Desert Moon Page 3

  Natalie slid a glance his way from under her lashes, noting how the rain had darkened his hair to old gold. It lay sleekly against his head, emphasising the elegant purity of his profile. He had his hands pushed into his trouser pockets, uncaring, it seemed, that the action had parted the front of his black dinner-jacket so that the rain was soaking into the thin fabric of his shirt, to turn it almost transparent. As they passed beneath a street-lamp Natalie could see the wedge of hair over his breastbone, the taut lines of every perfectly defined muscle in his chest. She looked away at once, strangely disturbed by the sight and furious with herself for feeling that way.

  ‘What does it take to get rid of you?’ she demanded waspishly.

  Flynn flicked her a glance, amusement dancing in his eyes. ‘I assume by that that you think I’m following you?’

  ‘No, of course not! I mean to say, here you are walking no more than a few feet away from me, so why on earth should I make such a hasty assumption?’

  He laughed softly, slowing his pace to keep level with her as they weaved through a group of merry-makers leaving a pub. One of the men leered at Natalie, then sobered instantly and turned away when Flynn took her arm and gave him a look which could have stopped traffic. Natalie waited until they were out of earshot of the group then wrenched her arm from his grasp.

  ‘Look, I don’t know if you have some misguided idea about seeing me safely home, but I assure you I can manage perfectly well by myself. So please do us both a favour and go away!’

  ‘I would love to comply, Natalie, but unfortunately the simple truth is that we both seem to be heading in the same direction.’ He raised both brows when she stared at him with disbelief. ‘The taxi rank?’

  Natalie gritted her teeth, nodding curtly as she carried on walking. It was such a perfectly reasonable explanation, but one thing she had learned about O’Rourke was just how plausible he could be! She wouldn’t put it past him to have left his car somewhere and made up that excuse on the spur of the moment!

  ‘From what I heard on that message you left, you and Marcus seem to be old friends?’

  She didn’t spare him a glance, refusing to be drawn into making conversation, especially about Marcus! ‘Yes.’

  ‘You must know him well, then?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I expect you’ve met a lot of the people he deals with, then?’

  She paused in mid-stride, shaking the rain out of her eyes. ‘What is this, O’Rourke? Twenty questions? Why are you so interested in my relationship with Marcus?’

  ‘Relationship? I see.’

  There was a note in his voice which made her toes curl. Natalie carried on down the street, quickening her pace, but he kept in step with her. The choice of the word ‘relationship’ had been a Freudian slip but she wasn’t going to explain that to him!

  ‘It’s odd but I can’t recall Marcus ever mentioning you,’ O’Rourke mused. ‘I’m sure I would have remembered but I can’t recall him ever saying a word about you, yet you and he are old...friends?’

  She wouldn’t let him see how much that hurt. Why should Marcus mention her? Yet on the other hand if she’d meant as much to him as he did to her then surely her name would have cropped up in conversation? It was yet another painful reminder that she had been building dreams on shifting sands for years now, and Natalie couldn’t quite keep the bite from her voice as she responded to a statement which had touched a raw nerve. ‘I don’t remember him mentioning you either! It makes me wonder just how close a friend of Marcus you are.’

  ‘Did I say we were friends?’ He gave a short, oddly harsh laugh. ‘I don’t recall it.’

  Natalie stopped, her face mirroring her confusion. ‘Then why on earth is he allowing you to stay in his flat?’ She paused, struck by a sudden thought. ‘He does know that you’re there!’

  ‘Of course. Perhaps I didn’t make myself clear. Marcus and I are business associates rather than friends in the strict sense of the word. I wish you could call him to put your mind at rest but...’ He shrugged indifferently yet there was an intentness to the look he treated Natalie to which belied that. ‘He told me that he would be away for a couple of weeks. I don’t suppose you have any idea where he’s gone to, just in case anything crops up in the future?’

  Natalie looked away, carefully keeping her voice level so that he would get no inkling of how much it hurt to admit that she had no idea at all. ‘If I had then I would hardly have gone to the trouble of telephoning him earlier, would I?’

