The Pleasures of Summer (18 page)

The breath had been knocked out of her. Was he made
of solid titanium? ‘Put me down,’ she squealed. She was not at all turned on by his casual strength or the way he manhandled her.

‘With pleasure.’ Kicking open the bathroom door, he set her down in the shower stall and turned on the water.

Summer screamed. She was going to kill Flynn. The warm spray rained down on her as she leaned against the tiled wall. Her recollections of the night before were fuzzy. There had been singing, and dancing and whisky. Lots of whisky. Oh dear god. The wedding. And Flynn had put her to bed.

When she felt almost human, she wrapped herself in a towel and returned to the room. Flynn was gone. On the bed he had laid out her clothes with a brief note instructing her that she was to be in the breakfast room by 7.30 a.m. and that they were leaving by 8.15. After the evening before, it felt like the middle of the night.

Summer looked at the clothes. Flynn had picked her oldest things. A faded pair of jeans and a long-sleeved pink T-shirt that had seen better days. Interestingly, he hadn’t done the same with her underwear. A matching set of cream silk and lace was laid out beside them. So Flynn liked sexy lingerie?

Her old hiking boots and a pair of thick socks were sitting beside them. ‘Ah, come on.’ It was summer. Why would she need those?

Grumbling, she dressed quickly and looked around the room for her make-up bag. Damn. Flynn had taken both rucksacks. She would look a complete fright. The hair-dryer in the bathroom wasn’t up to the job of styling her hair.

‘Bloody men.’

Summer took one last look around the room. The champagne bottle was empty. The bed was rumpled and the cleaning staff would assume that the honeymoon couple had enjoyed a wild night. She wished. The only thing left was a single orchid – her favourite flower. She picked it up and rubbed the waxy petals between her fingers. It was beautiful. Summer wrapped it carefully in a tissue and put it in her pocket.

Downstairs, the castle was silent. Not surprising when most of the guests hadn’t gone to bed until dawn. Only one table was occupied in the massive conservatory breakfast room. Summer blinked. The light was too bright. She wondered if Flynn had packed sunglasses. She carefully sat down in the chair opposite him, wincing at the noise when it scraped against the tiled floor.

A smiling waitress brought a dome-covered dish and laid it before her. ‘Porridge with cream,’ she announced cheerfully. ‘Your husband ordered it specially.’

It was in a delicate porcelain bowl with gold-tinted roses painted on it. The porridge was garnished with slivers of strawberry and it was served with a small jug of cream. But it was still porridge.

The sight of it made her stomach turn. She shot Flynn a look that would melt the polar ice caps. ‘I’m not very –’

‘And we’ll have some black coffee,’ Flynn announced cheerfully.

‘Certainly, sir.’ The waitress disappeared in the direction of the kitchen.

‘It’s good for you,’ Flynn said. ‘Oats neutralize acidity levels in the body and help absorb toxins.’

She flashed him a poisonous glance. She hated porridge. Was he psychic, that he had managed to order the one thing in the world she most hated? But she’d had barely anything to eat the previous day, and she was too hungry to wait for the waitress to come back with a menu. She’d eat a couple of spoonfuls while she ordered a proper breakfast. She sprinkled some brown sugar on top and tried not to remember breakfast at her grandmother’s.

‘I hate you,’ she mumbled as she raised the first spoonful to her mouth, before the aroma hit her nostrils. Summer dropped her spoon into the dish. She couldn’t eat it. There was no way that she could get it past her lips.

The waitress returned with a pot of coffee.

‘I can’t eat this.’ Summer ignored Flynn’s disapproving glance and pushed her bowl away. ‘I don’t suppose you have any wheatgrass juice?’

The last statement caused the waitress’s mouth to drop open. ‘I’m not sure if we have that, madam.’

‘She’ll have scrambled eggs and toast,’ Flynn said in a tone that brooked no argument.

The waitress disappeared in the direction of the kitchen, leaving them alone. ‘I should tan your hide for that little performance.’

‘Just try it.’ She was sick of his he-man attitude. Who did Flynn think he was?

Her eggs had barely arrived before Flynn checked his watch and drummed his fingers on the table. ‘You have exactly ten minutes to eat your breakfast. After that we’re leaving and you’ll have nothing till lunchtime.’

He was as good as his word. Precisely ten minutes later
he stood up, not caring whether she was finished or not. The man was a barbarian.

The coffee kept her awake until she reached the Forth Bridge and after that she drifted in and out of sleep. Each time she opened her eyes, the Scottish countryside raced by at dizzying speed. Flynn allowed her to suffer in silence. Summer let her eyelids drift down again and watched him through her eyelashes.

With each mile they travelled north, he seemed to relax more. The tight expression around his mouth was gone. Maybe it was being back in his home country, although he said that he was only half-Scottish. Flynn was a puzzle she hadn’t figured out yet. But she would.

‘We’re almost at Fort William,’ he announced. ‘We can take a short break.’

Flynn glanced over at his sulking companion. She was finally coming fully awake after dozing most of the way. When she opened her eyes, it was only to glare at him, before pointedly turning her head away and gazing out at the Scottish countryside.

After that little episode this morning, as arousing as it had been for him, there was no chance that they’d be cuddling happily before a wood fire in the croft tonight. Just as well, he decided reluctantly. Summer O’Sullivan might be sex on legs, but she was the principal and she was trouble.

