A Touch of Summer (4 page)

Flynn busied himself checking the straps of his shield so that he could hold it securely. 'We stand in a circle, with our shields at shoulder height, forming a sort of path around the circle. Two men start at opposite sides of the circle and chase each other around on top of the shields like a velodrome.'

'It could be a girl, you know.'

Flynn laughed. 'Spoken like a true feminist. Want a go?'

Summer stepped back. 'I’ll watch and cheer you on.'

Fletcher pulled names out of a hat to see who went, and Reilly was up first, chasing a wiry Frenchman whose limited English didn’t disguise his interest in the young Ranger.

As soon as the whistle blew, Reilly set off, racing over the uneven shields in pursuit of her quarry. Light as she was compared to the other soldiers, her weight thudding down on the shield he held was still enough to drive the edge into Flynn’s shoulder. He gritted his teeth and stood solid, but was the first to cheer when Reilly caught her man.

The next few rounds were a blur of racing and men falling, and then it was Niall chasing a blond SEAL. Those shields were not designed for comfort, and none of the contestants were lightweights. Considering that he couldn’t be a pound under seventeen stone, Niall was surprisingly light on his feet, and his long legs brought him up behind the American in a single circuit. He reached out and was about to grab him when the shield he was standing on tilted.

He rolled as he hit the ground and glared at Hall, the holder of the shield. There was an exchange of glares between the two, but neither said anything. Fletcher declared the point went to the SEALs in that round. Not as good a result as he had hoped for, but at least the Rangers were in second place.

A passing SEAL patted Flynn on the shoulder, making him wince. 'Tough luck, pal.’

The next game was Bag Swing. The blindfolded swinger had a helmet between his feet, and a heavy bag in his hand. It was up to the competitors to steal the helmet without getting walloped by the bag.

'What’s in the bag?' Flynn asked. It looked heavy.

'Chains,' Fletcher told him, grinning. The old bastard must have had a field day thinking up these games. A bag of chains would do serious damage if it hit the wrong way. Flynn hefted it; it was at least twenty pounds.

Fletcher himself was the first bag swinger, and took out an Australian, a Frenchman and an American in rapid succession. He must be half bat, with his ability to detect where the attacker was coming from. Then it was Flynn’s turn.

He had watched the other contestants earlier and decided the best strategy was not to rush in. Instead, he glided along, his boots making no sound on the short grass, and his breathing as slow as possible. There was nothing he could do about the sound of his heart thumping, but he trusted the sound of the circle of spectators would drown that out.

Fletcher swung his bag as if it were weightless, his head turning as he sought for some trace of his attacker. Flynn crept closer, concentrating on Fletcher, not the helmet that was his goal. Now he was within range of that lethal bag, and ducked under an arc that would bash his head in. One more step and he’d have the helmet. The spectators went quiet as they saw how close he was to victory.

'Of course, I’d be delighted to show you around the island.' Col Hall’s voice rang out in the silence. Flynn turned his head and saw him leaning over Summer, and Summer smiling back up at him.

'OW!' The moment of distraction had cost him. Fletcher had somehow heard him, and the bag of chains walloped him in the ribs. He fell backwards, hissing in pain, amid the cheers and catcalls of the onlookers. SAS one, Rangers nil.

Fuck!

There was no doubt about it – Flynn was furious that he had lost and somehow it was her fault. He hadn’t been concentrating. Why on earth had he been watching her and Col. Hall instead of Fletcher? Summer winced as he stormed off the field, waving off the ribald jeers of the SAS team.

Summer followed, only to find Niall was blocking her path. 'It might be better if you leave him alone for a while to cool off. Flynn hates to lose.'

'But he’s hurt…'

'It’s just a few cuts and bruises. He’ll be fine.'

Summer stared after Flynn as he pushed his way through the spectators.

'There’s nothing as shabby as bad loser. Looks like your Wing won’t be taking first after all, if that’s the best you’ve got,' Hall said.

