Kitabı oku: «One Night Of Consequences Collection», sayfa 9
“Let’s go. We have a dinner date,” he said, his voice curt, harsher than he’d intended.
She nodded and went around to the passenger side and he let out a long, slow breath, trying to ease the tension in his body.
Being with her once hadn’t helped at all. One night hadn’t been enough.
But there wouldn’t be another night. There would be no point to it.
CHAPTER TEN
“THANK you for doing that,” Zack said, once they were back in the car and away from the presence of the man they were putting on the show for.
Dinner had gone well, and it looked like everything was on track for Mr. Amudee to sign the exclusive deal with Roasted. It turned out he was thrilled that Zack was marrying a woman he worked with, a woman who understood and shared his passion for the business. It was one of the things, they’d found out over dessert, that had placed Zack slightly ahead of his rival at Sand Dollar. Because Amudee felt Zack and Clara were working together, and the owner of the other coffee-shop chain would be spending more time away from his family.
So, just another way their farce had helped. She still didn’t feel good about it.
“You’re welcome.”
“I’m serious. I should have thanked you before.”
“Gourmet dinner after a week in Thailand? I’m not all that put out by it.” A big lie, and they both knew it.
“I’m sorry about earlier,” she said. “About freaking out about the dress.”
“Not a big deal.”
Tension hung thick in the air between them. She just felt … restless and needy. The kiss, the one they’d shared in his office, still burning her lips.
It was only supposed to be the one time. Just once. In Chiang Mai, not here.
“I really liked my … salmon,” she said. It was lame but she didn’t want to leave Zack yet. Didn’t want to get into her cold, empty bed and slowly die, crushed beneath the weight of her sexual frustration.
A dramatic interpretation of what would actually happen, but she felt dramatic.
“You didn’t have salmon.”
“I didn’t?” she asked.
“No. You had … I think you had chicken.”
“Oh.”
The only thing she could remember about dinner was trying not to melt every time Zack looked in her direction.
“So … I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” she said slowly, reaching for the door handle.
“Wait.” She froze. “I have a nice vintage wine at my house. I’ve been meaning to have you come and try it,” he said.
She moved away from the car door, letting her back rest against the seat again. “Really?”
“Yes. Do you want … You could come over and have some?”
Zack could have cut his own tongue out. As pickup lines went, it was a clumsy one. He shouldn’t be handing her pickup lines at all, clumsy or otherwise. They’d committed to only sleeping together one time, and the fact that he was so turned on his entire body had broken out into a cold sweat shouldn’t change that. Once should have been enough. But it wasn’t.
He watched her face, watched her eyes get round, her mouth dropping open. As if she’d just realized what the hidden question was.
It was hidden. If she said no, they could both pretend that it wasn’t another night he was after. They could brush it under the rug. Simple.
“Now?” she asked.
He nodded once.
“I don’t.” She looked at her apartment building for a moment, her hands folded in her lap, toying with the fabric of her skirt, twisting it. “I’d love some wine.”
“Good.”
He turned the key over and the engine purred as he pulled away from the curb and headed out of the city, toward the waterfront.
Zack’s house was a marvel, grand and pristine, massive windows with views the bay and the Golden Gate Bridge. It was a physical testament to the wealth he’d accumulated since he started his business. How much he had done. How far he had come on his own.
Every time she came over, she stopped and looked at the gorgeous, stained-glass skylight in the entryway. Not this time, though. This time, she didn’t have energy to focus on anything beyond Zack and the desire that was roaring through her body. Desire that was finally going to be satisfied tonight.
A week without him, without him inside of her body, had been far too long of a wait.
He closed the door behind them and stood still, poised near the door. He looked like a predator lying in wait. The thought of it, of being the object of his desire, heated her from the inside out.
When he moved, it was quick and fluid. He wrapped his arms around her, kissing her deep and long, his tongue stroking against hers, the evidence of his arousal hard and tempting against her body.
“You’re sure?”
“No,” she said.
“I’m not, either.”
“But I want to.”
“Me, too. You know where the bedroom is,” he said.
“I do. But I haven’t spent that much time in it.”
