“Again.”
“Bloody hell, Finn. What part of ‘sleep with me’ don’t you understand?”
His hands were shaking. He pushed them deep into his pockets again so she wouldn’t see. “How about all of it?”
Anna took an audible breath. “I’m sorry. It came out…strange. I didn’t mean to say it like that.”
Adrenaline pumped through him, hot and hard. The cliff right ahead of him. “How the hell did you mean to say it then?”
She glanced down at the floor, at the glass sparkling all over the wooden boards. “We should clean this up.”
“Anna. For fuck’s sake.”
She stood motionless, still looking at the floor. “I need to take control of my life back, Finn. I’m scared. All the time. I have to force myself to go out, to even go and get bread and milk from the shop. Even getting the mail from the letterbox.” A jerky breath. “Men freak me out. I can’t stand them being near me. Even Michael.”
Jesus Christ. Anna scared? She was always cautious and careful but never scared. Self-contained, determined, strong. But now…now he could hear the tremble in her voice.
She lifted her gaze finally, green eyes huge in her pale face. “I hate it. I hate it. I hate jumping every time a guy gets too close to me. One of the partners came into my office a couple of days ago and leaned over my shoulder, and I nearly punched his lights out.”
He didn’t say anything, wanting to hear it all. Wanting to know why, given all she’d said, she wanted to do what she wanted to do. With him.
“And the hardest part is that I thought it would fade. I thought, after the therapy, I’d be fine. That I could go on as normal.” She gave a mirthless laugh. “But nothing’s normal anymore. And this stupid, stupid fear is getting worse. If I don’t do something about it, take control of it, it’s going to end up with me living in my house and never coming out.”
Finn had to remind himself to take a breath. “I still don’t get how sleeping with me is going to help you,” he said in a rough, raw voice, unable to believe he’d just said those words. Even now it didn’t seem real.
Slowly, Anna uncrossed her arms, lifted them to push her hair back behind her ears again in an unconscious gesture, her gaze darting to his, and away. Nervous. Christ, she was nervous. “I don’t like people touching me. Especially men. The thought of sex is…” She stopped, then laughed. Mirthless, bleak. “TMI probably.”
Carefully, he leaned against the breakfast bar, trying to ease the tension from his shoulders. “You ask me to sleep with you, then say it’s too much information? You’re kidding, right?” The shock had worn off a little, and if he didn’t think too hard about the implications of what she’d just asked him, he could handle it. For the moment.
“Okay, so maybe I’m crazy.” Her restless gaze came to his again, a stripe of hot color staining her cheekbones now. “But I’m sick of being scared. I want my life back. I thought if I could…be with a guy, if I faced it, I could put it behind me.”
“And you think sex with me will, what? Cure you or something?” He made the question as blunt as he could. Because he was sure she had no idea just what the fuck she was asking from him.
The color in her cheeks deepened. “That’s kind of what I was hoping for, yeah.”
“Why me? Why not Michael? Wasn’t he the guy you wanted to spend the rest of your life with?”
“I thought he was. But the thought of doing this with him… I dunno, I just can’t.” She let out a long breath. “I decided on you because, well, you’re my best friend. You’re the one man I trust completely and utterly. I’m not afraid of you.” Dark brows drew down. “And you understand what facing fear is all about. God, you taught me that the first time you made me go bungee jumping with you.” Oh yeah, he remembered. Anna, who was always scared of heights, screaming a blue streak as she’d jumped off Auckland’s Harbour Bridge. Or rather, as he’d pushed her when she wouldn’t jump. But this wasn’t bungee jumping.
This was about being asked to have sex with his best friend.
The friend he’d fallen in love with when he was eighteen years old.
The friend it had taken him the best part of fifteen years to get over.
It had been the hardest thing in the world to do. Forcing himself to acknowledge the fact that she’d never viewed him as anything more than a friend or a brother, and that she never would. Forcing himself to move on.