Those legs looked remarkably good in a pair of faded jeans, and her bountiful breasts filled out that pink T-shirt in a way that should be illegal. So much for his plan to
make her look ordinary. Nothing would make Summer look like the girl next door. He suspected that even wearing a bin liner and boot blacking, she would still look spectacular. It didn’t help that he knew what was under those jeans. What had possessed him to set out those lacy bits of silk for her to wear?

She shifted her legs, and he imagined how she would look in just her panties. The Jeep was warm and he caught a trace of her fragrance, all natural and uniquely Summer. His cock stirred.
Down boy, you’re joining the ranks of the unemployed for the next month
.

Next time he was putting out clothes for her, he would make sure it was plain white cotton. No point torturing himself.

Damn it. The image of Summer presenting herself to him in plain white cotton panties refused to go away. He groaned. There was nothing she could wear that wouldn’t turn him on.

She turned at the sound, slight though it had been, and her blue eyes glittered with resentment. ‘Are you at least going to tell me where we are going?’

‘Turlochbeg.’

‘Where the hell is that?’ she demanded.

‘Sorry, that’s on a need-to-know basis,’ he said, enjoying her look of frustration.

‘I need to know,’ she snapped.

‘No, you don’t. If you don’t know, you can’t tell.’

‘Who do you think you are – the bloody secret service? You work for me; you do what I tell you.’

‘No, I work for your father.’ He enjoyed reminding her. ‘I promised him that I would do whatever it took to
keep you safe. Whether you like it or not. The reason we are out here heading for a safe house is because you took a stupid risk.’

She glared at him, a glare worthy of the nastiest instructor in the Wing. No doubt about it, Summer had the bossy-boots routine down pat. He longed to take her in hand and show her exactly what happened to little girls who behaved like brats.

He kept his eyes on the road, now a narrow secondary road that wandered between the hills, and only allowed himself to watch her with his peripheral vision.

She huffed in irritation, and then pulled her Xperia out of her pocket. Before she could switch it on, Flynn seized it out of her hand.

‘Hey!’ she protested. ‘That’s mine. Give it back.’ She reached over to grab it, but he held it out of her reach. Steering with his knees for a few moments, he disassembled the phone, taking out her SIM card and battery with one hand and pocketing them.

He handed the corpse of the phone back to her. ‘Be my guest.’

She stared at it in disbelief. ‘What did you just do? How dare you?’

He flicked a quick glance at her. She was furious.

‘What’s the point of taking you to a safe house if your mobile phone tells them where you are?’

‘Don’t be stupid. I’m not going to phone the psycho and say “Here I am, come and get me”, am I?’

‘After seeing you in action, I wouldn’t put money on that. But it doesn’t matter. Your phone will give your location away. How do you think I knew you were in
Noir
?’

That silenced her for all of three minutes. Then she opened her mouth again. He had to give her credit. Nothing kept Summer down for long. She had a remarkable ability to bounce back, ready to go another round. He squashed the thoughts of what he could do with that ability.

‘About that,’ she said carefully. ‘You looked very at home there. You seemed to know lots of people.’

‘Yes.’ He could see how hard she was working at keeping her temper.

‘Have you been there before?’

‘Yes.’

Her eyes flashed. ‘What, are we playing twenty questions now?’

Flynn laughed. ‘If you like. Keep going.’

‘Are you a member?’

‘I may have let my membership lapse, but yeah.’

She sucked in a breath. ‘Are you a Master, like Robert?’ she asked in a rush.

He flicked her a glance. ‘No. Robert’s an asshole. I’m a Dom. And I’m not the only kinky one in this Jeep, am I?’

‘I have no idea what you mean.’ Her prim tone didn’t fool him for a moment.

‘Summer.’ She looked around at his change of tone. ‘That spanking at the club was just a warm-up. If you do anything so dangerous again, you can expect worse.’

She stared at him as if he had sprouted horns. ‘Are you saying that you would spank me again?’

‘If necessary.’

‘You wouldn’t dare.’

‘I would.’

She flicked her hair at him. ‘You are so full of it. Do your worst.’

Whatever she saw in his eyes silenced her. Ignoring him, she stared out the window and developed a strong interest in the passing scenery.

The road climbed as they reached the Highlands, and the stark countryside was softened by grass, gorse and heather. Flynn took a deep breath. The air up here was clean and fresh. Even though he had been born in the Rotunda hospital in Dublin and served in the Irish Rangers, he still felt that sense of homecoming when he reached the Highlands. The wildness of the landscape echoed something inside him.

The turn-off wasn’t signposted, but he didn’t need it. He knew where he was going. Summer’s eyes widened as they turned off the road onto one that was even narrower, a single lane dirt track with grass going up the middle. ‘You’re joking, right?’ she said.

He shook his head and concentrated on negotiating the rutted track. He knew Niall had put a few bottles of scrumpy into the back of the Jeep along with basic supplies, and Flynn didn’t want them to explode from being shaken.

When Flynn pulled up at the croft, Summer blinked, then turned to stare at him. ‘Now I know you’re kidding me. This is like the worst joke of all time.’

He shook his head. ‘No, this is it. Home sweet home.’

Flynn climbed out of the Jeep and strolled around to
the back, whistling as he walked. He was unpacking. This wasn’t a joke. They were really going to stay here?

The rough stone cottage looked as if it hadn’t been occupied for years. The paint on the door was badly chipped and one of the windows had a crack that zigzagged from top to bottom. He couldn’t mean it. They would be living on top of each other. The pool house in London was bigger than this … this heap.

‘Grab a box, will you?’ Flynn shouted over his shoulder.