Cathy Williams - Rumours - The Legacy Of Revenge

Who knew what he could talk her into with that amount of close contact?

‘What about driving?’ Flynn asked his friend.

Joaquim shook his head. ‘It would be fine if it wasn’t your right foot but your insurance company wouldn’t cover you if you drove with it until you’ve been given the all clear. Just as well you filthy rich lawyers can afford to catch cabs everywhere.’

‘Funny,’ Flynn said. ‘But us rich lawyers are the people you overworked medicos turn to when your patients want to sue you.’

Joaquim tapped his fingers on the wooden desk he was standing next to. ‘So far, so lucky.’

* * *

Kat was glancing out of the front window to see if the snow had stopped when she noticed a cab pulling up outside Flynn’s house. Her stomach dropped when she saw Flynn get out on crutches, his foot heavily bandaged. Crutches? Oh, dear Lord! What had she done? Would he sue her? He was a lawyer. A high-profile one. She would be taken to the cleaners... Not that she owned anything, but still... The thought of wounding someone—anyone—was anathema to her. Now she’d had time to cool down, she realised how rude she had been. Acting as if it was his fault his foot had got run over.

It was her fault.

She was lousy at parking. She always had been. She needed to eat a big slice of humble pie even if she choked on it. She let the curtain drop back and raced out, only stopping long enough to put on a coat. The icy air burned her cheeks but she figured it would counter the hot blush currently residing there.

Flynn had not quite made it to his front door when she came up alongside him. ‘Oh, my God!’ she said. ‘Is it broken?’

‘In three places.’

‘I’ll pay your health costs.’ She swallowed convulsively, mentally checking her bank account and wondering how she was going to follow through on her promise.

‘Forget about it.’

‘But surely I can do something?’

He seemed to consider her question for a moment, his eyes studying her face as if committing it to memory. ‘Can you cook?’

‘Yes, but—’

‘Good,’ he said. ‘I’ll need a meal each evening and lunch and dinner on weekends, unless I go out, which I very much doubt I’ll be doing much of now I’m on these damn crutches.’

Kat frowned. ‘Don’t you have a housekeeper?’

‘Only to clean the house once a week,’ he said. ‘I’ll need help with shopping and walking Cricket and running errands. You up for it?’

She tried not to look resentful, given her role in his predicament, but she couldn’t help feeling he was orchestrating things to suit his ends. But spending time with him in any capacity was surely asking for the sort of trouble she could do without.

He was too confident. Too sure of himself. Too darned sexy. Yes, even on crutches.

He did something to her female hormones. They started humming with excitement. They did cartwheels in her belly when his dark eyes locked on hers. When he looked at her mouth her insides quivered at the thought of those firm but sensual lips coming into contact with hers. Not that she would let that happen. If he thought he could win her over with seduction then he was in for a big let-down.

You broke his foot on purpose.

I did not! It was an accident.

Now you’ll have to spend hours with him, doing stuff for him. Acting like a wife.

I will not be like a wife. I’ll walk the dog, put the rubbish out, pick up his dry cleaning and cook his meals... Eek! You’re right—I’ll be like a wife.

‘Isn’t there someone else you can get to help you?’ Kat said. ‘It’s not like you couldn’t afford to pay someone.’

‘You’re the one who broke my foot. Why should I be out of pocket for an inconvenience you caused?’

Kat would have liked to call his bluff but he was a high-powered lawyer and she was one job away from the dole queue. He was well within his rights to sue her for causing injury. She wouldn’t stand a chance in defending herself, nor could she afford a defence lawyer to act on her behalf. Her space between a rock and a hard place had just got a little more cramped. Hippopotamus-in-a-hot-tub cramped. ‘I don’t suppose I have much choice.’

‘That’s settled, then. Why don’t you come in now and I’ll show you round the kitchen?’ A glint appeared in his gaze and he added, ‘I might even have an apron I can loan you—that is, unless you have one of your own?’

Kat gave him a beady look. ‘No, funnily enough, that’s one item that’s missing from my wardrobe.’

As soon as Flynn opened the door Cricket came bowling out, spinning around Kat’s legs, yapping volubly, bouncing up and down on his stubby little legs like his paws were on springs. She crouched down so she could pat him and got her faced licked for her trouble. ‘Oh, you crazy little mutt.’ She laughed and pulled back before he took off her make-up. ‘Only a mother could love that little face.’

Kat looked up to see Flynn looking at her with a faraway look in his gaze. ‘Sorry.’ She got to her feet. ‘That was a bit insensitive of me...’

He gave a brief smile. ‘It’s fine. He was a very cute puppy. Anyone would’ve fallen for him.’

Kat followed him and the dog inside. She took one of Flynn’s crutches so he could take off his coat. She could feel the warmth of the hand rest where his fingers had just been, making her own hand tingle. She helped him take off his coat as if taking an explosive device from a would-be suicide bomber. She didn’t touch his body, only the fabric of his coat, but she could feel the electric pulse of his proximity shoot through her body like a lightning zap. ‘Are your brothers adopted too?’

He propped himself back on both crutches. For a moment she thought he was going to tell her to mind her own business. His dark eyes had a curtained look. A don’t-bother-knocking-no-one’s-going-to-answer look. But then his expression subtly changed. There came a slight relaxation of the muscles as if something tight and restricted inside his mind had loosened. ‘No. My parents managed to conceive naturally three years after adopting me.’

Was that why he wasn’t close to his family? Was that why he had been sent away to school? His parents hadn’t needed him once they had created their own flesh and blood? He was like the cute little puppy that had failed to be cute once it grew up a bit and got a little more challenging to handle. ‘Is that why you’re not close to them?’ Kat said. ‘Did they treat you differently once they had their own kids?’

He gave a resigned lip-shrug. ‘Sharing DNA with your kids is a powerful factor in bonding with them. Adoption works well when it works, but when it doesn’t it can be a disaster.’

Kat’s heart squeezed for the little boy he had been. How painful for him to have been shunted aside like a toy that no longer held its initial appeal. Small children picked up on the slightest change in dynamic with primary caregivers. The thought of Flynn recognising at such a young age he was no longer important to his parents must have had a devastating effect on him. ‘Your adoptive parents shouldn’t have treated you any differently,’ she said. ‘They made a commitment to you as a baby that was meant to be for life.’

He gave her a twisted smile that had a hint of sadness to it. ‘It doesn’t always work like that. Matching kids to parents isn’t an exact science. I was a difficult baby, apparently. When my parents had Fergus and then Felix they realised it wasn’t their parenting that was the problem—it was me. I simply didn’t belong in that family.’

Kat frowned. ‘I don’t believe that for a second. They adopted you as a tiny baby. They should’ve bonded with you no matter what. You don’t give up on a child just because it doesn’t fulfil your expectations. A child is an individual. They have their own path to tread. It’s the parents’—biological or adoptive—responsibility to make sure their child gets every opportunity to become the person they’re meant to become.’