“You’ll be lucky if I let you out of it tonight,” he said, his voice a low growl. Feral and uncontrolled. It sent a shiver of pure need all the way down to her toes.
It was crazy. Stupid crazy and not at all what they’d agreed to.
Just one more time. One more night.
“I don’t mind.”
She walked ahead of him, to the winding staircase that led up to his room. She heard him following behind her as she walked up the stairs, and she knew the action was making her dress ride up, made it hug the curve of her bottom, and barely covered it at all.
He grabbed her arm and turned her to him. He was on the step below her, which, with her heels, made them close to the same height. He put his hand on her lower back and pressed her to him, kissing her again, his mouth hot and hungry on hers.
She cupped his face, his stubble rough on her fingertips, a potent, sexy reminder of his masculinity. He reached up and took her hands, lacing his fingers through hers and backing her against the wall as he stepped up onto the stair she was on.
He pressed his body against hers, hard and long, perfectly muscular. She started working the buttons on his shirt, popping a few of them off in her haste to get him undressed. He helped with the sleeve cuffs and tossed the shirt down to the bottom of the stairs.
“Oh, yes,” she breathed, running her hands over his bare chest, the crisp hair tickling her palms. “You’re so hot.”
He chuckled. “I could say the same.” He gripped the zipper tab of her dress and tugged it down, letting her dress fall off her body. She hardly had time to think about it, to worry about how she looked to him.
She kicked the dress down to the next stair, still wearing her heels, a strapless bra and a pair of underwear that may as well not exist for all that they covered.
But tonight, she really did feel sexy. She didn’t feel the need to cover herself, to hide anything. And she really didn’t want him hiding anything. She made quick work of his slacks, pushing them down his muscular thighs, her body heating when she looked at him, dressed in nothing more than a pair of tight black boxer briefs that revealed the outline of his erection in tantalizing detail.
She put her hand on him, sliding her palm over his cloth-covered length, reveling in his harsh, indrawn breath.
“Do you know how many times I thought of you?” she asked, the question requiring a whole lot of boldness she hadn’t realized she possessed. “Of touching you. Having my way with you. You’ve kept me up a lot of nights, Zack. Imagining what it would be like if you kissed me.”
“You thought of me?” he asked, his words rough.
“I did.”
He didn’t have to ask why she hadn’t acted on it. Because what would the point have been? They didn’t want the same things. He wanted a loveless marriage, no family. She wanted more. There was still no point to this. No point beyond trying to satisfy the sexual hunger that was burning between them.
And the burning hope in her that she couldn’t quite snuff out that wondered if he could change his mind.
“Do you know what I’ve thought about?” She pushed his underwear down and he kicked them down with the growing pile of clothes on the staircase. She started to kneel down in front of him and he forked his fingers through her hair, halting her for a moment, the sting from the tug on her hair sending a sharp sensation of pleasure through her.
“Careful,” he said. “I’m close.”
“We have all night. I’m not worried. And I’ve had a lot of fantasies about this. You wouldn’t deny me a little fantasy fulfillment, would you?” She leaned forward and flicked the tip of her tongue over the head of his shaft. He sucked in a breath, his hold on her hair tightening again.
She took him into her mouth, loving the taste of him, the power she felt. That she could make his thigh muscles shake, make his hands tremble. He kept one hand in her hair, one on the staircase railing, bracing himself as she continued to explore him.
“Clara … I need … not like this.”
She raised her head, her heart nearly stopping when she saw his face. He had sweat beads on his forehead, the tendons in his neck standing out. He looked like a man who’d been tortured with pleasure.
And she’d been the one doing the torturing.
“I don’t mind.”
“I do. I need to have all of you.”
“Maybe we can make it the rest of the way up the stairs?”
“If we hurry,” he growled.
So she did, walking in front of him, knowing her thong and high heels were making a provocative visual for him. The feeling of confidence she felt, the absolute certainty that he enjoyed looking at her, that, for now at least, she was the woman he desired, was amazing. New.
His bedroom door was open, and she walked inside and sat down on the bed, waiting for him. He stood in the doorway, his eyes hot on her. The lights were off, moonlight filtering through the window. The darkness felt like a cover, made her feel more confident.
“Take everything off,” he bit out.
