Annie West - The Sinner's Marriage Redemption

Flynn nodded. That was the explanation, of course. It was satisfaction he felt. Satisfaction that she really was the right woman. The perfect woman. He’d known within a moment of seeing her that this would work perfectly.

It was always good when a plan came together.

He watched her notice a couple embracing on the embankment, a wistful smile flickering across her mouth.

Curiously, for a moment doubt assailed him. Then he banished it and rose, making his way to the front of the boat.

When he reached her he paused and looked down. Eyes the blue of a perfect English summer afternoon turned up to him, widening. Heat exploded in his belly, swift and low, making him drag in air.

‘Flynn?’

Her voice was husky with surprise. Delectable.

He smiled. He was a lucky man.

* * *

A week later Flynn again looked down into wistful summer-blue eyes and felt pleasure rise as Ava reached for his hand. Slim fingers meshed with his and he curled his possessively around them. Yes!

She looked so disappointed that he was leaving, but equally determined not to show it. Silently he cursed the work emergency that called him away. He was so close. With a little more time—

‘Of course you must go.’ She nodded as if to make up for her lack of enthusiasm. ‘They need you in London.’

‘I know.’ Though his business had grown vast he was a hands-on CEO. He preferred to keep his finger on the pulse rather than delegate.

Now, though, Flynn regretted that no one else could handle this latest problem. He didn’t want to leave Ava with nothing settled between them.

‘Besides...’ Ava tipped up her chin. ‘I leave Paris tomorrow for Prague.’

Did she know how much she revealed with that brave, tight smile and those yearning eyes? In the way she leaned in as if inviting him to scoop her close?

Satisfaction stirred. Perhaps his forced absence wasn’t such a disaster after all. Perhaps it would work to his advantage.

CHAPTER TWO

AVA STUDIED THE GUIDEBOOK, telling herself it was good that she could explore Prague alone. She’d see more—not be distracted by dark eyes or Flynn’s lurking smile.

Her week in Paris had been a blur of excitement and pleasure. Something out of a romantic dream.

But she’d known it couldn’t last. Dreams never did.

When Flynn had been called away to London they’d parted with no plans to meet again. It had happened so fast she hadn’t realised that till she’d been watching his broad shoulders cleave through the crowds on the Champs-Elysées, leaving admiring female stares in his wake.

He’d said nothing about the future. Had she just been convenient vacation company?

Ava’s mouth tightened. It was ridiculous to experience this pang of longing. Yet she couldn’t suppress a sigh. Paris, when he’d stayed on after his work meetings just to be with her, extending his few days into a week’s stay, had been the most magical experience of her life.

Face it, Ava. It was the only magical experience you’ve ever had. Fairytales aren’t for you.

She forced herself to scan the guidebook, reading about the defenestration of Prague, when irate locals had tipped three men out of this very castle window.

Defenestration . Such a pompous word. It reminded her of her father. Not that Michael Cavendish would have been caught committing assault. His speciality had been behind the scenes manipulation.

Ava snapped the book shut.

Life would have been better for a lot of people if someone had defenestrated Michael Cavendish years ago.

‘Ava.’

She froze. Surely she was imagining that low voice, like dark chocolate and aged port.

She’d woken flushed and aroused this morning with that voice in her head. Drowsily she’d reached out, half believing she’d done what she hadn’t dared to in Paris.

‘Ava?’

Her head jerked up, then up again, and there he was—like the answer to a wish she hadn’t dared formulate.

He stood, carelessly chic in bespoke casual clothes, looking at her with the tantalising hint of a smile. His saturnine good looks and an intriguing hint of unknowable undercurrents made Flynn Marshall the most compellingly attractive man she’d ever met.

Or maybe it was the gleam in sloe-dark eyes that spread warmth through her. That gleam hinted at shared secrets, a special bond.

‘Flynn? I can’t believe it!’ Her smile widened. She hadn’t a hope of concealing the tumultuous joy filling her chest so that for a moment she couldn’t breathe.

It was as if all those years of learning to conceal her feelings and reveal only a poised, charming face to the world had never been.

With Flynn there was no need for the façade. She knew she was utterly safe with him.

If she experienced a frisson of danger it was delicious danger. A reminder that she was no longer a child but a woman and that he was potently, breathtakingly male.

‘Why were you frowning? You looked grim.’

He brushed long fingers across her brow and something in her chest somersaulted. Ava told herself it couldn’t be her heart, but she was past caring.

Flynn was here with her!

It couldn’t be a coincidence. He’d had no plans to visit Prague. His business was in London.

‘Ava?’

She blinked. ‘I looked grim?’ She’d been thinking of her father. No wonder she’d frowned. ‘I was just reading the guidebook. Do you know this is where the defenestration of Prague took place? The second one. The first was down in the old town hall.’

Was she babbling? Probably. It was hard to concentrate with Flynn standing there, his eyes eating her up. Her flesh tightened, her nipples budding against her lace bra.

Surely he hadn’t looked at her so hungrily in Paris. If he had she might have overcome a lifetime’s scruples and invited him to—

‘Perhaps it’s a national pastime...tossing people out of windows.’

His low voice held the hint of a sexy chuckle. Ava felt it resonate through her. Or maybe that was a reaction to the deep green woodsy scent that was uniquely Flynn’s. It did the strangest things to her.

‘But the Czechs seem such friendly people,’ she said.

‘Who knows? Maybe they have hidden depths.’

Like Flynn.

They’d spent most of last week together in Paris and Ava had felt a connection she’d never experienced with any other man. Maybe because she’d known him when she was young—he’d been an older, intriguing figure, embodying the freedom she’d longed for. He’d been a true friend when she’d most needed one. She’d never forgotten his kindness that night of her father’s party.

Yet she was aware there was a part of Flynn he kept to himself. But who didn’t? Her own experiences had made Ava intensely private.

‘You’re looking serious again.’

Once more that fleeting touch stole her breath.

‘I’m wondering what you’re doing here. You had a crisis to deal with in London.’

Flynn shrugged and her gaze slid along straight, powerful shoulders. Heat trickled through her. She knew she had it bad when a pair of shoulders robbed her of breath.

‘Ah. The emergency.’

But instead of explaining he stepped to one side, inviting her to follow. Immediately a family group took their place at the window, peering over the trees to the red roofs of old Prague.

Ava found herself standing with Flynn in a quiet corner beside another large window. She didn’t glance at the view. Her attention was riveted on him.

With sharp cheekbones, deep-set eyes beneath slanted ebony brows and that strongly carved jaw, Flynn Marshall was enough to mesmerise any woman. His burnished skin hinted at his Romany heritage and the slightly askew set of his long nose, broken years ago, reinforced the aura of physicality in his athletic frame. Even the brutally short cut of his raven hair, which Ava knew would curl around his collar if left to grow, couldn’t tame that hint of wildness.