by Annie West
But with Ava at his side it was all coming together.
Ava, poised and elegant, looked completely at home in the luxurious surrounds of this exclusive business reception and dinner.
Naturally. That was why she was the perfect wife.
Ava had been born to an aristocratic mother who traced her lineage to the Norman Conquest and was connected to a who’s who of British aristocracy. Her father, despite his humble beginnings, had created a business empire that had made him the envy of half the people in this room.
Ava fitted in a way Flynn never would. His father had been Romany, viewed with suspicion if not outright hostility despite settling to domesticity and a steady if underpaid job. His mother had spent years working as a cook for people like those milling around him.
‘Your wife’s a pretty thing,’ boomed Hardwicke. ‘And not daunted by Alex. Am I right in thinking she’s Cavendish’s girl?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Then I believe she may be a distant relative of my wife on her mother’s side. No wonder she looks familiar. Her mother was a spectacular woman.’
‘Not half as spectacular as Ava.’
Glittering like a princess, with her hair piled high and his ring on her finger, she was stunning. Her smile made him feel like a king who’d just been presented with a kingdom.
‘Spoken like a besotted bridegroom. I remember the look on my son-in-law’s face when he saw our Lucy...’
Hardwicke launched into a reminiscence that Flynn only half listened to. His attention was on Ava. He expelled his breath. No other woman could hold a candle to her.
Her eyes flicked to his and heat drilled through his belly. Then she turned back to the group around her and Flynn was left grappling with the urge to walk over and haul her away. Not because she needed protection but because he wanted her with him.
Because he wanted to be alone with her.
They should be on their honeymoon.
Alexandra Hardwicke’s words sounded in his head.
Flynn wanted to be lying on a tropical beach with Ava. Just the pair of them. No people, no interruptions, no clothes.
Shock hammered. Loafing wasn’t his style. Nor was leaving his enterprise to manage itself—which was why he’d spent every night before the wedding working till dawn. Some called him driven. He preferred focused. He knew what he wanted and he made sure he got it.
Yet to his surprise a romantic retreat seemed curiously alluring.
Ava hadn’t reproached him about returning to London so soon after the wedding. Now it struck him he could at least have asked her.
‘So, Marshall, you’re interested in doing business?’
Flynn dragged his attention to the man before him. It was disturbing how far his thoughts had wandered.
This was why he’d come tonight. His staff had worked hard on this proposal but Hardwicke had been elusive.
‘I see mutual benefits. My company usually works alone, as you know.’
Hardwicke nodded.
‘But in this case a joint approach would be more profitable. It’s a unique opportunity—as I’m sure your people have told you.’ Flynn paused and sipped his wine, deliberately delaying.
He wanted Hardwicke on board, but on his terms—not with Hardwicke thinking he had him over a barrel. Flynn was the one in control.
His gaze shifted to Ava, smiling at something one of her companions said. Then she murmured something and they laughed.
Gratification rose. She was perfect...already an asset.
‘We should schedule some time to discuss your proposition.’
Flynn turned to Hardwicke. ‘I know you’ll find it worthwhile.’
‘Good, good. I’ll have someone contact your office.’
‘I’ll look forward to it. Your company was my first choice of potential partner in the project.’
He repressed a smile as a frown flickered across Hardwicke’s forehead at the implication that his company wasn’t the only potential partner for the massive redevelopment.
Hardwicke played hard to get. He was wary about working with someone who, for all his success, was over a generation younger, a relative newcomer and an outsider. Flynn had been called lots of things, but never part of the establishment.
‘It’s an interesting proposal.’ It was the first time Hardwicke had admitted it. ‘Better yet, rather than a formal meeting, I’ll speak to Alex. Have you both round for a meal. Give us a chance to know each other better, eh?’
‘Perfect.’ Flynn permitted himself a smile. ‘Ava will enjoy getting better acquainted with your wife.’
Over the hum of the crowd he hadn’t missed Alexandra Hardwicke’s carrying voice inviting his wife to call her Alex.
‘Excellent. Next week—before we head to our country place. We’re looking forward to a break from the city.’
‘I know what you mean,’ said Flynn, the man who’d spent the last fourteen years living in the city. Who, with the exception of his time wooing Ava, didn’t have vacations. ‘I’m planning to buy a country place myself.’
‘You are?’ Hardwicke’s brows rose but his tone was pleased. ‘Perhaps we have more in common than I’d thought. I had you pegged for an urbanite.’
Flynn swallowed a grim smile. Somewhere along the road to success he’d shucked off his country roots. In his youth the locals, especially Ava’s father, had shaken their heads, proclaiming him wild, a half-tamed gypsy who’d never amount to anything. Who’d probably be a poacher or, at best, a jobbing gardener, eking out a living with dirt under his nails like his father.
‘I’m country born and bred. Like Ava.’
‘Really?’ Hardwicke raised his hand to attract a passing waiter, ordering two whiskies. ‘A rural upbringing is best. Worked for me and Alex. And our children.’
