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‘Close your eyes for me,’ she whispered, her voice seductively low and filled with emotion. ‘Can you still see me?’
He had to clear his throat to speak. ‘I can always see you. I told you that once before.’
Since he’d met her, she was all he could see—in the daylight, when he couldn’t stop looking at her, and when he was in the darkness, whether awake or on the fringes of sleep. She was all he saw.
He lifted one of her hands and set it flat against his chest, covering it with his own. ‘I see you with this. Your hair is a really deep chestnut, and it does this sexy, curly thing all around your face. Your eyes remind me of autumn. And you’re smiling that way that makes it look like you’re lit up from inside. I see you.’
Trish Wylie tried various careers before eventually fulfilling her dream of writing. Years spent working in the music industry, in promotions, and teaching little kids about ponies gave her plenty of opportunity to study life and the people around her. Which, in Trish’s opinion, is a pretty good study course for writing! Living in Ireland, Trish balances her time between writing and horses. If you get to spend your days doing things you love, then she thinks that’s not doing too badly. You can contact Trish at www.trishwylie.com
Praise for Trish Wylie…
‘Trish Wylie’s BRIDE OF THE EMERALD ISLE
is charming, witty, and has a beautiful, unusual setting.
It also has fantastic characters—particularly the
wounded but wonderful Garrett.’
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews
Trish also writes for Modern Heat™…
‘WHITE-HOT is absolutely wonderful!
Trish Wylie’s spellbinding tale will tickle your funny
bone and tug at your heartstrings. Featuring characters
which leap off the pages, realistic dialogue, sweet
romance, sizzling sex scenes, electrifying sexual
tension and dramatic emotional intensity,
WHITE-HOT! is feel-good romance at its finest!’
—Cataromance.com
Dear Reader
A good friend of mine reminded me of something important this year—to be grateful for the good stuff when it’s here. How many of us dedicate the same amount of time to appreciating the good things as we do focussing on the bad? Maybe it’s because the bad can be so very overwhelming, and over the years life simply wears us down. Yet it’s the good stuff that makes the difference, don’t you think?
We need to laugh as often as possible, take a deep breath of air to remind us we’re alive, look around us and see the beauty in things, spend time doing what makes us happy. Most of all we need never to get so old or so jaded that we stop dreaming or believing in moments of magic.
One of the things I love the absolute most about writing and reading romance is the fact it shows we all still believe in love in the twenty-first century. We may have busier lives, might be more cynical, but people still reach out for love in all its forms: in friends, in family, in a man and a woman who can make it through the rough times because life is richer together than it is apart. That’s a little bit of magic right there.
So if there’s one thing you bring with you out of Ronan and Kerry’s story I hope it’s a little reminder to make the most of the good stuff and any moment of magic that comes your way. Grab hold of it, celebrate it, savour it, and that way even in times of darkness you’ll still be able to see the light. Just like Ronan will with Kerry by his side.
Hs & Ks
Trish
BY
TRISH WYLIE
CHAPTER ONE
KERRY DOYLE liked to consider herself a fairly patient woman. After all, she’d waited years to make her dream trip; researched, planned, scheduled everything to the nth degree. But if the man in the seat next to her poked her with his elbow one more time she thought she just might scream. She’d specifically allowed extra money for better seats on the longer flights for the added personal space that came with them. And it was a seven-hour flight from Dublin to New York—including the change at Shannon—one that was going to feel like twice that in the longer leg they were currently on if he didn’t quit it soon.
And he’d shown so much promise in the ‘scenery’ department before he sat down too…
He poked her again, causing Kerry to let a sigh escape. It wasn’t much of a poke—none of them had been—but even so…
‘Sorry.’
It was a step in the right direction. ‘Maybe if you sat a little more to the left?’
He turned in his seat, smiling at her with the kind of smile that probably worked wonders with the majority of women no matter how much he irritated them first. ‘The stewardess already got me twice with the trolley. I’m not exactly built for these wee seats.’
