Flynn's Kiss (Disarmed & Dangerous)

by Diane Saxon

  She couldn’t imagine her new sunshine Stetson was what Flynn had meant when he had advised her to get a hat. The advice was good, but the choice had been totally made for her when she spotted the pretty hat glowing in the corner of Frankie’s store that morning. Retail therapy certainly did have its advantages. It cost her more than two hundred fifty dollars, but as she hadn’t spent any money in the entire time she was in New Zealand, she figured she deserved a treat.

  She placed the hat on her head and studied herself in the mirror, tilting her head one way, then the other. It was a good fit. Her hair bubbled out from under it in a dark cloud of curls. She tipped the hat farther down on her forehead and admired the effect it had as her skin glowed a healthy peach. She gave a determined smile and squashed the sinful little thought that Flynn didn’t know what he was missing.

  Mellow golden sunlight smoothed its buttery soft fingers over her skin, making her grateful for the protection of the hat as she meandered through the early morning quiet, past Flynn’s lodge, where it was evident by the open curtains and the closed windows nobody was home. Liberty wandered down to the stable yard, where activity had waned after the initial dawn rush.

  “Miss Liberty.” Carl stepped out from behind a bay mare tethered to a gate post. Old as the Earth, the weather-beaten skin of his face formed deep laughter lines, defining the happy life he had led. His bowed legs told of hard work and long hours in the saddle. His nutmeg eyes crinkled around the edges at her approach from across the corral.

  “Morning, Carl.” She injected as much cheer in her voice to cover her worry as she could. “What a lovely day it is.”

  “A fine day. And that’s a striking hat you’re wearing.” His cheeks crinkled as his smile spread, and pleasure at the compliment made her return his smile tenfold and she gave her head a little wiggle. A sunny feather fluttered its way past her shoulder and onward to lie abandoned on the yard floor.

  “Thank you. Flynn told me I should get one.”

  “Well, it sure is magnificent of him, Miss Liberty.” She gave him a sharp look, but Carl had already turned away, his gait slowing down his progress. Surely it was only coincidence. She narrowed her eyes and stared at the old boy’s back and could have sworn his shoulders were shaking. He reached out and grasped the reins of a liver and white pinto pony with one hand. Liberty was certain she saw him wipe a tear from his eye with his other hand just before he turned toward her, his leather face wreathed in a wide smile.

  “I got her ready for you, Miss Liberty. You have yourself a nice time and don’t let your skin burn.” He spluttered a little toward the end of his sentence and then sneezed. “S’cuse me.”

  “Bless you.” He gave her a guileless smile, making her wonder if it was her imagination. The possibility he had an allergy to canary feathers crossed her mind, so she smiled graciously as he offered to help her mount the pony.

  She accepted his leg up and peered down as he adjusted her stirrups, and another feather fluttered from her hat to land on the top of his naked head. She leaned down and picked it off, studying it for a moment before letting if flutter down to the yard to join the other one.

  “I don’t suppose you’ve seen Flynn, have you?”

  “No, miss, he’s been gone three days.”

  She waited but resigned herself to swallowing her pride and asking a further question.

  “Do you know when he’ll be back?”

  Carl’s nutmeg eyes squinted up at her as though he were considering the wisdom of imparting any information. Obviously coming to a decision, he gave a sharp nod.

  “He’ll be back at sundown.”

  “Thank you. I’ll see you later.” She swiped a third feather from the back of her hand and then grinned down at him.

  “I think I may be molting.”

  He spluttered a little again, and she took pity on him and his allergy, clucked her tongue against the top of her mouth, and gave a firm squeeze of her calves into the pony’s sides to encourage her to move on.

  Flynn wasn’t going to be able to avoid her much longer. She was determined to speak with him.

  Chapter Five

  “Flynn.”

  She spoke softly, but in the quiet of the early evening, her voice carried clearly, emphasizing the slight wobble to betray her nervousness.

  He turned his head and stared at her, his eyes direct and piercing, his chin lowered in what she recognized as a defensive gesture, designed to deter her advance. The dappled light from the fading sun gave his beautiful face an ethereal and almost sinister look, emphasized by his complete stillness, his silent watchfulness.

