by Annie West
Her week in Paris had been a blur of excitement and pleasure. Something out of a romantic dream.
But she’d known it couldn’t last. Dreams never did.
When Flynn had been called away to London they’d parted with no plans to meet again. It had happened so fast she hadn’t realised that till she’d been watching his broad shoulders cleave through the crowds on the Champs-Elysées, leaving admiring female stares in his wake.
He’d said nothing about the future. Had she just been convenient vacation company?
Ava’s mouth tightened. It was ridiculous to experience this pang of longing. Yet she couldn’t suppress a sigh. Paris, when he’d stayed on after his work meetings just to be with her, extending his few days into a week’s stay, had been the most magical experience of her life.
Face it, Ava. It was the only magical experience you’ve ever had. Fairytales aren’t for you.
She forced herself to scan the guidebook, reading about the defenestration of Prague, when irate locals had tipped three men out of this very castle window.
Defenestration. Such a pompous word. It reminded her of her father. Not that Michael Cavendish would have been caught committing assault. His speciality had been behind the scenes manipulation.
Ava snapped the book shut.
Life would have been better for a lot of people if someone had defenestrated Michael Cavendish years ago.
‘Ava.’
She froze. Surely she was imagining that low voice, like dark chocolate and aged port.
She’d woken flushed and aroused this morning with that voice in her head. Drowsily she’d reached out, half believing she’d done what she hadn’t dared to in Paris.
‘Ava?’
Her head jerked up, then up again, and there he was—like the answer to a wish she hadn’t dared formulate.
He stood, carelessly chic in bespoke casual clothes, looking at her with the tantalising hint of a smile. His saturnine good looks and an intriguing hint of unknowable undercurrents made Flynn Marshall the most compellingly attractive man she’d ever met.
Or maybe it was the gleam in sloe-dark eyes that spread warmth through her. That gleam hinted at shared secrets, a special bond.
‘Flynn? I can’t believe it!’ Her smile widened. She hadn’t a hope of concealing the tumultuous joy filling her chest so that for a moment she couldn’t breathe.
It was as if all those years of learning to conceal her feelings and reveal only a poised, charming face to the world had never been.
With Flynn there was no need for the façade. She knew she was utterly safe with him.
If she experienced a frisson of danger it was delicious danger. A reminder that she was no longer a child but a woman and that he was potently, breathtakingly male.
‘Why were you frowning? You looked grim.’
He brushed long fingers across her brow and something in her chest somersaulted. Ava told herself it couldn’t be her heart, but she was past caring.
Flynn was here with her!
It couldn’t be a coincidence. He’d had no plans to visit Prague. His business was in London.
‘Ava?’
She blinked. ‘I looked grim?’ She’d been thinking of her father. No wonder she’d frowned. ‘I was just reading the guidebook. Do you know this is where the defenestration of Prague took place? The second one. The first was down in the old town hall.’
Was she babbling? Probably. It was hard to concentrate with Flynn standing there, his eyes eating her up. Her flesh tightened, her nipples budding against her lace bra.
Surely he hadn’t looked at her so hungrily in Paris. If he had she might have overcome a lifetime’s scruples and invited him to—
‘Perhaps it’s a national pastime...tossing people out of windows.’
His low voice held the hint of a sexy chuckle. Ava felt it resonate through her. Or maybe that was a reaction to the deep green woodsy scent that was uniquely Flynn’s. It did the strangest things to her.
‘But the Czechs seem such friendly people,’ she said.
‘Who knows? Maybe they have hidden depths.’
Like Flynn.
They’d spent most of last week together in Paris and Ava had felt a connection she’d never experienced with any other man. Maybe because she’d known him when she was young—he’d been an older, intriguing figure, embodying the freedom she’d longed for. He’d been a true friend when she’d most needed one. She’d never forgotten his kindness that night of her father’s party.
Yet she was aware there was a part of Flynn he kept to himself. But who didn’t? Her own experiences had made Ava intensely private.
‘You’re looking serious again.’
Once more that fleeting touch stole her breath.
‘I’m wondering what you’re doing here. You had a crisis to deal with in London.’
Flynn shrugged and her gaze slid along straight, powerful shoulders. Heat trickled through her. She knew she had it bad when a pair of shoulders robbed her of breath.
‘Ah. The emergency.’
But instead of explaining he stepped to one side, inviting her to follow. Immediately a family group took their place at the window, peering over the trees to the red roofs of old Prague.
Ava found herself standing with Flynn in a quiet corner beside another large window. She didn’t glance at the view. Her attention was riveted on him.
With sharp cheekbones, deep-set eyes beneath slanted ebony brows and that strongly carved jaw, Flynn Marshall was enough to mesmerise any woman. His burnished skin hinted at his Romany heritage and the slightly askew set of his long nose, broken years ago, reinforced the aura of physicality in his athletic frame. Even the brutally short cut of his raven hair, which Ava knew would curl around his collar if left to grow, couldn’t tame that hint of wildness.
A wildness that had transferred to her pulse. It racketed too fast.