All right, he had a point there. She hadn’t been able to help noticing him when he got on the plane, especially when towering over her to place his bag in the overhead compartment. And he wasn’t just scenic, he was tall—very tall. Not that she’d be able to guess accurately until she stood up and compared him to her own five seven, but if she had to hazard a guess she’d say he was well and truly over six feet tall. Add that to broad shoulders, a wide chest and muscled upper arms and even the fact that the rest of him seemed fairly lean wasn’t going to help him fit into the space the airline had allocated, was it?
So she’d allow him that. She’d even sympathize a little, inwardly. ‘No, you’re not—but I’m just getting a little concerned about attempting to take a drink later in the flight if you bump me at the wrong time.’
It might also affect her choice of what she asked the stewardess for—after all, coffee and tea left stains. And the wardrobe she had with her had to last a long time. As always with Kerry it came down to practicalities—it was just the way her mind worked.
She accompanied her words with a polite smile in an attempt not to make an adversary for the rest of the flight, and then found herself suddenly distracted from further coherent thought by the way he examined her face before he replied.
Nice eyes. In fact he had great eyes. A pale blue made even paler when framed with thick dark lashes, which in turn highlighted the dark pools of his irises. Then there were shards of darker blue and white threaded through the paler blue— as if an artist’s watercolour brush had been dipped into a glass of water and the colour hadn’t quite mixed in yet. It was an unusual combination, and most definitely the kind of eyes a girl wouldn’t forget in a hurry…
Kerry almost sighed again. For different reasons…
‘Maybe we should set up some kind of a code?’
She dragged her gaze from his eyes long enough to note the hint of a smile on his devilishly sensual mouth. Well, having a sense of humour could only help with their predicament, so she allowed herself to smile a larger smile as she replied.
‘Like me saying “Danger Will Robinson: drink approaching”?’ And if he got that obscure reference to her childhood interest in truly bad nineteen sixties’ science fiction she might have to love him a little.
‘Lost In Space, right?’
Wow, he got it. She nodded, smiling a little brighter.
‘Well, that would do it, all right. Or you could just dig me in the ribs every time I do it to you so I get a reminder about space of the personal variety.’
‘That’s certainly tempting.’ Kerry’s eyes narrowed as she pondered the ‘temptation’ involved in flirting with a complete stranger while travelling on the first leg of her grand adventure. Mind you, he was temptation personified—so who could really blame her? And even if he was dressed casually in jeans and a T-shirt just a shade or two darker than his sensational eyes, he had managed to afford to pay for better seating. That had to be a good sign.
Serial killers didn’t travel in the good seats, she reckoned. Now kidnappers, well, possibly— the money was probably better…
His chin dropped and he leaned a little closer, employing a large hand to lift one side of her open book so he could read the cover, a hint of a smile hovering on the corners of his mesmerizing mouth.
‘Enjoying the guidebook?’
Kerry turned it over on her tray table, grateful for the distraction, and nodding as she answered. ‘So far—there’s probably more detail in here than I need, though. I’ve read tonnes of them these last few months and this was one of the better ones.’
His dark brows quirked a minuscule amount when she glanced at him from the corner of her eye. ‘More detail in what way?’
‘Well, there’s about a gazillion places listed in the back to begin with. And having never been there it’s tough to decide what to see and what not when you’re on a timescale, y’know?’ Her gaze had locked fully with his again while she answered and a weird quiver of what almost felt like cold ran up her spine, goose-bumps appearing on her arms.
And when she felt like that it was normally an indication that she was clueing in on something— so what was it this time? Apart from the obvious feminine awareness of an incredibly good- looking male, that was.
She searched his face to see if she could figure it out. And even that was disconcerting. It was the proximity, she supposed. There was a certain intimacy to being seated beside someone on a plane. So the fact she was so aware of his breathing, the musky male undertone of his scent, the dark hint of stubble on his jaw, and each flicker of his thick lashes, was a completely natural reaction.
