Melting Ms Frost (14 page)

When the conversation was finished, she made her weary way through the spotless empty kitchens to the dining room, flicking switches and plunging Cluny’s into darkness as she went. With the security shutters down over the front windows and all but a few lights left on, the restaurant lay in peaceful semi-darkness that was heaven on her gritty eyes and sore head.

Detouring towards the bar to return her empty glass, she froze as she heard a grunt and a scraping sound from the other side of the cherry wood counter. Her heart jumped into her throat. A moment later the messy, black-haired head of Aidan Flynn appeared as he straightened with two cases of wine in his arms. Spotting her standing there as he hefted them onto the work surface in front of him, he flashed her one of his ever ready smiles.

Annabel noticed that the sight of a familiar face did nothing to slow her pounding heartbeat. As well acquainted as she was becoming with the darkly attractive features, looking at them now did little to calm her. More and more she found herself falling under the spell of the roguish beauty of those smiles. In fact, it was how she’d pictured him last night in her bed when she’d—

‘I thought everyone had gone,’ she said, cutting off the perilous direction her mind had been taking before she could give herself away. This man was proving to be too observant for words. She needed to stay on her guard around him.

‘Everyone has. I’m just finishing up.’ He inclined his head to the glass she held in her hand. ‘Did the Flynn Special do the trick?’

‘Yes. Thank you. I was just going to return this.’ She lifted the glass as she forced herself to approach the bar, feeling that silvery gaze studying her.

‘To be honest, you look as though you could do with another one.’

Placing the glass on the counter top, she took an immediate step back and shook her head. She felt too tired to stay and play his games, too deflated that no matter how hard she fought against him, Aidan Flynn always seemed to gain the upper hand, managed to ensnare her in his trap a little bit further. But most of all – after the way she’d practically thrown herself at him yesterday – she feared her own resolve to keep clear of him. ‘No. I need to go.’

‘Another hairdresser’s appointment?’ he asked with a grin.

Annabel cringed inside at the tease, felt herself flush. ‘No.’

‘Then surely you can let me mix you another for the road? What’s the point in suffering if you don’t need to?’

For God’s sake. Could he not for once just give her a break and take no for an answer?

‘There is no point. That’s why I want to leave, so I don’t have to suffer
you
needlessly,’ she said with all the annoyance she could gather, which even to her own ears didn’t sound like much. ‘You can finish whatever you’re doing tomorrow. I want to lock up.’ She turned and headed for the door, eager to get out into the fresh night air. She’d only made it a few steps before he spoke again.

‘You know, for all your tough-as-nails reputation and fighting talk, Ms Frost, you tend to do an awful lot of running away. Why is that, I wonder?’

She stopped on the spot, uncomfortably aware of the ring of truth to his words. She was running. As fast and hard as she could from the ever-increasing lure of him. She’d sooner stick hot needles in her eyes than admit it out loud, though.

She gave him a look over her shoulder. ‘Perhaps you’d find that people would be more inclined to stick around, Mr Flynn, if you weren’t so disagreeable.’

‘Perhaps. But I don’t think that’s the real issue here.’

Oh, no way was she touching that particularly fishy piece of bait. Turning away, she started for the door again.

Not that ignoring him stopped Aidan Flynn for one moment. ‘I think it’s because you’re afraid.’

‘Afraid?’ Keeping her eyes fixed on the door, she gave a dismissive little laugh that she hoped covered her growing discomfort at how accurate his observations were. ‘I’m not afraid of you.’

‘Not of me,’ came his calm reply. ‘I’d say you’re more afraid of yourself.’

Keep walking
, she ordered herself as the discomfort spiked to panic. How did he manage to keep hitting the bull’s eye on targets she barely knew existed?

‘That’s ridiculous.’

‘Is it? Then prove it.’

Her hand faltered as she reached out for the door latch, her stomach muscles clenching at the hint of demand in his tone.

Don’t bite. Don’t bite. Ignore him.

‘Stop running, Annabel.’

A part of her thrilled to hear those words, wanted nothing more than to listen, obey, give in to the temptation of him. She knew if she turned around now she’d see a matching glint of demand in those dangerously captivating eyes.

So don’t do it. Don’t look at him.

‘Stay and have a drink.’

