Tell Me True

by Ally Blake

  “Why, if it isn’t April, the Unrepentantly Curious and Savvy.”

  Caught in the spell of his deep, silken voice, April’s breath lodged in her throat taking her words with it.

  Finally she managed, “What are you doing here?”

  Finn leant down in order to hear her better, his hand cupping her elbow, sending sparks of delicious awareness skittering through her. Turned out the fact that it was so very loud was her new favourite thing about the bar.

  “Entertaining clients,” he said as he looked over his shoulder.

  April followed his gaze to find at a glamorous-looking couple sitting pink-cheeked and wide-eyed in one of the deeply-decrepit booths.

  “And you picked this place? For them? What kind of service do you offer exactly?”

  His smile hooked at one corner of his mouth. “Investments... and such.”

  “Okay. And don’t you want them as clients anymore?”

  Finn laughed, right at the moment he slid his hand from her elbow to a particularly sensitive spot between her shoulder blades, and shielded her from a group of men easing past. The echo of his laughter rumbled from his chest to hers, creating shivers in its wake.

  “That certainly makes me feel better about my decision. Thanks.”

  She slammed her eyes shut tight. “Sorry, I didn’t mean...”

  “No, you’re right,” he said, his grip easing but the warmth of his fingers still seeped into her bare skin. “The Jamesons remarked that they’d yet to experience the ‘real Sydney’. When you mentioned this place last night it must have stuck.”

  “Oh.” Oh, wow.

  “I’d counted on a five percent chance they wouldn’t ask their driver to step on it the minute we pulled up outside the Slippery Nipple. Bob’s a farm boy through and through. But Sally’s a city girl; said it made her feel like she was back in college. Bob does whatever makes Sally happy. I got lucky.”

  “I was brought up not believing in luck. Or coincidences. Or Santa Claus for that matter. ‘Putting one’s faith in the intangible only leads to deep set disappointment and trust repercussions.’ My mother’s words when I begged to hang stockings at Christmas, just in case.”

  Over-sharers Anonymous, anyone?

  “Seems... inflexible.”

  “You’ve met my mother, then?” April shook her head. “Anyway. Now I’m all grown up and my dog and I get a stocking every December. My sister, Erica, too, if she’s been relatively not horrible to me that week.”

  “Just in case,” he said, leaning a little closer, his voice dropping so only she could hear it.

  “Exactly! Not doing so seems to jeer in the face of hope I think. Hmmm. I bet your family had great trees,” she said, glancing at his nose, chin, anywhere but his devastating eyes.

  Coward’s move, sure. But this didn’t feel like practice and the threat of disappointment around this guy had to be set around ninety-nine percent.

  “All matching and sleek. Glass baubles. Nothing so gauche as tinsel or rainbow fairy lights. Of course, I live for tinsel and rainbow fairy lights.”

  Finn had no response to that blurt. Man of few words, he was. While she had more than enough to go around.

  “Okay. Well, you should get some drinks into your clients before they spontaneously combust. I should find my friends too.”

  She made to disentangle herself from his magnetic field, only to find his hand was back on her arm. And he clearly had no intention of letting go. He opened his mouth as if he was about to say something.

  At which exact moment Smith’s patience must have depleted, as he bounded up to them. Sticking an arm in between, forcing Finn to let her go. The spot felt so cold she had to rub away the goose bumps.

  “Hiya. I’m Smith. One of April’s best friends. And this is Clara.”

  Clara poked her head around Smith’s shoulder and waved.

  “Finn,” Finn said without missing a beat. He took Smith’s hand, gave it a manly pump. Then did the same to Clara, who looked like she might faint. “Finn Ward.”

  April tucked his full name away for later Googling. Because... how could she not?

  The bartender pushed a tray with three glasses and a huge jug of something pink and frothy and topped with a big orange umbrella towards Finn.

  “Wow,” April said, “that’s festive.”

  David, the bartender, laughed. “It’s deadly is what it is. Pretty much jet fuel and food colouring.”