  She took a hesitant step forward and stopped at the slightest movement of his chin raising. She wished she hadn’t come, wanted to run, but she’d trapped herself, and in all honesty, she hadn’t quite expected this response. They were both adults, for heaven’s sake, and one of them should take the initiative and make their meeting less uncomfortable.

  She removed the Stetson from her head, no longer in peril of burning her skin as the sun lowered. His gaze flicked down to the pretty yellow hat as a few more of its feathers detached themselves and fluttered to the ground. His wicked eyebrow flicked up briefly, and then his expression returned to deadpan.

  “I owe you an apology.”

  Silence filled the gap until she huffed out a breath and tried again.

  “You’ve been conspicuous by your absence lately. People are missing you and I feel…responsible.” Embarrassment coursed through her. She had no idea she would have to try so hard to reach him. Convinced she simply needed to see him again for everything to be all right, it came as a debasing shock to realize he had indeed been avoiding her.

  She tried to keep her hands still, but her fingers seemed to have a mind of their own, twisting around the brim of her new hat. She saw his gaze flick down to stare at them and forced herself to drop them back down to her sides, holding her hat in one hand, aware of the shedding of yet more bright feathers. His attention centered on her again as she gave a small cough.

  “The other night, when we…” She blew out a disgusted breath at her painful reticence. She was supposed to be the mature one here. “…when we had sex. I thought it was mutual. I know I took the lead and did all the seducing, but maybe I didn’t take into consideration you weren’t interested—you seemed interested at the time, you…” She swallowed a heavy lump in her throat. He’d been as hard as rock, but maybe he’d fantasized about someone else.

  The closest she’d ever come to this kind of humiliation was when she’d declared undying love to her math teacher at the age of thirteen. When confronted by his strange gasping noises and expression of utter horror, she’d run all the way home without stopping. The next morning her foster parents had told her, because of her unseemly behavior, she needed to go to another school. They were very religious, and she had humiliated them by thoughtlessly throwing herself at a happily married man, tempting him to stray from his vows. Unable to bear the humiliation of her corrupt and lascivious ways, they promptly returned her to the children’s home until more suitable foster parents could be found. She’d thought she would die of embarrassment.

  She knew better now. Dying would be the easy way out. She had no option but to continue with her apology to Flynn so she could get out of there as soon as possible and before her hat started to look like an oven-ready chicken.

  His face blank, he crossed his arms over his wide chest, leaned back on the porch rail, and waited.

  She jerked in another painful breath.

  “Anyway, considering the whole avoidance thing, I’m guessing you weren’t interested, and I thought I should apologize for my…enthusiasm…and my mistake. Please don’t be embarrassed to visit Jack and Kate. I’ll make myself scarce if I embarrass you.”

  She fell silent as he moved, to give him a moment to say something. Then she realized he was resettling himself as though he was getting more comfortable to listen to her.

  Stunned by his apparent unconcern an
d heartless silence, she made a half-turn to walk away, and then forced herself to face him again.

  “You might also want to know…” She held a forefinger in the air. “One, I don’t make a habit of this sort of thing.” She held up a second finger. “Two, the last time I had sex was over eighteen months ago, and I’ve had a sexual health check since then.” Rolling her eyes in agony—after all, she probably hadn’t needed to confess how long it had been since she’d had sex, it made her sound even more desperate—she dropped her hands to her sides and squeezed them around the rim of the hat so hard she could feel her nails biting into the soft felt of the Stetson. “And…C. If I had known you were six years younger, I would never have embarrassed you with my unwelcome attention.” In the face of his continued silence, she whirled around, poised to run, and thought of one more thing she felt obliged to grind out. “Also, there’s no chance I can get pregnant.”

  Then her feet flew and her breath sawed in and out as she charged toward her lodge at the other side of the woodland copse. Her cheeks burned with mortification.

  Now, not only would Flynn be embarrassed by her actions the other night, but he probably thought she was a lunatic with her insistence in over-explaining herself. Once she’d opened her big mouth, she’d been unable to stop the verbal diarrhea spewing forth.

