There was silence for a few minutes and then she looked up again, her eyes mischievous. "Are you sure you're too old for the Ferrari?"
His expression promised retribution of the sweetest kind.
Though she knew the food was exquisite, Ann couldn't really say that she tasted much of it. All her attention was for the man across from her. They said very little during the meal, but she could feel the tension building to a boiling point.
They both refused dessert and Flynn paid the bill. He put his hand against the small of her back as they walked from the restaurant, and Ann wondered if the sparks that seemed to shoot from that light touch were visible to the other patrons.
They didn't speak as they waited for the elevator to arrive. Another couple got off and Flynn nodded politely to them as he ushered Ann into the luxurious cubicle. He pushed the button to take them to the parking garage and the doors slid silently shut.
In an instant, Ann found herself pinned to the wall, Flynn's body a heavy weight against her. Startled, she looked up but she caught only a glimpse of his eyes, dark with passion; then his mouth came down on hers.
She melted instantly, her body flowing into his, her arms snaking around his neck.
She forgot where they were, forgot who she was, forgot everything but the feel of his mouth on hers, the scent of Aramis tickling her nose. She moaned a protest when Flynn eased his mouth away. Her lashes felt weighted as she opened her eyes.
"The elevator has stopped." It took a minute for the words to sink in. She looked around, still dazed.
"Elevator?"
Flynn's grin was pure masculinity. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and led her out of the elevator and to the Ferrari, tucking her into the seat as if she were the rarest of treasures.
Neither of them said a word on the drive home. The tension inside the low-slung sports car was so thick, it seemed to be almost breathable. He pulled the car into his parking space, his movement controlled. Ann could feel every breath she took as they walked to the elevator, not touching, not speaking. The doors closed behind them and she was in his arms, their bodies melding hungrily.
Ann didn't notice when the doors slid open on their floor. She wouldn't have noticed if the doors had slid open on Wilshire Boulevard. Flynn bent without taking his mouth from hers, his arm catching her behind the knees, lifting her off her feet and into his arms. Ann's fingers worked their way into the thick blackness of his hair as he carried her to his apartment, kicking the door shut behind them.
He carried her through the silent rooms to his bedroom, laying her on the bed and following her down, pinning her with the sensual weight of his body.
She couldn't have said if it was hours or days later when they at last fell asleep. She was conscious of nothing beyond the warmth of Flynn lying next to her, his ragged breathing slowly steadying. He'd kept every promise he'd made her in the restaurant.
Chapter 12
When Ann awoke the next morning, she knew immediately that she was alone. She rolled over in the huge bed, burying her face in Flynn's pillow and breathing in the mixture of scents that she knew she would always associate with him.
She opened her eyes and sat up, feeling more alive than she had ever felt before. She cocked her head, listening, but the apartment was quiet. With a shrug, she swung her legs out of bed. She had to be at the hospital in an hour. It was probably just as well that Flynn was gone.
Her clothes were neatly folded and stacked on a chair and she flushed, remembering how quickly they'd been discarded the night before. Lying on top of her silk slip with a folded piece of paper. She picked it up, feeling as quivery as a school girl.
Ann,
Sorry I'm not there to kiss you awake but I'd probably end up making you late for work. I had to go out to my parents'. Some papers Dad needs me to sign. Let's have dinner again tonight. Maybe, this time, I'll manage to taste some of the food. I'll pick you up at eight. Wear the green dress again. I had such fun peeling it off of you.
Love, Flynn
Ann hugged the note to her chest, her cheeks pink with the memory of their lovemaking the night before. Her smile widened. She might have waited a long time to take a lover, but she'd certainly picked a winner. She threw on a robe of Flynn's and gathered up her clothes before hurrying to her own apartment. There would be time for basking in a rosy glow later. Right now, she had to get to work.
But, as the day wore on, some of the glow faded to be replaced by a host of uncertainties. What was she getting into? Never in her wildest dreams could she have imagined that she would be attracted to a man like Flynn McCallister. He was exciting and she'd certainly learned that he had a warm side, which she'd never have expected. But he seemed to drift through life without any real thoughts of the future. She sometimes wondered if he ever thought of tomorrow at all.
Yes, he'd been wonderful with Becky, but there was more to life than being kind to small children and animals. There was dedication and ambition and... Well, weren't dedication and ambition important enough? And he didn't have a trace of either one.
And what was it that he wanted from her? Was he looking for a brief affair? A long-term affair? He couldn't be thinking in terms of marriage, could he? Because she certainly wasn't thinking in those terms. Flynn was the dreamer. Ann Perry was a very practical woman who knew better than to think that love alone could support a marriage.
Love?
A slip of the thought. She wasn't in love with him. Or was she?
By the time eight o'clock rolled around, Ann had argued with herself until her stomach was tied in knots. She wanted to crawl into bed and pull the covers over her head and not come out until all her problems had been magically solved.
But she also desperately wanted to see Flynn. She was becoming addicted to his smile, to the way his eyes could laugh while his face stayed completely solemn. She wasn't yet ready to put a label on all the things he made her feel, but she craved being with him.
