Australian Affairs: Claimed: Dr Chandler's Sleeping Beauty / Countering His Claim / Australia's Maverick Millionaire

He frowned as he reached for his own wine glass, but he didn’t drink from it. He just sat there twirling the stem round and round between his finger and thumb. ‘I hate talking about my brother,’ he said. ‘Talking doesn’t change anything. He’s a fully-grown adult and yet just lately he’s been acting like a kid. He used to have a part-time job to fund his way through university, but he lost that over some run-in with the boss. He’s been putting the hard word on Rosie and Jen for money and when he’s really getting desperate he comes to me.’

‘Where does he live?’

‘In some doss house in the inner city,’ he said, scraping a hand through his hair. He made a despairing sound. ‘My kid brother bunks down with every other desperado on the streets. My mother is probably spinning in her grave.’

Kitty put out a hand and touched his arm. His muscles flexed then stilled under her touch.

After a long moment his eyes met hers. ‘Do you know what gets me?’ he asked. ‘He had everything going so well. He was a straight A student. He was up for a university prize in engineering. He’s so damn bright—much brighter than me. I’ve had to work damn hard to get where I’ve got. But he’s thrown it all away. It’s such a damn waste.’

‘Is he doing drugs?’ Kitty asked.

He rubbed a hand over his face. ‘I don’t know if he’s touched the hard stuff. He says not, but how can I trust him? He probably doesn’t remember from one day to the next what he’s been doing.’

‘What about rehab?’ she asked.

His eyes hit hers. ‘You think I haven’t tried that?’ he asked. ‘I even paid up-front for a private clinic, but he didn’t show up on admission day. I couldn’t find him for a fortnight. The clinic had a waiting list a mile long so I couldn’t get him in even when I found him.’

‘Sometimes it’s hard for family members to be the ones to help,’ Kitty said. ‘You’re too close and they don’t always want to listen.’

His fingers tightened around the stem of his glass. ‘The sick irony is I’ve spent the last twenty-four years of my life being a substitute father for my sisters and brother,’ he said. ‘Don’t get me wrong—I was glad to be able to do something. My mother wanted each of us to have better opportunities than she’d had. It was up to me to see that her vision for us as a family was fulfilled.’

‘That’s why you’ve never travelled, isn’t it?’ Kitty asked.

‘I had a ticket booked once.’ He gave her a brief glance before focussing on the contents of his glass. ‘I had all my siblings sorted, or so I thought. I was going to head off to Europe for a couple of months. Kick my heels up a bit, have a life, have some fun without the pressure of responsibility.’

‘What happened?’

He looked at her again, the line of his mouth grim. ‘Rosie came to me late one night and told me she was pregnant. She’d known for weeks but had been too scared to tell me. She was just nineteen years old. Still a kid herself. I couldn’t leave her to deal with that, even for a couple of months. I didn’t want her to feel pressured into a termination. I wanted her to feel supported in whatever she decided to do. Her boyfriend was useless. And what sort of brother would I be if I just flew out of the country at a time like that?’

‘From what I can tell you’ve been an amazing brother and uncle,’ Kitty said. ‘Look at the way you gave that party for her. And then you took your nephew surfing, on top of a full day at work.’

‘It’s not enough,’ he said. ‘I can’t be there all the time.’

‘I’m sure no one expects you to,’ she said. ‘You’re entitled to your own life.’

His eyes came back to hers, a wry smile kicking up the corners of his mouth. ‘That’s one very soft shoulder you’ve got there, Dr Cargill,’ he said.

Kitty smiled back. ‘Glad to be of service.’

It was close to eleven when Jake walked Kitty to the door of her town house. A light sea breeze had come in and taken the stifling heat out of the evening, bringing with it the tang of brine from the ocean.

She stood fumbling with her keys in the lock, conscious of him standing behind her, his tall frame within touching distance of hers. She could smell the hint of lemon in his aftershave. She could even hear his breathing—steady and slow, unlike hers, which was skittering all over the place.

