‘And do yourself a favour,’ he replies with an air of long suffering. ‘Don’t keep shortening my daughter’s name in front of Agnes. Or one of these days, you’ll get a nasty surprise. Most likely via delivery of her rolling pin.’
What is it with women threatening me with long or sharp objects lately? A question for the ages, though not one for Keir.
‘Nah, me and Agnes, we’re like that.’ I cross my middle finger over my index one, holding them between us so he can see. ‘Tight.’
‘Yeah, ’cause everyone loves Flynn.’
‘Too fucking right. And you especially.’
His hand slips from my shoulder as he makes for the door. ‘You keep tellin’ yourself that. And don’t forget to lock up when you leave. See you tomorrow.’
‘You do know it’s March, don’t you?’ I call after him. ‘It’s fucking freezing—not barbecue weather.’
Keir doesn’t turn. He’s adept enough to shoot me the bird without breaking his stride, multitasker that he is.
Chapter 3
CHASTITY
It’s true that I don’t have a lot of friends, but those I do have, I consider more like family. Paisley is the sister I never had, which is odd, considering I haven’t known her all that long. But I love her all the same. And I love hanging out with her and Keir, her new husband. I even like his friends. Well, most of them. I refuse to include Flynn Phillips, though it’s strange that my body seems to know the minute he walks into their kitchen. A brush of anticipation dances from the nape of my neck down, causing me to turn at the same moment as he enters the room. Our eyes meet, electricity humming between the space. It really is the most shocking of things until I let my eyes wander over him . . . and I’m met by the most ridiculous outfit I’ve ever seen.
‘I don’t remember saying today was fancy dress.’ Keir sounds wearily amused as he relieves him of a bottle of red wine and a very decent bottle of champagne.
‘Mate, you invited me to a barbie.’ I’d forgotten how much his voice affects me. There’s something about that drawn-out, lazy speech pattern of his coupled with his deep tone. ‘This,’ he says, plucking at his shirt, ‘is suitable attire.’Ah-tie-ahh.‘Boardies, thongs, and my sunnies.’
One arm wrapped around my waist, I bring my glass to my lips to hide my snigger. Sunnies, I guess, are sunglasses. Boardies, board shorts, and while I know thongs are what Australians call flip-flops, here in England, they’re flimsy bits of underwear that get stuck between the cheeks of your bum.
‘What are you laughing at?’ Flynn asks. Despite his relaxed demeanour, I can almost physically feel the touch of his gaze. ‘I suppose if a bloke comes to a barbecue at your place, he’s expected to wear a tux.’
Immediately, the prickling hairs on my neck turn to bristling spines. Spines that I tamp down, though I can’t help my vinegary reply. ‘Oh, that’s right.’ My tone is heavy with false sympathy. ‘You wouldn’t know, would you? You’ve never been invited?’
‘I’ll just go open this and, er, let it breathe,’ Keir says, tactically raising the bottle of red. As he pulls open one of the French doors, a gust of cold air sweeps through the room before he steps out, closing the door behind him. The room falls quiet, and I begin to feel mean. I shouldn’t be so unfriendly, only—
‘That’s true.’ My attention snaps to Flynn once again. ‘I haven’t been invited to your home.’ I don’t fail to notice his eyes travelling over me blatantly this time. It’s definitely not a casual glance, more like a thorough inventory. And the bastard knows—does it on purpose, even. All to draw a reaction. A reaction I’m not in charge of, it seems. My throat is dry, and my nipples are hard enough to poke out an eye, and let’s not talk about the reaction currently dancing between my legs.
He steps closer. Close enough to make my nerve endings erratic. Close enough to make my fingers twitch with the desire to pull him to me by the front of his ridiculous tropical print shirt.
‘I might never have been invited into your house, duchess,’ he repeats in a husky whisper, bending his mouth to my ear. ‘But I was lucky enough to receive an invitation into your underwear.’
The absolute bastard.
Instinctively, I unwrap my hand from my waist and press it to his chest. I think if it weren’t for the recent presence of Keir, I might use it to push him up against the wall to see if I can discover where he’s hidden my orgasm. Because I’m suddenly sure it’ll be on him somewhere. Say, on his fingers, his tongue, or maybe his dick . . . Instead, my brain sends a barrage of cock-blocking words tumbling from my mouth, clit-oference, if you will.
‘I thought we agreed not to mention that night.’
It’s not surprising I’m sabotaging my own plans. For one, I don’t like him very much.I don’t think.Even if he smells so divine.
‘Did we?’ His forehead creases as though deep in thought before his eyes rise to mine, his gaze full of daring.Full of mischief. Somehow, I know he’s going to say something provocative, yet I’m still unprepared for how his words make me feel.
‘Nah, that’s not right.’ His accent renders the words into a drawl with a serve of taunt.Not roi-t.‘I think what was said was thatyou’dprefer to pretend it didn’t happen. To forget. But I haven’t.’ His eyes make another shameless sweep of my body. ‘I haven’t forgotten one bit of it.’
Oh. My. God.
I came here today with a plan. A plan to get my orgasm back. Well, maybe it wasn’t so much a plan as it was a demand—a demand for a second go on the Flynn ride. See, I’ve decided the blockage is all in my head. I’ve made too much out of the night we spent together—it can’t really have been that good.
So I’d decided a do-over would work. A one-time deal—okay, another one-time deal—here on my own turf, where the tropical setting wouldn’t seduce me, or I wouldn’t be drinking the wedding-romance-y Kool-Aid. But it’s not going to work if he keeps looking at me like that, not if he keeps speaking to me in a tone that reminds me of rum cocktails, sunshine, and mind-blowing sex.
‘Flynn!’ The man staggers back as Keir’s daughter comes barrelling into the room. Flinging her arms around his waist, she squeezes him tight. ‘Why are you dressed for the beach?’ she asks. Stumbling back, she’s prevented from falling by Keir’s hands as he catches her.
