Tell Me True

by Ally Blake

  Finn was Mr. Smooth, subtly making sure they were all well fed, well drunk, well entertained at all times.

  While April tried not to leap out of her skin every time the man touched her, looked at her, or even looked like he might be about to touch her or look at her.

  The next time she looked at her watch she realised a couple of hours had passed and she hadn’t thought about work once, or the fact that Jase was ingratiating himself with management right under her nose.

  It was a relief, actually.

  But, no! It shouldn’t be a relief – her blood ought to be boiling. She was meant to be hatching plans. Ways to make herself seem invaluable to Stan. Practicing being irresistible!

  “Time for bed,” she called across the table.

  Smith, who was inebriated by that stage, said, “I’m in!”

  April laughed. “Not likely.”

  “Then what about Finn?” Smith asked.

  April stopped fussing with her bag and shot Smith a glare to end all glares.

  “What about me, Smith?” Finn said.

  At which Smith became so overcome he couldn’t remember what he’d been about to say. And instead went with, “Please tell me it’s all an act. That the super-sophisticated, uber-masculine, utterly-hetero vibe you have going on is merely a cover.”

  Finn’s mouth creased into a smile. “Would that it were true.”

  “If we’re heading off, I should visit the little girls’ room,” Sally said, fluffing a hand at them as she forced Bob and Clara out of the booth so she could scooch past. “Ladies?”

  Smith and Clara nodded and joined her.

  There went April’s ride. Meaning she could either wait it out with Bob and Finn. Or she could use her time more wisely. She stood, hooked a finger at Finn and beckoned for him to follow.

  Finn’s eyes narrowed a fraction before he too slipped out of the booth. “You be alright here a minute, Bob?”

  Bob put his hands behind his head and closed his eyes.

  “Is that a yes or a no?” Finn murmured.

  “Oh, it’s a big yes. My dad made that exact move all the time. Birthday parties. Weddings. School concerts. His hands would go behind his head, he’d sigh, say, ‘Just a little shut-eye’, and he’d be snoring within three breaths.”

  April shook off the memory. Not that she didn’t like thinking about her dad. Despite the way things were between them, she tried to remember the good times over the hard as much as possible. If she gave into the urge to hate him for what he did to their family, what he did to her, she was terrified there’d be no going back.

  But that had nothing to do with this.

  Requiring a quiet corner in the busy bar, she needed Finn’s skill. She ducked in behind him, put her hands into his back and gave him a shove towards the back of the bar.

  On tiptoes, she shouted into his ear, “Keep walking till I say stop.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  When the crowd threatened to separate them he caught her hand. Pulled it around his middle. Soon she was snuggled right up against his back, going full koala.

  Whoa. Beneath the suit the guy was buff. Like seriously hard. She hugged a little harder to make sure.

  Laughing – she could feel it vibrating through her hands – he shepherded her through The Burrow until they spilled out into the night air.

  The courtyard out the back was a small, square gap between four buildings. The crumbling brick walls had long ago been rendered black. A few potted plants filled the corners and had been draped with fairy lights. Looking up revealed a tunnel’s eye view of a small patch of inky sky twinkling with starlight.

  It was far quieter than inside. Infinitely cooler. And terribly romantic.

  Also the “something other” that Finn Ward carried about him like a cloak became even more obvious in the darkness. There was nothing in particular she could put her finger on – he’d been a complete a gentleman – but she knew, right deep down, the man was the definition of a wolf in sheep’s clothing. He might look urbane, spout niceties, but ignoring his intrinsic “otherness” would be at her own peril.

  Meaning it was time to call the fun and games portion of their acquaintance quits. “I have a confession to make.”

  Finn’s hands slid into the pockets of his suit pants and he looked down at her with infinite patience.

  Yikes. How to put this? “Yesterday when I approached you at the bar, I wasn’t actually trying to hit on you.”

  She waited. He was better at it.