  “And fruit,” April said, poking a finger at the solo cherry wedged on top.

  “Client’s choice,” Finn explained.

  “I’d hope so.”

  April caught Finn’s eye and suddenly she was back in other bar. Just the two of them. Finn, drowning his worries in something less festive, she calling him on it. Him calling her on her messed up dress.

  His brow furrowed a moment and his hot blue gaze dropped to her mouth. He let out a breath through his nose. April, on the other hand, couldn’t remember how to breathe at all.

  Smith – dear, darling Smith – said, “That thing looks like the inside of my head at any given moment.”

  Finn blinked as if coming out of a haze, which made zero sense. He was absolutely not her type – too together, too slick, he was the anti-fixer-upper. But it was even less likely that she could ever be his.

  There, the eight-foot-tall blonde with super pout and skin like honey walking towards her. That would be his type. April waited for the blonde to pass. Waited for Finn’s eyes to lift, follow, to drink in the blonde as any red-blooded man with half a chance would do.

  Instead his eyes looked into hers... and held. “Care to join us?”

  Where was a fountain when she needed one? Because the urge to do something counter to her cause was growing by the microsecond, and somehow a fountain swim seemed far safer than might happen in the presence of this man.

  “No. No thanks. Go back to your clients. Make sure they still have their wallets.” April tried backing away only to bang into Smith, who’d dug in his heels.

  “Your Viking has a booth, April Sunshine.” Smith countered, his eyes pleading as the growing crowd jostled him against bar. Then he pointed pointedly towards the front door.

  When April spotted a few of the Halcyon managers slithering through the crowd—with Jase right up front; waving his arms in the air like he owned the place—the decision was made.

  “Okay,” she said, grabbing Finn by the elbow, “let’s do it.”

  Finn nodded to the bartender, requesting three more glasses and another jug, which meant Smith would be his forever more.

  Finn didn’t wait for a gap in the crowd like a normal person, he simply walked and the crowd parted.

  Smith shot April an impressed glance.

  “I know, right?” She mouthed as they snuck through in his wake.

  Apparently oblivious to the effect he had on the world, Finn placed the tray on the chipped table and called out the introductions.

  April waved quickly. Shuffled from foot to foot as everyone shook hands. Checking constantly to see if Jase and the gang had caught up yet.

  They had.

  Jase was suddenly right there. Right beside her. Looking not at all happy.

  April got such a fright she leapt back. Knocked into Finn, sending him backside first into the booth where she landed right on top of him.

  Her legs kicked into the air as she and Finn became a tangle of limbs, her foot missing Jase’s inner thigh region by a fraction. Pity. Finn’s arms wrapped around her to halt her momentum—one hand on her hip, the other arm wedged right under her breasts. And she thanked everything good and holy for long dresses, or her record of flashing a bar full of people could well have been two for two.

  Then Finn said, “It’s okay. I’ve got you.” His warm breath tickled over the back of her neck.

  His hard muscles pressed all up in her space. And, whoa, Nelly, did he smell good. Brain spitting and twitching with the onslaught of stimulation, April righted herself as elegantly as sh
e could. She wriggled to face him, one arm clinging to his neck, the other hand gripping his thigh—currently wedged between her legs—for all she was worth.

  “I’m so sorry! That was totally my fault.” She shook a now wild mass of red waves from her face. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” he said.

  Though his expression was closed down. His jaw tight. His eyes as dark as night.

  “Rubbish. You’re anything but.” She let go of his neck and patted him down to make sure she hadn’t done any lasting damage.

  “Where does it hurt? Do you need ice? A bandage? What can I do?” She ran a quick hand over his hair in search of lumps but instead she only found hair; soft and springy and smelling like fresh air and sunshine.

  “You can stop squirming, for one thing.”

  She stopped. And in the stillness realised how close they were. Close enough to see the flecks of a dozen different blues ringing his large pupils. To discover a pale jagged scar slicing along his jaw line. To see the crinkles around his eyes never quite went away.