  She came to an abrupt stop and leaned over at the waist to drag in a painful breath, hugging the Stetson against her heaving stomach. She raised one hand to her mouth to stop the wrenching gasps from escaping too loudly in the quiet as the heavy curtain of dusk came down.

  “Oh no.” What a fool she’d made of herself. Not once, but twice. Stress spasmed a sharp pain through her gut, almost bringing her to her knees, a small sob escaped, and she clapped a hand harder over her lips. Dammit, she wasn’t weak. She was a strong woman, she’d been through worse.

  She straightened, tapped the hat against her thigh twice, and watched as a few more yellow feathers fluttered to the ground, no doubt because of her rough handling of it. She stared in disgust. It was almost bald. Tufts of feathers were widely interspersed with threadbare patches. The poor hat had been ill-treated and had suffered badly. Almost as badly as she had suffered.

  With slow, purposeful steps, she walked toward her lodge. There was nothing for it but to go home, sleep, wake up the next morning, and pretend nothing had happened. She straightened her shoulders, pushed her chest out, and moved her walk to a stride.

  She had to make a decision on whether she was going to continue her research in New Zealand, and she needed a clear head, knowing once the commitment was made, she would have a further seven months of solitude. Perhaps it would be for the best. She was never going to be able to look Flynn in the eye again. Her human interaction skills were so poor, she should really just stick to communicating with micro-organisms.

  Chin up, she reached her hand toward the door of her lodge and died a thousand deaths as a dark shadow whipped around from her side to behind her and snaked a steely arm around her waist. Before she had time to draw in breath, his solid muscular body pressed into her back and pushed her straight up against the closed door. The yellow Stetson gave a groan and a loud whoosh as the weight of her body flattened it against the door. A gruff male voice rasped in her ear.

  “It’s me.”

  She already knew. She could smell him, warm and musky. It didn’t slow her heartbeat down one iota knowing who it was. In fact, the rapid tattoo it beat out against her ribs seemed to echo double-time in the base of her throat.

  “I have a couple of things I need to say.” His breath was a warm rush against her neck, sapping the strength from her bones. As her knees weakened, he jerked her body against his, and the abused Stetson dropped from her numbed fingers onto the floor at her feet. He squeezed his arm tighter around her waist and pressed in closer, until she could feel his rigid penis pressed hard against her rump. His hips surged upward, trapping her body against his.

  “One, I wasn’t avoiding you or anyone. I had things to do and I like to be alone. Two …” He flattened his hand out across her belly as his other moved around to cup her breast, spreading warmth from his palm over her bosom. “I’m interested. Very interested.” His voice rasped in her ear as he stroked his palm down to the juncture of her thighs. At the same time, he gave a gentle squeeze of her breast, and the heat of his hands soaked through her clothes, her skin, her bones until she gave a desperate whimper.

  “… and C…” He nipped the back of her neck and she collapsed, boneless, against the wooden door. “You’re only five years older than me, not six, but I like older women…they have more experience and…” His hand slipped down the inside of her jeans, and his fingers worked their way between her legs where her soft flesh was already swollen and wet. “…enthusiasm.”

  Her teeth almost rattled as he popped the button on her jeans, whipped down her zipper, and slipped his fingers between her heated folds. Her eyelids fluttered, and she tipped her head back to rest it on his chest. She braced herself against him and attempted to push her hips forward, but he held her imprisoned as his fingers plunged deep inside her scorching center, sending her senses into spiraling, pulsating orgasm. Pinned between Flynn and the door, she was helpless to either move away or do anything to increase her own pleasure except let him control, and it was almost more pleasure than she could handle. She pressed her palms against the door and turned her fiery cheek to the side.

  “Flynn.”

  He withdrew his hand. Breath filled her lungs and exploded back out again as anticipation made her pant in short, sharp gasps. She’d had no idea there was more, wasn’t sure she could take any more.