Don’t fall for it. Just do not—

‘I dare you.’

‘You dare me?’ Voice laced with incredulity, she spun and gave a snort of derision. ‘How old are you, ten?

‘Soon to be thirty-one, as it happens,’ Aidan Flynn informed her from across the room. ‘And don’t pretend you’re too mature to take up a dare. You’re every bit as competitive as I am.’

There was little point in attempting to disagree with his declaration when they were standing there staring each other down like a couple of gunslingers at high noon.

As far as stubbornness went, Annabel would say they were pretty evenly matched – but not absolutely on equal footing. Whereas she knew she wore her bloody-mindedness on the surface like a suit of armour, his seemed to come from a deep reserve of self-possessed patience, a centre of calm resolve that she knew she lacked. That disparity made it tough enough to compete with him on a good day, but on a day like today when she was nowhere near her best, she was already proving that she had no chance of keeping up with him.

As things stood, he’d already backed her into a corner where, whatever decision she made, she lost. Leave, and she proved him right – stay, and she gave him exactly what he wanted. No matter how she looked at it, she couldn’t see a way out that didn’t leave Aidan Flynn the winner. After a minute, the effort involved in trying to find a loophole became too much and the painful pounding in her head forced her to make a choice.

She had to go with the one that would at least show them both that she wasn’t a coward.

‘Fine.’ She started away from the door, giving a casual shrug as though the thought of being alone with him didn’t unsettle her at all. ‘One drink.’

Too weary to keep standing once she’d retraced her steps back to the bar, she climbed onto one of the stools – keeping her coat buttoned up and her bag on her shoulder – and watched to see what the magic ingredient was that went into a Flynn Special. She soon found her concentration wandering, distracted by the sight of Aidan working with his typical speed and efficiency, twisting and turning his body with agile grace as he reached for bottles left, right and centre.

By the time he slid a full tumbler in front of her, she felt a little dizzy just from watching. As he began to quietly tidy everything away again, she reached for the glass, keen to feel the benefits from another dose of the magic cure.

When the area was once again clear and clean, Aidan leant his forearms on the bar opposite her and clasped his hands together. She’d noticed that his shirt sleeves were rolled up as usual, but after yesterday’s embarrassing little episode involving her fantasising about his hands, Annabel made sure she kept her gaze well away, busying herself with stirring the contents of her glass with the straw.

‘Annabel,’ he said after a moment. ‘I’d like to ask you a question.’

She stiffened but didn’t reply, just gave him a wary look, which naturally he took as an invitation to continue.

‘I’m interested to know why you think it’s so important that no one knows about your private life?’

Oh no, just because she’d accidentally opened up to him yesterday didn’t give him the right to get all touchy-feely, to dig deeper and psychoanalyse her. She’d given too much of herself away already.

‘Listen, while I appreciate that you’ve agreed to keep things to yourself, it’s really none of your business. I should never have said anything about it. I don’t want, or need, your pity.’

He looked taken aback. ‘Pity? I don’t pity you. I admire you – your drive, your independence. You’ve worked hard to gain your success. You should be proud of what you’ve achieved.’

‘I am proud. But I don’t need you to patronise me about it.’

His brows flew up and he gave a disbelieving laugh. ‘Now you think I’m patronising you?’

‘Of course you are. Don’t pretend to respect me when all you really want to do is degrade and abuse me.’

His expression darkened. ‘I don’t want to do any such thing.’

‘Really? I must have misheard you when you said you wanted to take control of me, use me like some sort of puppet.’

‘Let’s be clear,’ he said, pinning her with an intense look. ‘I want you to submit to me, Annabel, but only in the sexual sense, and only for the profound pleasure it will bring you, as well as me. For that arrangement to work, I can’t
take
control from you, you have to surrender it. There’s a world of difference between the two.’

She kidded herself that it was the alcohol in her drink rather than the commanding way he spoke about sexual submission and profound pleasure that had a heavy warmth blossoming in her belly and chest. ‘Not from where I’m standing. Control is control. I’m never going to let anybody take it from me, let alone give it away. Not for
pleasure
, not for any reason.’

‘Why not?’

‘Are you serious?’ She boggled at him. ‘Because control is power, and power gets abused.’

