wobbly. ‘I like collecting things. Property is one of them.’
‘Does it make you happy, having all that disgusting wealth to throw around?’
Something at the back of his gaze shifted. ‘It’s satisfying to have something that no one can take away.’
‘Did you grow up with money?’
‘My parents weren’t wealthy by any means but they were comfortable.’
Kat looked at the gorgeous artwork hanging on the walls. None of them were prints. All were originals. One of them was surely a Picasso? ‘They must be very proud of what you’ve achieved.’
He didn’t answer for a moment. ‘They enjoy the benefits of my success.’
She turned to look at him, wondering what was behind his cryptic response. ‘Are you close to them?’
‘I live my life. They live theirs.’
His expression had a boxed-up look about it. What was it about his family that made him so guarded? ‘Do you have any brothers or sisters?’ she asked.
‘Two younger brothers.’
‘What do they do?’
‘Felix is a plumber and Fergus is a builder, like my father in Manchester,’ he said. ‘My mother stopped work when I came along. But now she does the bookwork and accounts for my father and brothers. She’s made quite a career of it.’
Kat was surprised to hear he was originally from Manchester. He had no trace of the regional accent at all. But then, maybe he could afford a voice coach. ‘How long have you lived in London?’
‘Since I was ten,’ he said. ‘I won a scholarship to the same school the Ravensdale twins went to. I ended up spending more time at school than with my family.’
‘Neither of your brothers got scholarships?’
‘No.’
‘Were they jealous?’
His mouth twisted. ‘They’re not the academic type. They both left school as soon as they could get an apprenticeship.’
‘You don’t sound like you have much in common with them.’
‘I don’t.’
Kat shifted her lips from side to side, wondering why he was so different from the rest of his family. His father and younger brothers were tradesmen and yet he was one of London’s top lawyers, known for his incisive mind and clever wit. Had his stellar career trajectory made him an alien to his family? Had his educational opportunities created a chasm between him and his family that could not be bridged? Or was he just one of those people who didn’t have time for family—an unsentimental man who wanted to make his own way in the world without the ties of blood?
There were no photos of his family around that she could see. Unlike the Carstairses’ house next door, where just about every surface was covered in sentimental shots of happy family life. Flynn’s house was more like a showcase house out of a home and lifestyle magazine. The luxurious decor spoke of unlimited wealth, yet it wasn’t overdone. There was a sophisticated element to the placement of every piece of antique furniture, hand-woven carpet and the beautifully crafted soft furnishings.
She wasn’t the sort of girl to get her head turned by a good-looking man. But something about Flynn made her senses go a little crazy. She was aware of him in a way she had never been aware of another man. She felt his proximity like a radar signal in her body. Every nerve was registering exactly where he was in relation to her. Even that first day, when he had come to her café and introduced himself, her body had responded with a shockwave of visceral energy. When his gaze met hers that first time she had felt a lightning-bolt reaction, like she was being zapped with a stun gun. She had felt it humming through her blood, an electric buzz that centred deep in her core. He had a sensual power about him way beyond any other man she had encountered before.
The thought of him touching her again was strangely exciting. He had nice hands, broad and square with long fingers and neat nails. He had a sprinkling of dark hair over the back of them that came from beneath the cuffs of his cashmere sweater, which made her imagination go wild, wondering where else it was sprinkled over the rest of his body. Would he be one of those men who man-scaped? Or would he be au naturel?
Cricket came and sat in front of her with a beseeching look on his face. Kat bent down and ruffled his funny little ears. ‘How long have you had this adorable little guy?’
‘I got him at Christmas.’
Kat looked up at Flynn. ‘Where did you get him? Is he a rescue dog?’
Again he seemed to hesitate before he answered. ‘You could say that.’
Kat frowned. ‘What do you mean?’
He put his glass down but she noticed he hadn’t drunk more than a sip or two. ‘My mother has this habit of collecting cute strays but when they’re no longer cute she gets rid of them.’
Kat heard the faint trace of bitterness in his tone. Was there more to the dog story than he was saying? Did it have something to do with his childhood? His relationship with his mother? His family? ‘I always wanted a dog but we could never afford one while I was growing up,’ she said. ‘And we always lived in flats.’
‘You could have one now, couldn’t you?’
She straightened and glanced at him where he was leaning against the piano. ‘I don’t have the sort of lifestyle to own a dog. I move around a lot in search of acting work.’
‘Anything on the horizon for you?’
Kat wasn’t sure she wanted to tell him too much in case he told Richard Ravensdale. She wanted that part in the play on her own acting merit, not because of her famous father’s influence. ‘Not much.’
‘Have you always wanted to be an actor?’
‘Ever since I was old enough to know what acting was,’ she said. ‘I was cast as a donkey in a nativity play in primary school. I’ll never forget the feeling I got when I looked out at that sea of faces. I felt like I had come home. They had to drag me off when it was over. I didn’t want the play to end. Of course, my mother would’ve known why it was such a passion in me, but she never told me, not until a couple of days before she died. If anything she tried to discourage me from acting. She didn’t even let me take dancing classes. Not that we could’ve afforded them, of course.’
Flynn was looking at her with a thoughtful expression on his face. ‘It must have come as a big shock to find out who your father was. How had she settled your curiosity before then about who had fathered you?’
‘She told me she didn’t know who he was,’ Kat said. ‘When I was old enough to understand, she said she’d had a one-night stand with someone and never saw or heard from him again. I believed her because she kind of lived like that while I was growing up. She had men come and go all the time. None of her relationships lasted that long. She married at eighteen soon after she left home but they divorced before she was twenty. She wasn’t all that lucky in the men department. She attracted the wrong sort of guy. She wasn’t a great judge of character.’ Not that I can talk.
‘Were
