something happened between them that had made it impossible for his mother to envisage keeping the baby they had conceived? Did his father even know of his existence? The thoughts of his origins plagued him. He couldn’t look at a baby without thinking of what had led his mother to abandon him.
It was one of the reasons he hadn’t pursued a long-term relationship since Claire. Back in his early twenties he had wanted to fill the hole in his life by building a future with someone, by having a family of his own. When Claire had had a pregnancy scare a couple of months into their relationship, he had proposed on the spot. The thought of having his own family, of having that solid unit, had been a dream come true. But when Claire had found out she wasn’t pregnant a couple of days later she’d ended their engagement. Her rejection had felt like another doorstep drop-off.
He hadn’t been able to commit to another long-term relationship since. To have his hopes raised so high only to have them dashed had made him wary about setting himself up for another disappointment. Not knowing who he was made him worried about who he might become. What if he didn’t have it in him to be a good father? What if there was some flaw in his DNA that would make him ill-suited as a husband and father?
But now, as he was in his thirties and he saw friends and colleagues partnering and starting their parenting, he felt that emptiness all the more acutely. With Julius and Holly married now, Jake and Jaz engaged and Miranda and Leandro preparing for their wedding in March, he was the last man standing.
Alone.
Why had he told Kat Winwood, of all people? Or was it because he saw something in her that reminded him of himself? Her tough-girl exterior. Her take-no-prisoners attitude. Her steely self-reliance. Her feisty determination to win at all costs.
Everything about her stirred his senses into overload. Her sexy little body. Even her starchy stiffness when she was stirred up excited him. Her beautiful eyes, the colour of sea glass, fringed with long, black lashes that reminded him of miniature fans. Her pearly white skin, luminescent and without a single blemish, not even a freckle. Her rich dark-brown hair, with its highlights of burnished copper, that fell to just past her shoulders in a cascade of loose waves. Her flowery perfume—a hint of winter violets, lilacs and something else that was unique to her.
From the first moment he’d met her he had wondered what her lips would feel like against his own. He lay awake at night thinking about her. Imagining what it would be like to make love to her. He wasn’t being over-the-top confident to think she was attracted to him. He could sense it in the way she kept looking at his mouth, as if a force was drawing her gaze there against her will. Even when she looked at him with those intelligent, defiant eyes he could see the flare of her pupils and the way her tongue sneaked out to moisten her luscious mouth. He enjoyed making her blush. It showed she wasn’t quite as immune to him as she made out. He enjoyed sparring with her. The sexy banter was like foreplay. He got hard just thinking about it.
Every cell in his body delighted in the challenge she was laying before him. He thrived on the chase. The conquest was his lifeblood. It energised him. It excited him to think she was playing so hard to get. He was tired of the easy conquests. He could pull a date with just a look. It had lost its appeal. He wanted more. More depth, more intellectual stimulation, more time to explore the chemistry that sizzled and crackled between them.
Her strong will constantly clashed with his but that was what he found so attractive about her. She wasn’t going to let anyone walk over her, or at least not without a fight.
Her indomitable stance on not meeting her father was a way of taking control—of being in charge. Richard had hurt her mother, Kat wanted justice and this was her way to get it. She was intent on punishing her father but what she didn’t realise was, in the end, she was punishing herself and her half-siblings.
But Flynn wasn’t going to stop until he had achieved what he’d set out to achieve. He wanted Kat Winwood at that party.
He wanted Kat Winwood, period.
* * *
Kat watched from an upstairs window the next morning as Flynn took his little dog Cricket for an early morning walk. He must have been up first thing to shovel the snow from his footpath. But then she looked down at hers and saw it was clear as well. A warm, oozy sort of feeling spread through her insides. Had he done that for her?
He was rugged up in coat, hat and gloves and he had dressed Cricket in a little padded coat that only left his ridiculous tail, odd ears and stumpy little legs on show. She watched as the dog bounced around him with glee, his little feet stirring up the powdery snow like a miniature snow machine. Flynn bent down and ruffled the dog’s ears affectionately before they continued along the footpath.
What was the story with that crazy little dog? He had mentioned his mother had got tired of Cricket once he’d ceased to be cute. Had that happened with Flynn? Had his mother—both his parents—lost interest in him once their other sons had come along? Was that why he had been sent to boarding school? Were Flynn’s brothers adopted too? Or had his parents conceived their own children after adopting him? It sometimes happened when a couple adopted a child after years of infertility.
So many questions were crowding her thoughts. She wanted to know more about him. She wanted to know everything about him.
Oh no, here you go again.
What? I’m just interested 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