glowing with health as you are.’
Damn him.
As Aidan moved away to gather the helmets from the table, Annabel watched her mother blink a few times before her features settled into an expression of surprised concern. ‘Bel, darling?’ she queried. ‘Are you having trouble? I didn’t realise …’
Annabel sighed. She was never going to hear the end of this now. ‘It’s nothing, mum, I’m fine.’ Which was more than was going to be said for Aidan Bloody Interfering Flynn once she got him alone.
She narrowed her gaze on him as he came up and passed her a helmet. She really hoped that was a hint of smugness she detected in the lopsided smile he gave her, because she was going to take immense pleasure in knocking it off his face.
‘Let’s go.’
* * *
A short time later they were divesting themselves of helmets, gloves, bags and jackets in the entrance hall of Aidan’s place. Set on the fourth floor of a converted warehouse, the apartment was an airy, loft-style affair with exposed brick and pipework and an abundance of large metal-framed windows dominating the walls of the open-plan living area. Befitting the building’s architecture, the place was furnished in solid, masculine style – lots of dark leather and chunky wood, accentuated by shiny industrial appliances and the latest tech toys. It looked exactly what it was – a very well-to-do bachelor’s pad.
Annabel had been surprised the first time Aidan had brought her here. Working out that her own ‘executive’ flat could fit into the space five times over, she’d wondered how someone on a barman’s salary could afford such slick city living. Given his relationship to Richard Landon, her boss and the owner of Cluny’s, she’d guessed at family money. But that had been before she’d learned how successful a career Aidan had had in the financial sector before the credit crisis had hit and he’d lost his job. And very nearly a whole lot more besides.
As soon as his hands were free, Aidan reached for her. ‘At last,’ he said through a wide smile, ‘I can kiss you hello properly.’
He thought she was going to let him off that easily? She sidestepped around him. ‘That was a low trick you pulled with my mother.’
‘What trick would that be?’
She wasn’t fooled for a minute by the look of bafflement that replaced the smile. ‘You know very well. Cornering me with that therapy nonsense.’
‘Did I corner you?’ Aidan frowned.
‘Yes, you can stop with the innocent act. You know I had no intention of following it up.’
The smile reappeared and a spark of mischief flashed in his gaze. ‘And you of all people should know I play dirty when I have to, Annabel,’ he admitted without a trace of shame.
Oh, yes. She knew that about him. She also knew he was quite a contradiction. At times capable of being one of the most unscrupulous yet highly honourable men she’d ever come across. That was his charm – a dangerous charisma that she’d been wary of right from the start. And with good reason. She’d watched charmers in action all her life. Watched them trick her mother. Smiling to her face while stealing whatever they could from behind her back. Her money, her love, her dignity. Annabel had promised never to make the same mistakes; she’d sworn never to trust anyone, never to let anyone close enough to hurt her the way she’d watched her mother get hurt.
And yet, here she was, risking getting way too close to the biggest charmer of all. Never mind playing dirty – she was playing with fire.
Aidan’s expression sobered. ‘In all seriousness, I believe it’s something you should do,’ he said. ‘I know better than most the importance of healing properly after a trauma. Without all the rehab I had after the stroke – and I’m talking a veritable army of therapists – I doubt I’d be half the man I am, annoying the hell out of you tonight.’
Having quizzed him over their recent brunch about the stroke and his recovery, she knew that ‘army’ was barely an exaggeration. Aidan had been left as helpless as a newborn baby, essentially having to learn to talk and walk all over again.
‘I’m not saying it was easy or enjoyable, but it was necessary.’ Pausing, Aidan sighed softly. ‘Now we can go ahead and start an argument about my underhand tactics if that’s what you want, a mhuirnín,’ he said. ‘But we’re both tired and I’ve missed you. I’d much prefer to take you in my arms and take you to bed.’
And that was another concern. Annabel glanced towards his bedroom door with a mixture of longing and apprehension. Getting comfortable sounded delicious, but she didn’t want to make a nightmare-induced spectacle of herself in front of him again.
As usual, Aidan seemed able to read her thoughts perfectly. He stepped close and wrapped his arms around her. ‘You’ve nothing to worry about, I’ve been devising a clever plan to keep the dreams at bay tonight.’
Annabel looked up at him. ‘Oh, yes? What plan would that be?’
‘One that starts with a kiss,’ he murmured, and followed up with a soft, warm practical demonstration. Pulling back, he looked into her eyes. ‘Before moving on to stripping you naked and laying you out across my sheets.’
The heated promise in his gaze held her trapped, unable to blink. ‘And then?’
‘“And then” involves me thinking up new and creative ways to keep you distracted from your own thoughts for a very, very long time.’ He lowered his head again and this time let his lips linger against hers. ‘So long that by the time I’m finished with you, you’ll be passed out cold.’
He kissed her a third time, the press firmer. His tongue playing along the seam of her lips in a velvety caress that had her opening to him. The arms holding her tightened, pulling her flush up against his body as he deepened the kiss, claiming her mouth with yearning hunger.
And Annabel was lost. She couldn’t fight the desire he roused in her, even if she wanted to. She raised her hands and sank them into the cool, silky strands of his hair. Worn slightly too long and slightly too tousled, the style hid the fine six-inch line of scar tissue that curved down over his scalp a little behind his ear. Her fingers found it now, that permanent mark of the lifesaving operation he’d had following the stroke she’d learned he’d suffered only a few years back.
With his body pressed against hers, so warm, so vital, so straight and strong, it was hard to imagine that he’d been so ill, paralysed and helpless, his muscles wasting as he lay confined to a bed. The only physical evidence that remained of such a traumatic event was the scar and the slightly lopsided smile that had never righted itself.
That he was here today as he was proved that Aidan Flynn was a fighter. A self-professed dirty one at times, but nevertheless a fighter who was offering to help battle her nightmares with her.
With all that on offer, quite frankly, the argument could wait until morning.
‘Take me to bed, then,’ she murmured against his lips.
He did. And it wasn’t until a long, long time later that they found out whether his plan worked.
Annabel managed a solid four hours of exhausted sleep before the terror of another nightmare woke them both.
