Run Beautiful Run, page 15
Heading for the house, the aromas of baking bread, coffee and chocolate filled the fresh morning air as Joe’s boot-steps echoed along the back verandah.
His mother’s cheerfulness filtered through the kitchen window, joined by the sound of Maddison’s light laughter.
Joe paused to take his boots off, peering through the flyscreen into the kitchen, and there was Maddison. Her smile was so wide her eyes shone; it was gorgeous. And her laugh … It was a tinkling sound that only made him smile.
What’s going on? He’d never bothered to stop to listen and smile at a woman laughing.
No female had ever affected him like this—over one simple laugh.
‘Morning.’ Joe hung his Akubra on the rack inside the kitchen. ‘Something smells good.’
There were cooling racks filled with bread and other baked goods all over the kitchen table, where his dad sat at the head digging into a plateful of tucker.
Joe washed his hands in the sink, then poured himself a coffee and grabbed a warm muffin from the trays. ‘Are you cooking, Maddison?’ She looked cute in his mum’s old apron.
‘Maddison’s been helping me out, dear. We’ve been having such a lovely time together.’
His mum looked rapt with her cooking companion.
With her dainty chin raised, Maddison looked pleased with herself too.
Damn, he could sit and watch that smile of hers all day. It made him forget about the cops coming—for a moment.
‘Maddison cooked?’ He eyed off the beautiful blonde standing beneath the morning sunlight streaming through the windows.
‘Maddison made those muffins, dear.’
Joe sniffed suspiciously at his muffin. ‘What did you put in it?’
Maddison faced him with hands on hips. ‘Don’t you think I can cook?’
‘I didn’t say that.’ But he liked the fact he got a bite out of her. Last time she’d done that, he’d tricked her into kissing him. He wouldn’t mind another one of those kisses. ‘But then again …’ He put the muffin back onto the cooling rack.
Maddison narrowed her eyes at him as her plump kissable lips thinned into a line.
‘I like what little I have in taste buds. Besides, I have this feeling that if I eat that muffin, I’ll have to say it tastes good even if it doesn’t. It’d be like telling a woman she doesn’t look fat in a dress when in reality she does.’
‘You jerk.’
Joe sipped on his coffee to hide his smile.
‘Morning,’ called out Greg, coming into the kitchen. ‘Something smells great.’ He snatched up a muffin and took a bite.
‘Is it any good?’ Joe asked his brother.
‘Oh, man.’ Greg’s eyes widened as he stared at his half-eaten muffin. ‘Mum, these are awesome. They’re the best you’ve made yet.’ Greg devoured the thing in a couple of bites, then snatched a few more as he took his seat next to Earl.
‘See, they’re edible.’ Was Maddison going to poke her tongue out at Joe like a three-year-old kid?
‘Apparently Maddison baked those muffins,’ Joe said to Greg. ‘Just so you know, I’ve doubled the value of your life insurance policy this morning. So, eat away, bro.’
‘Hey!’ She scowled at him.
Although he preferred her laughing with him, this game was good. And he hadn’t even finished his first coffee yet.
He sipped and stared at the most stunning woman he’d ever seen, standing in his mother’s kitchen. Even if she was getting angrier at him by the second, she was worth the watch, the way the sun highlighted the different strands of blonde in her hair. He wanted to stroke her silky hair, to trace the outline of her face. And her lips …
He swallowed down the lump of desire clawing up his chest like an animal.
Should he stop teasing their paying guest?
‘Good morning, everyone,’ sang out Zach and Analise as if they were singing in some out-of-tune choir.
Joe groaned into his coffee. Mood destroyed.
‘And that’s my cue to leave,’ Maddison whispered.
Best idea yet. His eyes followed her as she removed the apron and grabbed a coffee mug.
‘Is it okay for me to check out your library?’ Maddison asked Glenda.
‘Yes of course, dear. Thanks for your help this morning, it was fun.’
‘I should thank you, Glenda.’ Maddison then wiped away her smile, stopping in front of Joe.
He inhaled her soft, floral perfume, admiring the amber flecks in her eyes.
