From there the table settled into a kind of rhythm.
Smith’s lack of a filter had them all in stitches. Clara sipped happily from her gluten-free Virgin Mary. Sally was a riot, telling stories about their life back in California and how their three month Australian holiday had ended up with them on the verge of investing their life savings with Finn’s firm, while Bob looked at her like she could do no wrong.
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 well 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.
But it would be a grave error to mistake her allure for anything more.
Which was why he had to deliver her back to her friends, gently and unharmed. Holding that thought as a talisman as he herded her through the stylised gloom, he glanced back to make sure she wasn’t getting too jostled. Her pale face glowed in the strange lighting bouncing off the curved ceiling high above. Her wide grey eyes took on a preternatural gleam.
I have a confession, she’d said.
Anything you want to get off your chest? she’d said.
Giving him the perfect opening to give up Hazel and his side in the whole “stranger in a bar” charade.
It would have felt like kicking a puppy. It also would have negated all he’d done to keep Hazel on his side. And that was where Finn’s base rationale began and ended. Self-preservation.
Finn pulled up short when a group of women stopped in front of him, hugging and squealing as they found another group of women they apparently hadn’t seen in ages.
As it happened, April’s workmates had snagged a booth right there.
At the centre of which sat Jase—what the hell kind of name was that—in his not quite navy suit, his preppy haircut, “puppy dog eyes”, his weak chin. He held a pony-necked beer in one hand, the other cut through the air as he laughed it up with the big boys... at April’s favourite bar.
If it was Pretty Boy’s way of trying to get April’s attention, his seduction technique left a lot to be desired. Maybe he was simply a prick. Either way, self-preservation was a skill April lacked.
Finn stared at Pretty Boy until he felt the force of Finn’s unimpressed gaze. Jase paused mid-sentence and looked up. Swallowed.
April ran a hand up and down Finn’s arm. “What’s going on? Why have we stopped?”
Finn lifted his arm and dragged April under.
She whooped as she danced through the space, grabbing him by the front of his jacket as he pulled her into his arms.
Delight danced behind her eyes as they looked questioningly into his. Such unfairly pretty eyes. So open and clear. Her hair bounced around her shoulders. Her smile creased her face in half. She felt warm and soft in his arms.
Something clenched inside of him. Something raw and unjust.
Then she blinked languidly up at him, one hand playing with the lapel of his jacket. Her sophistication level zilch. She was utterly incorrigible. Persistent. Yet beneath the chutzpah, lurked a vulnerability – making her delicate as a hothouse flower.
For a split second, he questioned why he shouldn’t take what she offered. Before all the reasons fell in on him, like rocks in a collapsing cave.
He pulled her close. Hard. Punishing himself for his divergent thoughts.
Her eyes bugged. “Now what are you doing?”
“What does it look like?”
Her gaze fluttered to his mouth. She licked her lips. And he couldn’t help but smile.
Which was why his mouth was open as it met hers.
If her first kisses had been a lesson in sweetness, the next were lessons, period. And not because of the fact he was sticking it to Pretty Boy. Or the way the group of women who’d stopped them in their tracks let out a whoop. But because April let go and kissed him back like she meant it. Like she’d been waiting for her chance to have at him again.
Her arms wrapped around his neck. Her fingers dove into his hair. Her knee tucked between his, lifting, rubbing. He wrapped her up tight, until every soft part of her melted into him. Sensation bombarded him from every damn part of his body until the world turned so black he saw stars.
When he pulled away she looked dazed. Delighted. Woozy. She grinned like a sap.
He struggled to make sure he wasn’t doing the same.
“Your boy doesn’t look at all happy with us.”
“What boy?” she asked, her tongue running over her bottom lip.
“The one with the weak chin.”
She frowned in confusion. “Jase?”
“He’s sitting to your right. Don’t look. Trust me when I say we’ve knocked him off his game, big time.”
She looked pained at the effort of not looking. Then, with slow dawning realisation, Finn’s words and actions filtered through until it was written all over her face. Disappointment. And a badly bruised ego.
“Are you really telling me all that was for show?”
He nodded.
“I don’t believe you. I was there.” Her voice quieted on the last word, as if it had caught in her throat. “You weren’t pretending anymore than I was. That kiss was epic.”
Finn stood his ground. It didn’t matter if she kissed like a dream. It didn’t matter that he could still taste her sweetness on the back of his tongue. All she needed to know was that the kiss had been born of pathos. Whether that was true or not. And that it wouldn’t happen again.
They were simply too different. She was sweet, candid, hopeful. While, for him, truth was something to bend to his will and “hope” was been nothing but a four letter word.
When her gaze threatened to slide to her right, he stuck a finger under her chin and waited for her to look him in the eye. “Truth?”
She lifted her chin a mite higher. “Always.”
“Did you join my table tonight because you were hoping it would lead to this, or to make Pretty Boy jealous?”
“Did I...” Her eyes opened wide, her hand fluttered to her chest. Then she breathed out hard. “Okay, fine. I wanted to mess with Jase.”
“Then stop with the sanctimony. And you’re welcome.”
Her disappointment slowly but surely morphed into far more palatable ire. Her eyes grew dark. Sweetness obliterated by determination.
Her voice dropped a notch as she said, “I knew you were a dark man, Finn, but I’d underestimated how dark.”
“I knew you’d get there eventually.”
Glittering eyes flittered between his. “Does he really look livid?”
“Like an overripe tomato.”
Her nostrils flared. “Then I guess our job here is done.”
With that, she took Finn by the hand and led him back to their booth. The trip was interminable – the woman had no idea how to navigate a crowd. And the heat generated by their joined hands throbbed like a fresh injury.
When they reached the booth, their cohorts looked perfectly comfortable.
When April disentangled her hand from his, she rubbed at her palm as if in an effort to wipe away his touch. “Come on, Smith. Clara. We’re leaving.”
Clara scrambled from the booth while Smith gave Finn a long, last once-over. “Already? You sure?”
“More than I can possibly say. So nice to meet you Sally. Bob. I hope tonight was all you were hoping it would be.” With that, April shot Finn one last look – mouth tight, eyes dark – before grabbing her friends and using them as protection as they slithered down the length of The Burrow and out of sight.
Finn’s voice was rough as he said, “Bob, Sally, ready?”
“Young people, these days,” Bob said with a yawn. “No stamina.”
Energy coursed through Finn. April’s energy. Stamina wasn’t even close to being his biggest problem.
Sally eased between the men, sliding her hands into the crooks of their elbows. “Do you think the Slippery Nipple is still open?”
Considering Finn’s luck tonight – of course it was.
For it was nothing but pure luck that Sally and Bob had alighted from their town car earlier that night onto the cracked pavement outside the seedy string of bars and adult shops and loved the place. Otherwise the deal he’d spent the past two months finessing could have blown up in his face.
All because he’d spent his day stuck on the girl with the kiss mark on the glass, and had figured if he got one more hit, he’d be able to let it be.
If he was trying to self-destruct, he was going the right way about it.