winced as she stepped into the cosy kitchen, awash with bright morning light. It wasn’t that the light exacerbated her sore head so much as the fact it would reveal what she’d seen in the tiny bathroom mirror. Shadowed eyes. Bloodless lips now she’d scrubbed off her scarlet lipstick. Pale skin marked by scores of tiny cuts.
Far too much pale skin.
She’d tried to hitch her bodice up to cover herself a little more but it was no good. The dress was designed to reveal, not conceal.
The coward in her wished she could slip out without Flynn seeing her. He’d been marvellous, so supportive. But what must he think of her? Crashing her car, refusing to call her father or budge from his mother’s cottage. She caught her breath. Would she have to face Mrs Marshall too this morning?
‘Do you have a headache? I’ve got painkillers here.’
Ava swung around. Flynn stood, tall, dark and broodingly attractive, watching her with concern. He held out a glass and some medication. Her silly heart fluttered just at the sight of him.
Embarrassment surged. He’d anticipated she’d have a hangover. Could this scenario get any worse?
She wondered if he thought she did this all the time. Did he think she’d been wildly partying? She shivered.
Next thing she knew she was being gently pushed into a seat with something warm wrapped around her shoulders. It smelt fresh, like the forest after rain. Like Flynn. She breathed deep, his masculine scent going straight to her head.
‘Thank you.’
Ava met his dark eyes, felt again that unfamiliar pulse of awareness before looking away. He overwhelmed her. From childhood she’d been drawn to Flynn, despite the seven years between them, to his devil-may-care adventurous streak and his kindness.
More recently, though, Ava had been tongue-tied by the assured, handsome man he’d become. Even his loose-limbed stride appealed. Did he know he made her heart beat faster? That she melted a little inside when he looked at her with those enigmatic dark eyes? That sometimes she dreamed—
‘Water would be lovely, thank you.’ She drew on years of self-discipline, projecting an assurance she didn’t feel as she accepted the glass and the headache tablets, pretending that sitting in a ruined evening gown that left her half naked was in any way normal. ‘Is your mother home?’
‘No. She sleeps at the house when there’s a big party and she has to be up early for the breakfasts.’
Ava nodded, trying not to think of what was happening up at Frayne Hall right now.
‘Are you ready to talk about last night, Ava?’
Flynn’s voice was low and soft, brushing across her skin like plush velvet. She loved the sound of her name on his lips. But she couldn’t let him distract her.
‘Thank you for helping me.’ She put the glass down on the kitchen table. ‘It’s time I got back.’
‘You’re going to the Hall?’ He frowned. ‘Last night you were adamant wild horses wouldn’t drag you there.’
‘Last night I wasn’t myself.’
‘You don’t want to talk about it? You were very upset.’
She froze. What, exactly, had she said? It would be too excruciating if Flynn discovered why she’d driven away from the Hall so recklessly last night.
‘Ava? Don’t you trust me?’ He hunkered down beside her. He looked so appealing, so strong, that for a moment she wanted to confide everything.
Impulsively she reached out to touch his gleaming dark hair. At the last minute she stopped. He couldn’t solve her problems. Only she could do that.
‘Of course I trust you.’ He was the only man she did trust. ‘The way you helped me last night...I can’t tell you what it meant to me.’ She pasted on a smile. ‘But I really need to go now.’
It was time to face the music. Alone.
Seven years later
FLYNN LEANED BACK in his seat, letting the shadows engulf him as he observed the tourists at the front of the boat. Eagerly they chattered, craning out over the Seine to get the perfect shot of Paris in the late-afternoon glow.
Only one of them was, like him, alone. She shoved her sunglasses up, pushing back wheat-gold hair to reveal a peaches and cream complexion in a heart-shaped face.
Even features, a straight nose and a mouth too wide for true beauty shouldn’t arrest his attention. But Flynn tensed, each sinew and muscle tightening.
Animation had always lent a special appeal to Ava’s face and now, when she smiled as Notre Dame passed by, her features were alive with pleasure.
Last time he’d seen her—the night she’d stayed in his mother’s cottage after crashing her car—she’d still worn her youth in her features, despite her woman’s body. He had felt guilty at the tug of attraction he’d experienced. Now, at twenty-four, high cheekbones had emerged, giving her face a character and elegance only enhanced by that carefree smile...
Yet the intensity of his response surprised him. He hadn’t expected that. It was a resonance deep within him—a quickening in his blood.
He frowned, trying to define the sensation. Attraction—yes. She was a good-looking woman. Not his usual style, though, in jeans and a bright floral shirt. He preferred women who projected glamour and restrained sophistication. But Ava could do that too. She’d been born and bred to it.
Flynn nodded. That was the explanation, of course. It was satisfaction he felt. Satisfaction that she really was the right woman. The perfect woman. He’d known within a moment of seeing her that this would work perfectly.
It was always good when a plan came together.
He watched her notice a couple embracing on the embankment, a wistful smile flickering across her mouth.
Curiously, for a moment doubt assailed him. Then he banished it and rose, making his way to the front of the boat.
When he reached her he paused and looked down. Eyes the blue of a perfect English summer afternoon turned up to him, widening. Heat exploded in his belly, swift and low, making him drag in air.
‘Flynn?’
Her voice was husky with surprise. Delectable.
He smiled. He was a lucky man.
* * *
A week later Flynn again looked down into wistful summer-blue eyes and felt pleasure rise as Ava reached for his hand. Slim fingers meshed with his and he curled his possessively around them. Yes!
She looked so disappointed that he was leaving, but equally determined not to show it. Silently he cursed the work emergency that called him away. He was so close. With a little
