All They Need - By Sarah Mayberry Page 0,39

the disparaging reference her sister had made to Flynn, calling him an “I-own-the-world asshole.” Standing in the cool darkness, Mel felt…not guilty, but close to it for not correcting her sister’s assumptions. Flynn had shared a meal with her as well as offering her a window into matters that were clearly deeply important to him. He might be wealthy, but he wasn’t an imperious asshole. He was open and interested and friendly and talented and creative and incredibly generous, given what he’d sacrificed for his father, and she felt as though she’d betrayed him by letting her sister’s disparaging comment slip by.

I like him.

It was a fairly obvious realization, but it hit her like a slap. It was one thing to be attracted to him—she figured that was simply about being female and having eyes in her head—but to like the man behind the gorgeous face…that was a different matter entirely. It felt much more dangerous and threatening, especially after the conversation she’d had with her sister.

Unsettled, she reentered her house, heading for the kitchen to check the possibilities for dessert. Instantly, she spotted Flynn’s keys, sitting on the counter. She’d forgotten to give them back to him.

Oh, well done, Porter. Well done.

CHAPTER SEVEN

THE FARTHER HE GOT from Mel’s place, the more Flynn felt like a dick. He couldn’t believe that he’d elbowed his way into her home and proceeded to dump all his crap on her. Every time he thought about how he’d almost cried he squirmed in his seat. Sure, he’d redeemed himself a little with the garden discussion afterward, but still…

She’d been great about it, hearing him out and offering her thoughts and feeding him, but that was beside the point. He felt as though he’d rolled over and displayed his soft underbelly to her like a beseeching puppy dog.

Was he really that desperate for a little comfort and companionship? This was the sort of behavior that had wound up with him hurting Hayley. He needed to get a grip.

Although, in all fairness, it had taken him a long time to tell Hayley what was going on with his parents. They’d been sleeping together for well over a couple of months before he’d shared his father’s diagnosis with her. It wasn’t information that he bandied about, out of respect for his father’s privacy and dignity. But with Mel, he’d let it all hang out. He wasn’t sure why.

Staring out the taxi window, he thought about the calm, serious way she’d watched him as he’d told her about his parents. She had a very warm, real presence. He’d felt…safe with her. Maybe that was why he’d spilled his guts so unceremoniously.

Or maybe you wanted her to hold you to that spectacular bosom of hers and offer you a different kind of comfort.

He shifted again, but there was no denying the fact that he was very attracted to Mel. His mouth thinned into a grim line. He’d like to think he had a little more finesse than to try to whinge and whine his way into a woman’s bed, but the evidence was definitely stacked against him.

He was still brooding when the taxi pulled up in front of his town house in Kew. He handed over the fare and was sliding out of the cab when his phone rang. He took the call as he pushed the car door shut.

“Hi. I feel like such an idiot— I forgot to give you your keys.”

It was Mel, her voice low and slightly breathless over the line. “Keys. Right.” He patted his pocket, and sure enough there was no telltale bulge beneath his hand.

Damn.

He was vaguely aware of the taxi driving off into the night as Mel spoke again.

“You left them in the Aston Martin and I locked it up and brought them home with me and meant to give them to you…?.”

He turned and considered the locked door to his town house. “Don’t worry about it.”

“But you’ll need your house keys, won’t you? I can bring them up to you. Give me your address and I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“You’re not making a two-hour round trip to bring me my keys. I’ve got a spare with the neighbors, and it wasn’t as though I was going to be able to drive the Aston Martin into work tomorrow, anyway. I’ll organize a courier to pick them up in the morning.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I’m the one who ran off like a moron. I’ll give you a call tomorrow to let you