Niall bristled. 'At least we play fair. And we’ll still win.'

Col. Hall scowled. 'We’ll see.' He turned his attention to Summer. 'If you’re tired of watching a bunch of brutes fighting, perhaps you’d like a little tour of the island?'

'She’s busy,' Niall said brusquely, grabbing her arm. 'Playing nurse mightn’t be a bad idea after all.'

Summer stumbled along beside him. There were undercurrents here she didn’t understand. 'Do you want to tell me what’s going on?'

'In a minute.'

They hurried along the road until they reached the supplies tent where Niall collected a small first aid kit before turning to her. 'A word of advice, stay away from Hall. Don’t make Flynn’s job any harder than it is.' He took a deep breath. 'Flynn and Hall have some bad history between them. The last thing he needs to deal with is you hanging out of that weasel.'

'I was not—'

Niall thrust the medical kit at her. 'Go patch him up and try to stay out of trouble.'

Summer turned away. It wasn’t her fault that Col. Hall – Darren – but she hadn’t meant to get Flynn hurt. She made her way back to their tent. Outside, a bare-chested Flynn was leaning against one of the old garden walls while he cleaned himself with a damp cloth. There was a massive bruise forming on his ribs and smaller ones on his face and arms.

He gave her a narrow-eyed stare as she approached. It was hard to believe that it was the same man who had kissed her so passionately the night before.

'I’ve brought you this.' She waved the kit at him.

Flynn scowled. 'I’m fine. It’s only a few bruises.'

'It’s more than that.' It wasn’t her fault he had been injured. No one could expect her not to flirt occasionally, and if Flynn didn’t like it, well, tough. He had brought her here and deserved whatever happened as a result. But she did feel a flicker of guilt that he had hurt. Those bruises looked nasty.

If the circumstances had been different, if he weren’t her bodyguard, she would have liked to get to know him better. Summer stopped. Where had that come from? She didn’t do dating any more. She was not a romance and love kind of girl. She liked it bright, breezy and with no serious involvement. But Flynn would never let a woman away with that. He would own her. Body and soul.

'Well, are you going to use that kit? Do you even know how?'

Summer considered taping his mouth up. It was tempting. 'I have done first aid, you know.'

Flynn leaned against a low stone wall while she tended to his face, cleaning the wounds and dabbing at his cuts. This close, in bright daylight, she noticed that he had other scars - a pale white line, almost hidden by his brow, and another close to his hairline. His bare chest had a dusting of dark body hair and rock-hard abs. And more scars. One nasty one on his upper arm looked like it was from a bullet. Flynn Grant was a dangerous man.

'You’re staring. Are you usually so attentive to your patients?'

'No …' She flushed. 'It’s just that you have a lot of scars.'

He shrugged. 'There have been a lot of people who don’t like me.'

Summer finished putting a strip of plaster over a cut on his cheekbone. 'I can’t imagine why when you’re always so charming.'

He laughed. 'That’s not how a nurse is supposed to talk to a patient.'

'Really? Well, you can go find yourself another nurse. A big hairy sweaty one.'

Flynn wrapped his hand around her wrist. 'Temper, temper. You might find yourself over my knee again. You’re already walking on thin ice over that business with Hall. Maybe you need a little reminder about which of us is in charge?'

Summer looked around her. Although most of the men were up at the games area, there were still quite a few around. He couldn’t possibly mean it. He wouldn’t spank her out here where everyone could see. She would be the laughing stock of the island. 'You wouldn’t dare.'

His eyes narrowed dangerously. 'Try me. I told you to stay away from Hall and you disobeyed me. I also warned you there would be consequences.'

His grip on her wrist was mercilessly tight. Flynn would do it. He really would. Summer looked around her. She couldn’t let him spank her here, with people looking on. Panicking, she pushed him. Caught by surprised, Flynn pitched backwards, landing on his back in a patch of nettles.

She covered her mouth in horror as she watched him struggle to his feet, his back already breaking into tiny blisters from the stings.