‘Do you want me to unlock it for you?’ he asked.

‘No, I’m fine…Oh, damn,’ she said as she dropped her keys with a loud clatter to the tiled floor.

He bent down, scooped them off the floor and handed them to her. His fingers brushed against her open palm, sending electric shocks right up her arm. ‘You don’t need to be nervous, Dr Cargill,’ he said.

‘Nervous?’ Kitty tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her tongue sneaking out quickly to moisten her mouth. ‘Why on earth would I be nervous?’

He smiled at her. It was the tiniest movement of his lips and yet it unravelled her insides like a skein of wool thrown by a spin-bowler. ‘When was the last time you asked a man in for coffee?’ he asked.

She tore her gaze away from his sexily slanted mouth. ‘When I was in junior high,’ she said. ‘But it wasn’t for coffee. It was for orange juice.’

‘Cute.’

Kitty unlocked the door and then faced him. ‘I have coffee if you’d like some,’ she said, waving a hand in the vague direction of the kitchen.

His sapphire gaze glinted. ‘Got any orange juice?’

‘Fresh or reconstituted?’

‘You can’t beat fresh,’ he said as he closed the door behind him with a soft click. ‘It tastes completely different.’

‘I can never tell the difference,’ she said, with a huskiness that was nothing like her usual dulcet tones. ‘But then, I guess I’m not much of an orange juice connoisseur.’

The space in the foyer seemed to shrink now that he shared it with her. The air seemed to tighten, to crackle and vibrate with an energy that made the hairs on her head push away from her scalp. The skin on her arms went up in goosebumps and her stomach pitched and tilted as he closed the distance between them with a single step.

His hooded gaze zeroed in on her mouth as he planted a hand on the wall beside her head. ‘This is the part where you’re supposed to ask me what the hell I think I’m doing,’ he said in a gravel-rough tone.

‘I am?’

‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘But since you missed your cue maybe we can jump ahead to the next bit.’

Kitty’s heart flapped like a shredded truck tyre on tarmac. ‘What’s the next bit?’ she asked in a soft whisper.

His warm minty breath caressed her parted lips as he inched closer and closer. ‘Why don’t I show you?’ he said, and then he sealed her mouth with his.

CHAPTER EIGHT (#u8d0850a1-6236-520e-8515-12a32ce49e0b)

KITTY felt a shockwave ripple through her body when his lips made that first contact with hers. His lips moved against hers in a slow, sensual manner, tasting, teasing and tempting her into a heated response that made the base of her spine melt like butter and every hair on her head tremble with delight. His kiss was soft and experimental, a tantalising assault on her senses that made her skin tauten all over in fiery response.

He threaded his hands through her hair, his fingers splaying over her tingling scalp as he scorched the seam of her mouth with the bold stroke of his tongue.

She opened to him and the world exploded in a burst of colour and leaping flares of searing heat. His tongue tangled with hers in a sexy dance that made her heart race and her belly flip and then flop.

This was no tame boy-next-door kiss. This was a man’s kiss—the kiss of a full-blooded man who wanted sex and wanted it now.

Kitty felt the ridge of hard male desire against her quivering belly. She felt the instinctual, primal tug of her flesh towards it. She shifted her body against his, her heart skipping a beat when she heard the deep sound of male approval come from his throat.

Her breasts were jammed up against the hard plane of his chest. She had never been so aware of them before. They swelled and strained behind the lace cage of her bra, hungry for more intimate contact.

She shivered when his hands went to her hips, holding her closer to the cradle of his pelvis. Every delicious male inch of him was imprinted on her flesh. She felt the pounding roar of his blood through his clothes. It echoed the rampant need that was surging inside her.

His mouth continued its fiery exchange with hers, his tongue calling hers into a brazen tango that mimicked the need charging through his body as well as her own.

He shifted one of his hands from her hips to the small of her back, the subtle pressure sending her senses into a crazy spin. Desire licked along her flesh like a trail of racing flames, her need as insistent as a tribal drumbeat deep inside her body.