Flynn forbore from remarking that Hardwicke’s experience of rural life was living on a luxurious estate passed from generation to generation, while Flynn’s was a cramped cottage with no insulation and a leaking roof their miserly landlord had refused to fix.
‘Tell me, Flynn. Where are you looking to buy? I could give you some tips.’
The change in Hardwicke was remarkable. Flynn had known Ava would be useful, but he hadn’t expected his own transformation from corporate marauder to respectable married man to be quite so instantaneous.
The smile he gave Hardwicke was his first genuine one of the night.
* * *
‘You were very popular tonight.’ Flynn’s voice was deep with satisfaction. ‘I had to elbow my way through to take you in to dinner.’
In the darkness, Ava allowed herself the luxury of watching Flynn’s hands on the wheel of the Aston Martin, imagining them on her. Anticipation shivered through her, drawing her skin tight.
She’d got through the evening by concentrating on what would come after—being alone with Flynn. She longed for him. Not just his touch, but his attention. She wasn’t used to sharing him.
‘Everyone was friendly.’
News had spread that Flynn was married, and they couldn’t wait to see who’d landed such a catch. She hadn’t been the subject of such intense speculation in years, and it had dredged up horrible memories of the year she was seventeen and put on display for her father’s ‘associates’ to drool over.
The shiver became a shudder and she rubbed her hands up her arms.
‘Cold?’ Instantly Flynn adjusted the air-conditioning.
‘No, I’m fine.’
And she was. She’d held her own tonight, for the first time in her life truly grateful for her hard-taught lessons in putting on a public face. No one would have guessed she’d rather wax her legs than make small talk with people who were more interested in showing off their self-importance than getting to know her.
�
�You enjoyed yourself?’ He didn’t wait for an answer. ‘I’m glad. You wowed them.’
Ava congratulated herself on playing her part well. Tonight had been important to him. She’d noticed his long tête-à-tête with St John Hardwicke, and the appraising way Alex Hardwicke had regarded the pair of them, as if deciding whether they met her exalted standards. That had made Ava determined to make a success of the night.
‘I knew you’d fit in. They’re your sort of people—like the ones your family used to invite to those big parties.’
Ava blinked at ‘your sort of people’. She wanted to tell him her sort of people didn’t judge by the size of your income or the cost of your clothes. Her sort were ordinary, but genuinely caring. Her friends were more at home laughing over a glass of wine and takeaway pizza than glamming it up at some dire society event.
But she held her tongue.
Lots of women would have given their eye teeth to be there tonight, wearing a designer gown and with a huge, gorgeous rock weighing down their hand.
She’d rather have spent the evening in Flynn’s apartment, making love.
Ava firmed her lips. She might be a new bride but she couldn’t be selfish about sharing him with his business. It was just a shame they hadn’t had longer to themselves before the real world interrupted.
Her hand strayed to his thigh, feeling the heavy bunch of muscle as he shifted gear. In the dark she heard the soft intake of his breath. Her heartbeat pattered faster.
‘Did you enjoy yourself?’ she asked.
‘Not as much as I’m going to,’ he said, in a voice halfway between a caress and a growl. ‘I thought dinner would never end.’
Ava laughed, delight rising. ‘Tomorrow I thought we’d have a romantic dinner at home.’
She’d been planning it all day. She’d wear her favourite trousers and the gauzy top in swirls of blue and purple she’d bought today, while shopping for the formal gown. It was more fun than a full-length dress, and sexy too.
Did she have the nerve to wear it without the camisole that kept it decent? She imagined Flynn’s reaction and wondered with a shimmy of excitement if they’d make it to the dinner table.
‘I’m afraid that’s not possible. I’ve got late meetings the next two nights, catching up on work. It would make more sense if you ate without me. I’ll grab something at the office.’
Ava shoved down an automatic objection as disappointment swamped her.
She was determined not to be selfish. She’d finally realised how successful Flynn was—how many people relied on the success of his property projects. And he’d already taken time off to be with her in Prague.
They’d still have their nights. And if she had time alone she could finalise her lease and move fully into his apartment. Once he’d caught up on the backlog they’d have more time together.
‘We’ll do it Thursday night, then.’ She stroked his leg, circling his inner thigh, revelling in the tightening of muscle beneath her touch.
‘You’re living dangerously, Mrs Marshall. Unless you want me to ravish you here in the centre of London?’
She leaned closer. ‘That sounds tempting, Mr Marshall.’ She slid her fingers higher and found her hand imprisoned by his palm.
The car swerved to stop in a no standing zone. Ava turned to warn Flynn, but before she could speak large hands cupped her face and drew her into a kiss that started at hungry and escalated from there.
By the time they broke away, gasping, he’d reduced her to a puddle of lust. The rise and fall of her breasts against her silk gown was sensual torture and her womb clenched hard. She needed Flynn to fill the emptiness.
His hand cupped her breast and her breathing cut off.
‘How far to the apartment?’ she choked out.
‘Too far.’
With a mighty breath he sat back, dragging his hand away. Ava slumped in her seat, desire vibrating through her. She was like a tuning fork responding to his touch.
