The Billionaire and the Wild Man Page 4

  “Ah, your clothes are ready. I’ll grab them for you.”

  “Thanks.” Flynn coughs. “I’ll go get my shaving things, and then I can go when I’m dressed.”

  “Okay, hon,” I reply. Why the hell had I called him that? I’m not one for sentimental pet names. I usually don’t use terms of affection.

  I take out the clothes, hot and soft from their treatment. I can’t help being a little ginger with the boxer shorts—they may have been washed, but they’ve still touched his … you know. I carry the bundle to the living room and lay the garments over the arm of the sofa.

  “I’m just going to make myself a brew,” I yell up the stairs, “your things are in the living room.”

  “Okay.” His strong, deep voice carries down the stairs. “Thanks.”

  I go back to the kitchen, pull out a mug and place a teabag in it. When the kettle pings off I pour the boiling liquid onto the bag. I’m on autopilot, my mind elsewhere. It’s trying to spy on Flynn while he gets dressed. I really would love to see more of his fit, lean body. He intrigues me. What could possibly turn a man from an elite soldier to a wild man? It must have been something big. I mean, he hinted at it, but gave absolutely nothing away.

  I stir my drink, pull out the teabag and walk over to the fridge to grab the milk.

  “Erm, Carrie,” Flynn shouts from the direction of the front room, “we’ve got a bit of a problem here.”

  “Hang on a mo’.” I take out the carton and add a drop from it to my drink quickly. “I’m coming.”

  I walk through to the lounge and am struck by the most hilariously mortifying sight ever. “Oh.” I try not to giggle, but a tiny laugh bubbles through my gritted teeth.

  “It’s not funny, this is my only t-shirt,” Flynn snaps.

  The shirt is significantly smaller than it should be. It exposes his stomach and pulls in his pecs, making him look like a teenage teenybopper about to go out to a concert.

  “Oh God, I’m so sorry, Flynn.” I walk over to him and run my hand over the tight material. I just can’t seem to help myself. “I must have had the heat up too high. I suck at laundry. Are your trousers okay?”

  “Yeah, they’re all right. I guess the heavier material dealt better with the heat, thank God. What am I going to do, though? I don’t mind walking back topless, but I don’t fancy spending the night like that. It’s hot, but geez, not that hot.”

  “No worries, I’ve got something I can lend you, I think. Lift up your arms and I’ll help you out of this.”

  “Yeah, thanks, I seem to be a bit stuck.” He sighs.

  I giggle again, but this time he joins in with guffaws of his own. Thank God he sees the funny side, too.

  “I hope my mum doesn’t decide to walk in right now. What a sight we must be.”

  I push the tight material up his equally tight chest, pushing through the light smattering of hair across his well-defined pectorals until the freshly-washed cotton is rolled up under his arms. He smells of my citrus shower gel and manliness. My knees weaken, and I gulp down my burgeoning desire.

  “I feel ridiculous, Carrie.”

  “Well, you look rather ridiculous, too.” I chuckle.

  “Thanks for those soothing words, friend,” he growls, his chest rumbling under my fingers.

  “I’d not finished, actually, friend. I was going to say that you look rather ridiculous, but you feel seriously good.” I look up. His gaze meets mine, and my heart ceases to beat, my blood stops traveling, and I’m lost in the blueness of his eyes.

  “Oh yeah?” he whispers, drawing my gaze to his lips, the bottom one plumper than the bow-shaped top one.

  “Yeah.” I breathe the word, almost scared to move my mouth, transfixed.

  I don’t need to move because he shifts his head forward and we kiss. It is different without a scratchy beard in the way. I can feel the smoothness of his skin and really appreciate the whole of his mouth moving on mine. I press hard against him, my hands fisted in the material of his shrunken top just below his armpits. His arms drop from their position in the air and wrap around my shoulders. He pulls me into his embrace and crushes me to his chest.

  Just then, my newfound mantra echoes in my mind.

  Friends don’t snog friends.

  I pull back, gasping. Stupid mind.

  “It’s much better without the beard,” I exclaim, “but we’ve got to get you dressed and out of here. Mum will be back any minute.”

