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“The ball is like a woman—she loves to be caressed.”
Eric Cantona, former national soccer player for France
Abby was meeting with the women of Knit or Die when Katy burst into the room.
“Muma, you need to take me to the shop!”
“Don’t interrupt, Katy.” Abby was firm, but she smiled at the same time. She wanted her daughter to learn manners, not to have her personality subdued. “It isn’t polite to interrupt. Wait until I finish talking with the ladies.”
Abby turned her back on her impatient and grumpy daughter. She was in the middle of presenting her knitwear designs to the local knitting group. She hoped they would work with her by making the designs a reality. This new business had seemed like such a great idea during the planning stage. It would combine the skills she’d learned in college with hours to fit around raising Katy. Now as she looked at the uncharacteristically quiet demeanours of the women in front of her, she worried she’d overreached. It’d been years since she’d studied textile design at art college. She was rusty. Out of date. She wasn’t talented enough. Or smart enough. What had she been thinking? This was stupid idea.
The presentation fizzled out as Abby’s cheeks heated. She’d made a fool of herself. She knew it. She forced her head high. She’d be polite, let the women off the hook and forget she’d ever come up with this foolish plan. Mind made up, she opened her mouth to speak. Kirsty’s mum, Margaret Campbell, beat her to it.
“I am stunned,” she said.
Abby’s stomach lurched. She could hear the rest of the woman’s comment before it came out of her mouth. I am stunned you think such a childish plan will work. Your designs are pathetic. You’ve wasted our time. She took a deep breath. It was okay. She’d be okay. She’d get a job at the supermarket. It wasn’t like she hadn’t heard this stuff before. Her father had been very vocal about her lack of ability and talent.
“Abby?” Margaret said. “Are you listening to me?”
Abby lifted her eyes to look at the woman. “I’m sorry, Margaret, my mind wandered. I didn’t mean to waste your time. I’ll just clear this mess up.” She motioned to her designs. “Then I’ll make everyone a nice cup of tea.”
She rose from her seat, but a hand on her arm stopped her. Matt’s mother, Heather, gave her a look of confusion. “Sit back down, Abby. You’ve completely missed what Margaret said.” She turned to Margaret. “Say it again.”
“I said”—Margaret looked at Abby—“these are the most amazing designs I’ve seen in a long time and I’d love to be a part of your new business.”
Abby stilled, unsure she’d heard correctly this time. Heather patted her arm in reassurance.
“I’m sorry?” Abby said. “You want to work with me?”
“We all do,” Shona said with a laugh. “You’re going to make us rich with your patterns. They’re gorgeous, absolutely gorgeous.”
“I like the idea of local wool supplies and ancient dyeing methods,” Jean added. “I like that it’s going to be completely Scottish.”
“I love the bags,” Margaret said. “Who would have thought of designer bags in knit? They look so classy.”
“The mix of textures is wonderful. Is that felting?” Heather pointed to one of the sketches.
Abby nodded, still too stunned to speak. They wanted to work with her? They didn’t think she was reaching too high? They thought she had talent? It was a little too much to process.
“What are we calling this company?” Jean asked. “If we’re going to be partners, I want us to have a good name.”
Abby blinked a couple of times, still in shock. “I haven’t thought of a name yet. I was more focused on the designs.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Jean said. “We’re great at coming up with names.”
“I came up with the name for our knitting group—Knit or Die,” Shona said proudly. “Best name in Scotland.”
The women gave her a round of thumbs ups.
Abby eyed each of them in turn. The youngest woman in the group was in her fifties. These women had lived through a lot of life—losing husbands, losing children, losing jobs. They understood what it meant to start again.
“You really mean it? You want to do it? You want to start a business with me?”
“Of course we do, silly girl,” Heather said with an understanding smile. “Now go make some tea and we’ll hash out the details.”
“Can I talk now?” Katy wailed.
Abby grinned at her, her head giddy with the women’s generous approval. “Of course you can, sweetie.”
“Great. I need to go shopping.” She waved two fifty-pound notes in the air. “I need to buy a gazillion Barbies.”
Abby’s eyes shot between her daughter’s beaming face and the huge amount of money clutched in her fists. She felt herself still. “Where did you get the money, Katy?” She tried to keep her voice steady.
There was silence in the room. All attention focused on Katy.
“Mr Boyle gave it to me to make me go away.” She scrunched up her nose. “I wanted him to sit on the naughty step because he was badly behaved yesterday, but he wouldn’t do it.”
Abby felt her blood turn to ice. “Mr Boyle gave you a hundred pounds?”
“Uh-oh,” one of the women mumbled.
Katy nodded. “Uh-huh, and a T-shirt. But I kept tripping over the T-shirt so I put it in my bedroom. I think I’ll give it back to him. He probably needs it because he never has enough clothes to wear.”
Abby’s vision blurred. She was going to kill the man. She wasn’t sure how she would do it, but it would happen. As soon as she calmed down, she was going to Google how to murder someone.