When she studied him a little longer than was probably considered polite, he turned his upper body in the seat and folded his arms across his broad chest.
‘So how would you change it to make it more useful to you, then?’
What? Oh, yes, they’d been making polite conversation about the book, hadn’t they? Kerry took a deep breath and looked back down at it, shaking her head a little at her uncharacteristic lack of being able to think straight. ‘I dunno. Graded the chapters, maybe?’
‘What way?’
‘Length of stay? If you have two days you shouldn’t miss this and that, a week you should try and see—that kind of thing.’
When she didn’t get a reply she looked back up at him to discover a view of his profile, dark brows creased downwards in thought. He really was fascinating to look at, wasn’t he? Not shaving-commercial good-looking, but certainly rugged enough to advertise outdoor wear or heavy duty Jeeps or maybe even activity holidays. He looked like a man’s man and that meant he was automatically a woman’s man too, didn’t it? After all, there was something about a very male man that tugged at something deep inside a woman.
She was studying the short cropped dark chocolate of his hair when he snapped her out of her reverie…
‘A list of things to pack for each length of trip might be useful too. Maybe a small section at the end of each chapter for whether you’re a classical sightseer type or an adventurer or a party-goer or if you have kids along…that kind of thing…’
Kerry smiled indulgently as he mumbled to the back of the seat in front of him. ‘Planning on rewriting the book now, are we?’
When he turned to look at her a smile danced in his eyes and she found herself mesmerized all over again before he hummed beneath his breath and answered with a softly spoken, ‘Maybe.’
Unfolding his arms, he extended a large hand towards her. ‘Ronan O’Keefe. And whatever you want to drink should really be on me to say thanks for buying a copy of my book. But as drinks are included I’ll just have to promise not to make you spill anything.’
Kerry gaped, swiftly checked the name on the cover of the book, and then, rolling her eyes before shaking his hand, ‘Just as well I didn’t say anything too insulting about it, really, isn’t it?’
And it explained the something she’d felt too. It’d been a forewarning of sorts, hadn’t it?
Her hand enfolded firmly in the warmth of his long fingers, he held on just a little too long while fixing her gaze with his as he answered with a rumbling, ‘Yes, it is.’
The warmth transferred to her smaller hand. He had the kind of firm handshake her father would have approved of and respected. But it wasn’t quite respect Kerry was feeling. She even had to clear her throat before speaking.
‘Would you have let on who you were if I had?’
‘After a while.’
And the continuing sparkle in his eyes told her he’d have had fun with it too. ‘Happened before, I take it?’
‘Occupational hazard when travelling.’ He inclined his head, ‘I’m also incredibly good at recommending them to people in airport bookstores when I see them pick one up.’
When he added a lazy wink, Kerry couldn’t help but laugh. Oh, he was a bit of a charmer, this one, wasn’t he? Full of good old-fashioned Blarney, her nana would say with a throaty chuckle. He probably spent half his life chatting up women on planes, she wasn’t anything special, which reminded her—it really was time she let go of his hand.
Gently extricating it, and immediately feeling the loss of warmth in contrast to the cool air from the plane’s air-conditioning, she lifted her chin and challenged him with an upward arch of one brow,
‘And how do I know you are who you say you are?’
‘You could take my word for it?’
She turned her hand palm up and waggled her fingers, ‘I might need to see your passport to be sure.’
‘I might have a pen name.’
‘Do you?’
‘No.’
Her fingers waggled again.
‘Not very trusting, are you?’ He shook his head, working hard at keeping the smile twitching his mouth in check. ‘Lesson one, by the way, would be: never give up your passport to a stranger when travelling alone.’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘How do you know I’m travelling alone?’
‘In my experience, people who travel together tend to sit together on planes.’
Good point. ‘Well, it’s not like I can grab your passport, climb over you and escape with it at twenty-seven thousand feet up, is it?’
