Heather Graham by Siren from the Sea Page B

bless him, was too proper to oppose her in any way. She’d asked him to wait in the lobby, and he had done so with no protest. Flynn would have probably insisted on helping her.
    My God, but Flynn was something! she mused. So attractive, and yet his draw wasn’t on any rational level. It wasn’t that he made a woman feel weak or foolishly feminine, but rather that there was something jarring and exciting and tense about him. He could touch the senses without the mind even being aware …
    Don’t make it be him , she prayed silently. Then she sighed, because she had no way of knowing yet, and if he was her crook, she knew that she would be able to hate him with total intensity.
    If he was her crook. Tonight she just might be able to find out. How perfect. She had no right to feel restless; she needed to meet Ian Drury, and tonight was her perfect opportunity. Her two chief suspects in one room. Things were moving quickly and far better than she had a right to expect after plunging in so recklessly.
    “Good evening.”
    Brittany started and turned toward the archway. Flynn was there; from his casual stance, leaned against the shell-colored wall, it seemed apparent that he had been watching her for some time.
    “Hi,” she returned, almost faltering. She quickly smiled and lifted her glass to the horizon. “You’ve truly a magnificent view here. I’ve been admiring it all afternoon.”
    He moved toward her, taking the chair opposite her. Today he was in a white knit shirt and tan slacks. She noted the ribboned muscles in his arms, and the sun-darkened breadth of his hands as he folded them casually between his knees, angling near her.
    “I’m glad you like it. But then, you do seem to be a creature of the sun and sea.”
    “Yes, I like the water,” Brittany agreed, staring out at the horizon again.
    “Mermaids should.”
    Brittany laughed. “And you’ve decided I’m a mermaid?”
    “What else does a man fish from the sea?”
    “Nothing so fantastical, I assure you,” Brittany told him. She was starting to flush again. His gaze had that effect.
    “I wonder,” he murmured softly, but he was grinning, and his eyes were light. There was no threat in the words. “Donald said you transferred your things over with no snags.”
    “Yes, we finished quite early. I want to thank you again for your hospitality. I don’t know what I would have done. Even my ticket home was lost to—”
    “El Drago,” Flynn finished for her indignantly.
    “Yes.”
    “Ah, well, best to forget it all. My hospitality is nothing. You’re beautiful to come home to.”
    “Thank you.” She lowered her lashes, then raised them. “Was it a hard day at the office?”
    “A hard day? No, not especially.” Flynn laughed. “And not at the office. I just had some time-consuming errands.”
    “Oh,” Brittany murmured. “What do you … uh … usually do?”
    He shrugged. “I haven’t any usuallys. Ah, you’re referring to a living?”
    “I didn’t mean to be rude. It’s just that last night you were telling me that it is ghastly exorbitant to keep your castle going—”
    “Yes, I did say that, didn’t I?”
    “And you seem to travel so frequently. Donald said that I was lucky the other day—that you had just returned.”
    “Yes—well, I follow the racing circuit, you know. There was a big cup race off Normandy last week.”
    And I’m supposed to assume you were in Normandy, Brittany thought. Liar! I know damned well that you were in London.
    “And did you win?”
    “No.” Flynn stood, offering her his hand. She stared at it—it was both attractive and powerful. He wore no rings, but she imagined that the simple gold watch on his wrist was the real thing. And for some reason, something about it emphasized his healthy coloring, and the wired strength of his frame.
    Snake! she thought.
    “Let’s take a walk on the beach,” he suggested. “I think we just have time before getting ready for Drury’s party.”
    Brittany