  “Sure, yes, of course.” Flynn raises his arms again and steps back from me. We disentangle, and I ease the tight material up until I can’t reach any higher and he takes over.

  “I’ll just go get this top, I won’t be long.”

  My stomach jogs manically as I race upstairs to the guest room which is mine for the duration of my visit. Fuck, what just happened? It was an intensely sexy kiss and bloody hell, I want more, but if I give in to the chemistry could it lose me a friend? My only friend. Shit. Maybe I am insane. I must be for contemplating not shagging that gorgeous package of masculinity.

  I hurry to the chest of drawers and pull out my baggy sleep sweater. It’s a bit old, a bit rugged, but it’s the only item of clothing I own that might cover Flynn’s huge, tight, muscled chest… Where was I? Oh yes, dressing Flynn. I really don’t want to, but there we go.

  “Here,” I yell as I hurtle down the stairs, “it’s not great, but I’m hoping it’ll fit you.”

  Flynn takes the grey, plain top from my hands and pulls it over his head. “Yep, this will do the trick, I think.” He pushes his strong arms into it and slips it down over that magnificently sexy stomach of his. “Thanks, Carrie.”

  “You’re welcome,” I respond. My cheeks flush as our gazes meet again and I remember what happened last time. We both look away from each other and start to talk at the same time.

  “Well, I better go…”

  “I’d better see you out…”

  We laugh nervously together, and he nods towards me.

  “I’d better see you out,” I try again. “It’s nearly nine, and I’m meant to be in bed.” A mental image of me and Flynn in bed together almost makes me flounder, but I regain my composure and continue. “But you know you said about going for a walk tomorrow? Well, I remembered I’ve got some trainers. Mum insisted on putting them in my luggage even though I never usually bloody wear them. Will they be okay?”

  “As long as they’ve got a sturdy sole, they should be fine.”

  “Great, what time should I meet you?”

  “How about ten o’clock, just at the bottom of your garden? I’ll stay out of sight of your mum, though.”

  “Yeah, sounds good.”

  “Okay, great.” He picks up his razor and shaving foam. “I’ll see you then.”

  “See you,” I reply, awkwardly stepping from foot to foot.

  “Thanks for having me.” I swear there’s a cheeky twinkle in his eye as he says it.

  “My pleasure,” I reply. “Thinking about it some more, I am definitely convinced the unbearded kiss was better.”

  “Are you now?” he growls, stepping forward and pulling me against him. “I think I agree, but let’s just try again to be sure.”

  No sooner have his lips hit mine, sending searingly sensual explosions of ecstasy coursing down my spine, than I hear the clunk and click of the front door opening.

  I jerk back and shoo Flynn out of the still-open French doors.

  “Caroline, are you still up?” Mum’s familiar tone trills.

  “Yeah, just.” I walk towards the kitchen. “Just grabbing a brew.”

  I turn around, and Flynn has already vanished.

  “Oh good, because I just want to say something to you.”

  “I’m in the kitchen,” I reply, picking up my cooling brew.

  “I’m glad you’re still awake. Had a good evening?”

  “Yeah, thanks. Nice flowers.” I nod at the small vase in her hands.

  “Thanks, they’re not bad. You can put them in your ro
om if you like.”

  “Okay, cheers.”

  Mum puts down the vase beside me and steps back. She begins to wring her hands together. “Sorry, Caroline. I want to say sorry. I think I might have been a bit overbearing of late. I don’t mean to be. I’m just worried about you.”

  Of all the things I expected her to say, that was not one of them.

  “Oh, well, erm, no worries, Mum, I guess.” I stumble over a reply.

  “I’ll try to be better from now on.”

  “Thank you.” I smile, grip my drink firmly and head towards the door. “I’m going to go to bed.”

  “Don’t forget your present.” Mum passes me the vase of roses and other brightly colored flowers I can’t even pretend to know the names of. “I made it for you.”

  “Oh, yes, great. I’ll put it on the windowsill.”

  Mum smiles at me, and I pull my cheeks up in a stunned grin. I continue up to my room, place the vase on the windowsill and put my cup down on the bedside cabinet then collapse to the bed.