Flynn peered down the street and she wondered if he’d follow through on the promise in that kiss right where they were. That should have shocked her. A fortnight ago it would have. Instead excitement made her nipples pucker and her mouth dry.
A group of people appeared, talking loudly as they swayed across the pavement. With a soft curse Flynn started the car, pulling into the street.
‘I can’t go more than a few hours without wanting you.’
He raked his hand through his hair and Ava grinned. She loved the sensual power she was just discovering. He darted a look that burned right to every hidden, feminine place in her body.
‘Come to the office and have lunch with me tomorrow.’
‘Just lunch? Nothing else?’ she teased, delighted at how rough his voice sounded.
Flynn’s loving was always wonderful, making her feel like the most adored woman in the world. But there was something entrancing about knowing she got to him on such a visceral level. She looked forward to the day he threw restraint away and loved her with all the pent-up passion she sensed in him.
‘What do you think?’
Flynn’s husky tone grazed the tender skin between her shoulder blades and across her belly, making her shiver again. The car picked up speed, running two lights in succession just before they turned red.
‘I’d love to have lunch, but I can’t.’ Disappointment lodged in her stomach. ‘I’ve got work tomorrow, and I can’t take a long lunch on my first day back. There’ll be a stack of jobs waiting for me.’
‘Tell them you can’t make it.’ He spun the wheel, turning into their street. ‘Better yet, ring and give your notice. Tell them you won’t be back.’
‘I can’t do that!’ Her smile died when a streetlight illuminated Flynn’s features and she realised he wasn’t joking.
‘Of course you can. Or my PA can do it for you, if you’d prefer.’
Ava sat straighter, a frown pinching. ‘You’re serious?’
‘Of course.’ In the gloom she saw him shrug. ‘You don’t need to work. I can take care of you.’
‘I don’t want to be taken care of. Not in that way.’
He cast her a sidelong glance, eyebrows rising.
Ava stared back. She loved her job. She was good at it. Besides, in working for a charity that supported disadvantaged children, those who’d been neglected or abused, she felt in a small way that she made a difference.
‘What made you think I’d want to resign?’
‘You want to work in the same office for the rest of your life?’
‘No, but...’ Ava shook her head.
It was true there wasn’t a career path there, but she enjoyed the work and the people and she was learning useful skills. Most important, the steady income gave her the independence she’d prized from the day she’d walked out on her family.
‘Do you have ambitions to run the place one day?’
He turned off the street, waiting while the security door of the private garage opened.
‘I hadn’t thought that far ahead.’
‘I’d understand if you had a plan for the future there, but you don’t. That job is just a fill-in.’
Ava frowned. ‘You make it sound like I was kicking my heels, waiting for you to sweep me off my feet like Prince Charming.’
Flynn’s laughter punctured the tiny swell of indignation that bubbled up.
‘Prince Charming! No one has ever called me that. I’m more likely to be cast as the Big, Bad Wolf.’ Heat simmered in his sidelong look and Ava’s insides quivered. ‘Maybe that’s why I want to eat you all up, Cinderella.’
He spoke slowly, savouring every word, reminding her of the patient, deliberate way he pleasured her when they made love.
‘Wrong fairytale, Flynn. That was Little Red Riding Hood.’ But there was a breathless c
atch in her voice. Her mind was already in the bedroom.
The car slid into the basement and he parked neatly near the lift.
‘Besides,’ he murmured, switching off the ignition and reaching for her, ‘what if you get pregnant? Will you keep working then?’
CHAPTER NINE
AVA LAY IN Flynn’s arms, her heartbeat racketing, her body humming in the afterglow of climax. He held her close, her head on his chest, his thigh between hers, the musky aroma of sex adding an extra note to the tantalising scent of his skin.
City lights cast a glow into the room. There’d been no time for drawing curtains. No time for anything but falling onto the bed and losing themselves in each other.
The stark intensity of Flynn’s expression had told her he was on the edge of control and she’d longed to push him over, walk on the wild side and satisfy his every craving, no matter how demanding. She’d thrilled to the idea of experiencing something as primal as Flynn’s unguarded desire. She’d seen flashes of it, but always—even tonight—he pulled back, giving her pleasure, but not the wildness at the heart of him.
She wanted that wildness, that quicksilver energy, that primitive force. She snuggled closer, enjoying the way he hugged her close.
‘Is sex always like this?’ she whispered. ‘So amazing?’
A lazy hand circled her hip. ‘With you it is. We were made for each other.’
Ava’s breath sucked in. He really did love her as much as she adored him. She was one lucky woman.
‘I’ve been thinking about what you said—about me getting pregnant.’
Flynn’s hand paused, then resumed its slow sweep. ‘Yes?’
‘I’m already on the pill to regulate my cycle, so there’s no chance of pregnancy yet.’ She paused, sliding her hand over his damp, hair-roughened chest, loving the way taut muscle bunched at her light caress. ‘I’m only twenty-four. And we’ve only just got together. I want to enjoy what we have for a while before thinking about a family.’