“Honey,” she said to Katy, making sure her voice was soft. It wasn’t her five-year-old’s fault their neighbour was an idiot. “You can’t keep the money. Mr Boyle shouldn’t have given it to you. It’s rude to pay people to go away. And that is an awful lot of money for a little girl. You need to return it.”
“No!” Katy clenched the money to her chest. “It’s my money. He gave it to me. I’m not giving it back. You told me it’s rude to return presents. You’re making me be rude.”
“Katy, listen to me. The money wasn’t a gift—it was a bribe. It needs to be returned.”
“I won’t do it!”
With a wail, her daughter ran from the room. There was stomping and a door slammed. Katy was locked in her room. Thankfully, Abby had a key. Once Katy calmed down they’d have another chat. In the meantime, there was someone else she needed to talk to.
“Excuse me, ladies.” Abby stood calmly. “I need to speak to my neighbour.”
“Don’t mind us, dear.” Margaret Campbell had a wicked gleam in her eye. “You go sort him out.”
“We’ll look after Katy,” Heather said. “Give my nephew a good piece of your mind. He shouldn’t be handing out cash without talking to her mother first.”
“No. He shouldn’t.” Abby felt her lips thin as she stalked out of the room.
This is the life, Flynn thought as he kicked back on the lounger. The sun warmed his skin and bleached his eyelids. It was so quiet he could actually hear the birds. And if he kept his eyes shut he wouldn’t see the mess all around him. It was a win-win situation.
The production crew were sitting over at their van having lunch. Their quiet voices didn’t bother him. Their weaselly producer was glued to his phone as he paced back and forth beside the stream. From the angry glances the weasel cast in his direction, Flynn could only assume the conversation was about him and it wasn’t going well. In two weeks the jerk, along with his cameras, would be gone. In the meantime, Flynn planned to do a whole lot of nothing for them to film. He was going to kick back, enjoy his quiet time and relax.
“Mr Boyle, I need a minute of your time.”
And there went his relaxed state.
Abby McKenzie’s voice was a pin to his happy balloon. Flynn kept his eyes shut and hoped she’d go away. A shadow blocked out the sun. She wasn’t taking the hint. He peeked out one eye.
“Abby,” he drawled. “You’re blocking the sun, sugar. Could you move a couple of steps to the right?”
Her cheeks flushed and her eyes narrowed. But she didn’t move.
“Mr Boyle.” Her tone was ice. “You can’t give my daughter money. You certainly can’t give her a hundred pounds. I want you to go over there and explain you made a mistake. In the meantime, here’s your money.” She placed five twenty-pound notes on his bare chest.
“That isn’t my money, sugar. I gave the terrorist two fifties.”
Her jaw clenched. “Take the money and get up. You have a mess to sort out. I need you to explain things to Katy.”
He shrugged. It was hard to keep his focus on her words. The woman was seriously hot when she was riled. “Explain what? We had a deal. Why is this different from paying another kid to mow my lawn? She did a job. I paid her.”
“You paid her to go away.”
“Going away was the job.”
“You paid her one hundred pounds to go away.”
“Was worth twice the amount.” He eyed her speculatively. “How much will it take to make you go away?”
She made a little growling sound that went straight to his groin. Damn, but he wanted to hear her make that sound under very different circumstances.
“Get up and fix this.” Her words were clipped. Polite. Strained. She was cute.
“Nope. I’m busy. Got to keep up my tan.” He shut his eyes and blocked her out, almost sad he didn’t get to see the steam coming out of her ears. “The Ball Babes will be back from their shopping spree soon and there won’t be any peace to lie in the sun. Got to take advantage when I can.”
There was a strangled sound and ice-cold water hit his face. “What the hell?” He sputtered as he shot to sitting. He was now wearing the jug of water he’d left on the grass beside him.
“You are the most infuriating man on the planet.” She put her hands on the hips of her formfitting dress. It was perfectly respectable, knee length, capped sleeves and high neck, yet it hugged her curves as though it was silk lingerie. It was damn distracting. “You can’t bribe a five-year-old. What kind of example do you think this sets for her? You need to get your lazy bum off that chair and sort this out.”
“I don’t think so. It took a lot of effort to get my bum back in this chair.” He was exhausted after the energy it took to take a shower. Fear his foot would slip on the wet floor made his muscles lock. Muscles already screaming with pain. It had taken all the strength he had left to make it back to his seat. There was no way he was moving now.
“Will you please take this seriously?” Her exasperation worked like an aphrodisiac on his sluggish libido—probably not the effect she was aiming for.
Before he even knew what he was going to do, he reached out, grasped her wrist and yanked her into his lap—biting back a flinch when a stab of fresh pain hit as she landed on his knee. He shifted her into a more comfortable position. Well, more comfortable for him, anyway. She fit like she was custom made for him. And she smelled like summer. Delicious.
For a few seconds Abby was too stunned to move, but Flynn knew what was coming. He waited her out, and sure enough, she blew.
“What do you think you’re doing?” She struggled to free herself, and he clamped his arms around her to hold her tight.