  What in God’s name had made Mum apologize? My mother never apologizes. Never. Not even that time she “accidentally” poisoned my gerbil when I was a kid. She just gave me some weird spiel about it being his time to go to gerbil heaven and that he’d be happy up there with divine pet toys and all the seeds he could munch.

  If that wasn’t enough to ponder, I can still feel the burn of Flynn’s lips on mine, the imprint of his hard lines pressed into my soft curves. I fall asleep to a loop of Friends don’t snog friends echoing around my mind.

  ****

  “I thought I’d go out for a bit of a walk today, Mum,” I mention as I pick up a slice of toast from the plate before me at breakfast.

  “Really? Well, I’m not sure I can come with you. I have to flip my mattress.”

  “It’s okay, I was thinking of going on my own,” I breezily answer.

  The silence drags, and I bite into my toast. Mum pauses in wiping down the kitchen surfaces, then continues. “Well, I suppose it would be okay. Will you just ring me a couple of times, so I know you’re all right?”

  “Sure.” I nod when I manage to swallow the toast through the shock. I didn’t think she’d surrender without at least a bit of a fight.

  “Here, you can take my mobile. It’s not fancy like yours, but it’ll make a call. I’ll be in all day so you can call the landline number.”

  I take the ye olde brick from her hand and smile. “I’ll ring you at about twelve.”

  “Okay, twelve noon, that’d be good. Would you like me to pack you a lunch? I’ve got some ham and cheese and just got some fresh bread this morning. Oh, and I baked some scones earlier as the ladies are ‘round for a prayer meeting at two.”

  “Sounds good, Mum, thanks.” I smile. I will make sure I’m out until at least four o’clock, then. I don’t think I can survive another one of Mum’s prayer meetings. Basically, a lot of nosey old bats get together to eat cakes and gossip, but of course, everything mentioned is only an issue for prayer. It’s not just malicious tittle-tattle, no, of course not!

  After breakfast I drag on a pair of lightweight capri pants in navy blue and match them with a simple blue and white striped t-shirt. I tie on my trainers, which have barely ever been worn. I bought them when I thought I might take up jogging. Needless to say that particular New Year’s resolution didn’t last long at all. The bright pink stripes seem a bit conspicuous and flashy, but there’s nothing I can do about that now.

  “Mum,” I shout as I run downstairs, “do you have a bag I can borrow?”

  It appears Mum is one step ahead of me, having packed enough food and drink for an army maneuver in a large, serious-looking dark green rucksack.

  “There’s a bit of space in here for your sun lotion, love.” She stuffs the white bottle into a side pocket.

  “Oh, great, thanks.”

  “Erm, and before you go, can I ask you something?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “What did you get the razors for? I found the packaging when I was cleaning the bathroom this morning.”

  Not for the first time I wonder at what God-forsaken hour my mum gets up at to do all the tasks she seems to manage before I even crawl out of bed.

  “Oh, I had to shave my legs and my armpits and well, other bits, you know. It was getting annoying.”

  “Clearly.” Mum nods. “I thought there was a dead rat in the sink at first. Scared me half to death it did.”

  “Yeah.” I cough. “Well, it’s been a while. Sorry about that.”

  “That’s all right, dear. It’s weird how dark the hairs were, though, considering how blonde you are on top.”

  “I know,” I gasp, grabbing the bag and turning to leave, “that’s why I needed to shave. Anyway, I’m going to go before it gets too hot out.”

  “Okay, I’ll see you later. Be sure to take a hat with you,” Mum yells after me.

  “Will do,” I shout back, having no such plan, “see you later.”

  I scurry out of the front door, look left and right, then inch around the outside of the building. Creeping past each window, I make sure Mum isn’t staring at me and carry on, into the back garden, down the edge of the herbaceous border to the end wall. I climb over with little grace or stealth even though I’m trying for both.

  I can’t believe I’ve been so damn stupid. I should have checked the bathroom for evidence once Flynn had left, but I was so flustered I didn’t think about it. I hope Mum has swallowed my excuse.

  “Hey, Carrie.” Flynn waves at me from behind the large tree which might or might not be an oak. I’d never had any desire to be a botanist, so names of flora and fauna regularly escape me.

  “Hi, Flynn, how’re you?”