  “It’s kind of a long story,” she said, going on to tell it. Erica moving in, the promotion debacle, Jase’s turnaround, Clive’s now daily visits – the whole darned journey. When she hit the part about the Cinderella Project she could practically hear her pulse beating behind her ears.

  While Finn’s face in the near darkness was inscrutable. “And there I was thinking I was so irresistible.”

  She barked out a laugh. “Oh, you are.” He really was. “But terrifying at the same time. You have this dark and mysterious, black hole vibe about you, as if a girl could get sucked right in and never get out.”

  Most men would take that as a compliment – heck, Smith would be so stoked at such a character profile he’d probably pee his pants! But Finn suddenly had the whole preternatural stillness thing going on again and she would have bet the farm that she’d hit a nerve.

  “Not me, of course! Another girl.” She shifted from one foot to the other. “Don’t panic. You’re totally not my type. Way too high-maintenance.”

  Despite the stillness, his mouth kicked up at one side.

  A long, hot beat slunk between them.

  And her heart went pitter-pat.

  That was what she got for sharing with a man like Finn. A man who didn’t look at her like she was imposing on his time. A man who looked at her as if what she said mattered. For a girl who was currently feeling overlooked, it was quite the thing.

  April closed her eyes, shook her head, held out both hands to find some balance. “Anyway, I’ve never been comfortable with keeping secrets, so I wanted the truth to be out there. On the off chance we bump into one another yet again.”

  “Consider it out there.”

  “Great,” she said on an expulsion of breath. “Excellent.”

  And that should have been that. Mission accomplished.

  But the thing was, standing over her, moonlight creating a halo of silver around his head, Finn looked so like the statue in the fountain. Strong, stoic, and completely unattainable. Like – as he’d attested in the bar that first night – he believed himself beyond help.

  He might as well have thrown down a glove.

  “Um,” she said, “since we’re on a roll, anything you want to get off your chest?”

  A muscle flickered in his jaw. “I’m fine.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  “What exactly are you asking me, April?”

  “Were you flirting with me to make Jase jealous?” The words rolled off her tongue before she could stop them, consequences be damned.

  Like thrown into a still pond, ripples of Finn’s dark energy lapped at her skin. Then he said, “Of course.”

  Well, she’d asked.

  Heat filled her cheeks. Tension tightened her belly. “Was that the only reason? Because Jase isn’t anywhere in sight yet here you are.”

  Nothing. No a flicker.

  “You are the very definition of still waters, aren’t you, Finn?”

  His voice was deep, hard with warning, as he said, “No sense spinning fairy tales about me in your head, April. Believe me.”

  She shook her head. Once. Twice. “See that’s the thing with you, Finn. I don’t believe you.”

  Before she could stop herself she wrapped a hand around his tie, dislodging the perfect knot. He didn’t react. Not even a blink. So she curled her fingers into his shirt, pulled harder, popped a button from its hole.

  Still nothing.

  It was infuriating. The man might as w
ell have been made of stone.

  The impulse the ruffle his hair, tug his jacket from his shoulders, to undo him somehow came over her like a tidal wave – huge, sudden unstoppable.

  The man was so self-contained. Surely that couldn’t be healthy. It would be the kinder thing to help him relax—

  Oh, stuff it.

  April grabbed Finn by the shirt front, rose up onto her toes, and kissed him, planting one right on his beautiful mouth.

  His resistance sang through him so powerfully he vibrated, while sparks of heat sprang up all over April’s body at the feel of him beneath her hands, her mouth, her heart.

  Turned out his resistance could only last so long, as April had barely registered what she’d gone and done before Finn finally broke off his leash and took complete control. Hauling her close with one arm, his other hand came to rest against her cheek, his thumb stroking the edge of her jaw as his devastating mouth slid over hers.

  And, whoa, mamma, she felt it all the way to her knees.

  April couldn’t remember why she’d ever thought him made of stone. He was all heat and energy, the most vital life force she’d ever known coursing beneath his skin.