She grabbed a muffin off the cooling rack. ‘Go on, try one—if you dare.’ She took a bite. ‘Mmm …’
It was hot. And he swallowed hard, not at the food, but at the woman he couldn’t stop watching.
Joe chuckled, watching her cute arse sashay down the corridor. His brother’s jeans looked damned fine on the lady, but he liked her dressed only in his shirt best.
Tourist, mate. She’s a paying customer. And the guests always leave.
Still, there was no harm in playing … was there?
Thirty-two
With its folded doors open, the library stood near the front door. It had a cosy colonial feel to it, with wall-to-ceiling shelves filled with assorted books. A sumptuous leather couch stood at the foot of a rich tapestry rug stretching over the polished floorboards. Table lamps were positioned near comfy overstuffed armchairs, creating perfect reading nooks. On one side, a large desk dominated the room, set before the wall of windows that gave a grand view of the property.
Maddison plucked a book off the shelf from among the collection on cattle, farming, and assorted fiction. She nestled into one of the comfy armchairs with her coffee beside her. Cracking open the cover of the book about crocodiles, she was keen to learn about the prehistoric creatures, considering she’d been up close with one twice the size of her, hoping to take her mind off her pending police interview.
‘You know,’ said Joe, walking into the library with that sexy swagger amplified by his figure-hugging jeans. The leather squelched as he dropped into the chair beside Maddison. He slurped on his coffee before taking a bite from one of her muffins. ‘Everyone who comes here reads that book.’
Maddison tried to ignore him, but it was impossible. Not with his aroma, a divine, earthy mix of denim, hay, musky spice, soap, and male. A rugged outdoorsy male.
She drank down the last of her coffee to stop her mouth watering. ‘Are you here to annoy me?’
‘And to get away from the Thurstons.’ He shoved the last of the muffin into his mouth, wearing a smirk as he chewed.
‘Don’t you have some farming thing to do?’
‘Yeah, there’s always something to do.’ He again slurped on his coffee, leaning back in his chair. ‘The thing is, I can’t leave the house until the police arrive.’
Maddison’s hands trembled at the mention of the police. ‘Really?’ Even though she hadn’t read the page, she flicked it over.
Joe narrowed his eyes at her. ‘Are you worried about seeing the police or something?’
She sighed, holding the book open in her lap, unable to read the words. ‘I’m not looking forward to reliving the entire ordeal of the plane crash.’
‘Have you ever been interviewed by the police?’ Joe asked in a low, tender tone. It was soothing.
‘Only over my uncle’s death. I don’t remember most of it.’ Back then she’d been stuck in a cloud of grief and guilt. ‘I’ve never even had a traffic ticket.’
‘It’s nothing to worry about, they’re only trying to find out what happened. It was an accident, it’s not like they’ll interrogate you, beat you to a pulp, and then press charges on you for assault or robbery.’ He scowled at his hands cradling his coffee cup.
‘That’s twice you’ve said that to me.’ She frowned at him.
‘What?’
‘Robbery. I can prove to you I won that money fair and square. The bookies gave me a receipt for it. Anyway, why do I have to justify myself to you? Are you trying to annoy me on purpose?’
‘I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just that I’ve never seen that much cash out here. Most people would deposit it into the bank?’
‘I never had the chance.’
‘Why not?’
‘Why should I? And pay bank fees and charges. Hey, what I do with my life is none of your concern.’
‘I needed to know. That’s all.’
‘Why?’
‘Because you intrigue me,’ he said with a blue-eyed stare that had her trapped in her chair.
No one had told her that before. ‘I thought I amused you?’
‘That too.’ He chuckled.
‘You …’ Her anger smouldered like a heated fire, angry at Joe and at herself for being in this situation.
‘Oh, look at this room and all of these books,’ gushed Analise, walking into the library with Zach beside her. ‘Farmer’s Guide. How to Grow Vegetables. Animal Husbandry …’
‘Moby Dick. Sherlock Holmes,’ said Zach on the other side of the room. The husband-and-wife team read aloud every book title.