And he was good now. Happy with his show. Happy with the women he shared his bed with. Happy with Anna as his friend.
He didn’t want to go back down the slippery slope again. Be the guy he’d been back then, the pathetic loser with no job and no life, pining after a woman he couldn’t have. Who he couldn’t even bear being around because all he could think about was how badly he wanted her. No, shit, he couldn’t do that again. He hadn’t been that guy for years and years, and there was no way he was going back there.
She was looking at him now with a strange expression on her face. Like fear and hope both at the same time.
“I’m sorry, Anna,” he said. “I can’t.”
No. He’d said no. And now she felt like the biggest idiot in the world.
The biggest idiot in creation.
Of course he would say no. Why had she thought otherwise? Why the hell had she even asked him in the first place? He saw her as a friend, a sister. Nothing more. Oh, there had been that one time at her twenty-first birthday party when he’d kissed her. But he’d been drunk and so had she, and it had been so unexpected she’d burst out laughing. He’d laughed too, and they’d both agreed it was the worst kiss ever and it would never happen again.
Anna looked away, her face burning. “Okay. No problem.”
“Anna, I—”
“Forget it. Pretend I never asked. Now, where’s your broom? We need to sweep up this mess.”
Wordlessly, Finn pushed himself away from the breakfast bar, skirting the mess on the floor, pulling open a cupboard and grabbing a dustpan and brush.
With an easy, fluid movement, he dropped to his haunches and began sweeping up the glass.
Anna, left standing there, felt unbearably awkward all of a sudden. “Can I help?”
“No.” The denial was short. He didn’t look up. “I’ll do it.”
“Oh…okay.” She stood there for a long moment, not knowing quite what to do with herself.
“Go and sit down,” Finn said at last. “I’ll bring you another Scotch.”
Yes. Another Scotch. That’s what she needed. Something to forget this whole painfully embarrassing incident.
As Finn cleaned up the mess, Anna crossed the room and went back over to the couch, dropping down on it. Then she put her head in her hands. Her cheeks felt hot. Like she could fry an egg on them.
Crap. What had she done? There had been anger in his eyes, and the look on his face had been…offended almost.
Her hands dropped and she stared at the floor.
Well, what did you expect?
Actually, she’d expected him to say yes. Not because she was irresistible, more because he’d always, always said yes whenever she needed help. He was her go-to guy for everything.
But it looked like sex was not something she could go to him for.
Perhaps it had been a stupid idea right from the start. She’d gone to see Michael a month ago, hoping time would have eased the fear that had seemed to take over her life. And at first it hadn’t been so bad. They’d had coffee and chatted. But when he’d reached over to take her hand, she’d felt herself begin to tense. Helplessly. She’d tried to force herself to relax, but when he’d leaned in for a kiss, it had overwhelmed her.
Her skin had crawled. She’d wanted to scream. She’d wanted to run. And she’d known in that moment that the chances of her having a normal, happy, healthy relationship with a man were zero to nil. Because this fear would always be there. Hanging over her.
She hated being at its mercy. Hated how it had control over her life.
W
hen she was younger, she’d been afraid of a lot of things. Heights, spiders, loud arguments, to name a few. But Finn had taught her a lot about facing fears. He’d given her inspiration. She’d never have gotten her law degree, never have gotten her dream job at Black, Fox and Associates without him.
She didn’t want fear to rule her again.
She wanted to face it. Deal with it. Then get the hell on with her life.
Because if she could handle sex again, she could do anything.
Footsteps coming close. A pair of Converse sneakers stopping in front of her.
“Why not, Finn?” she heard herself ask, even though she hadn’t meant to.
“I thought we were pretending you never asked?” A movement, one tanned, long-fingered hand putting the Scotch down beside her feet.
She looked at the amber liquid as the Converses disappeared and she heard the creak of the armchair opposite.
Eventually she looked up. Finn was back in the chair, long legs outstretched and crossed at the ankles, his hands, fingers linked, behind his head. The expression on his face was unreadable.
