All They Need(24)

“That’s ten whole sleeps. Pure torture.”

Mel’s laughter burst out of her, as unexpected as his comment. He was like a kid with a new toy.

Or someone fulfilling a lifetime dream.

She studied his profile, intrigued by the idea. “You’ve always wanted this place, haven’t you?”

“I believe the correct word is covet. And yes, I have. I have coveted the hell out of this place ever since I was old enough to understand who Edna Walling was and how freaking amazing this design is.”

“Well, congratulations. That’s very cool. It’s not every day a man gets his lifelong dream.”

By unspoken accord, they turned and started walking toward the house.

“True. So why do I have this cynical voice in my head saying ‘Be careful what you wish for’?”

“Don’t listen to that voice. Stick a sock in its mouth. There’s nothing wrong with this place that you can’t fix.”

He was silent for a long moment, then he gave her a warm look. “Thanks for coming with me today, Mel. I appreciate it.”

There was a shadow in his eyes as they found hers. For the briefest of moments he looked almost sad. Lonely, even. Then he was busy pulling his car keys from his pocket and checking his phone for messages, and the moment had passed.

Mel scoffed at herself. The man walking beside her had everything. He was handsome, wealthy, successful, respected, sought after. No way was he lonely. As if.



FLYNN KEPT UP A steady stream of conversation as he locked Summerlea and led Mel to his car. He talked about some of his plans for the house, the state of the lawns, the contents of the toolshed he’d discovered. As they drove to her place, he talked about the weather, the local village, her business. He tap-danced his ass off, keeping things light and breezy.

Anything to keep her smiling and laughing and engaged.

She’d been close to tears earlier. She’d looked so wounded, so abject as she’d apologized for keeping him waiting. For long seconds he’d been sure she was going to lose it, and he’d been on the verge of offering her a shoulder or a handkerchief or a word of comfort. Then she’d pulled herself together and it was as though the moment had never happened.

Except it had.

There had been that other moment when they were transplanting the orange tree, too. He’d made that crack about Hamish Greggs being an ungrateful ass and she’d stared at him as though she couldn’t quite believe her ears. As though no one had ever said anything even remotely supportive to her about that night.

It was beginning to dawn on him that perhaps Owen Hunter was a bigger dick than Flynn had ever believed. He’d never had much time for the guy—it seemed to him that Owen was always on the make, always desperate to flash his wealth around and assert his social superiority—but he’d never considered Hunter truly malicious. Until now.

Flynn had always been pleased to see Mel when he ran into her over the years, even though they’d never really had a chance to get beneath each other’s social veneers—a brief conversation at so-and-so’s charity fundraiser or what’s-his-name’s cocktail party was hardly conducive to forming a deep understanding of another human being. But he’d liked the sense of Mel that he’d garnered from those superficial meetings.

He didn’t like the thought that Owen had put that wounded look in her eyes. Didn’t like to think about what a man might do or say to a woman to make her so tentative and wary.

Mel unclipped her seat belt the moment he pulled to a stop in her guest parking area.

“Thanks for letting me poach some ideas. I promise not to rip them off too slavishly.” The nervousness was back. She was practically humming with it.

“Thanks for keeping me company.”

She gave him that uncertain smile again, then reached for the door handle. “Enjoy the rest of your stay.”

She slipped from the car and shut the door firmly behind herself before he could think of an excuse to keep her talking. By the time he climbed out she was halfway to the house, her stride brisk.

He stared at her rapidly retreating back, wondering. Then he grabbed his gear and made his way through the garden to Tea Cutter Cottage.

He might like Mel, but she was none of his business. His dance card was full to overflowing with his father’s illness and Randall Developments. And now, of course, he could add the beautiful, impractical, expensive white elephant that was Summerlea to the list.

As what had happened with Hayley had so brutally illustrated, he was not in a position to be interested in a woman.