She undid the front clasp on her bra and was gratified by the sharp rise and fall of his chest as she revealed her breasts to him. She stood and tugged her underwear down her legs, leaving the high heels for last.
“Want to help with these?” she asked, sitting again, holding her foot out.
He smiled and walked over to the bed and knelt in front of her, putting his hands on the curve of her knees, sliding them down her calf, he bent his head down and kissed her ankle as he took one of her shoes off and dropped it onto the carpet.
He did the same with the other one, slow, erotic movements making her shiver all over. And when he leaned in and pressed his mouth between her thighs she nearly came apart with the first stroke of his tongue.
“I’ll confess, I didn’t think about this very much until recently,” he said. “But I haven’t stopped thinking about it since last week. Every night, I dream of you,” he said, his voice rough as he continued to pleasure her with his hands.
“Me, too,” she said, panting, her body on the brink of climax, so close she felt it all through her, tension drawing all of her muscles tight.
Zack stood up, his smile wicked as he looked at her. He leaned over and took a condom from the nightstand. He tore the packet open and rolled a condom onto his length before joining her on the bed.
He put his hands on her thigh and pulled her over him so that her legs were bracketing his and his erection poised at the entranced to her body. Her eyes locked with his, she lowered herself onto him, a low moan climbing in her throat as he filled her.
She gripped his shoulders, enjoying the feeling. Enjoying the moment of being joined with him completely.
She moved slowly at first, trying to find the right rhythm, her confidence increasing as his grip on her hips tightened, as she started to move closer to the edge of climax.
She was saying things, words, about how good it felt, how much she cared about him, but she wasn’t sure what she was saying exactly. She didn’t care. She couldn’t think, she could only feel.
Could only hold on to Zack as her orgasm pushed her over the edge and into an abyss of light and feeling, where there was nothing, no one, except for her and Zack. There was no past, and there was no future. There was only the two of them.
In that world, in that moment, everything could work. Everything was perfect.
The ascent back to reality was slow and fuzzy, and she almost regretted it when it happened. But even reality, his skin hot and sweaty beneath her cheek, his chest hair a little bit scratchy, was pretty near perfect.
She didn’t have the assurance of a future. But for now she had Zack. And she would take him. She felt tears sting her eyes and she squeezed them shut, trying to hold them at bay.
She had him tonight. And it would be perfect. She wouldn’t ruin it by crying.
“I’ll go and take care of things,” he said.
Clara sat up and let Zack get out of bed and go into the bathroom. He came back a couple of moments later and slid back into bed. She looked at his profile. Strong, set. So handsome, so special to her. For so long she’d imagined that she knew everything about Zack. Now she found out there was a huge piece missing.
“Zack …” She knew she probably shouldn’t say what was on her mind, but they were naked and in bed together. If they couldn’t be honest now, when could you be honest with anyone? “What happened?”
“I told you,” he said, his voice stilted. He knew what she meant. No need to clarify.
“Sort of.”
“You want to hear more?”
“I want to know what happened. Have you ever told anyone?”
There was a long pause, Zack shifted next to her. “I don’t talk about this, Clara. Not ever. Not with anyone.”
She put her hand on his shoulder. “And I don’t let men see me naked. Not ever. But I let you. So tell me.”
He paused and she thought, for a moment, he wasn’t going to say anything. “We named him Jake. He lived for forty-eight hours. No one at the hospital thought, even for a moment, that he had a chance. But I did.” Silence hung between them, heavy and oppressive. She didn’t interrupt it.
Zack breathed in deeply. Faintly, in the dim light filtering in through the windows, she could see a single track of moisture shining on his cheek. “I was wrong. There was no miracle. No beating the odds. I’d thought … I was sure he’d have to be okay. I’d changed all my plans, in my head, my whole future was different. And then it was back to being the same, except it wasn’t. It never would be again. And my parents … I think they were relieved. They’d been so angry that I was throwing my future away. I think they were relieved when my son died, Clara.”
“Zack …” She started to offer something. Comfort maybe. But she wasn’t sure if there was any comfort for that kind of pain. She wasn’t sure if it was a wound that could heal.