‘Forget them and finish what you were saying,’ urged Joe in a rumbling tone to Maddison.
It was sexy and annoying all at the same time.
She leaned closer to him with gritted teeth. ‘You annoy the crap out of me sometimes.’
Whoa! Where did that come from?
She was always the polite Maddison. The perfectly poised private school–educated Maddison. The shy girl in the shadows, not this outspoken person who’d put the Thurstons in their place twice, and now this—with Joe.
She slammed the book shut and headed for her room.
‘Hey, hang on a minute …’ Joe followed her down the corridor.
She put her key into the lock of her room.
‘Hey, I’m talking to you.’ He grabbed her arm.
‘Sure. It’s been such a great conversation. We’ll do it again, maybe never.’
‘I’m sorry.’ His brow wrinkled as if in pain. ‘I don’t mean to annoy you. I’ve only been having some fun with you, that’s all.’
‘It’s irritating. Why do it?’
‘It’s my dry sense of humour.’ He sighed, staring at the hallway floor. ‘I like the way you react. You’ve got a good sense of humour, with your comebacks and stuff.’ He studied her as if trying to read her. ‘Just not today?’
Did her humour disappear with her manners too?
‘You don’t know me.’ She was beginning to wonder if she knew herself.
‘No, I don’t. You’re a hard person to work out, Maddison.’
‘Why bother? I’m only a tourist who’ll leave in a few weeks. You would’ve seen people come and go on a weekly basis.’
‘Because … Because …’ He took a deep breath. ‘Ever since I’ve met you all I ever seem to want to do—no, I need to know everything about you and be near you.’
His confession glued her to the spot.
‘I’m no creep, and I always do my best to steer clear from all of the tourists, except you, who I haven’t been able to get out of my head, not since we kissed.’ He scrubbed his nails through his short hair. ‘I know, I’m damning myself for saying this, but it’s true …’ He looked at her, really looked at her, as if she was his entire world.
‘Why?’ Her heart raced, pressing her palms against the wall to stop herself falling.
‘Because …’ Joe shrugged. ‘I don’t have the words for it, but, there’s this—’ He pulled her towards him and kissed her. Hard. As he pressed his lips against hers, Maddison struggled.
But he only held her closer, and the kiss deepened to a whole new level.
Stunned, her anger was soon swapped for a heated passion. But it was more than that, there was a power to his kiss, his soft warm lips, his body heat, and his gentle touch. Again, an incredible spark of an internal firecracker exploded inside her and that animal magnetism burst forth, hungry and alive. Just like their first kiss.
The Thurstons’ voices carried down the hallway, their footsteps coming closer.
Joe opened the door to Maddison’s room and hustled her inside. Their lips didn’t break apart for a moment.
She’d never experienced a kiss like it. Or a guy like Joe. He made her feel safe, from the second she woke to him from the bottom of his boat.
But Joe was also safe and sexy. But safe shouldn’t be sexy? Right?
He pushed her against the wall, slamming her door shut, and then it was as if all hell broke loose, with her self-control tossed out the door. Her lips crushed, bruising against his, as her fingers raked through his thick hair, with his muscular arms enveloping her. She moaned as he found the bottom of her shirt to caress her skin with work-hardened palms that had such a gentleness it sent pleasure-trembles up her spine.
‘Seriously, lady, you’re driving me crazy,’ he murmured, swallowing hard, pressing his body against hers. His hand fisted in her hair, controlling their kiss with a vivid thirst.
‘Hey, Joe?’ Greg yelled in the distant corridor.
Joe and Maddison kept kissing.
‘Oi, JOE.’ Greg’s ear-piercing whistle echoed down the corridor jolting the couple apart.
‘What?’ Joe scowled at the closed door. His hard body pressed against hers with their hearts hammering in erratic beats.
‘The police are landing. They want you to show them where the plane went down. Where are you, man?’
‘I’ll be there in a minute … Damn.’ Wiping over his mouth, his strong chest rose and fell with each breath, while staring soul deep at Maddison. ‘The reason I’ve been trying to work you out is because you’re unlike any other woman I’ve ever known.’ He leaned down and softly grazed his lips against hers, then opened the door. ‘I’m sorry if I forced myself on you.’ And was gone.