‘True—’ he leaned a little closer and lowered his voice to a deliciously deep rumble ‘—though the climbing-over-me part might be fun to watch. No one’s ever tried that before—brings a whole new meaning to the term “in-flight entertainment”.’
When she heard the click of his seat belt and he leaned closer still, she automatically leaned back towards the window to make room for him. Not that it wasn’t tempting to just stay where she was and ‘sit’ her ground, but this kind of dalliance was obviously something he was well practised at—and, Kerry being Kerry, she called him on it.
‘Do you flirt with every woman you meet on a plane?’
Shooting her a challenging quirk of his brows as he reached behind him, he replied with, ‘Would make for lots of short relationships, don’t you think?’
‘Another occupational hazard, perchance?’
‘Possibly.’
The contortions eventually wielded a well-worn passport he waved back in front of her face as he got comfy again. ‘I need this back. So be warned—I’ll wrestle you for it if I have to.’
‘Duly noted.’ She reached for it, but Ronan moved it just out of her reach.
‘Let’s make a fair exchange.’
‘Oh-h-h,’ Kerry laughed throatily, ‘I don’t think so.’
‘Picture that bad?’
‘Are you suggesting I don’t photograph well?’
He examined her face for a moment, the same low intimacy returning to his voice. ‘I doubt it.’
Kerry felt warmth building on her cheeks, which she’d always thought for a woman her age was just plain old sad. That very thought then bringing her in a straight line to her excuse.
‘Didn’t anyone tell you not to ask a lady her age?’
He frowned in amused confusion, tapping his passport off the knuckles of his hand. ‘And when did I do that?’
‘My date of birth is in my passport.’
‘Ah…’
‘And anyway, you have an aisle seat—you could make a faster getaway. Someone told me recently that giving your passport to a stranger is a bad idea when travelling alone.’
There was a low chuckle of very male laughter, the sound making her smile at him again. Should she have to hazard a guess, Kerry would say that the ‘flirting with women on planes’ thing was pretty successful for him. Maybe the short relationships suited his lifestyle?
‘Do I get a name?’
She spoke slowly, ‘You already have a name, Ronan.’
‘Your name.’
‘We’ll see…’ She waggled her fingers again.
His stunning eyes narrowed briefly, the passport still tapping against his large hand. ‘I’ll swap you a look at my passport for your name.’
‘Once I’ve confirmed you are who you say you are, I’ll reveal my secret identity—how does that sound?’
‘That—’ he smiled again, forcing another smile from her in response before he added ‘—is a deal.’
When her fingers closed around the end of the proffered passport he held on, waiting for her lashes to lift before adding, ‘And I’m not the only one capable of a little flirting on a plane, am I?’
Tugging it free, she informed him with a haughty lift of her nose, ‘You obviously bring out my dark side.’
‘Not sure I’d agree with that.’
Kerry shook her head, dropping her chin to flip through the passport and discovering page after page of stamps from varying countries around the globe. ‘Have you really been to all these places?’
‘Nah, I make my own stamps—it’s a hobby of mine.’ He chuckled again when she glared at him. ‘It’s easier to write a travel guide for a country if you’ve been there, I find. I tried it from home but no one ever came to visit my kitchen after I wrote the guide for there—which is a shame really,’ cos I had some great package deals going.’
Kerry continued reading all the country names, trying to imagine what it must have been like to have visited so many places and seen so many things. It had to have made for an exciting life; he’d make one heck of a dinner guest. And it was yet another thing she could find attractive about him, because even if their ‘relationship’ was only going to last for the duration of the flight, she had to admit he was pretty irresistible on many levels—full of charm, in possession of a fully working sense of humour, capable of giving as good as he got, sexy as sin…a walking fountain of knowledge when it came to travelling…
Be silly not to take advantage of the latter, really.
When she found the photograph page she laughed softly. ‘Oh, dear—now that’s bad.’
