Read Falling for Flynn for Free Online Page A

of his fury dissipated.
    Maybe she’d be more cooperative to chivalry than anger?
    Only one way to find out.

CHAPTER FIVE
    Lori had been dreading tonight.
    Her new favorite dress and a dash of make-up might’ve helped boost her confidence at home but now, sitting across the table from a tense Flynn, her meager confidence dwindled.
    What could she say about withholding Adam from him? She couldn’t tell him the truth.
    The army was his life; he’d deliberately chosen it while she hated all it entailed.
    He wanted answers. She doubted she’d like the questions.
    The awkward silence on the short drive here had been indicative of how far they’d grown apart. She’d wanted it that way, had deliberately severed all contact, so why the traitorous pitter-patter of her heart, the leap in pulse when he’d laid a hand on her back?
    It had been six long years since they’d last touched, done more than touching, and she’d tried to forget him.
    By the way her heart squirmed under his scrutinizing stare, it hadn’t worked.
    She let him order, content to sit back and study him. Wherever he’d been his skin had tanned to olive, with tiny crinkles fanning the outer corners of his eyes. Eyes that once held a glimmer of hope, eyes now shadowed and wary, eyes that had seen too much and learned to shield the horror.
    She knew that haunted weariness well, had seen it in her father’s eyes every time he returned from a posting. She’d hated the resultant fall-out, where her mum had pandered to his manic moods and she’d been shooed away to avoid tripping his temper.
    Her mom had been patient and loving and understanding to a bad-tempered man who couldn’t wait to get back to his army mates, more than happy to leave his family behind. A family who’d followed him to almost every country on the planet.
    And where had mom’s loyalty got her? An early grave, something Lori would never forgive her father for. Sure, she’d grieved in her own way when he’d died but she’d be lying if she said she missed him.
    “I didn’t think to ask if you liked Spanish food.”
    She shrugged. “Never tried it.”
    “Let me guess, you stick to your favorite Vietnamese haunts on Victoria Street.”
    “Uh-huh.”
    “Fried squid in salt still your favorite?”
    Her stomach rumbled and his mouth eased into a smile, the kind of smile he used to give her, warm and unarmed and especially for her.
    “That chili, garlic, and shallot combo does it for me every time.”
    His smile faded as his gaze dropped to her mouth, intent, focused, while she mentally cursed her poor choice of words.
    She didn’t want to acknowledge the underlying awareness between them, content to blame it on his simmering anger sparking a dangerous response deep within her.
    But it was there, a potent, invisible force, zinging between them, a buzz that had nothing to do with them sharing a son and everything to do with a spark never forgotten.
    “I promise after tonight you’ll add paella to your favorites list.”
    “Sounds great.”
    He leaned forward, his green polo shirt molding to a broad chest. Another thing that had changed; the rangy body of a young recruit had morphed into hard, lean lines of muscle that shifted along his arms, his shoulders, his chest. As he reached for a wine bottle, she reached for her water glass and took several much-needed cooling gulps.
    “Tell me about the training school.”
    She wanted to pre-empt his questions, wanted a few answers herself before being in the firing line.
    “The army wants to set up a training school for potential recruits. A pre-army camp where applicants can hone their skills before undergoing a rigorous screening program.”
    He filled their wineglasses before continuing. “My major found the tract of land in Richmond, thought it’d been perfect. I checked it out, the rest is history.”
    “So does that mean you’re staying a while — ” she stopped abruptly, noting the sudden frown, how he gripped the stem of his