Maddison leaned against the wall, staring across the room where a double set of glass doors stood. The stream of morning sunshine highlighted her king-sized bed. Taking shaky breaths, her legs trembled, but her body was on fire.
She slid down the wall to the floor and hugged her knees. With her fingertips, she brushed her blood-filled lips, still tasting him. Still thirsty for him. ‘What was that?’
‘Focus!’ She had more important matters to contend with than indulging in some holiday fling, not with the burden of the deathbed promise to her uncle hanging heavily over her. Once she’d dealt with the police, she could then tackle the bigger issue without endangering everyone around her, including herself.
Thirty-three
ADELAIDE, SOUTH AUSTRALIA
In the city centre, at the end of Rundle Mall, Eric and Tom sat at a small outdoor café, finishing their breakfast. Assorted pedestrians, shoppers, workers, and school kids shifted in waves from buses, cars, and trams early that Friday morning.
Eric sat back, sipping his coffee, now sporting two black eyes hidden behind his sunglasses. His broken nose was covered with a large white bandage. But he could still eye-off the delectable ladies giving him a personal parade as if contestants in a beauty pageant.
‘I’ll give her a six for the legs.’ His head tilted at a woman in a short business skirt, teetering on stylish red stilettos. ‘Shame about the face.’
He sipped his coffee and scouted around for the next contestant.
‘Eight for the arse.’ He arched his good eyebrow at a woman wearing tight black pants then winced at her bright pink jacket made from shaggy bath towels. ‘Shame about her dress sense.’
A group of teenage girls in private school uniforms paraded past.
‘Too young and dumb,’ he muttered.
Tom said nothing, reading the newspaper, drinking his coffee.
‘I’m tired of all this waiting around.’ Eric hadn’t seen a ten in his ratings game for a few days now. That’s when he’d launch himself from his seat, slip on his billionaire smile and chat-up the chickie babe. But not with a face full of bruises. Bikers are arseholes.
‘You heard the boss, we sit tight until they locate her,’ said Tom, flicking over the newspaper page. ‘Who knew Maddison Farley would get hooked up with a bike gang, huh? Did you see that Match’s bike? It was nice.’
‘I would’ve loved to have smashed that fancy Yankee Harley crap up just to teach that arsehole a lesson, then shoot his dick off,’ muttered Eric, bitterly. ‘And then I’d shoot that other overpaid dick too.’
Senior Detective Mick Hetter had located Match’s registered address. Of course, it was false. Leaving only the clubhouse address where they waited for that lowlife, Match, to arrive.
It had been a couple of nights since Maddison’s disappearance on the back of Match’s bike …
For hours Eric sat with Tom inside their sedan, watching the coming and goings of the gang’s clubhouse. It was an old shopfront with a red metal door and blacked-out windows, standing amongst a block of deserted shops on a quiet street on the outskirts of the city.
Guarding the red door was a long row of shiny assorted Harley Davidson’s. Every time someone rode up, parked their bike, and knocked on the red door, a metal viewing slot slid open to the gatekeeper.
That gatekeeper had told Eric to nick-off.
But it was the only way in.
‘I’m getting sick of staring at blokes on loud motorcycles, wearing leather vests with some silly logo on the back. Just who do they think they are?’ If he had a grenade launcher handy, he’d blow that red door up, just for kicks and giggles. But this wasn’t his turf to start any gangland wars—even if he was itching to play.
‘It’s the patch they wear,’ said Tom, in the driver’s seat, reading some cowboy dime-book.
‘It looks like some bad boy scout’s patch they get for pinching some old duck’s purse as she crossed the road. I wonder if they get promoted for pilfering boxes of girl guide cookies too?’ Eric was sick of sitting in this car, staring at a bunch of wankers. He wanted to sit in the pub and have a beer and watch a fight.
How hard would it be to make those silent over-sized bikes that stood in a row topple like dominoes? He was in the mood to see some overpriced, polished chrome kiss the curb.
