The Pleasures of Summer (16 page)

‘Are you hungry?’

‘Well, I suppose I could manage lunch.’

‘That’s what I thought.’ He pulled two cereal bars from his pocket and handed one to her. He munched his cheerfully while she stared at the wrapper, which promised lots of oaty goodness. He was trying to starve her. She hadn’t eaten dinner the previous night when she was pretending to be ill and all she’d had for breakfast was yoghurt.

Flynn was doing this deliberately. Why on earth had she agreed to go with him? She could have been at home having a nice meal prepared by her chef. Instead she was parked on the side of the A1 with a truculent Scot.

Summer bit into the cereal bar and tried not to gag. She wouldn’t feed this to a horse. There wasn’t even any
chocolate on it. She managed another mouthful and shoved the rest into her pocket. The sooner they got to their destination, the sooner she could have a bath and a decent meal.

‘Ready?’ Flynn asked before pulling on his helmet.

‘I can’t wait.’

After two more hours, she knew she was going to have bruises, but Flynn tode on, ignoring her taps on his shoulder that she needed another loo break. Just when she was ready to throw herself off the bike, he took a turn off the motorway and followed the sign for York.

She almost cried when she saw the spire of York Minster in the distance. They had been on the road for hours, surely they were stopping here. Flynn pulled into a car park outside the medieval city walls and switched off the engine. Summer wasn’t sure if she could get off the bike. Her thighs were sore from holding on and she had long ago given up her attempts to avoid touching Flynn. For the last hour she had clung to him shamelessly.

Flynn pulled off his helmet and stretched his arms above his head and yawned before turning his attention to her. ‘Good girl,’ he said to her. ‘You did well. I’ll have something better for the rest of the journey.’

That made her want to cry and she couldn’t understand the churning feeling she got from his approval. Her stomach growled. She was hungry. It was nothing more than that.

The sound of a horn drew Flynn’s attention from her. Summer watched as three battered Jeeps entered the car park. They were identical, down to the mud flaps. It couldn’t
be a coincidence. The Jeeps were old, probably ex-army issue, and Flynn’s eyes lit up when he saw them.

Flynn had never been so glad to see anyone. Although he hadn’t said anything to Summer, he was sure that they had been followed on the way to York. A dark blue van had appeared at regular intervals on their journey, staying just far enough behind to avoid attracting attention from anyone. Unless they were dealing with a Ranger.

It could be a coincidence. Flynn didn’t believe in coincidence.

‘Niall,’ he called. ‘How’s it hanging?’

His boss’s attention was already diverted by his pillion passenger. With a grace at odds with his large frame, he lifted Summer off the bike as if she weighed no more than a kitten. A spike of what might be jealousy prodded low in Flynn’s abdomen. Niall had turned on the charm and Summer was smiling at him as if he was Santa with a bag full of goodies. Summer fled to the restrooms.

Niall whistled under his breath. ‘You, her and a month in the country? Why did I farm out this assignment?’

‘Because you’re an idiot.’ Flynn gave him a smug smile. Although he never settled with the same woman for long, Niall was something of a connoisseur when it came to the ladies and he was glad that his friend wasn’t looking after Summer.

‘Sorry we had to pull you out like that, Miss O’Sullivan,’ Niall said as soon as Summer got back, ‘but I have strict orders from your father. Still, you’re in good hands with Flynn.’

If only he knew. Niall would kill him if he suspected that he had laid a hand on a principal. Flynn struggled to keep a straight face as Summer blushed.

Niall shot a quick glance in his direction but didn’t say a word. He waved to the drivers of the other Jeeps. Within minutes, the men had stowed Flynn’s bike in the back of one of the Jeeps. It might help to keep the tracker off their scent until they could get Summer to the safe house. Niall escorted Summer to the passenger side and handed her the rucksack.

‘A word, if you please, Flynn’.

Damn. Niall didn’t miss a thing. He followed him to the rear of the Jeep.

‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing? Christ, man, I could put you guarding a beauty pageant and you wouldn’t look twice at any of them. Why do you think I gave you this gig?’

‘It isn’t like that, Summer and I –’

‘If this gets out, you won’t get work as a lollypop lady.’ Niall poked him in the chest and Flynn tried not to wince when his finger strayed too near his healing scar.

‘Your job is to protect her, but you keep your hands off her. Do I make myself clear? You may not fuck the principal.’

Niall was right. What had happened between them was a mistake. How could he protect Summer if they were emotionally involved? It was number one on the list of bodyguard sins. Flynn was tempted to salute but contented himself in responding, ‘Aye, sir.’

‘Now move out. Andy will take point, you follow. If our friend shows up, we’ll drop back and box him in.’

Flynn nodded.

‘And here.’ Niall withdrew an envelope from his pocket. ‘You’re booked into Dalhousie Castle for tonight. That should keep her ladyship happy.’

‘Great.’ Flynn climbed into the Jeep and ignored Summer’s quizzical look.

‘What was that about?’ she asked.

‘Nothing,’ he responded. ‘Just a security briefing.’ He followed Andy’s Jeep out of the car park and back to the motorway.

The next two hours were uneventful. Either they had lost their tracker, or he was being over-cautious. Oblivious, Summer dozed. He smiled to himself as he listened to her make soft snuffling sounds in her sleep, much as she had done when she had slept wrapped around him.

The memory of it warmed him. Her skin was so soft and she had lain in his arms as if she belonged there. Even now the thought of her like that distracted him more than he would care to admit. This is a job. Nothing more.
Focus.

