Falling for Finn (3 page)

It took everything he had to remain where he was. To continue listening to her speak. But he managed it.

Sunlight ran over her glossy brown hair as she shook her head. “It was too much. It was easier on us both for me to break it off.”

Slowly he took his hands out of his pockets. Unclenched his fingers. Forced his voice to work. “I’m sorry, Green Eyes.” Because he was sorry, even if a small part of him rejoiced at the news. He was sorry about anything that made her unhappy.

She’d always stood by him. She’d been the one who’d told him to go for the
Wild Life
audition. Even when everyone else had told him that they wouldn’t want some dyslexic high school dropout who couldn’t read and with no qualifications to speak of. Who couldn’t do anything much except surf really well.

She’d told him he could do it. She’d believed in him.

And now he wished—wished so much—he could do something for her.

She could feel Finn’s anger and frustration radiating from him like the heat from the sun. He wanted to do something. Typical Finn. He was a physical guy, and “doing” was how he usually coped with his emotions.

Now. Ask him now.

Tension instantly gripped her. No. Not yet. She needed to build up to it. Plus asking him when he was angry wasn’t a good idea. Right?

Turning around, she met his gaze. He was standing in his kitchen, hands at his sides, looking like he wanted to smash something.

Good job she hadn’t told him any earlier, because she wouldn’t have been able to cope with it. Dealing with her own emotions had been hard enough, let alone anyone else’s.

“I know you’re sorry,” she said. “Can we talk about something else for a little bit?” Anything to give her some space. Get a grip before she had to go into the next stage of her plan because, Christ knew, she needed to be calm for that.

He stared at her. He wasn’t very good at letting things go, but eventually the tension seemed to ease out of him. “Yeah, okay.”

“Get out the single malt, huh? I could use something stronger than beer.”

For the first time since she’d arrived, the corner of his mouth lifted in a ghost of a smile. The famous Finn Shaw grin. The one that had thousands of women all over the country, and no doubt in other countries where his show was syndicated, sighing.

The one she remembered the first time she’d peered over the fence in her back garden to find a crazy boy trying to jump over ten empty cardboard boxes on his skateboard. He’d given her the same grin then. Challenge, excitement and mischief all rolled up into one.

God, she loved that smile of his. God, she’d missed him.

“I think I might have a little something you’d like.” The rough edge of anger had faded from his voice.

He turned, went over to one of the cupboards above the sink, reaching up to open it. His T-shirt, dark blue and faded, lifted slightly, exposing a line of tanned skin between the hem and the waistband of his jeans.

Anna found herself staring at it, a strange awareness unfurling inside her. And instantly her reaction was to force it away. Forget about it. An instinctive response. Because being aware of Finn wasn’t something that could happen. He was a brother to her, had always been.

Not any more though, right?

She swallowed, forcing her gaze away from him, conscious that her heart was beating double time. She’d need more than a couple of shots of whisky before she could ask for the help she wanted. She’d need the whole damn bottle.

“Here.” Finn put the bottle down on the breakfast bar, along with a couple of crystal whisky tumblers. “Look at this.”

With an effort, she looked. “A numbered bottle?”

“Uh huh. Which makes it extra special.”

She looked at it, frowning. “You haven’t opened it yet.”

“No. I was saving it for a special occasion.”

Something in his voice made her glance up at him. He wasn’t looking at her, too busy pouring out the Scotch. His lashes were so long, the kind any woman would be ecstatic to have. Had they always been that thick? That dark? Or had she just never noticed?

You’ve never let yourself notice.

“What special occasion?”

“Having you here.” He pushed a glass toward her. “Go on, taste it. See what you think.”

A fine appreciation for single malt was something they’d discovered a couple of years ago after Finn had done a
Wild Life
show on Skye, in Scotland. In amongst all the rock climbing and trekking, he’d visited a distillery, bringing back a bottle for her.

It had been a joke at first, since neither of them had been able to tell the difference in taste, but slowly it had become another one of their little traditions. She’d given him a whisky-tasting course once for his birthday. One he’d dragged her along to as well.

She took a sip. Fire and peat and smoke. The warm glow of embers. “Wow, this is pretty good.”

His grin deepened. “Yeah, I thought so too.” He raised his glass. “Slainte.” Then he sipped.

The warm glow of the Scotch spread through her, easing her tension. Giving her a little bit of respite.

“So, how’s the show going?”

“Pretty good. Ratings are excellent, which means I’ll be doing a third season.” He leaned his hip against the breakfast bar. “Put a proposal in to the producers about going to Nepal. Thought Everest might be a draw card.”

Anna took another sip of Scotch to cover the instinctive denial. God, she hated it when he went somewhere dangerous. Still, that was who he was. He liked a physical challenge. The adrenaline rush. And he was good at it.

She still remembered the skiing trip she’d taken with his family when she'd been ten and Finn twelve. They’d learned to snowboard for the first time. She’d spent the week sitting on her butt while Finn had picked up the basics in half an hour. He was doing jumps by the end of the trip.

“Are you sure?” she said, unable to help herself.

He just gave her that Finn Shaw grin, tinged with the tease he saved for her when she was being too careful. “And you call me protective.”

“It’s Everest, not Mount Eden. You don’t just drive to the top so you can get a view of the city.”

“I’ll have other people with me. You know I’m careful.”

Yeah, she did. He’d got a lot better over the years when it came to the dangerous sports he indulged in, taking on board some of her cautiousness. He’d often complained she was turning him into a lawyer, but nevertheless he didn’t stop doing it. And once he’d got the
Wild Life
job and had a crew to look after, he’d become even more safety conscious, his innate protectiveness coming to the fore.

