‘Absolutely,’ she whispered. ‘They belong to Lottie, and she promised me that these were the latest thing in limo shoes. Dancing was out unless I wanted permanent disfigurement, but standing in one place could work. Would you mind holding me up here a little longer? I have a small problem standing up straight in Lottie’s stilettos and talking at the same time, and you might not be there to break my fall when I try to make it as far as the car.’
He chuckled deep in his chest as though suppressing a smile, and the sound reverberated across her collarbone, down her spine and into regions which were previously closed to reverberations of any kind.
Sean continued to breathe into her neck, and one of his hands slid up from her waist to move in small circles on her shoulder. The room began to heat up at a remarkably rapid rate.
She clasped hold of the serving counter as Sean gently, slowly, slowly, slid down the length of her body until he could reach down and pick the sandal from the floor.
It was quite remarkable that he also needed to touch the inside of her leg with his fingertips as he did so, sending shivers up and down her spine, which made it seriously difficult to breathe, focus and talk at the same time.
‘Over the years I have been dragged by the ladies in my family around every fashion shop and footwear retailer in London at one time or another so I could carry their loot home. And we never, ever, bought shoes which they didn’t try on in the shop and at least totter a few steps in. Walking any distance—now, that was different.’
She slowly lifted one of Sean’s hands from her waist, and pushed gently away from him, instantly sorry that she had broken the touch, but Sean had other ideas and held her even tighter this time as she turned to face him.
Without her shoes, her head came up to his chest and she leant back against the counter so that she could look into the smiling, quizzical, handsome face of a truly nice man.
His eyes never blinked or left hers, and her breathing seemed to match his; it was a few seconds before he broke the silence.
‘Did I mention that I am a hotel manager? Yes? I did? Well, we have these terribly practical health and safety standards which mean that I cannot condone any footwear which is likely to lead to personal injury. Not in our hotels.’
He took a step back and held both of her arms out wide as his gaze stayed locked onto her wonky feet.
He flicked one hand in the air and tutted. ‘My hands are tied. No choice—you can either slip your shoes off and go barefoot the whole evening, or you pop back inside and change into something you can walk in and stand in for several hours. What’s it to be?’
NINE
Tea, glorious tea. A celebration of teas from around the world.
The tea a person chooses to drink for pleasure is as unique as their fingerprint. Personal and special. And a true insight into their character.
From Flynn’s Phantasmagoria of Tea
‘I hope that you are not going to inspect the contents of my entire wardrobe,’ Dee snorted as Sean bounded up the stairs from the tea shop to her apartment and followed her along the narrow corridor. ‘Because I’m going to tell you now that my selection of footwear suitable for a conference dinner is rather limited.’
‘Not at all.’ Sean smiled, enjoying the view as Dee skipped up the stairs in front of him and trying not to ogle too blatantly. The memory of her judo training was still too fresh to forget in a hurry. ‘Your delightful choice of clothing has been inspired this week and I expect nothing less.’
Dee came to a dead stop outside a white-painted door and he held onto the bannister as she looked down at him with something close to nervousness in her eyes.
‘What is it?’ he asked with a smile. ‘Worried that I will reveal the terrors of your boudoir to the world?’ He pressed his right hand to his chest, lifted his head and said in a clear voice, ‘As a true gentleman, I promise that your secrets are safe with me.’
Dee lifted both eyebrows high. ‘No doubt. But that’s not the problem. It’s just that—’ she coughed and Sean caught a shy blush at the base of her neck ‘—Lottie is the only person who has seen my bedroom before, and I am actually quite shy about showing my space to other people. In fact, I think it might be better if you wait downstairs. I shouldn’t be too long.’
Sean shook his head very slowly. ‘Not a chance. I’m not going anywhere.’
Dee sighed and folded her arms. ‘Has anyone ever told you that you are annoyingly stubborn?’
‘Frequently. It is one of my finer qualities,’ he replied in a light, lilting voice. ‘Once I make my mind up about how to do something or a particular plan—that’s it. My plans are not for changing.’
She gazed at him for a few seconds before slowly unfolding her arms.
‘This tea festival has a lot to answer for,’ Sean heard her mutter, but she turned and opened her bedroom door, swinging her shoes in one hand.
Sean stood at the door and took a breath as he tried to take in what he was looking at.
For a small bedroom Dee had managed to squeeze in a wide pale-wood wardrobe and a table under the window. An upright bookcase stacked with papers, magazines and books of all sizes took up the rest of the wall as far as her bedside cabinet.
The walls had been painted in a warm shade of cream. All of the soft furnishings in the room were variations of shades of lavender and primrose yellow, including a cream quilted bed-cover embroidered with tiny blossoms.
The whole room was calm, orderly, clean, serene and tranquil. Feminine without being over-the-top girly or pretty. It was the type of colour scheme and arrangement several of his interior designers had introduced for the new boutique-hotel range his sister was running.
Sean realized with a shock that it was the exact opposite of what he had been expecting. Shame on him for making judgements about the choices Dee would make in her home. Shame on him for judging her. Full-stop.