Sitting there in the chair, sprawled like a big cat, he looked somehow dangerous. Odd considering she’d never thought of Finn as being dangerous. He was too much her good friend. Yet now he’d changed, become unfamiliar somehow.
She stared, conscious of that strange awareness inside her stretching out. And gradually she realized that if she’d never met him before, if he’d been a complete stranger to her, she would find him extremely attractive. With his surfer-blond hair, his lean, muscular body, his tanned skin and dark, dark eyes, he would be…
Sexy.
The thought hit her like a shot of adrenaline administered straight to the heart. She sucked in a breath, tore her gaze away from him, looking back down at the floor again, confused and off balance.
“Well, perhaps I want to know,” she said unsteadily, trying to get a handle on the feeling. “You don’t seem to turn down many women.”
“Oh, I get it. You asked me because I sleep with anyone, and you thought I’d be easy?” Sarcasm laced the deep tone of his voice.
She jerked her head up. “That wasn’t why I asked you. You know that. I told you why I asked you.”
His expression remained unreadable. “But now you’re offended because I said no.”
“I’m not offended. I’m…” She stopped. Because she couldn’t really get a handle on what she felt. Relieved? Disappointed? Hurt? “I just hoped you’d help.”
“You make it sound like I refused to help you unblock a drain or something.”
Perhaps on another day, at another time, that might have made her smile. Perhaps if a fine thread of anger hadn’t been running through his voice, it might even have made her laugh.
She reached out, picked up the glass of Scotch. “Would it help to think about it like that?”
“No. Not particularly.”
An awkward silence fell.
She curled her fingers around her drink. “There was CCTV footage of the bar,” she said conversationally, wanting him to know. Wanting him to know everything. “And it picked up the guy dropping something into my drink. I didn’t even notice. I didn’t even see it. The footage shows me talking to this guy for about half an hour and then us both leaving. The bouncer and the barman thought I was leaning on him because I was drunk and flirty. But it was because I couldn’t walk.”
He didn’t say anything, but she knew he was listening. He always listened.
“The doctor told me there was no evidence of rape. But that I had been…t-touched by something.”
“Anna—”
“Shut up.” She held tighter to her Scotch. “There were bruises on my thighs. My blouse was open and there were bite marks on my breasts. I think he was disturbed in the act, which is why I wasn’t actually raped.” She took a sip of the alcohol, feeling the burn. Wanting it. “I have no memory of it. Absolutely none. If I really tried hard, I could pretend nothing happened. I thought at first it would be a blessing, not to have any memories. But it’s not.”
Carefully, so carefully, she put down the glass on the floor. “And it’s not because my imagination fills in the blanks. Every time I think about sex, about having someone touch me, all I can think about is ‘Did he do this to me? Did it feel like that?’ I have no memory to even tell me I didn’t like it. For all I know, I could have.”
She looked up. The unreadable look had gone from Finn’s face. There was only anguish on it now. Anguish and pain and rage. All for her.
“I want some other memories, Finn. I want something else to fill in the blanks. I want something good to tell me what good feels like. Because now all I feel is fear.”
Finn cursed, something low and vicious. Then he pushed violently out of the chair, pacing over to the windows and back, all restless, frustrated energy. Like a cooped-up animal searching for a way out of its cage. “Shit, Anna, what are you trying to do?” He thrust a hand through his blond hair, spiking it up. “Guilt me into it?”
Hurt coiled inside her. “No, of course not! You think I wanted to tell you all that? I didn’t. Every time I talk about it I feel dirty.”
Finn stopped pacing. Stopped dead. Brown eyes gone black again as he looked at her. “Christ, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I’m just…” He turned away, spiking his hair up again. “I want to help you. I want to do something. But you’re my friend, Anna. And I don’t see you as a lover.”
Like that was something she didn’t know.
And yet having him say it, say it so honestly, made a small part of her ache.
