Melting Ms Frost (12 page)

‘Sure?’ His quizzical expression made it plain he thought she should have one.

She looked across the room at him, touched by his display of concern …
Hang on. What?
That wasn’t right, was it? How come she was suddenly reading him as caring rather than condescending?

‘I’m sure.’ She gave herself a mental shake, cross that she’d been foolish enough to drink too much and compromise her judgement around such a man. ‘I, ah, have an appointment at the hairdresser’s in half an hour,’ she improvised.

‘But you just said you needed to get home,’ Aidan challenged, adding the touch of a smile to the quizzical look.

Crap
. This was why she didn’t drink. Alcohol scrambled the brain. ‘Yes. My hairdresser comes to me. At home.’
Shit
. She needed to get away from him and shut up. ‘So I should, er, get going,’ she said, heading for the kitchen at a brisk pace. ‘See you tomorrow.’

Not waiting for a reply she pushed through the doors and bore down on Anton Dubois to discuss the new menu dishes. Ten minutes later she checked to make sure the dining room was empty before leaving.

Two streets across, Chino – the best coffee shop in Soho in Annabel’s opinion – was doing its typical roaring afternoon trade with minor scuffles breaking out in the doorway as a steady stream of customers tried to manoeuvre their way in and out around each other while putting up or taking down umbrellas.

With the worst of the weather shaken off her own compact umbrella, Annabel joined the end of the queue. Counting six people in front of her, she gave an impatient sigh and rummaged in her bag until she found her purse. Opening it up she rifled through the sections hunting for her customer loyalty card.

‘You’re a little liar, Annabel Frost.’ The Irish accent whispered in her ear had her fingers freezing and the hairs on her neck rising.

Spinning around in shock, she stumbled on her heels. ‘What are you doing here?’ she squeaked, swaying slightly as she looked up into the handsome, grinning face of Aidan Flynn. ‘Are you following me?’

‘Well now, as I’ve been sitting in the corner over there for the past quarter of an hour,’ he replied, indicating a spot at the end of the window bar with a couple of vacant stools – one draped with a dark coat and an open newspaper spread over the counter top, ‘I think I should be asking that question of you.’

‘Of course I’m not following you!’ Annabel had never heard anything so ridiculous. ‘I just wanted to pick up a coffee on my way to the hairdresser’s.’

‘Home,
a mhuirnín
,’ Aidan said, making her frown up at him in confusion. ‘The story was that you were going home.’ He elaborated with a shake of his head and a chuckle. ‘Not only are you a liar, you’re an appallingly bad one.’

She opened her mouth to tell him that was rich coming from him but he held up a hand to forestall her argument. ‘No. I’m not going to fight with you while you’re obviously the worse for wear. Just tell me what you’re drinking and go guard my newspaper for me before someone claims it.’

‘I don’t …’ she started. ‘I can’t …’ she tried again. Aidan Flynn waited silently, watching as she struggled to find a valid excuse to refuse, a testing spark in his eye. She could try telling him to get lost, but recalling how bloody-minded he’d been on the subject of beverages earlier at Cluny’s, she realised it would be easier just to agree and get it over with. ‘Oh, all right.’ She gave in gracelessly, fearing she was making a serious mistake but desperate for a shot of caffeine. ‘I’ll have an espresso.’ She spun away and headed off for the spot he’d indicated, rudely leaving him to pay for it himself.

Settling herself side-on on one of the free stools at the window bar, Annabel took a peek at the open paper as she loosened her scarf. She half expected to have caught him poring over the personal ads, hunting for innocent victims like the pervy stalker type he was. But apparently he was more in the mood for global politics today. That wasn’t such a surprise either. Given his alpha tendencies, he was probably checking on how his plans for world domination were progressing. Slowly, if he was going about conquering it one restaurant manager at a time, she mused, covering her amused snort with a cough when a few odd looks from nearby tables were cast her way.

Hoping at least that Aidan wasn’t watching her make a spectacle of herself, she swept her gaze over the interior of the café. Finding his attention focused on the activity in front of him, she allowed herself the opportunity to surreptitiously check him out. It wouldn’t do to give him the satisfaction of catching her staring at him, providing him with any extra ammunition to use against her and inflating that already rudely healthy ego of his.

