Page 15 of A Star is Scorned

He had asked her a question, she realized. “Oh, I’m fine,” she chirped, her voice unnatural to her ears.

“Don’t you worry. You’ll have your sea legs in no time.

” He went back to the rope he had been working with, tying it into a fancy knot.

She sat down on what appeared to be an upturned bucket, trying to peer into the depths of the boat’s cabin to see who else might be on board.

Someone was moving about in the shadows, but she couldn’t make out their face.

Flynn followed the direction of her gaze. “Oh, that’s Rex. He’s repairing some rigging. He takes care of the boat for me.”

She nodded, still unsure what to say. On set, it had been so easy to hold her own against him, but here she was out of her depths. She was afraid to put a toe out of place, lest she fall overboard or signal something was off between them to the press.

“Sorry to disappoint you, if you thought you were going to have me all to yourself.”

She snorted. “Why on earth would I think that?” But a rush of heat flared between her legs, and she cursed the effect he had on her.

He grinned, and she was glad she was already sitting down—because God help her, it was enough to make her swoon.

The boys on shore would’ve loved that. She suddenly resented Rex, whoever he was.

Because maybe, if it was just the two of them, he would take her down into that cabin and ravish her.

She had never been ravished. But she would quite like to be.

It was something she’d never admitted to herself before.

At least not outside the confines of her bedroom in the dead of the night.

But Flynn brought out something wild in her.

Made her crave things that her mother would’ve said did not befit a lady.

Things that she knew should make her blush at the mere thought of them.

But why would she be ashamed of such feelings?

Eventually, she would make love to a man.

That was the natural course of things. And she supposed there were few men with as much experience as Flynn had.

He would know exactly how to touch her, how much pressure to use, where to kiss her… Her jaw went slack envisioning it.

He chuckled and she knew he had read her like a book.

“You wouldn’t be the first lady to dream of getting me alone.

” His English accent, sometimes clipped and straightforward, had melted into something softer and sexier.

Like butter spread over a roll. Or, she supposed, in his case, clotted cream over a scone.

She scoffed, desperate to hide that she had been imagining exactly that.

She’d been listening to Judy’s flights of fancy too much.

“That’s not a dream, that’s a nightmare.

” Livvy realized a moment too late how loud she’d been, and her head snapped back to the shore to make sure the reporters hadn’t heard her.

He chuckled. “Don’t worry, they didn’t hear you.

But I can kiss you passionately if you think it will help.

” She turned bright red at his suggestion, embarrassed not so much by her fantasy as by being caught out.

This was exactly what she had to avoid. The man in her daydreams was a white knight.

The flesh-and-blood figure before her was a cad.

She reminded herself of Rhonda Powers, the poor girl he’d jilted.

That would be her fate too if she didn’t pull herself together.

“Tell me about your boat,” she said. Anything to change the subject.

He gave her a look, making it clear he knew exactly what she was up to, but he answered her question. “I’ve had her about two years. Bought her by accident.”

She stared at him. “How on earth do you buy a boat by accident?”

“I was drunk.” He said it so matter-of-factly.

“That is the answer to almost any story involving you, isn’t it?”

He flashed her a smile, baring his teeth in a predatory manner that made a little shiver run down her spine.

“That’d be a safe bet.” She giggled in spite of herself.

“Dash told me the next morning that I had insisted it was such a brilliant party I required a souvenir, so I wrote the host a check for his fifty-seven-foot yawl.”

“Dash, as in Dash Howard?”

“Yes. He’s my best friend. Used to sail with me. Before he fell in love.” Livvy could tell just what Flynn Banks thought of love from his tone of voice. He’d spat out the word like he was swearing.

But beneath that, she sensed a loneliness. It was more the faraway look in his eyes than anything else, so subtle people would miss it unless they knew what it was to feel alone in this world. A look she was sure Flynn would deny. It was clear he missed his pal.

“Anyway, I tried to get out of it. But the wily bastard had cashed the check first thing. Worked out okay though. This boat’s the only girl I’d want to tie myself to.