  ‘No, of course not. I should have thought of that before.’ He glanced at the sky and gave a rueful grimace. ‘Come on, we’d better hurry up before all the taxis are commandeered. Hopefully there’ll be one at the rank.’ He slid his hand under her elbow but Natalie shook him off.

  ‘One? Don’t you mean two? If you imagine that I am sharing a taxi with you, O’Rourke, then think again! I’ve had just about enough of you tonight to last me a lifetime!’

  Her temper, which had been pushed to its limit in the past few hours, spiralled, and she bit back a groan at the resulting pounding in her temples. It had been ages since she’d had a headache like this, although in her teens she had been prone to migraine attacks and she had the suspicion that this was turning into one now.

  Even as she thought it she could see the flashes of colour at the perimeter of her vision which always presaged an attack. She closed her eyes to try to ward it off but the flashes were rapidly gathering strength.

  ‘Are you all right? Here, lean on me.’

  Flynn O’Rourke’s deep voice sounded wonderfully reassuring, the feel of his hard body even more so as he looped his arm around her waist and supported her. He smoothed her wet hair back from her face then nestled her head into the hollow of his shoulder. For a weak moment Natalie was tempted to let him take charge but she refused to show weakness in front of the one person responsible for her present state!

  She pushed him away, swaying slightly as she faced him. ‘Don’t! Perhaps some women of your acquaintance enjoy those macho tactics, O’Rourke, but I don’t. So spare me. I can manage without any help from you!’

  He stepped back, studying her with a faint curl of his chiselled lips. ‘Most people of my acquaintance are sensible enough to accept help when they need it. But if you prefer to go it alone, honey, then feel free. I’ll see you around some day...perhaps.’

  He walked off, his long legs eating up the ground as he disappeared into the night. Natalie watched him go with a sense of disbelief. It seemed out of character for him to leave with so little objection, but there again what did she know about the damnable man’s character?

  Pushing the thought to the back of her mind, she carried on, but with each step knew that the migraine was getting worse, her vision blurring now so that she had difficulty in focusing. Pausing for a moment, she hung on to a lamp-post and screwed up her eyes while she tried to measure the distance to the taxi rank, but it seemed such a long way even now. Perhaps she should have accepted O’Rourke’s offer to help after all?

  ‘Need a hand, darlin’? Looks like you could do with it, seeing as your boyfriend has ditched you.’

  Natalie’s heart lurched as she recognised the three men, who formed a small circle around her, as the ones from the pub. She shaped her mouth into what she hoped was a confident smile. ‘I’m fine, thank you.’

  ‘You don’t look it, love. Looks to me like you’ve had a drop too much, and we know just how that feels, don’t we, lads?’

  They all laughed, but Natalie was in no mood to share the joke. She drew herself up and stared haughtily at them. ‘I’ve already told you that I don’t need your help, so please go away.’

  An unpleasant expression crept across the spokesman’s face as he took a threatening step towards her. ‘That isn’t very nice, lady. Me and my mates here make a genuine offer to help and what do we get... insults?’

  He reached out and Natalie shrank away, but before he could touch her the oddest thing happened. One minute the
man was standing there blasting her with his beery breath and the next he was crashing to the pavement.

  ‘I believe you heard the lady. She doesn’t need your help. If you’re having trouble understanding her then maybe I can make it a bit plainer?’

  Flynn O’Rourke was suddenly there, his voice holding a note of pure steel which made even Natalie shiver. It seemed to have a marked effect on her would-be helpers because even as she watched the other two lifted the third from the ground and hurriedly led him away.

  Natalie raised a dazed face to O’Rourke, squinting as she tried to see him properly, but the light from the street-lamps bouncing off his golden hair made her head ache. She closed her eyes on a wave of pain then gasped when she felt herself being lifted off the ground.

  ‘What...what do you think you’re doing?’ she managed to croak.

  Flynn strode over to the waiting taxi and lowered her to the seat before getting in beside her and slamming the door. ‘What any sane man should have done before—making you see sense!’