Not that his self-confidence wasn’t justified, she had to admit. Tall and leanly muscular, with his dark good looks, untamed mop of hair and quick smile, there was no denying that he represented a very sexy, slightly roguish, package. Was he handsome, her mother had wanted to know? Oh, yes.

His casual look today of a dark, long-sleeved jersey, well-fitting faded jeans and chunky biker boots accentuated the width of his shoulders, the curve of a tight set of glutes and a pair of long, strong legs. He carried the look with same masculine elegance as he did his smarter, tailored work clothes. There was no doubt that he was a beautifully put together man. And as he’d demonstrated over the past few hours, he was more than capable of being good company when he wanted to be, entertaining, attentive, well mannered. Almost gentlemanly.

In fact, even now his easy charm had the baristas laughing and almost falling over themselves to serve him, and more than a couple of the female customers were unashamedly ogling him. She’d noticed it happening at Cluny’s, too – the way he drew lingering looks as though he were magnetic.

If he was aware of all the attention when he turned and made his way across the café, he didn’t give any sign, not sparing a glance for anyone but her. When he sent her one of his crooked smiles, she felt the full force of all that dangerous male appeal impact against her chest, pushing the air from her lungs. She tried to quash the warm thrill that ran through her. No matter how attractive, or civilised his current behaviour, being the sole focus of Aidan Flynn’s attention was a bad thing, she scolded herself. Capital B.A.D.

‘Apparently you’re a regular here,’ he said, coming up, setting the cups down and dropping with easy grace onto the stool beside hers. ‘And you drink doubles, with sugar.’ Facing her, he hooked one boot on the foot rail under him and left the other planted on the floor so that his long leg stretched out beside her, cordoning her off from the room and enclosing her into his space. It was a blatantly possessive manoeuvre, one that could be read as a protective gesture, although it reminded her more of a hunting technique she’d once seen on a wildlife programme, used by a wily predator to separate the prey from the herd. The phrase ‘moving in for the kill’ suddenly took on a whole new level of meaning, sending another thrill of awareness through her.

Instead of running for her life like she should, she offered a ‘Thank you’, proving what she already knew: that too much alcohol could turn even the most sensible person into an idiot. She felt her heartbeat pick up as she braced herself for the inevitable attack of gratuitous dirty talk.

‘You’re welcome.’ He picked up his cup. ‘I’m so full this will probably come running out of my ears. Anton excelled himself today.’

Having been expecting the worst, the innocuous question threw her. ‘He did,’ she replied with caution, reaching for the packet of sugar on her saucer. ‘He’s a talented chef.’

‘Very. He also did an admirable job of keeping the staff suitably terrified and in line while you were away. Did you have a nice holiday?’

Annabel froze in the act of ripping open the packet. ‘Why do you want to know?’ she asked, suspicious of entering into personal territory.

‘Why?’ He raised his brows at her. ‘Because that’s generally what people do when they’re sharing a coffee, Annabel – they chat to each other. Exchange pleasantries. Socialise.’

Well, the smile he gave her was certainly open and convincing enough to make her want to believe him. She stared at it, at the way it reached all the way up to his eyes and made them crinkle in the corners. They were stunning eyes, as she’d had reason to note before – framed by thick black lashes and with those light irises that reflected his moods, like the surface of a lake mirroring a changeable winter sky.

‘Annabel?’

She blinked at the sound of his voice, noticing that his smile had widened into a full-out grin. She felt herself flush. Had she seriously just been sitting there mooning over Aidan Flynn’s eyes?
Likening them to lakes?
Good God, she must be drunk. It was way past time to try to sober herself up and get out of there.

In her eagerness to cover up her embarrassing lapse, she found herself blurting out precisely the sort of personal information she’d rather keep to herself. ‘It wasn’t a holiday. It was just a break. Personal issues.’

What?
Why had she told him that? Upending the sugar into her cup, she gave it a quick stir and took a swig, hoping the scalding liquid might sear her tongue to the roof of her mouth and render her incapable of speech. At least the negativity of her reply should be enough to put him off. People expected pleasant platitudes in response to such standard polite questions, not uncomfortable truths.