‘You were going to explain what you’re doing here.’ The words emerged sharply.
His mouth cocked up at one side in a half-smile that she felt in the sudden thump of her heart against her ribs. Ava gripped her book and took a step back—only to find herself against the window embrasure.
Flynn regarded her with laughing eyes, but for once Ava couldn’t join in the joke. She felt clogged with anticipation, her chest constricting.
It wasn’t Flynn’s smile she wanted, but much more. How could she feel so much, want so much, after just a week?
The ache in her chest intensified and perversely Ava resented his effect on her. She hated feeling vulnerable. It was a sensation she’d worked hard to eradicate from her life.
It was a sensation she’d vowed never to feel again.
Ava lifted her chin, projecting something akin to the hauteur that had been her father’s hallmark.
The laughter in Flynn’s eyes died, leaving him sombre.
He raised his hand to touch her again but she stiffened. Opening up to Flynn as she had in Paris had been a completely new experience. Only now did she realise how dangerously far she’d let herself go.
‘I came for you.’ His voice brushed soft as a summer breeze across her sensitised skin.
‘Me?’ The word emerged from her constricted throat.
‘You.’
He leaned closer but didn’t touch her. He didn’t need to. That glowing look melted her resistance and incinerated her doubts.
‘I couldn’t stay away, Ava.’
‘But you had work to do—’
‘I dealt with the crisis in a day and then rescheduled everything that wasn’t critical.’
When he looked at her that way she was tempted to think he shared her feelings. Her breath hitched.
‘One of the perks of being the boss?’ She kept her tone light. ‘Your secreta
ry must love that.’
‘I’m a good employer.’
She heard pride in his voice.
‘And usually I’m easy to work with. I’ve never done this before.’
The air throbbed between them. Surely Flynn heard her heart pounding?
She swallowed, out of her depth. Carefree companionship teetered on the brink of something beyond her experience. Ava had played safe so long. She was torn between joy and fear at the prospect of stepping beyond her self-imposed boundaries.
‘You’ve never played hooky before?’ she teased, her voice uneven. It was easier to pretend she hadn’t read his intense gaze. ‘I find that hard to believe.’
He shook his head, that glimmer of a smile telling her he understood what she was doing.
No one apart from her brother Rupert read her so easily.
‘I’ve done my share of rule-breaking.’
Flynn’s defiance of the established order at Frayne Hall had been legend, and a favourite cause of complaint for her father. He’d accused his tenants’ son of everything from poaching to disrespect and being ‘too bloody clever for his boots’.
To Ava, seven years younger, his exploits had taken on mythic proportions—like those of Robin Hood and Zorro and every other defiant rule-breaker rolled into one. She’d applauded his audacity and mourned his absence when he’d left. She’d longed to follow in his footsteps and stand up to oppressive authority. Finally she had, but years of conformity had taken their toll.
‘But not now you’re a businessman?’ It had been a shock to discover Flynn the maverick was now a respected businessman, doing something conventional in the City.
‘I take calculated risks, but cancelling important appointments isn’t my style.’ The smile disappeared, his face suddenly serious. ‘Until now. Until you.’
The heat in his eyes seared her from the top of her head to the tips of her toes.
‘But I’ll be back in London myself next week.’ Her voice was croaky and she couldn’t seem to get her breath.
Flynn shook his head. ‘I couldn’t wait that long.’
Ava’s pulse sprinted at what she read in his eyes. He took her hand, lifting it to his lips, his gaze never wavering from hers.
It was the first time he’d kissed her.
In Paris she’d wondered if he might, hoped he would. She’d berated herself for not taking the initiative to kiss him.
In the background she heard voices, the echo of footsteps, but they barely registered. Her senses focused on those hard, warm fingers enfolding hers and the press of surprisingly soft lips sending ripples of pleasure up her arm.
Dark eyes glittered as he pressed a kiss to her palm, turning the ripple into a floodtide of delight.
Dazed, she shook her head. She wasn’t a complete innocent. She’d dated, shared kisses. But she’d never experienced anything so flagrantly erotic.
They were fully clothed, in a public place, yet with that simple caress Flynn had reduced her to quivering neediness. Except she didn’t feel reduced. She felt buoyant, light as air, as if she’d swallowed sunshine.
‘You came for me?’ she whispered, afraid to believe it.
Despite her materially privileged upbringing, she’d never been made to feel special. To her father she’d been a commodity, not a person in her own right.
Flynn had cancelled a packed schedule to join her. No one had done anything like that in her life—put her first. It filled her to the brim with stirring emotions.
‘I did come for you.’
Flynn’s lips traced the words across her palm, making her tremble as arousal stirred.
‘I told you I couldn’t stay away.’
Her fingers touched his cheek, threaded through his springy short hair, revelling in the unique textures of him: the hardness of sculpted bone beneath taut flesh, the softness of his hair, his heat against her palm.
‘I missed you.’ With Flynn here her doubts seemed foolish. ‘I was afraid I wouldn’t see you again.’