The evening started out well enough. She'd worn the green dress as he requested. She chose it as much because she was incapable of making even the minor decision of what to wear as to please him.
Flynn's eyes warmed when he saw her, melting some of the nervous ice from around her heart. And when he kissed her, she could almost forget all the fears that had plagued her day.
He took her to another quiet restaurant. This time, they were seated in the center of the room, but there was so much space between the tables that the atmosphere remained cozy and private.
Flynn tasted the wine and nodded to the waiter before turning his full attention to Ann. "How was your day?"
"It was okay." She shrugged, feeling tension creeping into her shoulders. This felt too good, it felt too right. But she knew it wasn't right. It couldn't be right.
"It must be an incredible feeling to save someone's life."
"It is."
He leaned back as the waiter set spinach salads down in front of them. "Do you ever think about what your life might have been like if you'd become a veterinarian?"
"No!" His eyes jerked to her face and Ann flushed, realizing how abrupt the word had sounded. "I mean, why would I? I'm very fulfilled in my career. I can't imagine my life without it. Being a doctor is important work and I'm very proud of what I do."
"You should be."
Ann picked at her salad without interest. Why did the words ring so hollow? What was it about Flynn that made her feel like somebody's uptight maiden aunt? He had no right to make her feel like that. Everybody didn't have to have hobbies and take brilliant pictures that they never showed to anyone. Some people wanted to make a difference in the world. Some people had ambition.
"How was your visit to your parents?"
"Pretty much the same as always. Dad wants me to take an active role in the corporation. I don't know why he should care. He's retired now and it's running itself just fine but he feels there should be a McCallister on the board." He half laughed and, at another time, Ann might have heard the
pain in the sound. "I don't know why he can't get it through his head that I'm not like Mark."
"Was Mark involved in the company? I thought he was a police officer."
"He was but he had a great head for the business. Dad always figured Mark would quit the force and join the company after a few years and he's probably right. But I don't have the least interest in the company. And I've got a lousy head for business."
"Maybe it disappoints him that you don't have more ambition."
Ann leaned back to allow the waiter to take her untouched salad plate and pretended not to notice the way Flynn's eyes widened at her tone.
"We can't all be ambitious. I'm fairly content the way I am."
"Are you? I can't believe that." Ann didn't know where the words were coming from. She just knew that she was suddenly brimming with anger and frustration that had to find an outlet.
Flynn half laughed. "Why do I have the feeling that I've done something to upset you? Is it my tie?"
"I just hate to see waste, that's all."
"One man's waste is another man's life-style," he murmured, still trying to keep the conversation light.
"You can joke all you want but you're wasting your life and you're wasting your talents."
His mouth tightened and his eyes glittered with the beginnings of temper. "It's my life to waste and they're my talents."
"You're copping out."
"Where the hell is this coming from? When I left this morning, there was a warm, responsive woman in my bed. Now, I'm sitting across the table from an uptight, driven yuppie."
The waiter approached their table with the entrees and Flynn sent him away with a flick of his hand and a look that probably seared the food on the plates.
"I'm neither uptight nor driven. I'm a reasonably ambitious woman who's chosen to make something of her life."
"Fine. Have I complained? You be ambitious and I won't be and we'll do just fine."
"It just seems to me that you're a little old to still be defying 'Daddy.' "
"I beg your pardon." The tone was icy, warning her to back off.
She gestured angrily, oblivious to the fact that the other diners were becoming aware of the altercation taking place in their midst.
"Everything you do is done to prove to your father that he can't tell you what to do. You're like a little boy, shouting defiance and hurting yourself more than anyone else. Isn't it time to grow up?"
Flynn's knuckles whitened around the delicate stem of the wineglass. His eyes glittered furiously as he looked at her. His tone was level, absolutely calm and brimming with anger.
"At least I haven't let my entire life be run by my father like you have. You've spent thirty years trying to be the perfect little girl for a man who neither notices nor cares."
"That's not true!"
"I thought you wanted the truth tonight, Dr. Perry." He continued ruthlessly. "The truth is that your father doesn't give a damn about you as a person. All he cares about is that the things you do reflect well on him.
"Sleeping with me is probably the first thing you've ever done that you didn't ask Daddy's permission for. Or did you call and check it out with him first?"
The crack of her hand against his cheek echoed in the quiet room. Flynn's head jerked slightly with the impact of the blow, but he didn't lift his hand to check the injury. His eyes seemed to burn into her.
Ann drew her hand back, pressing it against her mouth, her horrified eyes on the red imprint of her palm that was slowly darkening his lean cheek. "Oh, my God."
There was a sharp ping and she looked down to see that the stem of his wine glass had snapped in his fingers. The bowl fell to the table, spreading white wine across the table. On its heels came the darker tint of blood.
"Oh, my God."
"I believe you said that once." Flynn barely glanced at his bleeding hand. He raised his hand to the waiter, who was staring at them in stunned silence, along with the rest of the restaurant. Ann reached for his hand, responding instinctively to the sight of his injury. "Don't!" He didn't raise his voice, but something in the tone stopped her instantly.