  Finn. Yep, this was Finn who was kissing her like he had all the time in the world. The very same beautiful giant hunched dramatically over his empty glass in the bar the other night. The guy who was meant to be merely practice.

  And suddenly she couldn’t get out of her own head. Because kissing Finn was not helpful to her cause. In fact, it was the very opposite. This was not a man to be trifled with. This was not a man who needed her brand of help. He was consuming, overwhelming, and a hell of a kisser—

  April flattened the hand at Finn’s tie and pushed. Tilting back and blinking up at him as he didn’t budge an inch. “Whoa, buddy. Where did that come from?”

  He laughed – laughed! – the sound more a rumble than anything else. She felt it, like fireflies swarming over her skin.

  “You kissed me, April.”

  Right. She had. But he’d taken it somewhere completely out of this world.

  “Well, you shouldn’t have kissed me back.”

  He tucked a curl behind her ear, watching his fingers as he did so. “I apologise. That wasn’t the message I’d believed I was receiving.”

  April closed her eyes, trying to block the sensation of his slow, hypnotic caress. “Okay. Fair enough. I mean we’ve already established the fact that I think you’re... not ugly. So the idea of kissing you is theoretically not completely disgusting.”

  His cheek twitched with the beginnings of a smile. “And yet I’m not your type.”

  “Pfft. You’re everybody’s type.” Crapola. “Except mine. That’s right. Good memory you have there. I’m”—floundering—“attracted to a very particular kind of guy. Sweet, loves his mother, loyal. In need of a guiding hand.”

  When she realised she still had one hand gripped in Finn’s shirt – a finger having slipped through the gap to trace his hot, bare skin – she quickly disengaged.

  Finn, on the other hand, kept a loose arm around her waist. “Are you sure that’s a type of man you’re describing, or a neutered collie?”

  She shook her head, aware how far off course she’d gone. “That wasn’t my point.”

  “Then what is your point, April?” Finn tucked her hair behind her other ear, eyes still following his movements. “Because you’re doing a fine job of being perfectly unclear.”

  “I brought you out here to clear the air. I wanted to make our respective positions clear. I’m not a big fan of equivocation and it felt like things were getting”—hot, steamy, electric—“skewed.”

  “You prefer the truth, the whole truth, nothing but the truth?”

  “Always.”

  His eyes finally slid back to hers, so piercing in their intensity, the backs of her knees came over a little wobbly.

  “I didn’t like the way he looked at you.” No points for guessing who “he” was.

  April shrugged, though her shoulders felt heavy; as if her body was still trying to wake up from Finn’s heady kiss. “That’s neither here nor there.”

  “I liked less the way you looked at him.”

  “Like I wanted to strangle him?”

  “Like he’d disappointed you somehow.”

  April swallowed. At least she tried to swallow. There seemed to be a lump the size of a fist blocking her airways. It was shocking how easily this man saw past the blunt optimism, through layers of careful obfuscation, to the centre of her darkest heart.

  She cleared the shock with an ungainly cough. “He did disappoint me. And continues to. But I’m not going to go through with my secret desire to throttle him for it, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  Finn’s gaze dropped to her mouth, his eyes taking on a hungry gleam. “It’s not.”

  “I have an acquaintance who has a theory about all this.”

  “Which is?”

  “The only reason you were getting all flirty back there, practically daring me to kiss you, is so that another man couldn’t get there first. It’s primal. Total caveman territory. You wanted to make him jealous for my sake, but you needed to prove you could kiss till my knees turned to jelly for yours.”

  April wasn’t sure she totally believed what she was sprouting, but as Finn’s thumb stroked the soft spot behind her ear it was of the greatest import that he did.

  Turned out luck was running her way.

  Finn reached both hands into her hair, cradling the back of her skull. “You give me far more credit than I deserve,” he murmured, then proceeded to kiss her senseless. Literally.

  There was no getting stuck inside her own head this time. She was too busy trying to catch her senses as they got stripped away.

