Rory (Coded for Love 1)

Oh yes, he wanted her, wanted her badly.

The front door opened and the lights went on.

Standing there in the doorway were Nan, Sky’s grandma, and her sister, great aunt Gladys. A scary pair of old ladies they were, too. They wouldn’t think twice about reporting him to his dad. Rory eased away from Sky, the appearance of the blue rinse brigade quickly leveling his head.

Nan cast a dubious look over them as she passed. “Put him down,” she said to Sky, and then winked at him.

Startled, Rory frowned.

“Turn that racket down,” she bellowed into the sitting room.

Great aunt Gladys hustled in and glared at him. “You didn’t think we were going to leave you lot alone to run riot, did you?” She gestured out the front door to where her battered mini was parked at a weird angle, half on the pavement. “Get our overnight bags in from the car would you, lad.”

Draco emerged from the sitting room, hands up, apparently trying to explain himself to the ladies. Then he looked at Rory and Sky.

“Rory?” Draco lifted his chin, querying him, his expression darkening.

“Nothing happened.” Rory loped off, leaving Sky to deal with her kin.

He was an outsider, him and Sean. And they were both loners at heart.

But the need to get to close to Sky didn’t ease up, and probably never would.

They were family now though. Ruefully, Rory considered going back to Plan A. When he’d left Dublin with his dad and Sean, the plan had been for the three of them to go to London, where the streets were paved with gold. Or at least there were jobs to be had, jobs and the chance of a new life.

London still beckoned to him and Sean, even if their dad had got no further than Wales before wanting to pitch down. The only thing keeping Rory from getting on his motorcycle and taking off was Sky. And she was out of bounds.

Perhaps the blue rinse brigade had split them up in the nick of time. Draco was a guard dog in disguise. It was probably just as well. Sky would only bring trouble down on his head. There are plenty of other girls like Sky, right?

Plan A it was.

London awaited.

CHAPTER ONE

London

Three years later

Rory was always on her mind, so when Sky thought she saw him striding through the crowded underground railway platform, her heart skipped a beat. She blinked, and the shadow was gone. Imagined it. Wouldn’t be the first time.

She slouched back against the tiled wall in the Hyde Park Corner tube station, scoping the crowd on the platform, looking for an image to sketch—looking for a side of London people didn’t immediately see. She scoured the streets wherever she went, making mental notes she could incorporate in her grungy drawings of city life. The distant sound of trains in the tunnels condensed with the sound of voices around her. She narrowed her eyes, allowing the view to blur.

Once again, a black leather biker jacket caught her attention. The guy wearing it strode along the edge of the platform. When he drew to a halt, he glanced at the electronic notice board. She saw his profile and something inside her responded acutely. She hadn’t imagined it. It really was Rory Rattigan—his familiar thick dark hair, his tall, muscular frame.

Over two years had passed since she’d last seen him. He’d taken off for London with Sean and Draco. They had big plans. Make money, hack their way to fame, rule the world. Last she’d heard Sean was serving a jail sentence for cyber crime. The other two had vanished from social media, making it hard for her to keep track of them. Even though she looked out for them, it was a big place, millions of people. She wasn’t even sure any of them were still in the city.

As she craned her neck to get a better look, he slung a black bag over his shoulder. Her fingers closed tightly around the strap of her own backpack—identical to his. His dad had given them all one for Christmas. Sky smiled. Rory had kept his as well. She ached to run over to him, grab his arm. It was what she’d done in the past, and it always ended badly. Nevertheless, that familiar sense of longing filled her, defying her ability to turn away and ignore his presence.

The tube train rattled into the station, drawing to a stop with a high pitched screech. The crowd hustled forward. Unable to resist, Sky moved through the crowd, keeping him in her sights. For once she didn’t hate the fact she was short, because it meant she could skirt the shopping bags and dive into the gaps, closing the distance fast. The passengers moved like rabid zombies onto the tube train. Usually she would wait until the last moment and stand right by the door. Not this time. Not with Rory in her sights.

By the time the staccato “mind the doors” announcement sounded she was two bodies away from him. Elbowing a business man in the ribs, she got one body closer. Luck was on her side, because her target had found a spot to stand. Rory had his back against the far side and turned to face her just as she closed in. The crowd behind her did the rest of the job for her—she was pushed right up against him a moment later.

His attention was on the phone in his hand.

Rory. His name whispered around her mind. It really was his familiar thick dark hair, his tall, muscular frame just a whisper away from her. She breathed him in, her body acknowledging the familiar mix of leather, his favorite cologne and engine oil. That hadn’t changed. Neither had the worn in jeans that clung to his hips and thighs, and the heavy Jack Daniels buckle on his belt. Her fingers twitched as she recalled latching her fingers over that belt, tugging on it while they’d stolen forbidden kisses with eager, hungry mouths.

His dark brown eyes were overcast, making them appear almost black. His chest was broader, more muscular. The soft fabric of his T shirt stretched over taut muscles. In a heartbeat she was back at home in Cadogan, watching as he’d tugged oil stained T shirts over his head after working on his motorbike, casting them aside with a surly glance in her direction. She’d never been able to look away, and had never forgotten. His face was rugged and defined, with dark stubble covering his jaw. It was sexy. He had a scar she didn’t remember, a slightly curved line stretching the length of one cheekbone.