  His chin was inches from her cleavage. Every breath tickling her décolletage. While her hand on his thigh was seriously close to... the top of it. She moved a finger to check how close and it snagged on the bottom of his zipper.

  It soon became clear she’d done Finn no permanent damage. Quite the opposite.

  “Oh.” Her fingers curled of their own volition.

  “April,” he growled.

  “Sorry.” Not sorry. “Shall I get up?”

  “Give me a minute.”

  “Okay.” She focussed on the shadow where his neat tie knot met his white shirt.

  She wondered if she ought to start humming the national anthem. Or the theme from that new bank ad that drove everyone crazy. Anything to, well, help the situation.

  “Now?”

  He breathed out hard and snagged her gaze with his own. He looked so pained she bit her lip to stop from laughing. But it was no use.

  If Hazel could see her now. She laughed even harder.

  Till Finn sneezed. And lifted both hands to tuck her hair out of his way so as not to sneeze again. Only his hands remained either side of her head, his thumbs dipping into the hollow under her chin. Rising and falling as she swallowed. Hard.

  “You good now?” she asked, her voice husky as all get out.

  She followed the kick of a smile dragging at the corner of his mouth as he drawled, “Yeah. I’m good.”

  “April?” A frustrated male voice that did not belong to the man on whose lap she sat called as if it wasn’t the first time.

  Jase. She’d completely forgotten he was there. With management in tow.

  As she spun she caught sight of Smith, Clara, Sally and Bob, all watching Finn and her with matching expressions of amusement.

  When she got to Jase it was to find him less in on the joke. He looked like he was sporting his own personal rain cloud.

  He held out a hand. Figuring the only other choice was to sit on Finn’s lap for the duration, she took it.

  Carefully – carefully – April pressed her hands onto his Finn’s thigh as she slid away. Her dress hitched against his suit pants; her girl parts tingling at the friction. She closed her eyes and thought of that scene in Downton Abbey that always made her sob ugly tears. And finally made it back to standing.

  Jase’s smile was tight, his voice coming out a little on the high side in an effort to overcome the noise of the crowded bar. “I thought you said you wouldn’t be here.”

  April shook her head. “I said I wouldn’t come with you, as I didn’t think it was appropriate. Smith and Clara and I often have drinks here. As I’m sure you know.”

  With that she leant past Jase to wave at the guys from management who were waiting for Jase to lead the way and find a table before they got trampled. “Hi, guys!”

  The guys waved back.

  “Try the daiquiris. They’re wicked.”

  When she looked back at Jase he was taking in Sally and Bob, Smith and Clara. And Finn.

  A muscle twitched in his cheek before he gave the table his trademark smile. “Evening folks.” When his eyes landed back on April, he’d managed to regather a little warmth. “Invitation’s still open. My shout.”

  April’s tummy gave a half-hearted flip at the words she’d been hoping to hear for weeks, only for the sensation to land with a plop. “Thanks, but, no. You guys have a good night though!”

  With that, she turned back to her booth to find Finn had thankfully made room so she didn’t have to sit on him again. Because that would have been a hardship. She tucked her dress demurely beneath her backside and slid into place.

  A quick check over her shoulder showed that, even as he trekked deeper into the busy bar, Jase still looked shanghaied. It was quite the thing.

  She leaned around Finn towards Smith and shouted, “I’m glad you dragged me here.”

  Smith flicked a most obvious look at Finn and shouted back, “I’ll bet.”

  “Who was that?” Finn asked.

  Though instead of shouting he moved in closer. Close enough that his suit sleeve brushed her bare arm.

  “Jase,” Smith added helpfully. “He works with us. He’s April’s crush turned nemesis.”

  “Smith!”

  Smith hid behind the umbrella he’d nicked from the cocktail jug.

  “You have a crush on that guy?” Finn asked.

  “Had,” she admitted, even while her belly still curdled at having gone toe-to-toe with the guy.

