaxed slightly, keeping his hands working on her neck. If she’d been hurt, she wouldn’t be laughing.

“I handled it,” she assured him.

“Yeah, well, I hope you kicked his balls into next week.”

“Nah, just his ego.”

She said this very proudly, and that made him smile. “Good girl.” He dug for more taut muscles, thinking she was so petite beneath his fingers, so…perfect. “Sure I can’t go reinforce it?”

“No way.” She was quiet a moment, biting her lip as he started on a kink at the base of her shoulder blade.

He didn’t want her to bite her lip, he wanted her to let out the helpless moan, wanted her to give him a sign that he was making her feel good, that he was helping her let go of all the fury, but apparently he couldn’t have everything he wanted.

“Ty?” she said softly after a moment.

“Hmm?”

“Thanks.” Turning to face him, her lips curved. “You know, for having caveman tendencies and wanting to go bash in a head and all.”

The way she was looking at him made him want to beat his chest with his fists and howl at the moon. He’d meant to stay away from her. Why the hell hadn’t he stayed away? “Nicole?”

While most of her anger had faded, she still had a good amount of wariness in those jaded eyes. “Yeah?”

“I’m going to put my hands on you.”

“You already have.”

“More hands.”

“Why are you announcing this?”

“So you don’t kick my balls or ego into next week, warrior princess.” Cupping her face, he tilted it up. Slowly. Giving her plenty of time to settle in.

Or back away.

She didn’t back away, but neither did she settle in. Instead, she stiffened, just a little, just enough to break his heart. “No, don’t get all tight again.” His lips whispered against hers. “I’m going to kiss you now. Say yes.”

“Ty-”

“Yes or no, Nicole. I don’t want you to mistake me for any other asshole doing this without permission.”

“I-I know who you are.”

“Yes or no.”

“Yes. Okay? Yes! Put your hands on me.” Her arms snaked up around his neck. Fisted in his hair. “Kiss it all away, Ty. Can you do that?”

“Oh yeah.” His hands slid from her face to her hips and he pulled her close. “I can do that.”

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.