Modern Romance May 2016 Books 5-8. Дженнифер Хейворд
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in his background.
Sure you are.
I am!
You’re interested in getting into bed with him. So much for your celibacy pact.
I’m not going to sleep with him. I just want to find out more about him.
You are so going to lose this.
I am not. I can resist him. I’m strong. I’m invincible. I’m disciplined.
You’re toast.
* * *
Kat was late getting back from working at the café as she had worked an extra shift because one of the waitresses had called in sick. The traffic was horrendous because of another heavy snowfall. The roads were slippery and tempers were becoming frazzled, including hers. And there were no parking spaces outside the Carstairs house. She had to do three tedious circuits before one became available in front of Flynn’s BMW, as he had arrived just before her. Typical. He gets the celebrity car spot while I’m driving around in circles for hours. He was standing on the footpath retrieving some papers off the passenger seat as Kat drew alongside the car in front in order to reverse park. She tried not to be put off with him standing there watching her but every time she went to reverse back she was either too close to the car in front or too far from the curb.
Flynn tucked his papers under one arm and came over to her driver’s window, leaning down to speak to her. ‘Do you want me to park it for you?’
Kat’s pride came to her rescue. That was the second time he’d offered to park her car. What did he think she was? Useless? Sure, it was nice he’d scraped the snow away from her doorstep that morning, but she was perfectly capable of parking her car. If she let him do it for her, what else would she let him do? Allowing him to do stuff for her was a fast track into his bed and she was keeping off it. ‘No thanks. I’ve got it.’
‘I’ll stand behind to guide you in. Take it slowly.’
Kat watched in the rear-view mirror as he positioned himself behind her car to stand in front of the BMW. She gave herself a pep talk. You’ve parked a thousand times in spaces much tighter than this. Don’t let him put you off. Just park the damn thing. She put her indicator back on, positioned the wheels and then gingerly pressed her foot on the accelerator. She was doing brilliantly. Yay! The car was easing into the space like a dream but then another car flashed past, the driver called out something rude and Kat momentarily lost her focus. She forgot her foot was still on the accelerator until she felt the car go over a bump. The skin on her scalp shrank. She glanced behind her to see Flynn hopping about the footpath clutching one of his feet, a string of curse words coming out of his grimly set mouth.
Kat jumped out of the car, almost getting swiped by another car as it went past, spraying her with dirty, slushy snow. ‘Oh, my God! Are you okay?’
He leaned one hand on the rear of her car as he put his foot to the ground, wincing as he tried to get it to take his weight. He frowned at her from beneath a single bar of eyebrows. ‘Who taught you to park a car?’
Kat knew it wasn’t the time to take umbrage with his tone but if he hadn’t been there taunting her she would have parked the car just fine. Well, maybe. ‘What were you doing standing behind my car? You should’ve stood on the footpath and directed me from there. That’s what any sensible person would’ve done.’
‘I wasn’t going to stand by and watch you plough your car into mine,’ he said. ‘I’ve only had it a month.’
He pushed himself away from her car and took a couple of steps but his mouth had white tips around the edges and he was barely able to put any weight on his foot. She chewed at her lips, wondering what she should do. She might be doing her level best to avoid him but she could hardly leave him to fend for himself, especially since she had been the one to run over his foot. ‘Do you want me to call an ambulance or...or something?’
‘That won’t be necessary.’
Kat tried not to be put off by his clipped tone. He was in pain. Of course he would be brusque. ‘I’m sorry... I didn’t mean to hurt you. My tyres are a little bald and I—’
‘Your tyres are bald and you’re driving on them in this weather?’ He glowered at her. ‘Do you realise how dangerous that is? Not just to yourself but to other innocent people on the road?’
Kat put up her chin. It was all right for him to bang on about new tyres. He could afford to buy any brand of tyre he liked. He could afford to buy any car he liked. She had to make do with whatever she could afford. She couldn’t do without a car when she had to go to auditions all over the country. ‘I bet your foot isn’t even hurt. I bet you’re one of those men that get man flu. One sniffle and I bet you go to bed all day.’
He shook his head at her like a frustrated parent does a wilful child. ‘You’re freaking unbelievable.’
Kat spun on her heel and stalked off without another word. She was glad she’d run over his foot. It served him right. She would do it again if she had half a chance.
Both feet.
‘BROKEN?’ FLYNN ASKED, peering at the X-ray of his right foot that his friend Dr Joaquim Barrantes in A&E was showing him on the computer screen.
‘In three places,’ Joaquim said. ‘How’d you do it again?’
Flynn gave him a speaking look. ‘Don’t ask.’
Joaquim grinned. ‘So, how are things going with that hot little Scot? Got her to go out with you yet?’
‘I’m working on it.’
‘How many months has it been now?’ Joaquim gave him a teasing look. ‘Not like you to take so long to get down to business. You must be losing your touch.’
‘I’ve changed my tactics,’ Flynn said. ‘“Slowly but surely” is my new M.O.’
Joaquim nudged some crutches that were propped against the gurney. ‘Yeah, well, these will slow you down a bit. But you’ll be fine with a bit of rest. You don’t need it plastered, just a firm bandage and crutches for four weeks. The bones are small, but you don’t want to compromise healing with too much weight on them in the early stages of recovery.’
Crutches. Flynn smothered a curse. What was that going to do to his credibility in court? Limping around on a pair of crutches didn’t suit his image of being in control. But taking time off while his foot healed would be pointless. What could he do? He wasn’t the sit-around-the-house type. It was not as though he could go skiing. He wouldn’t even be able to head to somewhere warm. Walking on a beach or lounging around a resort pool on crutches wasn’t his idea of fun. And spending time with his family in Manchester wasn’t something he was keen to repeat after the Christmas debacle. And who was going to walk Cricket twice a day?
The cogs of Flynn’s mind began to tick over. He wasn’t averse to twisting the odd emotional blackmail screw when it suited him. Besides, Kat owed him something, surely? She might not have deliberately injured him but he was a firm believer in do the crime, do the time. And it would be rather entertaining to have her play nursemaid. He would be able to see her several times a day. Every morning. Every night.
Who knew what he could talk her into with that amount of close contact?
‘What about driving?’ Flynn asked his friend.
Joaquim shook his head. ‘It would be fine if it wasn’t your right foot but your insurance company wouldn’t cover you if you drove with it until you’ve been given the all clear. Just as well you filthy rich lawyers can afford to catch cabs everywhere.’
‘Funny,’ Flynn said. ‘But us rich lawyers are the people you overworked medicos turn to when your patients want to sue you.’
Joaquim tapped