A smile crept up on him unannounced.
Dee Flynn was turning out to be one of the most astonishing people that he had ever met.
‘You can come in if you promise not to touch anything or criticize,’ Dee said as she lifted a silk kimono from the bed, swung open her wardrobe door and pulled out a hanger.
‘Thank you. This is...a lovely room.’
She coughed and whirled around to face him.
‘Don’t sound so surprised. What exactly were you expecting? Did you think I had made a nest of straw from old wooden tea chests or something?’
Sean held up both hands. ‘Not a bit. I simply didn’t think that you would go for a Scandinavian colour scheme with an English twist. Most of your clothes seem bright and Far Eastern. I thought you might have chosen an ethnic style—something bright. That’s all.’
‘Ah, you were expecting to see rainbow colours and dark wood. I see what you mean. This must be really quite shocking. But you forget that this is where I come to relax at the end of the day. I need this quiet space to help me centre myself and calm down and focus. Otherwise, I think I really would go nuts with the chaos that is my daily life.’
‘Well, I know what that feels like. Especially with jet lag,’ Sean replied and squeezed past her and picked up a silver-framed photograph from her computer desk.
A tall, slender, grey-haired man in white tunic and trousers was standing with one hand resting on a wooden balcony, the other hand across the shoulders of a dark-haired woman wearing a bright azure top and wrap skirt. All around them was exuberant green foliage, and a riot of flowering plants of all shapes and colours spilled out from pots and planters.
‘Are these your parents?’ he asked, and gestured with his head towards the photo.
Dee put down a shoe box and came and stood next to him.
‘Yup. That’s Mum and Dad on the veranda of the house they are renting in Sri Lanka. They love it there and I certainl
y cannot see them coming back to the UK now that they are both retired, especially in winter. The lifestyle is so different for retired people in a hot climate. And they can make their pension go a long way.’
‘Do you see them often?’
‘Once a year I save up for a flight and set up some appointments at the tea plantations. It’s an amazing treat, and tax deductible. Actually, the owner of the estate where my folks live will be at the tea festival next week. It will be nice to see him again, even if he is a tough negotiator when it comes to his best tea. Mum and Dad get on with him and he treats the estate workers very well.’
‘So you only see them once a year? That must be tough. Do they have Internet?’
She threw back her head and laughed out loud. ‘Oh please, don’t make me laugh. It took Lottie an hour to put this make-up on and she will go mad if I wipe it all off. But in answer to your question...’ she dabbed the corner of her eyes with a tissue ‘...my folks are anti-technology in a big way. That place they are renting has a generator which breaks down at regular intervals but they get by without it most of the time. So, no—no Internet, computer, mobile phone or anything close to what they think is the curse of western culture. But they do write lovely letters. And for that I am thankful.’
Then she paused. ‘And I’m talking way too much and not looking for shoes and we have a deadline. Righty; how about these?’
Dee turned and was about to dive into the shoebox when Sean stepped closer and took a gentle hold of both of her arms and smiled. ‘I would much rather listen to you talking about your parents all evening than face the trainee managers. My seminar on time management and productivity can wait until tomorrow. Because right now I have a much more pressing task. I owe you a huge apology, Miss Flynn.’
She cleared her throat and stared back at him wide-eyed. And blinked. Twice. Then waited in silence for him to finish.
‘When I fell into the tea shop the other evening and you decked me so delightfully, I filed you neatly away into a box labelled “sexy baker lady” who was responsible for my undignified first view of the tea rooms sitting on my butt. Ah; don’t tut at me like that, because as it happens my view has changed.’
He flashed her a quick wink. ‘Not about the sexy— that’s still up there—but I was temporarily blinded by the force of your exuberance into thinking that you might be exactly what you appear to be.’
Sean shook his head, looked around the bedroom and exhaled slowly as he moved his head from side to side. ‘Wrong. A thousand times wrong. Every day this week you have turned up to work wearing a riot of colour and pattern which has livened up my life and that of everyone you have met. But I am starting to see that that is only one tiny part of who you are.’
Then he stepped closer, then closer still, until he was totally inside her personal space, their bodies almost touching, tantalizingly close. So close that there was scarcely enough room for his hands to slide lightly onto her hips.
‘You fascinate me, Dee Flynn. How many sides to you are there? And, more importantly, why are you keeping them hidden? Tell me, because I would really love to know.’
‘Why do I wear bright clothing? That’s easy, Sean. It’s human nature to judge a book by its cover. You look at the clothes people are wearing and you make an instant judgement about who they are and what they do and where they fit in this crazy world. Especially in Britain, where the class system rules whether we like it or not.’
Her gaze scanned his body from head to toe.
‘Look at you—you go to work in a smart suit and shiny black shoes every day. I’ve never seen you in jeans and a T-shirt. Perhaps you don’t own those things. Perhaps this is who you are. And that’s fine. You own that suit; it’s gorgeous. And it’s your job.’