“Sarah didn’t want to talk to me again and I don’t blame her. Every time I looked at her I just remembered. I think it was the same for her. So I just left. I couldn’t stay there.” He paused for a moment. “He would be fourteen now. Just two years younger than I was when he was born. Maybe he’d play football, like I did. He’d be close to the age where I would be teaching him how to drive and telling him about girls. I think about it still. About him. I didn’t understand how one person could, even for such a short amount of time, became my whole world. For those two days, I breathed for him. And when he stopped, I almost forgot why I was still trying. Rock bottom is … something else. There’s a lot of alcohol there, let me tell you. But not even that fixes it. It just makes you pathetic. But I got hired on at a coffeehouse here, even though I was an aimless wreck. Once I had that job, I had a new focus. I got my GED, I found out I loved coffee. I worked my way up in the company, and I bought it from my boss when he retired. I think that’s the beginning of what you, and everyone else, already knew.”
She wiped at a tear that was sliding down her cheek, her heart aching, her entire body aching, real, physical pain tearing at her. She turned to the side and rested her head on his shoulder, her hand on his face. He wrapped an arm around her and held her to him.
“But that changed me,” he said, his voice strong. “It made me grow up. Made me move forward. It taught me to value control. Responsibility and planning. It’s why I’m here. Why I’m so successful and not some burned out, ex-college football star has-been.”
He believed it. She could tell he did. But the road to success had been hard. It had hurt. And along with conviction, she heard the pain in his voice, too.
“Arrogance, impulsiveness. That leads to disaster. It creates grief. Needless grief,” he said.
She wished she could tell him how much she loved him, but she knew that it was the last thing he wanted to hear. So she just held him, and let him hold her. Let him offer her comfort, so that he didn’t realize she sas offering him everything.
“So,” she said after a while, “do you want me to go?”
“I want you here,” he said. “Spend the night with me.”
“Sure, Zack,” she said, breathing a sigh of relief.
He tightened his hold on her and neither of them spoke.
Tonight they were together. She hoped she didn’t fall asleep. She didn’t want to miss a moment.
Clara rolled over and stretched in the morning, her eyes opening to a familiar sight. Zack’s room. Though, it wasn’t familiar at all to wake up in Zack’s room. Even less familiar to wake up in Zack’s room after making love with him all night.
A slow smile spread across her lips, followed by a pang of sadness when she remembered their conversation. When she remembered his story about his son.
She looked at Zack, his eyes still closed. She wished, more than anything, that she could take his pain from him. His grief was something she couldn’t begin to understand, the kind of cut it would leave so deep she wasn’t sure if it could heal. She knew it couldn’t, not really. It would never disappear. He’d said himself it had changed him. Had changed the course of his entire life.
His eyes opened and he smiled. “Good morning.”
“Morning.”
“So, I guess we should get ready to go to work,” she said.
“You think so?”
“Well, it’s almost time.”
“True,” he said, wrapping his arms around her and rolling her beneath him. “But you might be able to go in late today. I know the boss.”
“So do I,” she said, wiggling underneath him. “He’s kind of intense about people being at work on time. A bit anal, even.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Really? Well, I have a feeling that he’ll look the other way today.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“I got an invitation in the mail. For me and my wife.” Zack walked into her office and tossed a cream-colored envelope onto her desk.
She grimaced. “Don’t people read the news?”
“Well, I called the charity putting the event on and I explained to them what happened. Of course, they would still like me to come and buy two dinners at four hundred dollars a plate, so my new fiancée is more than welcome.”
“Well, hopefully the deal will be finalized by then,” she said, looking down at the spiteful ring. “And I’ll be off the hook.”
“Good for both of us, but even if you are, you still might like to come. As my friend.”
“Right.” Yes. They were friends. First and foremost, before the sex stuff. At least in his mind. She was his friend, and he was hers, her very best friend. But he was so much more to her than that.
“It’s for charity. Something I’ve been planning on for a while, though, thanks to everything that’s been happening the timing slipped my mind. And I can’t take anyone else until all of this is finished.”
She noticed he didn’t say that he didn’t want to take anyone else. Only that he couldn’t.
Being a bit oversensitive, aren’t we? Maybe. Or maybe not.
“When is it?” she asked.