  “I’m good thanks, you?” He seems hesitant. I wonder if he’s worried I’ll try and snog his face off again. But wait, he was the one initiating most of the kisses, not me.

  “I’ll be better when we’re further away from Mum’s house,” I reply, with brutal honesty.

  “Of course.” He smiles. “Let’s go.”

  I walk beside him for a while, or at least try to. His stride is much longer than mine.

  “I hate to whine before we’ve even started,” I gasp, “but can you slow down a bit? My legs aren’t as long as yours.”

  “Oh, sorry, I went on autopilot there. Damn military background. Strolling doesn’t come easy to me.”

  “No worries. I’m sorry I’m not fit enough to keep pace,” I say, already panting with the exertion. I can feel sweat pooling in the curve of my back too. Sexy. Not.

  “Oh, you’re perfectly fit enough for me,” Flynn insists, his voice gravelly. “I’ll slow down a bit.”

  Slow down? I want to pick up the pace. Well, not the walking pace, but I do want to strip off his nice clean clothes and fuck his brains out right here on the outskirts of the village. I don’t think I can take any more of this slow-burning passion. Friendship be damned. I need Flynn Gifford, and I need him right now.

  Yes, I am indecisive.

  Chapter Five

  Carrie looks really good when she turns up. In her navy blue trousers and blue and white striped top, she appears a little nautical, but I don’t mention that. I may not know an awful lot about women these days, but I do know that they’re easy to offend when it comes to their looks and clothes. She may take my words the wrong way, think I’m insulting her, rather than simply making a comment. And I don’t want to say she looks nice in case she thinks I’m taking the piss. They’re just normal clothes, after all, not an evening gown or something. So I keep quiet. We exchange pleasantries, then head off.

  Before long, she’s asking me to slow down, and I chastise myself. I’d stridden off without a second thought, like I was on a tab back to base or something. I apologize, and pay more attention to matching her pace. Once I get used to it, it’s actually kind of nice. I’ve obviously forgotten what it’s like to go for a walk for the sake of it, rather than because I’m going somewhere.


  “Hey,” I say, suddenly realizing something, “would you like me to take your bag?”

  There’s no sign of the fiercely independent woman I suspect is in front of me as she hands the green rucksack over. I soon realize why when I take its weight. “Fucking hell, what’ve you got in there? Your mum?” I shoulder the pack and grin as Carrie giggles.

  “No, though it’s her fault the bag’s so heavy. We’ve made peace—for now at least—and she’s loaded me up with a ton of food and drink. Even though she thinks I’m going for a walk by myself.”

  I raise my eyebrows. “And she was okay with that?” I start walking again, and Carrie falls into step beside me. She shrugs.

  “She seemed to be. Part of her making amends, I s’pose. She admitted she’d been overbearing and all that jazz, hence the peace. Hopefully things will be better from now on. Though she has given me her antique mobile phone and ordered me to check in a few times.”

  I’m looking where I’m going as we head out of the village, but soon snap my attention back to her when she makes a noise. She’s got a hand to her mouth, and her shoulders are shaking. Oh God, what the fuck have I said now?

  “Hey,” I say gently, stopping and taking her by the shoulders. “What’s the matter? Are you all right?”

  When she removes her hand from her mouth, I see I’ve got it wrong. She’s not crying, not upset. Her lips are stretched wide, and her eyes dance with mirth. The noises were stifled giggles. I can’t help grinning back, even though I don’t know what the joke is. I can only hope it isn’t me.

  “You gonna share the joke with the class?” Please don’t let it be me.

  A couple of cute little snorty sounds later and she’s regained enough composure to speak. “Sorry. It’s just—” She pauses as another laugh escapes her lips “Mum cleaned the bathroom this morning at some unearthly hour and saw the hair in the sink.”

  Oh, shit.

  She obviously sees the expression of horror on my face, because she waves her hand. “No, no, don’t worry. It’s just so funny. She found the empty packet for the razors, and asked me what I’d had them for. I said I’d been shaving my legs and armpits and other bits. She wondered why, because I’m blonde, the hairs were so dark. She thought there was a dead rat in the sink! It scared the shit out of her.”