  He spun her around to face him, yanked her jeans down her legs, and before she knew it, before she had even realized, his own jeans were open and he was plunging, thick and pulsating inside her. His face tucked into her neck, his body pounded into hers, holding her a willing prisoner against the hard, smooth door. He stepped on her jeans and hauled her feet out of them. Her little sandals popped off and slapped onto the wooden floor while he grabbed her legs and wrapped them around his hips, never missing a beat, never losing his rhythm. He hammered inside her, fast and furious, his breath grunting deep in his throat.

  Her head knocked as she tipped it back against the wood of the door and allowed him access to her neck. He cupped the back of her head in his palm to cushion it from further impact. Her pulse thundered, battling to stay ahead of the rhythm Flynn had set. Desperate and breathless, they raced blind to the summit, reaching it at almost the same time, exploding in unison. Holding still, exhausted and satisfied, they clutched each other for a long moment, allowing their hearts to settle.

  Disappointment shuddered through her while he disentangled himself all too soon. He moved away to straighten his clothes and try to shake off her Stetson, which appeared to have somehow become firmly lodged on his boot. He stepped back and left her weak and sagging against the door.

  “Another thing…” His voice wasn’t as stable as she imagined he wanted it to sound. Deep and husky with a definite hitch to it. A small smile curved her lips as she met his intense gaze, waiting for him to say something warm and romantic. “I’m clean too. I had tests.”

  Before she had time to blink, he had gone, like a shadow into the night, leaving her limp and half-naked in the pitch black, leaning against a doorway.

  “Oh, dear God.” She lowered the hand she had started to raise, peered around and hoped there was no one out there in the dark. She crouched, grabbed her belongings, and scoured around for the flattened yellow hat, all the time glancing up to check no one was around. When she couldn’t see it, she shoved her way through the door into the cool, dark, lonely room beyond, amidst a flurry of canary feathers floating from the clothes gripped tightly in her arms.

  •●•

  He slipped into his own solitary bed and lay, eyes wide, staring through the dark at the ceiling. By rights, after a work-out like that, he should have been fast asleep, but the curvy
little woman filled his head, even after she’d left him satisfied. Not true. He wasn’t satisfied. His body was, but he’d been left with a deep emptiness.

  Guilt was part of the problem. He’d just fucked the life out of her and left her leaning, half-naked against her door like an abandoned rag doll. He hadn’t even been chivalrous enough to check to see if she was all right. But the moment she’d lifted a hand to touch his face, her mouth mere inches away from his, his system shot into flight mode.

  He shifted position, raised his arm, rested it across his forehead, and huffed out a breath. Flight mode. He snorted. He’d barely been able to command his weakened legs to stagger, never mind run. If she’d had good night vision, she probably would have laughed her ass off as he stumbled through the line of trees, her goddamned hat still attached to his foot as he tried to shake it loose, reaching out to steady himself as he bounced from one tree to the other.

  His mouth twitched into a smile as he glanced at the three small yellow feathers on his bedside table. One had fluttered out from the side of his boot laces, where it had obviously been lodged when he’d accidentally pulverized her Stetson with his large foot, the other two had tickled the hell out of his thigh until he ripped his jeans back off and located them.

  He let out a chuckle as he rubbed his chest and thought of the way he’d had to kick the squashed canary off his foot. Best damned thing that could have happened to the ugly hat. He’d put it out of its misery.

  He let out a long sigh, closed his eyes, and pictured her.

  She’d been so cute standing there explaining why she’d pounded on him a few days earlier, but he couldn’t think for the life of him why she imagined he wasn’t interested. Every time he so much as glanced at her, his dick jumped to attention. Even now, lying in bed when his body should be relaxed and satiated, the thought of Miss Liberty Sophia Glennon roused his body.

  His smile grew even wider. No sex in eighteen months. No wonder she’d been—what was her word for it? Enthusiastic. He’d have called it desperate. Only she hadn’t been desperate for just any man. Those eyes of hers had given her away. She hadn’t been able to take them off him since the first moment she saw him. They’d been like beacons drawing him in, begging him for attention. Well, she sure as hell had gotten all of his attention. Twice now. And twice he’d walked away—or in this case, stumbled.