“Thursday. How are things going today? Have you come up with anything to go with the white tea from Amudee’s? I’m thinking of a gourmet tea cake. Wondering if we could start making our own preserves. That has definite mass-market appeal. Are you closer to reaching a deal?”
“It looks that way. I’m optimistic. He’s a hard man to read but he seems reasonably satisfied that Roasted is run to the sort of standards he likes to see.”
“Good.” She fought the urge to reach out and touch him, to forge a connection. That would just come across as needy and she didn’t want to seem needy. Even if she did feel a little bit needy.
“What’s this?” He took a sheet of paper off her desk and she cringed.
“Uh … a list I was making. For my bakery.”
Her bakery. The dream that wasn’t really her dream. She loved her job at Roasted, but if things didn’t work out with Zack she was going to need her escape more than ever.
“Oh. Right.” He set it back down. “Working on it during business hours?”
“Or during lunch. Or maybe during business hours, but you know I put my time in,” she said stiffly.
“I’m not going to give you special treatment just because we slept together.”
His words hung in the air, too loud in the small office, and far too harsh for her already-tender insides.
“Of course not. That would be ridiculous,” she said, picking up a stack of unidentified papers from her desk and walking over to the industrial stapler. She punched it down in three places and hoped that they were at least documents that went together. “Why would you do that?”
The truth was, he had always treated her like she was special, and having him say something like that made her feel demoted.
“You know what I meant.”
“I guess I don’t.”
He rounded her desk and cupped her chin with his thumb and forefinger, tilting her face up so that she had to meet his eyes. He leaned in and pressed a light kiss to her lips. He didn’t apologize. He didn’t say anything. Even so, all of the fight drained out of her.
“I’m going to be busy tonight,” he said.
That was probably for the best. Distance was probably a really, really good idea. Because she desperately didn’t want it, and that meant she very likely needed it. Because last night was proof neither of them were thinking clearly where the other was concerned.
They’d done it again. And there could be no more sex. None. It was too dangerous for her, too stupid. Too little. It was physical only for Zack, and she wanted more. She needed more.
“All right. Me, too, actually.” She’d find something to be busy with. She would. Except, the only people she ever hung out with, besides Zack, were the people she worked with. And it would be hard hanging out with them now when she was lying to them.
Maybe she’d work on some of the tea pastries she’d been thinking of.
“See you tomorrow, then. At work,” she said, feeling very accomplished that she was managing to seem cool and aloof about the whole thing.
“See you then,” he said, nodding and walking out of the room.
When he left she blew out a breath. The affair, fling, whatever, was supposed to ease some of the tension between them. But if anything, it seemed more intense than it had before.
She looked back down at her list. The items she was choosing for if she opened her own bakery. For if she had to leave Roasted so she could get away from Zack.
She was starting to hope she wouldn’t need it.
Clara put a pan of twelve cupcakes into the oven and closed the rack with her foot. They were pineapple cupcakes which she was intending to pair light, whipped frosting and candied mango on top. They might very well taste like a Caribbean vacation gone wrong, but she was feeling risky.
She was also feeling restless and sad.
It was Monday and normally Zack would come over for a football game neither of them would pay attention to. He would bring takeout, she would provide all things baked and sinful.
She missed that. And she wondered if the status quo hadn’t been so bad after all.
Right. Because you were such a sopping, sad mess you made his wedding cake even though it destroyed you to do it. And you’ve barely had a date since you met the man.
All true.
She growled into the empty room and turned her focus to whipping her frosting. That, at least, was physically satisfying. She dipped an unused spoon into the mix and tasted it. She hit Play on her kitchen stereo system and turned to the pantry humming while she rummaged for a can of pineapple juice.
She heard a sharp knock over the sound of her acoustic-guitar music and she stopped rummaging. She frowned and walked over to the door, peeking through the security window at the top.
Zack was there, looking back down the hall, like he was thinking about leaving. He had a brown paper bag in his hand, his work clothes long discarded in favor of a gray T-shirt and a pair of dark fitted jeans.
Her heart crumpled. Seeing him was almost painful. A reminder of how close they’d been physically. How far apart they were emotionally.
She braced herself for the full impact of his presence and opened the door.
