‘Only on her lately.’ I put my empty whisky glass down on the table behind me and pick up the bottle of Camden Pils I was drinking earlier.
Keir shakes his head. ‘You want to know how she feels? Go ask her.’
‘Oh, it’s Charlie’s new friend! Hello, darling.’ Chastity’s aunt grabs me by the shoulders, placing a heavily lipsticked kiss on each of my cheeks. She’s a tall woman and, at a guess, the wrong side of seventy, but from what I can gather, she has more life in her than most twenty-year-olds. ‘Flynn, isn’t it?’
‘It—’
‘You have a look about you like a young Cary Grant,’ she says, grabbing my cheeks in one age spotted, heavily diamond adorned hand. ‘But something tells me you’re a little more like your namesake, Errol Flynn, than the divine Cary. He was Australian, too.’ Jesus, the woman has some grip. ‘I hope you’re treating my Charlie well.’ I open my mouth to answer, but I must look like a fish. ‘Well, with a side order of naughty. In like Flynn, eh?’ She lets go of my cheeks, sending me a saucy wink before immediately turning to Keir.
‘Camilla Wolf.’ She holds out her hand as though expecting it to be kissed, harrumphing as Keir shakes it instead. ‘Well, you’re no fun!’ she chastises before he can introduce himself. ‘I shall have to find one of those lovely film boys to get me a drink.’ She strides off as quick as she arrived.
‘Well, that was... fuck if I know,’ Keir finishes.
‘That, Kier my friend, was Aunt Camilla.’
Chapter 25
CHASTITY
I turn away from the sight of Flynn and Keir on the other side of the room, shielding the goofy grin I’m currently wearing. God knows what my Aunt Camilla had to say, but whatever it was seems to have entertained her no end. She’s a handful that one, and proof age is just a number.
I can’t wait until Flynn and I are alone later this evening, and hopefully I’ll make it up to him about being a bit of a bitch for asking him to give me space. I missed him and I was certain I’d find difficulty not jumping on him when he first arrived, but I didn’t anticipate he’d be wearing glasses. Gah! What is it about a sexy nerd?
But I appreciate everything he did for me—the care he took and the gentle way he treated me—but I’ve needed time this week to work out how I feel about a lot of things, including him. But this past week has given me the time and distance to make some decisions. Decisions that include him and his sexy eyewear.
‘Your home is beautiful, Chastity,’ Sophia, one of my actors, says. It’s not a very big party; just my friends, Camilla, and some business contacts, along with a small number of people who have worked for Fast Girls. The ones I’ve gotten along with, at least. Sophia is one such person. She’s very professional—not a diva like one or two I’ve come across. She’s also a bit of a sweetheart.
‘Thank you.’ I touch her arm and compliment her on her dress. She’s one of the few who chose to wear white this evening. White can be so unforgiving, but with a body like hers, the only forgiveness needed is for being unable not to stare. ‘You look gorgeous, sweets.’
‘And so do you.’ I resist a whole-body shiver as Flynn’s warm hand touches the small of my back, his lips brushing my ear.I’ve been watching you, his eyes say,and I can’t wait to get you alone.That would make two of us. His warm gaze seems to mirror my appreciation and delight.
He looks so handsome in his impeccable suit, his soft hair pushed back from his face. And I’d say Sophia would agree, given the way she’s looking at him.Debonairwas how Camilla described him following their introduction.Like a young Cary Grant, she’d said. She’d also said a few other things which Flynn had very graciously chuckled about, not rising to her saucy bait. Meanwhile, her compliments had turned my complexion tomato red.
‘Can I get you a drink, duchess? His low spoken words in my ear are as unravelling as the movement of his stroking thumb. Every nerve ending seems alight.
‘Chas, where did you want these cocktail sausages?’ Tate asks, suddenly appearing to my right, holding a dark coloured rice bowl filled to the brim with the less than stylish offerings. That they’re gourmet hasn’t really satisfied Tate who holds the bowl like its contents offend him.
‘These are for you,’ I say, taking the bowl from Tate’s hand into both of mine. I pass them to Flynn almost like they’re an offering.
‘You’re a legend,’ he says, taking one from the bowl and throwing it straight into his mouth. He winks, and if that wasn’t sexy enough, I’m pretty sure both Sophia and my ovaries sigh as he swallows, then licks his full bottom lip.
‘T-Tate,’ have you met Sophia and Flynn?’ I stutter, turning away from the Devil’s better-looking twin to put the bowl on a nearby table. Unfortunately, I don’t fail to see Tate’s less than impressed expression. If Flynn notices, he doesn’t show it as he picks the bowl up again.
‘Not so fast. These were meant for me and only me.’
There’s a particular note in his tone as he throws another into his perpetually smiling mouth, almost as though he’s relatingmeto a bowl of sausages. Which makes no sense and is completely Flynn. I can’t help but laugh even as, for an encore, he feeds me a sausage from his fingertips, his smile turning thoroughly sultry.
With a wink in my direction, Flynn holds out his hand to Tate. ‘Pleased to meet you. You’re a neighbour, right?’
Hands are shaken, the slight air of manly posturing permeating the space between the pair. Maybe this isn’t surprising given that one of these men has carnal knowledge of me and, given the signals he’s sending out, the other still want that knowledge. What does surprise me however, is the surprising amount of eyelash fluttering coming from Sophia—so much so, she’s created a small breeze.Okay, not really. But I do find it paradoxical how her social persona is so much flirtier than her work one.
‘Could I steal you for a moment?’ Tate asks rather pointedly. ‘The wrong champagne has turned up, but it’s already on ice, and there’s a slight issue with thegougères.’
Usually, you pay a caterer to avoid dealing with the details, but as Tate is both a neighbour and seems to be running the catering at a loss, judging by the invoice, I feel obligated to be involved.
‘A drink,’ I say, turning to Flynn, placing my hand on his chest. His eyes darken as I splay my hand wide under his jacket, the tip of my little finger brushing his nipple. From our position and proximity, no one notices but us. A secret between two people who are more than just good friends. ‘I’d love a G and T.’ And there’s my promise to return.
What is it they say about the best laid plans?