Ronan leaned in to look over her shoulder, his upper arm pressed against her shoulder. ‘Just needs a row of numbers across the bottom, doesn’t it? And a couple of shots from either side to make up the set.’
Kerry turned her face towards his, her gaze searching his eyes back and forth while she breathed in deep breaths of his scent. ‘Voice of experience?’
His smile was slow and oozing with blatantly male sexuality, the brush of thick lashes against tanned skin deliberately slow, she was certain. And when he spoke it was with that deep, rumbling, intimate tone again, the air between them seeming to vibrate and—well—sizzle a little, frankly.
‘Not in that area, no,’ he stage-whispered, ‘but I did get detention after school on a pretty regular basis. Just don’t tell anyone in case it affects my ability to get into some countries, okay?’
‘Your secret’s safe with me.’
When she answered in an equally low stage whisper, her gaze tangled with his again, a shiver of something running up her spine, radiating outwards, leaving her skin tingling and a strange tightness in her chest.
What was that? She’d never been so very aware of a man on such a cellular level before and it was—a little unsettling, actually.
‘Could I ask you to put your tray down, please, sir?’
The voice of a stewardess broke the charged silence, forcing Ronan back into his allocated space before he lowered his tray, a smile aimed up at the pretty blonde as she served him his meal. He wasn’t the least bit tempted to flirt with her, he noticed, not the way he had with the woman beside him. It was something unusual for him— not that he hadn’t been known to make small talk with someone on a long-haul flight if they hadn’t handed out the usual ‘leave me alone’ signals of burying their nose in a paperback or plugging in headphones.
But she was—intriguing, he supposed was the right word. What was someone like her doing travelling alone? No rings anywhere, he’d noted, so it would be a boyfriend rather than husband meeting her in New York if there was one. But something told him there wasn’t either one or she wouldn’t be flirting back with him the way she was. Women who blushed as prettily as she had weren’t players in that league, were they?
Business trip, then—visiting friends maybe.
Only one way to find out, so once they had their meals in front of them he turned his head to look at her again. ‘What takes you to the Big Apple?’
She handed him his passport, which he tucked between his thighs without removing his gaze from her face. She should be well used to men looking at her, as pretty as she was with gleaming chestnut hair waving around her fine features and the full mouth with a constant upward curve suggesting she smiled more often than not.
‘It’s on my fantasy list.’
It took considerable effort to keep a strangled edge out of his voice. ‘Your what?’
Because his furtive imagination had just gone straight to Sinville with that one.
‘Kind of like fantasy football only with destinations instead of players.’ She nodded, tucking a strand of richly coloured hair behind her ear so he could see a small earring dangling against the skin of her neck as she leaned forward to examine what was on her tray—the simple sight intensely sensual. ‘I’ve spent so long burying myself in work that this trip is made up entirely of places off the top of the list.’
Ronan watched as she flashed him a sideways glance and a small smile that warmed the hints of russet in her large brown eyes. ‘I’m going round the world.’
And the husky sense of satisfaction in her voice was a pleasure to his ears. ‘Alone?’
‘Now, if you were me would you answer that question when a stranger asked it?’
‘No.’
She nodded again, ripping the plastic off her utensils. ‘There you go, then.’
‘So are you?’
She turned her shoulders and fixed him with a steady ‘straight in the eye’ gaze. ‘Now, Mr O’Keefe—’
‘Oh, no, you don’t.’ He leaned a little closer— something he’d been doing a lot of the last few minutes. ‘I was Ronan five minutes ago—and you owe me a name.’
‘That was before you threatened me with a knife.’
When she dipped her chin in the direction of his hand he looked down, then back. ‘It’s a three- inch plastic knife—I’d say you’re safe from any lasting harm, wouldn’t you?’
When she continued to challenge him with her steady gaze and a minuscule quirk of her perfectly arched brows he took a deep breath and set the utensils down, replacing them with a spoon and the dessert tub, which he automatically ripped the cover off.