‘Often, yes.’ He conceded with a slight nod. ‘But not always.’

‘Almost always. Believe me, I’ve seen it enough to know.’

He didn’t speak for a moment, just regarded her with sharp-focused eyes. ‘I can understand that you’d be wary, that you want to protect yourself from a life like your mother’s.’

God, he was an astute bastard. She’d known him only a few days and already he seemed able to read her better than anyone ever had.

‘Damned right. I’ve worked too hard to let you, or anyone for that matter, take my dignity or my independence away from me.’

‘I’m glad to hear it. I respect that you respect yourself too much to let that happen.’

‘Then why can’t you respect that I don’t want this –’ she paused to wave a hand between them rather than try to find an appropriate label to give to their situation ‘– to happen?’

Aidan leant closer across the bar, his look drilling into her. ‘Because as I’ve already said, I don’t believe that’s true. And deep down, neither do you.’

Deep down, something shivered and agreed with him. But that didn’t mean acting on it would be the right thing to do. Sometimes the sweetest cravings left the bitterest of tastes. Struggling against the forceful quality of that scrutiny, she shook her head.

‘Sorry. You’re wrong.’

‘
A mhuirnín
.’ His voice dropped low but his tone broadcast his certainty loud and clear. ‘I’ve never been so right in my life.’

Everything. He had to argue every last, teeny-tiny thing. And the fact that he somehow managed to pitch his pig-headedness with just the right amount of sexy self-assurance meant that fighting back was becoming downright exhausting.

As though to highlight just how exhausting, a wide yawn cracked her jaw.

‘Didn’t get much sleep last night?’ Aidan gave an off-kilter smile as she rushed to cover her mouth with the back of her hand.

‘Not much,’ she muttered, blinking her watering eyes and trying not to blush at the memory of her stimulating nocturnal activities. She reached for the half empty glass and took another long pull on the straw, wondering when the effects of her Flynn Special were going to kick in.

‘And why was that, then, Ms Frost?’ Something about the pitch of the question set alarm bells ringing in her head. One look at his face told her he already knew the answer. But that was ridiculous. He couldn’t possibly have any idea.

Could he?

She swallowed. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Now I don’t think that’s true either. We both know what kept you awake last night. Why don’t you admit it?’

Oh, God. He
did
know.
How?
She felt a flush of heat start deep inside and start to radiate outwards. ‘I’ll admit to not having a clue what you’re on about.’

‘Do you need me to be blunt? I want you to tell me about how you touched yourself last night. Tell me what you were thinking from the moment you pushed your hand between your thighs and slid your fingers through those cinnamon curls, to the moment you made yourself fly apart.’

The heat intensified, racing to the surface. ‘I didn’t—’

‘You did. I can see it written all over your face.’ He grinned as she felt the furious telltale blush blossom across her cheeks. ‘Were you thinking of me, of us together? I told you it would happen.’

God, his smugness was insufferable, making her want to slap that grin right off his face. ‘Don’t flatter yourself. It only happened because I was drunk!’ she blurted out before realising he’d goaded her into making the very admission she’d been trying to avoid.

The grin got even wider, brighter – infinitely more slappable. ‘No. It happened because for once your defences were down and you wanted it to. I saw how aroused you were when you ran out of Chino. What’s so wrong with admitting it?’

What was wrong with it? It was humiliating! ‘Why should I admit to anything when you didn’t even react, just sat there and let me make a fool of myself?’

Unbelievably, she’d done it again. Said too much. But before she had time to give herself the mental kick she deserved, Aidan Flynn’s expression hardened.

‘You think I was unaffected by that nearly kiss?’ he demanded, staring fixedly at her. ‘Christ, Annabel, you must have been drunk if you couldn’t see that I was just as turned on as you were. I couldn’t breathe with the way you were looking at me, your eyes slightly unfocused, the hard lines around your mouth smoothed away by a surprisingly sweet arousal. Of course I wanted to kiss you – had been dying to long before I’d watched the sinful way you’d devoured Anton’s desserts. What’s more, I’d wanted to take that hand that was burning my thigh and shift it higher to press it over the hard ache in my groin so you could feel what you do to me. And I’d wanted to put my own hands on you. So badly I’d had to clench them into fists in a desperate attempt to keep them to myself.’