Falling for Finn Read Free Page B

Trying not to give in to the urge to go around the breakfast bar and demand she tell him just what the fuck was going on.
    She didn’t need that after what she’d been through.
    Anger sat in his stomach like a large, hot stone. Anna attacked. Bruised. Hurt. The thought of it made him want to punch something.
    “I can’t be with him,” she said abruptly. “Ever since the attack, I hate being touched. I hate anyone coming near me. Especially men. After the first couple of months I thought it would fade. I went to therapy, group stuff, hypnotism, a whole lot of things I thought would help. But nothing worked.”
    He went very still, watching her.
    Her voice, quiet now and soft. “I thought I’d be okay around Michael. God, I love him, right? I trust him. But…every time he came near me I felt like screaming. And when he touched me…”
    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