  She’d never been all that good at turning off her feelings for people once they’d been switched on. Starting with her father. When he’d left—under the least auspicious circumstances—her mother had been in shock for a really long time before she’d come back with a vengeance and a bestseller that did everything but castrate her ex husband in print. Erica had gone spitting mad; raging against the world. While April had tried to understand why. Trying to make the best of things. Hoping their family could all be friends in the end.

  Once she’d pulled herself together, April’s mother had explained the psychology behind “separation anxiety” in order for April to learn how to make “healthier, cleaner breaks”.

  She didn’t seem to have a problem with Erica’s stormy anger. Erica, who could still cut people from her life from one breath to the next. And did. It was an excellent form of emotional blackmail, in fact. Hence the fact they were sharing a tiny attic apartment at that very moment.

  April allowed that people were all trying to get through life the best way they knew how. Some simply pulled it off with more panache.

  “He was pretty darned adorable,” Sally said.

  Clara nodded. “It’s the puppy dog eyes.”

  “That’s his superpower,” Smith added most helpfully.

  “Surely he’s worth a second chance?” Sally asked.

  Finn looked to Bob and poked a thumb in the direction of the bar. “That guy?”

  Bob shrugged. “All I know is my wife has impeccable taste.”

  Finn turned back to April. Gave her a long look.

  He then slid his arm along the back of the booth and turned on his seat to get a better look at Jase. His long fingers brushed her shoulder. Accidentally, she was sure. Pretty sure.

  Didn’t stop her skin from prickling in a most delicious way.

  She bit back a smile as she turned and looked right along with him.

  Now near the bar, Jase was stuck between the heads of payroll and logistics, both super nerds who could talk numbers till the cows came home. Fiona had the floor, and was making use of her chance to get Jase cornered. Jase shifted from one foot to the other, his eyes sliding away in search something better.

  April cringed on his behalf. “He can be charming when he wants to be.”

  “Which he clearly doesn’t want to be right now.” Finn rumbled. “Any idea why that is?”

  “His thought processes have proven to be beyond my understanding.”

  “Reall
y? I’d say the reason behind his current churlishness is patent.”

  April turned to Finn to find him watching her instead. Eyes locked onto hers in that way that made her feel as if he had no desire to look at nothing else.

  “You mean me?”

  He shrugged without moving. The man simply oozed nonchalance. It was one of the sexiest things she’d ever seen.

  She tried it on for size, lifting a shoulder as if men lost their heads over her all the time. “If so, it’s petulance, nothing deeper.”

  “If you say so.” This time when he moved and his fingers brushed her shoulder, she knew it was no accident.

  Whoa, Nelly. Finn was flirting with her.

  Not that she got ahead of herself. Not that she thought anything of it. The lighting was dark, the music slow and deep, the beverage of choice was an unnatural neon pink and therefore had a good chance of containing mind-numbing chemicals.

  There was also Hazel’s theory at play—the ancient battle of the alpha male.

  Jase—who, as it turned out, was closer to the alpha-hole end of the spectrum than she’d realised—hadn’t shown any indication he’d been desperate to buy her a drink until Finn had come onto the scene. And Finn hadn’t accidentally-not-accidentally touched her until he was aware of her once upon a time crush on Jase.

  Finn did the one eyebrow lift thing. Questioning her taste.

  She poked out her tongue.

  His smile was slow. His smile was real. Heady. Completely disorienting.

  A few beats later, Finn turned back to the table. When his fingers tangled in a wave of her hair, she made to move out of his way only to find he’d wrapped a curl around his fingers. Just for a moment. Taking possession. Tugging. Before letting it slide away.

  Whatever his motive, April felt it all the way to her toes.

  And feared how she’d ever explain any of this to Hazel without the woman getting the complete wrong idea.

  Chapter Five

  From there the table settled into a kind of rhythm.

  Smith’s lack of a filter had them all in stitches. Clara sipped happily from her gluten-free Virgin Mary. Sally was a riot, telling stories about their life back in California and how their three month Australian holiday had ended up with them on the verge of investing their life savings with Finn’s firm, while Bob looked at her like she could do no wrong.