But she should have known that Aidan Flynn was not ‘people’.

‘I’m sorry to hear that. I hope you got things sorted?’

She made sure he caught her little sigh of annoyance. ‘I’m working on it.’

Instead of taking the hint and letting the subject drop when she didn’t elaborate further, he prompted, ‘Sounds complicated.’

‘Relationships are.’
Jesus Christ, blabbermouth. Put a sock in it!
‘It’s private.’

‘Ah.’ He gave a sympathetic nod. ‘A lovers’ tiff?’

‘No.’ Then actually quite impressed by how close to the truth his guess was, she gave a short laugh. ‘Well, not mine anyway.’

‘I see,’ he said with a little smile and, as though he had no further interest in the subject, he picked up his coffee cup and turned his head to look out of the condensation-clouded window at the darkening afternoon street scene, sinking into an apparently satisfied silence.

Was that it? She peeked warily at him. Was Mr Stubborn really letting go that easily? His handsome profile gave nothing away, half hidden as it was by that mass of black hair. Such beautiful hair – if worn a touch too long. Thick, wavy and so glossy she wondered whether he used products to achieve such a shine. It looked soft, so silky that her fingers would just slide through …

Aware that her hand had risen and was hovering with intent between them, Annabel snatched it back and looked away. But not before she’d seen Aidan Flynn’s eyes trained on her again and his lips pressed just a little too tightly together.

And that was all it took for her to start spouting off at the mouth in an attempt to cover her embarrassment – telling him how she’d had to make a mercy dash to her mother’s side when her lover of the past five years had run out leaving her broken-hearted, penniless and facing an aggressive pair of bailiffs sent to seize all of their property. How she’d had to help pack up what precious little there’d been left of a lifetime’s worth of physical possessions, move her now homeless mother into her own tiny flat and begin the frantic task of damage limitation on her finances, freezing any surviving joint lines of credit, negotiating repayment deals with debtors.

And once she’d started spewing personal details, it seemed the flow of words would not stop. With her tongue well oiled and her frustration fuelled by alcohol she found herself telling him more – about how her mother’s appalling taste in bad men went way back. ‘She was terrified of being alone after my father died, so desperate to fill the emptiness in her heart that she started throwing herself at any man who looked her way.’ About how unfortunately, the kind of men her mother attracted were chancers and users who’d taken advantage of her vulnerability, her soft, giving nature, to milk her dry of affection and money and leave her broken.

When her brain caught up with her mouth and she realised how much of her personal life she’d given away, she stopped abruptly. ‘God. I don’t know why I’m telling you all this.’ She pressed her hands to her blushing cheeks, hating that the unexpected emotional outpouring left her sounding melodramatic and needy but also aware of a strangely relieved feeling, as though some pressure valve had been flicked open inside her.

‘I’m glad you are,’ Aidan said as though it was no big deal. Apart from the odd gentle prod, he had been sitting in thoughtful silence throughout. ‘I get the impression you haven’t shared even half of it with anyone before, despite how hard it must have been for you – seeing your mother repeatedly hurt like that, being the one to have to pick up the pieces.’

He was right, she hadn’t told anyone because there hadn’t really been anyone to tell. From the moment she’d been old enough, she’d been too busy working to have time to socialise, to keep up her friendships from school. Because it had been hard. Hard enough that she’d sworn never to let the same happen to her, promised herself to be strong and independent and never have to rely on anyone else for her happiness. But she hadn’t expected someone like Aidan Flynn to empathise with that.

‘Er, thank you.’

He gave her a quizzical look. ‘For what?’

Annabel shrugged, feeling so uncomfortable she wanted to squirm. ‘For being so, I don’t know –
nice
.’

He laughed then, and she actually felt the deep, earthy sound reverberate in her chest as though her heart was jumping around behind her ribs.

‘No need to sound so surprised. I am nice.’

With his handsome face lit up with relaxed humour it would be easy to be fooled. ‘No you’re not. You’re a liar.’

‘We’ve already established that I’m not,’ he countered easily and gave her a look. ‘But you are.’

Damn him for always having an answer. ‘You’re arrogant and controlling and predatory.’