that another man does not take such a woman away.”
“Yes, there are,” Flynn agreed pleasantly.
Juan shrugged and started to walk from the table. He paused, turning back. “You know, you could just ask her exactly who she is—and what she is doing. You could, in fact, be angry. And passionately demanding.”
Flynn chuckled. “No, amigo , I think that my way is better. I will discover things in my own way.” His eyes were sharp; blue ice. “My day for demands will come—at my time, and my convenience. Until then, well, I will act out the role that she sees for me.”
Juan shrugged. “As you wish. You are the boss, amigo .”
“ Buenas noches , Juan . Mañana .”
“ Mañana . I’ll give you whatever I’ve gotten on our mermaid at the party.”
“ Bueno .”
Juan continued on out. Flynn picked up the bottle of horrible wine, swirled it around, smiled curiously, then slowly frowned.
“Ms. Martin,” he murmured aloud, “you are definitely a lovely mystery. But just what are you up to? It will be fascinating to find out. Juan has an eye for beauty, and he is right about yours. But …” He slipped into his chair again, sighing a little wearily.
“But I can’t let you get in my way, Brittany. I just can’t let you get in my way.”
The upstairs corridors of the sprawling house were open beneath rounded archways to lead to huge, sun-drenched balconies. The rear of the house looked out over the ocean, and it was here, beneath a candy-striped umbrella, that Brittany sat musing the next afternoon. The view was glorious. Beneath her was the pool, and beyond that a stretch of snow beach, and to the left of the beach, where the water darkened with depth, was a private dock. Brittany could see the mast of Flynn’s Bella Christa , listing proudly as she rocked with the small, rippling waves that touched her at her berth. There were a number of boats there too—smaller craft. Two catamarans, and several sleek speedboats.
Brittany sat back in her deck chair, enjoying the sun on her legs, and sipping the piña colada Donald had insisted she needed. It was definitely what they called The Life, but though it was fun in a way, it was disturbing in another. She was so accustomed to being busy that she was already feeling restless.
She tapped a fingernail against her glass, and sternly reminded herself that patience was a virtue. She hadn’t expected Flynn Colby to be gone when she had awakened. “On business,” Donald had told her. She had thought she might spend the day in his company, and come closer to an analysis of the man.
Maybe it was a good thing she’d had the day to herself, she admitted wryly. Flynn Colby might have come closer to an analysis of her. He had a talent for shifting from a question and becoming the inquisitor himself.
And then maybe he wasn’t being an inquisitor at all. If you found a woman floating around on a plank and brought her home, it was certainly natural to ask questions. If a man and woman met over coffee, they naturally asked questions of one another.
The sun was starting to fall, Brittany noticed, and the sky was taking on a lovely crimson. The sea was becoming a deeper blue, and where it met the horizon, the colors created a glorious crash. Just like a little piece of paradise.
It could be paradise here—if she weren’t so terribly hurt and angry. But then again, if she hadn’t been such a caldron of emotion, she would never have come here in the first place. And she wouldn’t have dreamt of attempting to throw herself in the path of Flynn Colby.
A chill breeze swept by with the sinking of the sun and Brittany shivered. She was glad Flynn hadn’t been with her that morning when Donald had taken her to the hotel to collect her things. She had been careful about the wardrobe she had brought, but something made her think that Flynn Colby might just have looked around her room and decided that they weren’t the belongings of a member of the filthy rich. Donald,
“Yes, there are,” Flynn agreed pleasantly.
Juan shrugged and started to walk from the table. He paused, turning back. “You know, you could just ask her exactly who she is—and what she is doing. You could, in fact, be angry. And passionately demanding.”
Flynn chuckled. “No, amigo , I think that my way is better. I will discover things in my own way.” His eyes were sharp; blue ice. “My day for demands will come—at my time, and my convenience. Until then, well, I will act out the role that she sees for me.”
Juan shrugged. “As you wish. You are the boss, amigo .”
“ Buenas noches , Juan . Mañana .”
“ Mañana . I’ll give you whatever I’ve gotten on our mermaid at the party.”
“ Bueno .”
Juan continued on out. Flynn picked up the bottle of horrible wine, swirled it around, smiled curiously, then slowly frowned.
“Ms. Martin,” he murmured aloud, “you are definitely a lovely mystery. But just what are you up to? It will be fascinating to find out. Juan has an eye for beauty, and he is right about yours. But …” He slipped into his chair again, sighing a little wearily.
“But I can’t let you get in my way, Brittany. I just can’t let you get in my way.”
The upstairs corridors of the sprawling house were open beneath rounded archways to lead to huge, sun-drenched balconies. The rear of the house looked out over the ocean, and it was here, beneath a candy-striped umbrella, that Brittany sat musing the next afternoon. The view was glorious. Beneath her was the pool, and beyond that a stretch of snow beach, and to the left of the beach, where the water darkened with depth, was a private dock. Brittany could see the mast of Flynn’s Bella Christa , listing proudly as she rocked with the small, rippling waves that touched her at her berth. There were a number of boats there too—smaller craft. Two catamarans, and several sleek speedboats.
Brittany sat back in her deck chair, enjoying the sun on her legs, and sipping the piña colada Donald had insisted she needed. It was definitely what they called The Life, but though it was fun in a way, it was disturbing in another. She was so accustomed to being busy that she was already feeling restless.
She tapped a fingernail against her glass, and sternly reminded herself that patience was a virtue. She hadn’t expected Flynn Colby to be gone when she had awakened. “On business,” Donald had told her. She had thought she might spend the day in his company, and come closer to an analysis of the man.
Maybe it was a good thing she’d had the day to herself, she admitted wryly. Flynn Colby might have come closer to an analysis of her. He had a talent for shifting from a question and becoming the inquisitor himself.
And then maybe he wasn’t being an inquisitor at all. If you found a woman floating around on a plank and brought her home, it was certainly natural to ask questions. If a man and woman met over coffee, they naturally asked questions of one another.
The sun was starting to fall, Brittany noticed, and the sky was taking on a lovely crimson. The sea was becoming a deeper blue, and where it met the horizon, the colors created a glorious crash. Just like a little piece of paradise.
It could be paradise here—if she weren’t so terribly hurt and angry. But then again, if she hadn’t been such a caldron of emotion, she would never have come here in the first place. And she wouldn’t have dreamt of attempting to throw herself in the path of Flynn Colby.
A chill breeze swept by with the sinking of the sun and Brittany shivered. She was glad Flynn hadn’t been with her that morning when Donald had taken her to the hotel to collect her things. She had been careful about the wardrobe she had brought, but something made her think that Flynn Colby might just have looked around her room and decided that they weren’t the belongings of a member of the filthy rich. Donald,
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