“Got a crick in my neck from looking up at you.”
“Let me go this instant.” She wriggled in his hold.
“Sit still, sugar, you’re hurting my leg.” And damn if she didn’t do as she was told.
She glared at him. “Let me up.”
He ignored her because even though she was angry, she couldn’t hide the spark of curiosity in her eyes.
“Okay,” he said. “I can see this is important to you, so how about I talk to the kid about the money”—he paused as he curved his hand over her hip and tugged her closer to him—“in return for a kiss.”
Abby’s eyes flew to his lips. A split second’s hesitation that betrayed her interest. It was gone in a flash. She glared up at him. All fury and defiance. “No. This isn’t something you can bargain your way out of. You need to do the decent thing here.”
Flynn chuckled. “Sugar, hasn’t anyone told you I’m far from decent?”
He nuzzled against the smooth column of her neck. Her scent was subtle and incredibly feminine. If he could bottle the fragrance, he’d make a mint. He heard her breath hitch and noticed she didn’t make any effort to get out of his lap.
“You aren’t taking this seriously,” she said. “I don’t know why I bothered coming over here.”
“Because you can’t keep away from me?” He had the same problem. Like a kid, he did things he knew would bring her over to complain, just so he could see her.
She gave an unladylike snort. “This conversation is over. Let me up.”
“Come on, Abby, one little kiss and I’ll do whatever you say. It’s the bargain of the century.” He nuzzled the sweet spot behind her ear as he poured promises of decadence into his words to tempt her. “Aren’t you even a little bit curious to see what it would be like? I sure as hell would love to know how you taste. I bet you’re delicious. Addictive.” He trailed his lips over her jaw and felt her pulse beat a staccato rhythm under his touch. “I know you’ve thought about it.”
“I have not.” He heard the lie for what it was, a defence against her own desire.
“One kiss,” he whispered against her lips. “One tiny kiss. What harm can it do?”
He saw the hesitation in her eyes. Saw the war between want and reason. Her tongue flicked out to wet her lips.
“You promise you’ll sort the money thing out?”
He wanted to pump the air in victory. “If you kiss me, sugar, I’ll do whatever you want me to.”
Her breath left her in one long whoosh of air. “Okay,” she whispered.
It was all he needed. He threaded his hand through her hair at the back of her head, angled her mouth and sipped at her lips. If this was the only taste he’d get of Abby McKenzie, he was damn well going to make it count. The sensation of her petal-soft lips against his jolted through him. With gentle licks at her bottom lip, he teased his way into her mouth. Abby was stiff in his arms, but her shallow breaths and dark, needy eyes said something else was happening in her oh-so-intelligent mind.
“You’re delicious.” His words were a breath against her lips. “If I was a condemned man, I’d want you as my last meal. I’ve been thinking about having my mouth on you since I saw you at the funeral. It’s better than I imagined it would be.”
Her eyes went wide, the lashes so thick and long they made him weak. He groaned and pressed his lips to hers again. And then magic happened. She softened in his arms. Not by degrees, either. One minute she was tense and defensive, the next she was limp and needy. Flynn couldn’t help the tiny possessive growl that escaped when she made a little mew of surrender.
He heard the blood rush through his veins. One sensuous lick and he was addicted, flying high on pure, unadulterated Abby. She angled her head as her arms slid around his neck. Her body pressed into him, soft curves and giving flesh.
He’d known it would be like this. From the minute their eyes had met in his uncle’s dining room and the air turned static. And every time since when the heat in Abby’s eyes betrayed an attraction she thought was hidden behind cold words and proper behaviour. It was never hidden. He knew she wanted him. Because he’d felt the same undeniable need to touch her too.
“That’s telling him, Abby,” a voice shouted, breaking through his daze.
Abby froze in his arms. Her body rigid. Her lips stiff against his.
“Aye, he’ll never give Katy money again,” someone else called. “You’ve taught that boy a lesson.”
“Ah, hell,” Flynn murmured against her mouth before he heaved a sigh of resignation.
His hold loosened and Abby was out of it in a split second. She stared at him, her breath ragged, her chest flushed, her eyes glistening with desire and shock. Flynn leaned back onto his elbows and forced a laidback smile when he felt wound tight enough to snap. He clenched his fists to stop from reaching for her. To stop himself pulling her back into his lap.
“Now aren’t you glad you said yes?” he drawled.
She made a sound, part scream, part groan, then spun on her sexy heels and stormed back towards her house. Flynn grinned after her as he watched her hips sway.
“Don’t get too smug over there,” someone called from Abby’s house.
He followed the voice and shook his head. His aunty Heather was standing on Abby’s front steps, along with half the Knit or Die women.
“I’m telling your mum on you,” Heather shouted.
Flynn groaned and flopped back onto the lounge chair. He was six months away from turning thirty and people were telling tales to his mother. He was in the middle of asking himself why he’d returned to Invertary when he heard the weasel ask his camera guy if they got the whole thing on tape.
Damn. Not again.