He smiled, his expression so satisfied that for a moment it bordered on smug. But the impression was so fleeting she told herself she must have imagined it.
‘I missed you too, Ava. Our week in Paris wasn’t enough for me. I need more.’
Ava was still absorbing that when he bent, reaching for the floor. When he straightened he held the guidebook she hadn’t noticed she’d dropped.
Heat flushed her cheeks as she took it. She’d never been clumsy—if she had it had been drummed out of her. She was twenty-four, competent, savvy, and never bowled over by men no matter how suave. Especially if they were suave. Life had taught her to be wary, even suspicious.
Yet with Flynn it was as if she were seventeen again—klutzy and breathlessly awakening to romance.
A seventeen she’d never been.
She tasted bitterness on her tongue. There’d been no room for romance or dreams then. Just harsh reality that had taught her good things came at a cost.
What was it about Flynn that cut through those hard-won lessons? The fact that he had nothing to gain from being with her? That he could have no ulterior motive? That his interest was in her and not, as so often in the past, in who she’d been?
Because Flynn was genuine.
Because she’d known him for ever.
Because he’d proved she could trust him.
How could she not? He’d helped her on the worst night of her life. Inspired her to change her life even if he hadn’t realised it then.
‘Thank you.’ Ignoring the clinging shreds of caution that warned her to hold back, Ava smiled, letting her feelings show.
Flynn blinked and then, swift as thought, moved in to grasp her arm, his touch deliciously possessive.
‘I was right to follow you to Prague.’
He paused, his expression making the blood hum in her veins.
‘Wasn’t I?’
For an instant she hesitated, unused to laying herself open. But these new feelings were too intense to ignore. Besides, wasn’t being with Flynn what she’d longed for?
‘Absolutely.’ She curled her fingers around his arm, staking a claim of her own. It felt good.
‘Seen enough here?’
Ava dragged her gaze from those velvety eyes, noticing for the first time the tourists casting them curious stares.
‘Yes.’ She dropped the guidebook into her tote bag and pressed close, revelling in the feel of him beside her. She felt ready to follow him anywhere.
Moments later they retraced her route through the Vladislav Hall, so long and cavernous that in the old days knights had entertained the nobility here with indoor jousts.
Ava smiled as they headed for the exit, imagining Flynn astride a warhorse. Strangely, the image came easily. With his determination and athleticism he’d be a force to be reckoned with in combat. More, he’d look wildly romantic with his sculpted, dark features and glowing gaze as he accepted a lady’s favour. Her favour.
She shook her head, dispelling the fantasy.
But nothing could dispel the heady sense that she’d left behind dull reality and entered a glorious new world to which Flynn held the key.
He drew her arm further through his, his smile melting her internal organs.
Did she have stars in her eyes? She didn’t care.
For the first time in her life Ava was in love. Completely, head over heels in love.
Flynn was everything she’d never dared dream of: understanding, charismatic, funny, sexy, gently teasing, considerate yet strong. Caring.
She’d spent years distrusting men’s motives. All her life, it seemed. But she knew Flynn. He’d never hurt her or play the heartless, manipulative games with which she’d grown up. He’d rescued her years before and never once tried to use her in any way.
<
br /> Flynn was special. He always had been.
Why shouldn’t she, for the first time ever, let her emotions rule? Fling away caution and live the dream? Even if it was scary, letting go.
Ava was tired of allowing the shadows of the past to restrict her life.
As they left the old palace and emerged into the sunlight of the citadel Ava felt she was stepping into her own private fairytale.
CHAPTER THREE
THEY WATCHED THE sun go down from a romantic outdoor restaurant perched high on a hill. Hand in hand they talked, laughed and sipped delicious local wine. If Ava spent more time drinking in Flynn’s sculpted features rather than the view of orchards, ancient buildings and the glinting river, what did it matter?
Flynn’s whole attention was focused on her. Ava had never felt so important, so...treasured.
The closeness they’d shared in Paris reached a new level. Even after such a short time they could finish each other’s sentences. Ava revelled in the fact they understood each other so well.
Now, in the lobby of her small hotel, she didn’t want the magic to end.
‘Come up to my room?’
The words emerged breathlessly and Ava lifted her chin to counteract any hint of vulnerability. She was inexperienced, but that was from choice, not fear. Deliberately she banished all thought of why she’d remained celibate.
She wanted Flynn as she’d never wanted any man. Never thought she could want any man. She’d always had a weakness for him, since her teens.
Black eyebrows slashed down over eyes turned suddenly inscrutable. Surely Ava was mistaken in thinking, even for a fleeting second, that she’d seen calculation in Flynn’s expression?
That was what a lifetime of distrust did to you.
Thrusting it aside, she took his hand. It was hard and warm as it gripped hers.
Fire arced through her when Flynn leant close.
‘Lead the way.’
His words feathered her hair. Something twanged inside, like a string plucked, taut and vibrating. Ava’s heart-rate raced faster.
Up and up they went. With each step she was ultra-aware of Flynn behind her, his body shadowing hers. The only sounds were the creak of stairs and her fractured breathing.