Probably female pride.
“I know,” she said after a long moment. “I’m not tall and blonde and beautiful, right?” She hadn’t meant it to sound hurt, but somehow it did.
He stood over by the window, the sun turning his hair the deep tawny of a lion’s pelt, interspersed with lighter streaks of gilt. His restless hand had disordered it, and she could see that the blond had different gradations, shading deeper into nearly brown at the roots. Stunning.
“You think it’s about how you look?”
The question confused her for a moment because all she could think about was how he looked. She blinked. “What else can I think? Every woman in your bed looks like they’ve escaped from the swimsuit issue of Sports Illustrated.”
His hand dropped from his hair. “So you not being beautiful enough is the sole reason you can think of that I would say no?”
Oh crap. No, that wasn’t fair on him. In fact, it was worse than not fair, it was downright unforgivable of her. She knew he wasn’t that shallow. Also knew he got the same treatment from his family. That they’d always treated him that way. He came from a family of top-class surgeons, and Finn had been expected to join them—until the learning difficulties he’d had at school had become apparent. And then they’d lost interest in him. Oh, not obviously, but Anna had seen how they’d treated him. As if he were stupid. As if he were a dumb surfer interested only in getting out on the waves and getting off.
But here she was, doing exactly the same.
Ashamed of herself, she looked away. “No, I’m sorry. That’s not fair.”
“Damn right, it’s not fair.” His voice sounded roughened. “I expect that kind of thing from Dad, Anna, but not from you.”
Her throat closed, hating the fact she’d hurt him “I’m sorry,” she repeated thickly. “I didn’t mean it.”
Finn moved away from the window, dark eyes on hers, taking a slow pace toward her.
Like a lion. A stalking lion.
Her heartbeat stuttered inside her chest and she almost couldn’t breathe. He stopped not far from the couch. The look on his face intense with something she didn’t understand. “Then why did you say it? You’re my friend, Anna, my oldest friend. You mean something to me. Our friendship means something to me. And I, quite literally, do not want to fuck that up.”
“I know.” Because she’d thought about all aspects of this request. “But yo
u won’t, Finn. I promise. I thought we could…” She made an awkward gesture with her hand. “Do this thing and then just put it behind us.”
Something moved in the depths of his eyes. “Put it behind us?
“Yeah. Why not? We’ve done it before.”
“When?”
She met his gaze, feeling the blush rise to her skin yet again. “My twenty-first. You kissed me, remember?”
Chapter Four
Finn nearly took a step back. Oh, yeah, he remembered that kiss.
A complete and utter disaster.
He’d been drunk that night. And he’d never been good at holding back, not like she was. She’d looked so beautiful, wearing a green dress that had made his obsession with her eyes even more intense, making them look greener than grass. The champagne they’d been drinking had lowered his inhibitions to the point of nothingness, and he just hadn’t been able to help himself.
The softness of her mouth, the taste of champagne. And then the shock on her face.
“God, Finn. Do you kiss every woman like that? No wonder it never lasts longer than a night!”
Then she’d laughed, and it was like he was back in his old classroom at school, forced to read aloud in front of the class, trying to make sense of the words that jumbled themselves up on the page. Trying and failing, the rest of the class laughing as he stumbled his way through it.
Stupid Finn Shaw who couldn’t read.
He’d never thought Anna would make him feel the same way, but she had. He’d hidden his hurt though, the same way as he’d done in front of his class all those years ago. He’d made a joke out of it and laughed. Laughed right along with her.
“I remember.”
The blush on Anna’s cheeks glowed. “Well, right. And we put that behind us, didn’t we?”
It wasn’t usually his duty to point out the obvious to her. “That was one kiss, Anna. Sex would be a little more difficult, don’t you think?”
Her gaze fell to the drink in her hands, her hair falling forward, hiding her expression. “God,” she muttered. “I thought men were good at compartmentalizing this kind of crap.”
Falling for Finn Page 3