Dee gave a small shrug. ‘But the rest of us? The rest of us are doing the best we can to build bridges with people and make connections. I designed most of my day clothes, and they are friendly, open and welcoming for when I am working in the tea rooms. I love wearing them and it gives me pleasure. Practical too. They fit my personality. They express who I am. They are honest and real.’
‘So why are you wearing black this evening?’
Dee slid out of his arms, paced over to the window and drew back the curtain so that the cool night air played on her bare arms.
‘Isn’t it obvious, Sean?’
‘Not to me. Talk to me, Dee. Why black?’
She seemed to hesitate for a few seconds before whirling back towards him, and he was shocked to see tears in the corners of her glistening eyes.
‘I didn’t want to show you up. There; that’s it. Happy now?’
Each word hit him right between the eyes like a high-velocity ice cube that melted the second it reached his heart, which burned hot and angry.
No other woman had ever done that for him.
Wanted that for him.
She was not wearing this lovely couture outfit to impress the big cheeses—she was wearing it so that she did not embarrass him.
And it blew him away.
Sean ran his fingers along the slippery silk fabric of her silk kimono strewn on the bedcover. For once in his life, words were impossible.
He slipped his dinner jacket onto the back of the small desk-chair and took a second before turning back to face his amazing woman.
‘Not many people surprise me, Dee,’ he managed to say. ‘Not after a lifetime working in the hotel trade.’
Then he smiled and tapped the end of her nose with his forefinger. ‘You don’t need a little black dress to make you feel special. You could wear an old bath towel and still be gorgeous. Look at you. No, don’t pull away like that. I think that it’s time that you saw yourself through my eyes.’
‘What are you doing? We’re going to be late,’ Dee protested.
‘Then we are going to be late. You are more important than a room full of hotel management any day of the week. Okay? Besides, you have already pointed out that I have that stubborn streak, remember? I am not leaving this room until you have changed out of this dress and put on something which you love. Something you have chosen. Something you feel wonderful and special in. Then I might help you to choose the shoes.’
‘You want me to change? Into what? This dress was really expensive. I don’t have anything in my wardrobe to match it.’
‘I didn’t ask for an expensive dress to keep me company this evening. I asked you—Dervla Skylark Flynn. Not some designer clone. In fact, here is a challenge. What’s the one outfit you possess which is the exact opposite of a black designer dress? Come on, you must have one.’
She snorted and shook her head. ‘You mean my sari? I can’t wear that to a hotel dinner when all of your clan will be there.’
‘Yes.’ He smiled. ‘You can.’ And then he bit down on his lower lip and stepped in closer. So close that his chest was pressed against hers as he held her tight around the waist with both hands flat on her back.
‘But first we have to get you out of this dress. And, since I am the one who is insisting on it, I feel that it is my duty to help you.’ His lips brushed lightly across her forehead. ‘Every...’ he moved onto her temple ‘...inch...’ then her neck, nuzzling into the space below her ear with his cheek ‘...of the way.’
Dee closed her eyes and revelled in the glorious sensation of his cheek against hers, the feeling of his hot breath on her neck, the gentle friction of his hair on her ear. Whatever cologne or aftershave he was wearing should have been labelled with a hazard code and stored away in a bomb-proof box, because her sensitive nose and palate were overwhelmed with the rich, aromatic aroma blended with a base note that was nothing to do with a chemical laboratory and everything to do with the man who was wearing it.
Of course, she could feel the sensation of his fingers moving on her back but pressed so tight against his body it was suddenl
y irrelevant—the only thing that mattered was Sean and this moment they were together. Future. Past. Nothing else mattered but this moment. It was glorious.
So when he slowly, slowly inched his head away from her it was a shock. She eased open her eyes to find that his breathing was as fast as hers and she could see the pulse of the blood in the vein in his neck. Those blue eyes were wide, and the pupils startling deep and dark pools. Dark water so deep that she knew that she could dive into them and never find the bottom.
The intensity of that look was almost overwhelming and so mesmerizing that she could not break away.
No other man had ever looked at her like this before but she recognized it for what it was, and her heart sang. It was desire.
Seduction burned in Sean’s eyes. Hot and passionate and all-consuming.
His desire for her.
And it astonished her.
Astonished her so much that she forgot to be scared of all of the chaos that love, desire and passion could bring and focused on the joy instead.
He wanted her.
He wanted her badly.
And the huge red switch marked ‘danger’ that had been buried under a lifetime of disappointment and making do with second-hand love suddenly and instantly flicked up and turned green.
She wanted him right back. On her single bed. And wearing Lottie’s posh frock. Forget slow, she wanted fast. She wanted it all and she wanted it now.
It was almost a relief to turn in the circle of his arms so that she could not feel the burning heat of his intense gaze scorching her face.
But that was nothing compared to what she saw when she opened her eyes fully.
She was standing in front of her full-length bedroom mirror on the wardrobe door with Sean standing behind her.
Instinctively she lifted both hands and pressed them to her chest as Sean slid Lottie’s black dress away from her shoulders on each side. He had unzipped it as she enjoyed him. Now it was free and all that was holding it up, and protecting her modesty, were her two hands.
Trouble on Her Doorstep Page 12