She watched in miserable silence as he pulled a snowy handkerchief from his pocket and wrapped it around his palm, stemming the bleeding. The waiter crept up to the table, as if half-afraid that his bizarre customers might intend him some bodily harm.
"The lady and I will not be dining tonight after all. Please tell Mike to put the meal on my tab and add a healthy tip for yourself."
Flynn stood up, dropping his napkin on the table. "I think we should go now."
Ann stood up, miserably aware that every eye in the house was on them. Flynn walked behind her without touching her. She had never in her life caused a scene. Never in her life been involved in a scene. She wasn't sure which was worse, being involved in a scene or knowing that it was completely her fault.
Flynn didn't say a word as they walked out into the street. He gave the valet his ticket stub and then stood next to her, hands in pockets while they waited for the
Ferrari. Ann glanced at him once or twice. She wanted to say something but she didn't know what. He was so close but he looked a million miles away.
He saw her seated, his hand completely impersonal on her elbow. Seconds later, he was sitting beside her and the car's engine growled as he pulled away from the curb.
Ann could feel the temper that simmered in him. She half expected him to drive like a maniac, and she made up her mind to say nothing, no matter what he did. But he stayed well within the speed limit, steering the powerful car at an almost sedate pace. It was worse than if he'd speeded.
"Flynn—"
"Don't. Just forget it."
"But I—"
"Drop it." There was such command in the simple words that Ann subsided into her seat. She wasn't sure what she'd planned to say anyway. How could she apologize for the things she'd said? How could she explain all the turmoil that had built up inside her, seeking some exit and that he'd just gotten in the way.
The Ferrari came to a halt outside their building. Inside, she could see Joe sitting at his desk, his eyes registering the familiar car before going back to the book he was reading.
She glanced at Flynn but his eyes were focused out the windshield, staring at the empty street. "Aren't you coming in?"
"No. If you didn't bring your key, Joe can let you in."
"I have my key. Flynn—"
"Goodbye, Ann."
He didn't look at her. It was as if, in his mind, she'd already ceased to exist. Ann blinked back unwanted tears and reached for the latch, stepping out onto the sidewalk. Flynn leaned across the seat and pulled the door shut, putting the car into gear immediately.
Ann watched the sleek black sports car disappear around a corner, the well-bred howl of the engine sounding loud in the quiet night. The air was still warm but she shivered. She felt as if she'd just lost something incredibly important. She stood there a long time, half hoping that he'd return, that he'd give her a chance to explain the inexplicable.
But he didn't come back.
Ann let herself in, gave Joe a strained smile and went upstairs to her quiet apartment. Oscar greeted her with a meow of inquiry, clearry pleased to see her, but the cat's pleasure couldn't begin to fill the aching hollow that was opening up in her chest.
For the first time since she was a child, Ann cried herself to sleep.
❧
The next few days were an exercise in torture. Ann could not stop going over the disastrous evening in her mind. The events replayed themselves like a broken record: each word, each gesture, had to be taken out and examined again and again.
She'd deliberately set out to pick a fight with Flynn. There was no other possible explanation. She'd been looking for a reason to break off their relationship, looking for some terrible flaw in him. She'd found a flaw, but it was in herself, not in Flynn.
One thing she'd always prided herself on was her ability to face reality. She tried never to lie to herse
lf. Yet, she'd buried her head in the sand when it came to
Flynn McCallister. From the moment she'd moved in, she'd used hostility to camouflage a powerful sexual attraction. Even then, she'd sensed that he could be a threat to her neatly ordered world, and she'd done everything she could to keep him at arm's length.
Then Becky had dropped into their lives and she'd been forced to look at the real Flynn, not the mythical, womanizing creation of her imagination, but the real man. The man who took in a little girl who had no one else and gave her a home. The man who captured such sensitive images on film. The man who'd taught her about passion.
The man she'd fallen in love with.
Ann leaned her head back against the wall of the elevator and closed her eyes. It was not exactly the most romantic of locations to realize that she'd fallen in love. No—she couldn't really say that she was just now realizing it. She was just now admitting it to herself, but some part of her had known it for a long time. That's why she'd been so frightened. That was why she'd struck out at him, pushing him away because she was afraid to let him get any closer.
The elevator came to a halt and the doors slid open. Ann stepped out, her head bent over her purse as she searched for her keys.
"Excuse me." Her head jerked up, her heart pounding. Flynn was standing not two feet away. It had only been three days since she'd seen him, but Ann drank in the sight of him as if it had been months.
He was wearing tailored slacks and a blue shirt that echoed the brilliance of his eyes. His hair was combed into neat black waves and Ann couldn't imagine anyone had ever looked more handsome.
"Excuse me." He repeated the polite phrase and she realized she was blocking the elevator. A hundred words surged to her lips but she didn't speak any of them. This came too close on the heels of her realization of her love for him. She felt too raw, too vulnerable.
She stepped out of the way without a word. Flynn nodded, his eyes as cool and distant as the Sierras. His shoulder almost touched hers as he stepped into the elevator. Ann didn't move until she heard the doors slide quietly shut behind her.
Tell Me a Story Page 17
