Playing With Fire. Kat Black

she snapped, tugging the helmet free from his grasp. ‘Great. The most helpful thing you can do is take me back to London.’

      Spinning away, she spotted the bike standing nearby and stomped towards it. Pulling her helmet on, she found herself having trouble with the blasted chinstrap again. She needed to slow down a bit and concentrate, but honestly, she couldn’t believe the audacity of the man. To think he thought it acceptable to interfere …

      Aidan was suddenly in front of her again, his fingers joining hers under her chin. But this time they seemed intent on hindering her efforts rather than helping. She pushed them away, and ducked to avoid his hands as they reached out to remove the helmet from her head. She wasn’t quite quick enough to stop his next move, which flipped her visor up.

      ‘We’re not going anywhere,’ he announced through the opening. ‘Not until we’ve sorted this.’

      She stared at him. ‘I am not staying here! I can’t. You seriously thought trying to force me into coming here for the night was a good idea?’

      ‘We’re not staying here. It’s only a lunch stop, Annabel.’

      That was supposed to make it any better? ‘Then let’s find somewhere else for lunch.’

      Aidan started to shake his head.

      ‘Fine. I’ll call a cab.’ She removed the helmet and tossed it to him, then unzipped a pocket in the leather jacket and got out her phone. No bloody signal. Feeling Aidan’s gaze upon her every move, she shoved the useless device back in her pocket. ‘Or I’ll walk.’

      As she strode off across the carpark towards the road, she was aware of him falling in beside her, his long legs making it easy for him to keep up, though he made no move to touch her or stop her.

      ‘Your reaction says that you do need to be here, Annabel. You need to face this.’

      ‘Don’t “shrink” me,’ she snapped, not turning, not breaking stride. ‘You’re trying to fix me. If I’m not good enough for you, you know what –’

      ‘You’re perfect for me,’ he interrupted. ‘The small part of you that you’re prepared to share, at any rate. So no, I’m not trying to fix you, I’m trying to get to know more about you. Understand you.’

      ‘And you think dragging me to a place I haven’t been in twenty years and raking over a past that has nothing to do with you is the best way to understand me?’ She gave him a look that matched the sarcasm in her tone. At the end of the driveway she turned and continued marching along the road in the direction from which they’d just come.

      ‘I think it’s a relevant place to start, at least,’ Aidan persevered, still keeping step with her. ‘What’s here that you can’t bear to face? Does it bring back such bad memories?’

      Only the devastating memory of losing the only place in her life where she’d felt safe and happy and loved for who she was. ‘No.’

      ‘Then think about that for a moment. If that’s the case your reaction makes no sense. From what I can tell, things from your past still haunt you. You won’t be able to move on until you face whatever ghosts you carry. You can’t do that if you keep running from them.’

      ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about. And even if you did, you certainly don’t get to make those sorts of decisions for me.’

      ‘Annabel, please. Trus–’

      Sensing what was coming she swung on him. ‘If you dare say, “Trust me,” I will slap you!’

      His black brows shot up at the threat, but his tone remained mild, perhaps a little amused, as he said, ‘I was going to say, “Trust yourself,” actually.’ Then the humour melted away to be replaced by sincerity. ‘That’s the only thing that really matters here,’ he said, the lyrical tones of his Irish accent softening to an alluring lilt. ‘Believe in yourself. You know you can do this.’

      She stood there, breathing heavily, aware that he was trying to play her with charm – even more aware and perturbed to discover that there was a part of her that wanted to fall for it. Unsettled, she blurted somewhat petulantly, ‘Maybe I don’t want to do it.’

      Pulling off a glove, Aidan took a step closer. He placed his bare fingertips on the side of her neck, resting them lightly over the spot where she could feel the racing gallop of her pulse.

      ‘There’s no “maybe” about it,’ he murmured with a crooked smile. ‘It’s perfectly obvious that you don’t want to.’

      ‘Then we’re in agreement for once. Let’s go.’ She turned and started walking again but Aidan caught her hand and pulled her off the road onto the wooded verge.

      ‘I’ll make a deal with you. If you can give one valid reason why you don’t want to do this, we’ll leave.’

      Was irrational fear a valid reason? she wondered. Too bad if it was. She’d never admitted that kind of weakness to anyone before, and she wasn’t going to start now. Nor was there much point in trying to make something up, given Aidan’s uncanny ability to see through her deceptions. He was as astute as he was infuriating.

      She tried to pull her hand free, but he only tightened his grip.

      ‘Come on, Annabel,’ he challenged. ‘What are you really afraid of?’

      Since he’d come into her life? Too much, it seemed. She was afraid of him. Of herself. Of the past, the future. Afraid of her own bloody shadow. ‘Nothing. Everything. I don’t know!’ she shouted, exasperated.

      He looked at her for a long moment – calm, cool, collected. ‘And that’s why I really think you should do it. Come on.’ He stepped back onto the road, and, using the hand he’d effortlessly kept hold of, towed her back towards the inn.

       Chapter Seven

      Aidan watched Annabel’s every move carefully as, back in the carpark, he secured the bike and collected their helmets. After the way he’d shocked her, she’d be justified in bolting.

      When she refused point-blank to set a foot through the front door of the old timber-framed building, he led her around the side, following the signs to the beer garden.

      Even getting her onto the grounds was more than he’d really dared hope for. He’d known pulling something like this would be a huge gamble, but it was one he’d decided had to be worth the risk. Because while on the surface Annabel Frost appeared to be thawing, he couldn’t shake the feeling that surface-deep was as far as it went; that she was going through what she thought were the right motions, but without the emotional depth to back them up. He’d begun to realise that if he wanted to get deeper, and he did, he’d need to start pushing.

      As they rounded the building and came to the long stretch of green lawn behind, he left her to decide where to sit. Of the dozen or so wooden picnic tables spaced out on the grass, only a few were unoccupied and she chose the one furthest away from the building, where the lawn sloped away to meet a tiny stream. She sat on the bench with her back to the building, almost vibrating with tension.

      Leaving the helmets and his gloves while he went to get drinks and menus, Aidan hoped he’d called this right. As far as he could make out, the pain of losing her father and this place when she was so young and vulnerable had become the defining influence on her life. She was so used to protecting herself that it was proving hard to get her to open up. Maybe showing her that she had nothing left to fear here would help unlock her emotions, let them flourish.

      Approaching the rear entrance of the inn, he couldn’t help throwing a glance over his shoulder to check Annabel was still where he’d left her. He ducked through the door. Inside, the décor was typical of the evolved style of the English country inn – the dark traditional interior giving way to the modern rustic look favoured by the weekend