  It was the most chauvinistic thing Natalie had ever heard! She tried to glare at him but it proved impossible when there seemed to be at least ten of him printed on her eyeballs. He obviously got the message, however, because she heard him laugh, the sound rumbling inside his chest under her ear, the vibrations making her tingle alarmingly. He cupped her cheek, the warmth of his palm and the faint roughness of his skin setting up a whole fresh chain of unsettling reactions.

  ‘Later, Natalie. You can tell me exactly what you think later.’

  Oh, she would. She would most definitely leave Flynn O’Rourke in no doubt as to her feelings! He was the most impossible, arrogant, self-opinionated man she’d ever had the misfortune to meet and she would tell him that... later. For now it seemed enough to let him just take charge of the situation. It was funny, but she had the feeling that it was something he was well-used to doing.

  CHAPTER THREE

  MORNING sunshine was bathing the bedroom in a soft apricot light when Natalie awoke. She lay for a moment, savouring the sense of relief which always followed the end of a migraine attack, then let her gaze move to the photograph on the bedside table. She had put it there specifically for that purpose, so that when she woke she could look at it and see Marcus.

  She’d begged the print off Becky, Marcus’s sister, a couple of years before, making up some excuse about wanting it as a memento of a lovely day. It had been taken when the three of them had spent the day at London Zoo, a day which even now Natalie could recall with vivid clarity. It had been that day when she had finally admitted to herself that she loved Marcus Cole.

  Natalie let her mind drift back over the years to when she had first met him, although it was hard to remember when Marcus hadn’t been an integral part of her life. She’d been seventeen when Becky had invited her home to tea that first time. Natalie had just moved into the area and was desperately unhappy. Her parents had been killed in a tragic road accident and she had been sent to live with an elderly aunt of her father’s whom she’d never even met before. It had meant leaving her home and all her friends to find herself the outsider in the close-knit village community. Becky’s offer of friendship had been a lifeline in a world which had changed so drastically.

  So she had gone to the Coles’ house and there was Marcus, ten years older than his sister and Natalie, a sophisticated man whose dark good looks had cast a spell over her immediately. The problem was that Marcus apparently didn’t reciprocate her feelings! He treated Natalie the same way he treated his sister but, short of confessing to him how she felt and running the risk of losing his friendship because he might be horribly embarrassed, there’d seemed little she could do. Yet recently she’d sensed a change in his attitude. Was it possible that Marcus was beginning to see her in a different light? It had been that hope as much as the need to solve the problem of Damian’s interest which had made her invite him last night, the idea that seeing another man pursuing her might jolt Marcus into examining his own feelings, yet look how it had turned out!

  Thoughts of the previous evening and what had happened had her tossing back the quilt in a sudden surge of anger. Last night was over and she wouldn’t think about it again, let alone allow herself to dwell on that man!

  Dragging on her old red robe, she headed for the kitchen, determined to put last night behind her although what had happened once she’d got in the taxi was hazy, thanks to the migraine. The rest was crystal-clear, though, right from the moment O’Rourke had appeared and kissed her up to the very second he had walked off and left her in the rain. If they handed out awards for the most infuriating man who’d ever walked the earth then Flynn O’Rourke just had to be the number one contender!

  Pushing open the kitchen door, Natalie came to an abrupt halt. For a moment she couldn’t seem to move, let alone speak, her gaze locked to the man standing by the stove. In an incredulous sweep her eyes ran from the top of his blond head over the leanly muscular lines of his naked chest, the narrow hips encased in black trousers to his elegant bare feet, scarcely able to believe what she was seeing. But then he turned to smile at her, his sea-green eyes dancing with amusement, and she realised he was only too real!

  ‘Morning, Natalie. How do you feel today? Can you manage some breakfast?’ Muscles rippled as he bent to open the fridge and take out a handful of eggs, watching her with an interest which suddenly warned her what kind of expression he might be seeing on her face!

  Hurriedly she looked away from the sight of all that gorgeous tanned flesh and drew in a breath to compensate for the one or two she’d missed. ‘Just what do you think you are doing?’ she demanded.

