‘But not now you’re a businessman?’ It had been a shock to discover Flynn the maverick was now a respected businessman, doing something conventional in the City.
‘I take calculated risks, but cancelling important appointments isn’t my style.’ The smile disappeared, his face suddenly serious. ‘Until now. Until you.’
The heat in his eyes seared her from the top of her head to the tips of her toes.
‘But I’ll be back in London myself next week.’ Her voice was croaky and she couldn’t seem to get her breath.
Flynn shook his head. ‘I couldn’t wait that long.’
Ava’s pulse sprinted at what she read in his eyes. He took her hand, lifting it to his lips, his gaze never wavering from hers.
It was the first time he’d kissed her.
In Paris she’d wondered if he might, hoped he would. She’d berated herself for not taking the initiative to kiss him.
In the background she heard voices, the echo of footsteps, but they barely registered. Her senses focused on those hard, warm fingers enfolding hers and the press of surprisingly soft lips sending ripples of pleasure up her arm.
Dark eyes glittered as he pressed a kiss to her palm, turning the ripple into a floodtide of delight.
Dazed, she shook her head. She wasn’t a complete innocent. She’d dated, shared kisses. But she’d never experienced anything so flagrantly erotic.
They were fully clothed, in a public place, yet with that simple caress Flynn had reduced her to quivering neediness. Except she didn’t feel reduced. She felt buoyant, light as air, as if she’d swallowed sunshine.
‘You came for me?’ she whispered, afraid to believe it.
Despite her materially privileged upbringing, she’d never been made to feel special. To her father she’d been a commodity, not a person in her own right.
Flynn had cancelled a packed schedule to join her. No one had done anything like that in her life—put her first. It filled her to the brim with stirring emotions.
‘I did come for you.’
Flynn’s lips traced the words across her palm, making her tremble as arousal stirred.
‘I told you I couldn’t stay away.’
Her fingers touched his cheek, threaded through his springy short hair, revelling in the unique textures of him: the hardness of sculpted bone beneath taut flesh, the softness of his hair, his heat against her palm.
‘I missed you.’ With Flynn here her doubts seemed foolish. ‘I was afraid I wouldn’t see you again.’
He smiled, his expression so satisfied that for a moment it bordered on smug. But the impression was so fleeting she told herself she must have imagined it.
‘I missed you too, Ava. Our week in Paris wasn’t enough for me. I need more.’
Ava was still absorbing that when he bent, reaching for the floor. When he straightened he held the guidebook she hadn’t noticed she’d dropped.
Heat flushed her cheeks as she took it. She’d never been clumsy—if she had it had been drummed out of her. She was twenty-four, competent, savvy, and never bowled over by men no matter how suave. Especially if they were suave. Life had taught her to be wary, even suspicious.
Yet with Flynn it was as if she were seventeen again—klutzy and breathlessly awakening to romance.
A seventeen she’d never been.
She tasted bitterness on her tongue. There’d been no room for romance or dreams then. Just harsh reality that had taught her good things came at a cost.
What was it about Flynn that cut through those hard-won lessons? The fact that he had nothing to gain from being with her? That he could have no ulterior motive? That his interest was in her and not, as so often in the past, in who she’d been?
Because Flynn was genuine.
Because she’d known him for ever.
Because he’d proved she could trust him.
How could she not? He’d helped her on the worst night of her life. Inspired her to change her life even if he hadn’t realised it then.
‘Thank you.’ Ignoring the clinging shreds of caution that warned her to hold back, Ava smiled, letting her feelings show.
Flynn blinked and then, swift as thought, moved in to grasp her arm, his touch deliciously possessive.
‘I was right to follow you to Prague.’
He paused, his expression making the blood hum in her veins.
‘Wasn’t I?’
For an instant she hesitated, unused to laying herself open. But these new feelings were too intense to ignore. Besides, wasn’t being with Flynn what she’d longed for?
‘Absolutely.’ She curled her fingers around his arm, staking a claim of her own. It felt good.
‘Seen enough here?’
Ava dragged her gaze from those velvety eyes, noticing for the first time the tourists casting them curious stares.
‘Yes.’ She dropped the guidebook into her tote bag and pressed close, revelling in the feel of him beside her. She felt ready to follow him anywhere.
Moments later they retraced her route through the Vladislav Hall, so long and cavernous that in the old days knights had entertained the nobility here with indoor jousts.
Ava smiled as they headed for the exit, imagining Flynn astride a warhorse. Strangely, the image came easily. With his determination and athleticism he’d be a force to be reckoned with in combat. More, he’d look wildly romantic with his sculpted, dark features and glowing gaze as he accepted a lady’s favour. Her favour.
She shook her head, dispelling the fantasy.
But nothing could dispel the heady sense that she’d left behind dull reality and entered a glorious new world to which Flynn held the key.
He drew her arm further through his, his smile melting her internal organs.
Did she have stars in her eyes? She didn’t care.
For the first time in her life Ava was in love. Completely, head over heels in love.
Flynn was everything she’d never dared dream of: understanding, charismatic, funny, sexy, gently teasing, considerate yet strong. Caring.
She’d spent years distrusting men’s motives. All her life, it seemed. But she knew Flynn. He’d never hurt her or play the heartless, manipulative games with which she’d grown up. He’d rescued her years before and never once tried to use her in any way.
Flynn was special. He always had been.
Why shouldn’t she, for the first time ever, let her emotions rule? Fling away caution and live the dream? Even if it was scary, letting go.
Ava was tired of allowing the shadows of the past to restrict her life.
As they left the old palace and emerged into the sunlight of the citadel Ava felt she was stepping into her own private fairytale.
THEY WATCHED THE sun go down from a romantic outdoor restaurant perched high on a hill. Hand in hand they talked, laughed and sipped delicious local wine. If Ava spent more time drinking in Flynn’s sculpted features rather than the view of orchards, ancient buildings and the glinting river, what did it matter?
Flynn’s