  She couldn’t see, hear, or taste anything but him. But as for touch. Whoa. Every hair on her body zapped like she’d been hit with a burst of static electricity. And she began to tremble as his mouth moved over hers in a rhythm that echoed deep down inside.

  Her knee slid up the outside of his thigh as she gripped the lapels of his jacket.

  His hot mouth slowed, drowning her in sweetness. Then he moved to her jaw, her neck, that soft spot behind her ear. Humming a little, the way people did when they got a first taste of one of her cupcakes. Like she was the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted.

  She hung on for dear life.

  When he clamped down on her earlobe, snagging it between his teeth, her eyes sprang open and her knees completely gave way.

  He laughed softly, kissed the ouch, and held her closer. The cad. Beautiful, sexy cad.

  Wait. What? Oh. Hang on! What the hell was she doing kissing a cad? Even a beautiful, sexy one!

  Searching deep within the bliss that had taken over her body, April found her very last thread of sanity. Clinging to it for dear life she dragged herself back to the surface.

  Uncurled her knee from its vine-like grip around his leg.

  Removed her hand from his backside. When had that happened?

  And bodily removed herself from his embrace, one inch at a time, starting with her hips, then her breasts, and finally her fingertips.

  “Well, I for one am glad we cleared that up,” April said, straightening her dress, which was all twisted from trying to climb the man standing before her.

  Peeking at him out of the corner of her eye, she harrumphed at how cool and unravaged Finn looked. If not for the tuft of hair she’d messed up on the right side of his head, nobody would guess anything had happened.

  In a fit of contrariness, she reached up and ruffled the other side it. Messing up his perfection in some contrary need to know she could.

  Her legs felt all swimmy when his eyes smiled into hers.

  If she wasn’t careful she was about to replace one stupid crush with another.

  Then again, maybe that wouldn’t be such a terrible thing.

  The whole point of a crush was that it was one-sided. It had distance. It felt like the kind
of twisted logic one Hazel Hamilton-Hayes might spout, but it was the best April had. So she went with it.

  “I think I have a crush on you, Finn Ward.”

  Expecting a laugh from the man, or a cocky smile, April found herself gobsmacked when all of his careful, guarded distance crumbled, leaving him looking vulnerable. The stone facade cracked, giving her a glimpse into a man who might never have been told such a thing in his life before.

  Thankfully he had the Finn-wall back in place in a flash. So fast, in fact, she wondered if she’d imagined it.

  Feeling woozy, shaky, and not altogether herself, April cocked her head towards the bar. And that’s as far as confessions go from me tonight. “I feel much better. Don’t you? Like we’ve cleared the air.”

  “Is that what we did?” Finn rumbled, his voice deeper than ever.

  She’d enjoyed massive crushes on Tom Hiddleston, the tall judge from MasterChef, and half of Mary Crawley’s love interests on Downton and none of them had ever done her wrong.

  “Best we get back,” she said. “Your guests. My ride.”

  Finn gave her one last hot, measured look, and then he took her hand, turned, and pulled her back inside.

  Finn worked on autopilot as he navigated a path through the crowd. April’s voice running through his head.

  I feel much better. Don’t you? Like we’ve cleared the air.

  No actually, he didn’t feel clear. He felt heavy and agitated. Wired. Turned on. Like he had a nuclear power plant in his pants.

  Do you want to kiss me? Come on, I know you want to kiss me. What’s wrong with you, boyo? Not man enough to kiss me?

  Not that April had used those exact words but, if given the opportunity, he didn’t doubt she would. Discretion didn’t come naturally to her. She gave herself away at every turn. Those wide, grey eyes lost in the dilation of her pupils. Her breath rising and falling in great, heady bursts.

  Hell, but was she enticing. A strange mixture of sweet candour, determined assertiveness, and hot snarky energy. The winking thread of wildness she never quite contained.

  No wonder he acted like a cavemen. April Swanson was a cold drink of water in a patch of precious shade after a lifetime in the harsh, desert sun.