Finn took another sip. His eyes glinted. “Plus, I’m good.”

“Even if you do say so yourself.”

Well, Finn had never met a sport he couldn’t do well within hours of trying it. As a total nonathlete, she’d always found that very impressive.

“I do say so myself.”

“So modest.”

“That’s me. Modesty is my middle name.”

“I thought Clive was your middle name.”

He laughed. The warm, genuine Finn laugh that made her feel good every time she heard it. “If that ever got out…”

“Oh, I know. Believe me, I know.”

“Think of my fans, woman.”

This time it was her turn to laugh because Finn did indeed have many fans. Who wouldn’t give a crap about his middle name as long as he gave them a signed autograph. Or even a kiss. “You think of your fans. I’ll think of the blackmail potential.” It was good to be here in his apartment, sipping Scotch and talking crap. Familiar. Normal. She’d missed this as well.

Anna finished her whisky and put it down on the wooden counter. “Another, barman.”

He poured her another measure. Then said, “You’re putting it off.”

Oh crap. He knew her too well. And yeah, he never let anything go.

She didn’t look at him. “Putting what off?”

“Putting off telling me whatever it is that brought you here.”

“How do you know that?”

“How do I know? You asked me for help, remember? And you still haven’t told me exactly what kind of help you need.”

The tension that had eased while they’d been talking began to gather inside her again. A tension born of nervousness and trepidation and…fear.

Fear he wouldn’t do what she wanted. Fear he would.

Anna picked up the tumbler, knocked back the Scotch in one hit. The alcohol burned its way down her throat and she coughed.

“Jesus, Anna. That bottle cost me five hundred bucks. You could savor it a little.”

She put down the glass, eyes watering, blinking at him.

“You don’t want to ask me, do you?” A straight-out question. No games. That was Finn.

It deserved a straight-out answer. “No. Not really.”

“Then why are you? And what the hell kind of help do you need that makes you afraid to ask?”

She’d thought long and hard about how she wanted to ask him. She’d practiced it in front of the mirror, rehearsed it over and over, but nothing had ever sounded right in her mouth. Right now, asking while drunk seemed a fine idea.

Pushing the tumbler toward him, she said, “Hit me.”

Finn put the cork in the bottle. “No.”

“Finn.”

“I said no.”

“Why not?”

He straightened, gaze opaque. “Since when do you have to be drunk to ask me for help?”

Anna swallowed. Better out than in, right? “Since I decided that I want you to sleep with me.”

 
Chapter Three

The glass Finn had been holding slipped from his nerveless fingers to crash onto the floor. Expensive crystal exploded.

He barely noticed. “
What did you say?
”

Anna didn’t look at him. She muttered something, coming around the breakfast bar, frowning at the smashed glass.

He held out an arm, stopping her where she stood. “Say that again, Anna.”

“What? The part about the glass?”

“Don’t you dare play games with me.” He felt as if he stood on the edge of a cliff with the wind at his back, trying to push him off.

She crossed her arms in a defensive movement. And lifted her chin, a curiously defiant, challenging look in her eyes. The way she always got when she was telling him something he didn’t want to hear. “Okay, fine. I want you to sleep with me.”

“Again.”

“Bloody hell, Finn. What part of ‘sleep with me’ don’t you understand?”

His hands were shaking. He pushed them deep into his pockets again so she wouldn’t see. “How about all of it?”

Anna took an audible breath. “I’m sorry. It came out…strange. I didn’t mean to say it like that.”

Adrenaline pumped through him, hot and hard. The cliff right ahead of him. “How the hell did you mean to say it then?”

She glanced down at the floor, at the glass sparkling all over the wooden boards. “We should clean this up.”

“Anna. For fuck’s sake.”

She stood motionless, still looking at the floor. “I need to take control of my life back, Finn. I’m scared. All the time. I have to force myself to go out, to even go and get bread and milk from the shop. Even getting the mail from the letterbox.” A jerky breath. “Men freak me out. I can’t stand them being near me. Even Michael.”

Jesus Christ. Anna scared? She was always cautious and careful but never scared. Self-contained, determined, strong. But now…now he could hear the tremble in her voice.

She lifted her gaze finally, green eyes huge in her pale face. “I hate it. I
hate
it. I hate jumping every time a guy gets too close to me. One of the partners came into my office a couple of days ago and leaned over my shoulder, and I nearly punched his lights out.”

He didn’t say anything, wanting to hear it all. Wanting to know why, given all she’d said, she wanted to do what she wanted to do. With him.

“And the hardest part is that I thought it would fade. I thought, after the therapy, I’d be fine. That I could go on as normal.” She gave a mirthless laugh. “But nothing’s normal anymore. And this stupid, stupid fear is getting worse. If I don’t do something about it, take control of it, it’s going to end up with me living in my house and never coming out.”

Finn had to remind himself to take a breath. “I still don’t get how sleeping with me is going to help you,” he said in a rough, raw voice, unable to believe he’d just said those words. Even now it didn’t seem real.

Slowly, Anna uncrossed her arms, lifted them to push her hair back behind her ears again in an unconscious gesture, her gaze darting to his, and away. Nervous. Christ, she was nervous. “I don’t like people touching me. Especially men. The thought of sex is…” She stopped, then laughed. Mirthless, bleak. “TMI probably.”

Carefully, he leaned against the breakfast bar, trying to ease the tension from his shoulders. “You ask me to sleep with you, then say it’s too much information? You’re kidding, right?” The shock had worn off a little, and if he didn’t think too hard about the implications of what she’d just asked him, he could handle it. For the moment.