He turned to her, smiling. “Hi.”
“I thought you were busy.”
That wasn’t what she’d intended to lead with, but it had sort of slipped out. Things just seemed to be “happening” around him without her permission a lot lately.
“It turns out it could wait.” He slipped past her and stepped into her apartment, depositing his bags of food on the counter and pulling white boxes from it without even asking for permission.
“Why are you … here?”
“It’s Monday.”
“And?”
“Football.” He shrugged as he opened the first container, revealing her favorite, Sweet and Sour Pork. Like nothing had changed.
It was comforting in a very bizarre way. And a tiny bit upsetting, too. She wasn’t sure which emotion she was going to let win. She’d give it until after dinner to decide.
“Right.” She turned and made her way around the counter, taking plates and utensils out of the cupboard and drawers. Zack dished up the food and neither of them spoke as they took their first few bites.
“You could turn the game on,” she said.
Zack walked across the open room and took her remote off the couch, aiming it at the TV and putting it on the local channel broadcasting the event.
“Who’s playing?” she asked.
“No idea.” He tossed the remote back where it had been and crossed back into the kitchen, taking a seat at one of the bar stools that lined the counter.
“Important enough to come over for, though,” she said, looking down at her plate and stabbing a piece of meat with her fork.
“I missed you,” he said, his voice rough.
“What … me? You missed me?”
“Yes. We always get together Monday. And I found myself wandering around my house. Thought about turning the game on. But you’re right. I don’t really care about football, probably a side effect of coming down from the high of being the world’s most entitled high-school jock. I didn’t really want to watch sports, but I did want to eat dinner. With you.”
“I missed you, too, Zack,” she said.
His smile. His presence. His arms around her while she slept. But she wasn’t allowed to miss that last part. That had to be done. Over.
As for their friendship … she didn’t know what she would do without him. But she didn’t know if she would ever get over him if he was always around, either.
But she had to be with him, at least until she left Roasted. She would worry about the rest then.
“Making cupcakes?” he asked.
“They’re going to be very tropical.” She took a bite of fried rice and stood up, walking back into the kitchen to grab the can of pineapple juice she’d been after when he came to the door. “Not sure about them yet.”
She punched the top of the tin and drizzled some juice into her frosting, stirring it in slowly.
Zack leaned over the counter and stuck his finger in the bowl. She smacked the top of his hand. “I will frost your butt, Parsons. Keep your fingers out of my mixing bowl.”
He held his finger near his lips and gave her a roguish smile. “Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” He licked his frosting-covered finger and her internal muscles clenched in response.
She snorted. “No. I don’t know. You know what I meant.”
“Yeah.”
Her heart fluttered, but it was a manageable amount. “Behave.”
He arched one eyebrow. “Can’t make any promises.”
She rolled her eyes and sat back down to her dinner.
“Heard anymore about the store in Japan?” she asked.
That got Zack rolling on statistics and sales figures and all sorts of things he found endlessly fascinating. She liked that about him. Liked that his job sometimes gave him a glint in his eye that made him look like an enthusiastic kid.
Then he launched into a story about the street performers that had been out in front of the restaurant tonight when he’d picked the food up, which reminded her of the time they’d been all but accosted by a street mime on their way to lunch one day.
She really had missed this. Sharing. Laughing. She loved that he knew her, that he knew all of her best stories, her most embarrassing moments.
The timer pinged for the cupcakes and she got up to check them.
“Finished?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said, pulling them out with an oven mitt and setting them on the counter. “But hot.” She nearly laughed at his pained expression. “I have some cool ones, though. I know you don’t bake, but if you want to frost them you’re welcome to.”
“I think I can handle that.”
“Bear in mind they are highly experimental.”
He smiled. “Sounds exciting, anyway.”
“Or a potential disaster of epic proportions, but we won’t know until we taste them.”
She loaded up a frosting bag and handed it to Zack while she set her own up and got started on leaving little stars all over the surface of one of the cupcakes.
Zack sneaked his hand past her and dipped it into the bowl again. She grabbed the spatula and smacked the back of his hand, leaving a streak of white frosting behind. “I said stop!” she said, laughing as he examined the mess she’d left behind.
