Page 65 of Crossed Wires: The Complete Series

Something close to a lump filled his throat. Without meaning to, he found himself turning from the window to take in the beauty of Monet asleep on the sofa. Instantly a smile pulled at his lips. How was it possible that someone he barely knew made him feel so good?

Love is?—

Dylan killed the thought. It was a stupid one. Pointless. Thinking of a thing like love, after less than a day, was ridiculous. If Hunter were here, he’d punch him in the arm and tell him to stop being a bloody dickhead.

Hunter. You need to talk to Hunter.

It was more difficult to turn away from the sight of Monet than he’d imagined. Casting an eye around the dark room, he found the phone he’d used earlier and dialed home.

Three rings later, the call connected. “You’ve reached Farpoint Creek Cattle Station,” said his brother’s recorded voice, so like his own even their mum got them mixed up at times. “Please leave a message and we’ll get back to you soon.”

Dylan released a harried sigh. “Bloody hell, brother, I wish you were there.” He ran a hand through his hair, for some stupid reason missing his hat. “I need to talk to you about something. Mum tells me you’re looking after Annie and I’m glad. Glad you two have hit it off. She’s…she’s lovely and sweet and…” He scrubbed at his face. “Fuck, I’m confused here, Hunter. Really confused. Maybe even messed up.”

The sound of movement made him turn back to the sofa and his gut knotted at the sight of Monet sitting up, watching him.

“I gotta go, mate,” he said into the phone. “Give me a call when you can.”

Disconnecting, he gave Monet a slow smile. “G’day.”

She smiled back, brushing a strand of her hair from her face. “Hello.”

His pulse thumped harder in his neck. He was nervous again. The same oh-shit-how-did-I-get-on-the-back-of-this-bull nervous he’d felt earlier. “I got some sleep it seems.”

Monet didn’t answer. Instead, she slowly straightened from the sofa and crossed to where he stood.

For a long second she stared into his eyes, her body heat seeping into his. And then, without a word, she reached up onto tiptoe and brushed his lips with hers.

It was a soft kiss. One he would have gladly deepened if Monet had given him the chance.

But she didn’t.

Before he could smooth his hands around her waist and haul her to his body, she stepped away from him, her eyes unreadable.

“I didn’t think we were going to do that again,” he murmured, fighting to stay where he was. To not follow her, instead of doing what his body was screaming at him to do and deal with the guilt afterward.

“We’re not.” Her voice was a husky whisper. “That was a figment of your imagination.”

“’Fraid not. My imagination is a lot dirtier than that.”

She laughed as she walked away from him.

Fuck, he wanted to go after her, but he kept his feet planted. What they’d done earlier, what he’d done to Monet—kissing her, throwing her onto the sofa with the full intention of fucking her—was wrong. It wasn’t fair to Annie. But damn, it felt so right. Nothing had feltmoreright. Until now. Until this moment, his lips still tingling with the warmth of Monet’s kiss, her delicate scent still lingering in his breath.

“Monet?” he called, his throat tight.

She stopped halfway across the room, next to a large easel. “I want to make love to you, Dylan.”

A hot shard of pleasure sank into his groin at her whispered words.

“But I can’t. So I’m going to do the next best thing.”

He swallowed. “What’s that?”

She didn’t answer. Instead, she stepped behind the easel, the large board resting on it obscuring her from view.

“Monet?”

A loud clunk echoed around the apartment a second before a large spotlight flickered to life above the studio space, highlighting a stool in its center and throwing everything else into deeper shadow.

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