He focused for less than five minutes before his mind drifted back to the night before. The image of Summer stark naked against the apartment wall while he fucked her senseless woke a part of his body he wished had remained asleep. Flynn groaned. What was wrong with him?

He had guarded beautiful women before and never had this reaction to any of them. They were simply a job, a task, a puzzle, no matter how sexually attractive they were. Anyway, Summer wasn’t his type. He liked bright, intelligent women, not needy little daddy’s girls who never had to work a day in their lives. Summer was his worst night
mare. He wouldn’t have a relationship with her in a million years, even if he wasn’t guarding her.

She moaned softly in her sleep. Flynn took his eyes off the road for a second to check that she was okay. Her luscious mouth was partly open. The gloss on her lips made them appear soft and inviting. He wondered what that mouth would feel like wrapped around his shaft.

Would it be hot? Eager to taste him? Would those blue eyes darken with passion as they had done in the apartment, sending a spark of lust straight to his groin?
Stop it, Flynn. You are not doing this
.

His erect cock ignored the message from his brain and he shifted in his seat, trying to ease the pressure. It was a long way to Edinburgh and the first thing he needed when he got there was a long, cold shower.

‘Wake up, Summer. We’re here.’ The setting sun glinted off the pale pink sandstone of a Scottish castle. Around them were acres of woodland. In the distance she could see a winding river. She almost cried with relief. Civilization. There would be real food and a bath.

She gave Flynn a quick hug. ‘It’s perfect. I love you. Thank you.’

She was surprised when his cheeks darkened in what was almost a blush. Clambering out of the Jeep, she hurried around the back to grab her luggage. He probably hadn’t packed anything that she could wear to a restaurant. Never mind. She could eat in her room if necessary. She almost ran to the doors of the castle. Flynn followed behind.

The dark, wood-panelled reception was empty of guests. In the distance she could hear the sound of bagpipes. Well, she couldn’t hope for complete perfection. ‘Good evening, sir, madam. You must be Mr and Mrs Smith,’ the receptionist said.

Smith? Summer raised an eyebrow. Could he not think of anything more inventive than that?

‘That’s correct.’ Flynn replied evenly as he scrawled some fictitious details in the register.

‘I’ll have Tommy help you with your luggage. The restaurant’s closed tonight for a wedding, but I can have dinner served in your room.’

‘That’s fine,’ Flynn said.

Tommy was a short, grizzled-faced man who must have been pushing seventy. He picked up the rucksacks with the same care and attention he would have used for a matching pair of Louis Vuittons and headed for the stairs. ‘You’ll be in the Walter Scott suite. Follow me.’

On the first floor landing, a door opened and Summer heard the sound of music and laughter.

‘Ian McDonald and Flora Campbell. Her third and his second wedding.’ Tommy shook his head. ‘Still, we can’t complain if it keeps us busy. You’re on honeymoon yourselves?’

‘Yes,’ Flynn agreed, ignoring her outraged glare.

‘I can always tell a honeymoon couple, and it’s not because of the room they book.’ Tommy laughed at his own joke.

‘This part of the castle is yours.’ He opened a door and they followed him along a pale-carpeted corridor. At the end of the hallway, they climbed three steps and opened another door.

Summer looked around her and took back every single bad thought she had about Flynn all day. They were in the castle tower. The circular room held an enormous four-poster bed with red woollen curtains around it and rose petals scattered on the green silk cover. A fire blazed in the hearth. Beside the narrow stained glass window, a small table was set with fine silver and crystal and a bottle of champagne sat in a bucket of ice.

‘Ring reception when you want to order dinner and if there’s anything else I can do for you, just give me a shout. I wish you and your lady a good night.’

Summer could hear whistling as he made his way down the corridor and then the sound of the outer door closing. She threw herself onto the bed and grabbed a handful of rose petals. ‘Oh, thank god. I was afraid you were going to bring me to some seedy little flat.’

Flynn pulled his shaving kit from his rucksack. ‘I didn’t book this place. Niall did. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need a shower.’

What was up with him? She clambered off the bed. The ice bucket beckoned. It was time for a drink.

As she passed the fireplace, she spotted Flynn’s phone on the mantelpiece. She wondered who he had been so angry with earlier. She glanced at the room door. Flynn was still in the shower. It wouldn’t hurt to take a quick peek.

‘Messages.’ She flicked her thumb across the screen. There were lots from someone called David.
Lorna doesn’t love you anymore. Stop doing this
.

‘Oh.’ Summer closed her eyes. She remembered being on the receiving end of a similar text. Flynn was in love with someone who didn’t love him. No wonder he was so bad-tempered.

She hadn’t allowed herself to think about the previous night. She had been the one who had initiated everything and look how that had turned out. And she had slept with him. There was something about sleeping with a man that was much more intimate than sex. And tonight she was going to do it again. Mr and Mrs Smith on their wedding night in a romantic Scottish castle.

Summer almost laughed at the irony of it. Tonight would be her second honeymoon without a husband.
Once in Vietnam and once here. She was never getting involved again and Flynn obviously loved someone else. Maybe they could just be there for each other. It didn’t have to mean anything more than that.

She opened Flynn’s bag. At least he had remembered to bring the condoms. Her mind made up, Summer peeled off her clothes. Mr Smith was in for a surprise. Hurrying down the corridor, she tapped on the bathroom door. ‘Room Service,’ she announced.