” He patted the strong wood beam of her mast lovingly.

Flynn looked at the boat the way Livvy looked at her sister—with devotion and deep-seated care.

“And where’d you get the name?” Livvy was fairly certain she knew the answer, but she was afraid once they stopped talking about the boat, they would have exhausted all topics of conversation besides Flynn’s tireless flirting.

This relationship was as phony as the stuffed parrot perched on top of the boat’s cabin—and it needed to stay that way.

“The Sea Monkey?” He grinned, more genuine and less predatory this time.

“Surely you could tell from the drawing I’ve named her after Rallo.

That little bugger might have turned coat and thrown his lot in with you, but I love him.

I’m still convinced he’s the reason my career exploded. People love a cheeky monkey.”

“That they do.” But Livvy wasn’t talking about Rallo. She rather thought Flynn had a kindred spirit in the capuchin. They were both scallywags who seemed to love a good time and a pretty girl. “Has he ever been on the boat?”

“Rallo? No, I’m worried he’d scamper overboard and I wouldn’t catch him in time. But sometimes I keep him for the weekend at my house in Malibu. Lionel trusts me with him. Rallo’s good company. Doesn’t steal my liquor or my women, and knows how to have a good time.”

Livvy shook her head. Flynn was incorrigible. But damn if he wasn’t also infernally charming.

She watched as Flynn methodically loosed the sail, hundreds of feet of material catching the wind and billowing to the side.

The muscles and sinews of his arms flexed and stretched as he worked the fabric, and she found herself mesmerized by what he was doing, unable to take her eyes off the deft, sure movements of his hands.

He uncoiled another length of rope and let it glide through his fingers as the thick pole running along the bottom of the sail swung to the right.

“Watch out for the boom,” he called out. She had been so busy staring at him that she hadn’t noticed the heavy pole was swinging in her direction. She scrambled to leap off the overturned bucket she was perched on and darted backwards. The pole stopped only a foot or so in front of her.

Her cheeks bloomed with irritation and shame.

Did he know she’d been looking at him like he was a piece of fresh meat at a butcher shop?

God, she’d practically been licking her chops.

This wouldn’t do. She was a nice girl. And nice girls didn’t ogle notorious scoundrels as if they were a particularly tasty meal.

Maybe the sea air was going to her head. She needed to pull herself together.

“I take it that’s the boom,” she replied dryly, striving to sound sarcastic.

“That it is,” he told her archly, before giving her a wink. “You’re a quick learner.”

Oh God, now he was flirting with her again. “Look, I can leave if I’m in your way. We can go out to dinner tomorrow or something instead.” She was already mentally planning the lunch she’d make and bring to Judy at the club. But to her surprise, he looked chagrined.

“What’ll you tell those fellas?” He shrugged his shoulder in the direction of the press pool.

A few of them were still watching them through the gate.

The others were passing out life preservers between them, getting ready for their own voyage so that they could photograph the winners at the finish line.

But before she could devise an excuse, Flynn crossed over to her and reached behind her, untying a section of rope that was tied taut to the dock.

“Sorry. I forgot you’re new to this, should’ve been more careful. ”

Well, that was…something. She didn’t get the impression that Flynn Banks was a man who apologized very often.

Rex emerged from the cabin and moved to the front of the boat, dipping his head in her direction. “Miss,” he said politely.

She watched as he unfurled a sail at the front of the boat. “What’s that?”

Flynn craned his neck to see where she was pointing.

“The jib, it’s the secondary sail.” Finished with his task, Flynn put his hands on his hips and looked at her.

She tried not to stare at the way it made his biceps bulge beneath the tight line of his shirtsleeve.

He looked like he’d painted the shirt on this morning, but he wasn’t remotely self-conscious.

A peacock for the press, on his boat, he appeared comfortable enough in his own skin to have no need of showing off. It only made him more attractive.

He peered at her. “You’ve really never sailed?”

She shrugged. “My father was in the navy, and he was insistent that a ship was no place for a lady. Wouldn’t even let me near the dock.”