Flynn’s breathing was heavy when he at last lifted his head, his lips releasing her mouth, but his arms still holding her close to him.
Marigold opened dazed eyes to find the silvery gaze fixed on her face, and for a moment she had the insane impulse to beg him to really make love to her; to follow her into the bedroom next door where they could lie on the big, soft bed with the glowing fire illuminating their naked bodies and all thoughts of the outside world banished.
It was enough to bring her out of the stupor and back down to earth with a bump. And he knew, instantly; the hungry, watchful expression on the hard male face changing to one of wry regret. ‘You’re doing it again,’ he murmured softly.
‘What?’
‘Thinking instead of feeling.’
She moved back a little in his arms, pushing at the broad, muscled chest and he let go of her immediately. ‘You don’t approve of rational thought?’ she asked in as light a voice as she could manage, considering she was feeling utterly bereft. ‘I would have thought it was a necessity in your line of work.’
‘There’s a time and place for everything.’ He smiled a slow, sexy smile and her heartbeat went haywire.
‘Flynn—’
‘I know, I know.’ He interrupted her softly, tilting her chin to look into the deep violet-blue of her eyes. ‘You aren’t ready for a relationship. It’s too soon. We’re miles apart in lifestyles. Right?’
Marigold nodded shakily. ‘Right.’ In the space of three days this man had turned her world upside-down. How had he done that? And in spite of all she had said if there hadn’t been the mental image of Celine in the background, she wasn’t at all sure that she wouldn’t have thrown caution to the wind and just gone with the flow.
‘Marigold, we both know that if I hadn’t stopped a minute ago we’d be making love on the rug in front of the fire right now,’ Flynn said in such a conversational tone of voice that for a moment she didn’t take it in.
She stiffened, angry with him for telling the truth. ‘If you believe that, why did you stop?’ she challenged tightly.
‘Because this is not the right time or the right place,’ he returned silkily, ‘and contrary to what you might think I consider that important. There’s something between us you can’t deny; it’s been there from the first moment we laid eyes on each other and there can only be one possible conclusion to such raw physical attraction. But you have to accept me into your life before you accept me into your body, I can understand that, otherwise, being the sort of woman you are, you’d tear yourself apart.’
She stared at him, utterly bemused by the straight talking and the fact that he clearly considered an affair between them was just a matter of time. ‘I can’t believe you’re saying this,’ she said weakly.
‘Why?’ he asked casually, turning away and pouring them both a cup of coffee, before he added, ‘Cream and sugar?’
Cream and sugar? Was he mad or was it her? He had just calmly stated that regardless of all she had said he intended to make sure he slept with her at some point in the immediate future, hadn’t he? ‘Flynn, you can’t ride roughshod over all I’ve said,’ she stated more firmly, ignoring the coffee tray.
‘I wasn’t aware I was,’ he said mildly. ‘I have taken into account all your objections but I have a predilection for the truth, Marigold, and it’s the truth that you’re really objecting to.’
Marigold looked at him in exasperation. He had an answer for everything! She opened her mouth to argue some more but then shut it abruptly. She’d never win in a war of words with Flynn, but then she didn’t have to, not really. He had said he’d wait until she had accepted him into her life before pressing his case—at least that was what she thought he had said—and so it was quite simple really. She would be on her guard for the next few days while she was here in Shropshire, and then when she left, that would be that. No contact, no telephone calls or anything else. She’d be ruthless; she would have to be because Flynn was right about one thing. This physical attraction between them was raw and powerful, and far too compelling to play about with. For her at least.
‘Cream and two sugars, please,’ she said sweetly.
‘What?’ Marigold had the satisfaction of seeing him blink before he said, ‘Oh, yeah, the coffee.’
And the coffee was all he was going to get, this night or any other, Marigold told herself firmly, even as a little voice in her mind reminded her nastily, until he chose to kiss her again…
CHAPTER SEVEN
WHEN Marigold awoke on Christmas Day it was to the realisation she had promised to have lunch and tea with Flynn and his friends, and she rolled over onto her stomach, pulling a pillow on top of her head as she groaned loudly. She was mad, quite mad!
Flynn had behaved perfectly for the rest of the time in the cottage the night before. He had drunk two cups of coffee, eaten most of the biscuits and made small talk, which had the advantage of being amusing and interesting. After inveigling her agreement regarding the next day he had given her a brief peck on her forehead and left immediately, leaving Marigold with the unwelcome—but faintly exciting—thought that Flynn was a man who would always get what he wanted.
After a long, hot soak in the bath Marigold inspected the meagre contents of her limited wardrobe. The black jeans would have to be utilised again, and a long, thick cream sweater with a large rolled neck would fit the bill for today. She felt a thrill of anticipation and elation shoot through her, and it was enough for her to spend the next hour or two warning herself she couldn’t afford to let her guard down for a moment.
Flynn was the type of man who would whisk her into his orbit and keep her there for as long as it took for the attraction between them to burn itself out. And then? Then she’d be left floating in the middle of nowhere. It had been stupid to agree to go the house today, but this would be the last time she would concur with what he demanded. And there was a houseful of guest
s around. It wasn’t as though they were there alone, she comforted herself briskly as she put the last touches to her make-up. It would be fine, just fine.
And it was. He came for her just after eleven o’clock and Marigold was ready and waiting, determined to give him no excuse to be alone with her in the cottage.
She hastily shut the front door as the big vehicle drew up outside the garden gate, her ankle allowing her to walk almost normally as she hurried down the snow-covered path.
Flynn had climbed out of the 4x4 and opened the passenger door as she reached him, her senses registering six foot plus of gorgeous manhood encased in black jeans and a black leather jacket. ‘Hi.’ His voice was soft and he grinned, dropping a quick kiss on her lips before he helped her up and closed the door behind her.