  Flynn raised a quizzical eyebrow, deftly breaking eggs into a bowl before starting to beat them. ‘Making breakfast, of course. Scrambled all right for you too, Natalie?’

  ‘Cut it out, O’Rourke! You know very well I’m not talking about what you’re doing in the kitchen but what you’re doing in my home!’ Natalie marched over to him and snatched the beater from his hand so fast that egg spattered in several directions. Some of it landed on Flynn’s bare chest and he grimaced as he ran his hand over the sticky droplets, immediately drawing Natalie’s unwilling attention to the width of his shoulders, the thick golden hair which arrowed down to his belt. There wasn’t an ounce of spare flesh on his body, as Natalie could have testified to any jury, and hurriedly she averted her gaze to the comparative safety of his face. ‘Well?’

  ‘Are you always this tetchy of a morning? Or is it just the aftermath of that headache?’ Flynn calmly took the beater back and went to work on the eggs again.

  Natalie summoned up patience, trying her best to remember that she was noted for her calmness, her control, her ability to handle even the most taxing situation. But never had she come across anyone as taxing as he! ‘I shall give you precisely one minute, O’Rourke. Sixty tiny little seconds to come up with an answer, and if you don’t then I shall... I shall...’

  What on earth could she threaten him with? Her mind went blank, every brain cell fading like a burned-out microchip as Flynn O’Rourke calmly slid his hands around her waist and lifted her as easily as though she were a child then set her gently down on one of the antique pine chairs around the table.

  He took a napkin from the place-setting and shook it out then dropped it on to her lap, his green eyes dancing with devilish laughter. ‘You just sit there and think about it, Natalie. I’m sure you’ll come up with something in a moment or two. In the meantime I’ll go and get those eggs started.’

  He went back to the stove, working confidently as he stirred the eggs into a hot pan. They were cooked in minutes, creamy-smooth and golden when he tipped them on to two plates and carried them back to the table. Setting one in front of Natalie, he sat down and picked up a fork, eating with obvious enjoyment before glancing up at her solicitously. ‘You really should try them, honey. Might help you think up a really effective threat.’

  Natalie pushed the plate away and shoved back h
er chair. ‘I don’t need anything to help me do that! I am going straight into the sitting-room and phoning the police to tell them that a man has forced his way into my flat and refuses to leave!’

  ‘Forced?’ Flynn forked up another mouthful of eggs and chewed it slowly, watching her without a flicker of alarm at the threat. ‘Are you quite sure of your facts?’

  ‘Of course I am! I didn’t invite you in here!’ She tried to add a note of conviction to her voice but saw by the way he smiled that she hadn’t been wholly successful. If only she could remember what had happened after she’d got into that taxi...

  ‘I’d say that handing me the key to the door could be construed as an invitation, but perhaps you don’t remember that, the same as you don’t remember the rest of it?’ Flynn scooped up the last forkful of eggs then sat back in the chair, an expression on his handsome face which made Natalie long to wipe it away.

  ‘The rest of it?’ She laughed lightly, inwardly wincing at the hint of strain in the sound. ‘Come on, O’Rourke! You don’t really expect me to believe that something happened between you and me?’

  ‘Did I imply that?’ He smiled easily, white teeth gleaming against tanned skin. Even with a night’s growth of beard and his hair mussed he was still sinfully handsome—but Natalie was immune to his looks, she told herself severely.

  ‘Yes! You know you did. Now either tell me what you’re hinting at or...’

  ‘Or...what? You will go call the police? I don’t think they’d be too pleased to have their valuable time wasted, sweet.’ He put his hands behind his head and arched his back, grimacing slightly. ‘That sofa of yours isn’t the most comfortable of spots to spend the night.’

  Well, at least that answered one disturbing little question, although Natalie was certain that she would have remembered if O’Rourke had shared her bed, no matter how dazed she’d been by the headache!

  She smiled with saccharine sweetness at him. ‘Oh, dear! But you only have yourself to blame. Nobody asked you to use it, the same as nobody invited you to stay, so why did you? Come on, O’Rourke, let’s hear it.’