last relationship, not that it had been a relationship in any sense of the word. He had only slept with the woman a couple of times way back in September at a law conference in Newcastle before he’d lost interest.
September? Had it really been that long? He had been so focused on Kat Winwood since early October that no one else had taken his eye. He couldn’t even bear the thought of trying it on with anyone else. Who would match her for intelligence and feistiness? The chemistry between them was phenomenal. He had only to look at her and he wanted her. But it was more than a physical lust. Over the last few months he had got to know her. Getting to know a partner other than in the biblical sense was not usually high on his priorities.
But with Kat he felt he understood her. He could read her mood, even when she did her best to hide her emotions. Underneath all that feistiness and shtick was a sensitive girl who hadn’t had it easy.
And Cricket loved her, which was the best litmus test of all.
There was that word ‘love’ he usually steered clear of. Love was an emotion that had let him down from as young as he could remember. Sometimes he wondered if his abandonment as a baby had done something to his brain, changed its architecture or something, making him distrustful of any bonds no matter how genuine they appeared.
But he didn’t want to be tied down with the responsibility of a relationship... Did he? The thought kept returning like a tongue to an irritable tooth. Before he’d met Kat he had been perfectly at peace with his decision to keep his relationships casual. He knew marriage was something that worked well for some people. Even his adopted parents, for all their other faults, were committed to each other and there was every indication they would remain that way for the rest of their lives.
But he saw plenty of other marriages. Horrible marriages. Bitter marriages. Marriages where the warring parties tore each other to shreds and where children were used as pawns and payback.
He wanted no part of it.
Cricket whined and wriggled up closer to put his head on Flynn’s knee with a look of complete and utter devotion, as if to say, ‘I love you and will never let you down.’ Flynn ruffled the dog’s ears again. ‘I love you too, buddy,’ he said, a little shocked to find his voice catching slightly over the words.
* * *
Kat let herself into Flynn’s house to save him the trouble of having to answer the door on crutches. She was later than usual, as the audition had run over time, plus she’d had to feed Monty and convince him to sit on her knee long enough for the Carstairs family to be assured their beloved pet was being looked after properly. Thankfully Monty hadn’t scratched her this time, but he’d coughed up a fur ball in her bedroom, which seemed a little too deliberate for her liking.
Cricket came like a NASA rocket out of the sitting room, his toenails scrabbling on the marbled hallway, his little body skidding like a drunken skater on loose ice skates. She bent down and he leapt into her arms and gave her face a virtual baptism. ‘Yes, you crazy little excuse for a dog,’ she said, laughing. ‘I love you to bits, too.’
She looked up to see Flynn had limped to the doorway after all. ‘Sorry I’m so late,’ she said. ‘I had to feed Monty and quickly Skype the Carstairses before I came over.’
He glanced at her hands. ‘No scratches? Things must be looking up between you two.’
Kat gave him a rueful smile. ‘We’re getting there, slowly but surely.’
There was an enigmatic twinkle in his eyes. ‘Not a bad way to do things.’
She reached for Cricket’s lead. ‘I’ll just take Cricket out now.’
‘Don’t worry about taking him out tonight,’ Flynn said. ‘It’s foul outside. How did your audition go?’
She put Cricket’s lead back on the hallstand. ‘I got it...’
‘You don’t sound too excited.’
Kat let her shoulders down on a sigh and faced him. ‘I’m not sure I got it for the right reasons.’
‘Did the director recognise you?’
She didn’t bother hiding her worry. She had a feeling he knew it anyway by the way he was looking at her. Softly. Understandingly. ‘No, but Elisabetta Albertini did. She’s playing the role of Kate in Sylvia. I didn’t know that otherwise I would’ve thought twice about auditioning. She was sitting at the back of the theatre and, after insulting me when I took a bit of time getting over my nerves, she insisted the part was given to me.’
‘You must’ve done a good job. She’s picky about who she works with.’
‘I can’t help feeling I’m being set up,’ Kat said. ‘I looked like such an amateur up there. I was quaking in my shoes. I’ve never felt so nervous in my life. What if she only wants me in that part so she can make a fool of me?’
His gaze lost none of its softness; if anything it got softer. Tender, almost. ‘You need to work on your confidence, sweetheart. She’ll eat you alive if you show you’re intimidated by her.’
Kat’s heart was still skipping over the word ‘sweetheart.’ Lots of men used terms of endearment and they usually meant nothing. Sweet nothing. But somehow the way Flynn said it gave it weight. Substance. A foundation she could stand on while the rest of the world trembled with uncertainty. ‘Do you think she’d do it? Ruin opening night to get back at me?’
‘Do you want me to have a chat with her?’
She gave him a horrified look. ‘No!’
‘You’re not really frightened of her, are you?’
Kat tossed her hair back off her shoulders—a gesture of bravado straight out of the actor’s handbook. She just wished she felt the indifference she was portraying. ‘Of course not.’
‘How about we go out to dinner tonight?’
Kat frowned. ‘Dinner?’
‘To celebrate you getting the part.’
She chewed at her lip. ‘I don’t know...’
‘Ouch.’
Kat looked up at him in concern. ‘Is your foot okay?’
He grinned at her. ‘That was my ego, not my foot. How many times does a guy have to beg a girl to go out to dinner with him?’
She looked at him narrowly. ‘Just dinner?’
‘I’d offer to take you dancing, but can you see me burning up the dance floor on these sticks?’
Kat’s conscience and willpower went into battle again.
Dinner will be fine.
You think?
Of course it will. We’ll have a drink, eat a meal. Go home. Simple.
You’ll sip champagne while gazing into his dreamboat eyes and start planning how many of his babies you’ll have.
I will not. Anyway, he’s not the settling down type.
But you are.
Am not. I want a career. Stardom. My name up in lights.
And then what?
And then I’ll be happy.
Yeah?
Kat forced a smile. ‘I’m not much of a dancer myself. I’ve never been able to get through a waltz without pulping my partner’s toes.’
He smiled with his eyes, making her stomach free-fall. ‘Sounds like you just haven’t found the right partner.’
* * *
The restaurant Flynn took her to in a cab was owned by one of his clients. They were given the best table in the house in a romantic corner that gave them privacy from the other diners. Flynn ordered champagne and, once it was poured, raised his