Flynn’s expression as he struggled to his feet promised retribution. 'You vicious little—'

She turned and fled before he could catch her, and ran straight into Niall. He glanced from her to Flynn and back again. 'Did anyone ever tell you that you’re a magnet for trouble? Come on. The next game is about to start.'

She glanced over her shoulder as she followed Niall. Flynn was twisting to rub a dock leave over his back and his scowl promised consequences. Let him try.

The next game was Giant Fighting. Summer had no idea what to expect, but half the men were busy wrapping their hands and gloving up. She was surprised to see Reilly was doing it too. Surely the slender Ranger couldn’t be planning to box against the bigger men out there? Then she remembered what Reilly had told her about the Ranger’s brutal selection process and training.

Niall boosted Reilly up on his shoulders and she settled herself. 'Comfortable?' he asked.

'Yes, sir.'

Flynn glared at Summer. 'Stay out of trouble.' He turned away and boosted Andy onto his shoulders. In spite of his recent encounter with the bag of chains and the nettles, the movement was smooth and graceful.

It wasn’t fair. There was a smorgasbord of stunning men here, some of the best booking guys she’d ever seen, even at Hollywood red carpet events, but somehow, she couldn’t take her eyes off Flynn Grant.

What was it about him? True, he was gorgeous with those hazel eyes that saw into her soul and a sensual mouth. Right now, with a hint of stubble shading his jaw, his mouth was a temptation to sin. And god, the man knew how to use it. Summer ruthlessly cut off thoughts of what those lips could do to her, in case she collapsed into a trembling puddle on the rough grass.

Flynn’s ripped body didn’t do him any harm either. Summer’s mouth dried when she traced the line of hair running down into his cargo pants. It wasn’t fair. She had never seen the man do a single sit-up, how could he have a six-pack like that? Maybe chopping wood was a better exercise than she had realised. She’d suggest it to her personal trainer when she got home.

At the thought of going home again, of returning to her normal life where she wasn’t being threatened by nutcases with knives, and didn’t need a bodyguard, a pang went through her.

Oh, Flynn could be a pain in the ass, but when he levelled that commanding stare at her, something inside her quivered and melted.

Right now, he was examining the other combatants in this game. His narrow-eyed concentration was focused as tightly as a laser beam. What was wrong with her, that even when he was ignoring her, she still resonated to his nearness?

The chaos on the field resolved itself, with 'giants' squaring off against each other. Summer was torn between watching Flynn, and a sick, car-crash fascination with Reilly. How could the other woman cope fighting against the SEAL she was facing? His fists were massive, more like elephant feet than human hands.

Fletcher called out something about rules. Once the man on top was dislodged, they were eliminated. Any team still standing could continue to fight until there was only one giant left. He blew his whistle.

Flynn and Andy were matched against an Australian pair. The man on top was fast and wiry, and did a good job of keeping the Rangers’ attention. But Andy, normally languid and laid-back, displayed a surprisingly vicious punch, and Flynn moved as if he were weightless.

Boxing had never been Summer’s favourite sport. In fact, it wasn’t even on her list of sports she watched. But now she couldn’t drag her eyes away from the action in the field. She knew that Flynn was an expert soldier. An operator, they called him. But nothing had prepared her for the way he fought. His speed and strength were balletic, so that even while Summer shuddered every time a fist made contact, she couldn’t look away.

A roar went up from the spectators and she realised that Reilly’s match was attracting attention. The burly man sitting on Hall’s shoulders was in trouble. Reilly was jabbing and punching, her movements like quicksilver, and the man was slower to react. His punches were tentative, and Reilly was taking full advantage. She landed a roundhouse punch that rocked him back.

Summer punched the air and shouted, 'Way to go, Reilly.'

Hall’s team-mate regained his balance and they engaged again. Another exchange of blows followed, but Niall danced easily out of the way, before darting in again to allow Reilly to attack with a merciless series of strikes and jabs. The crowd roared as she punched his nose and drew blood.