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So much for fighting fire with fire—all she’d done was set off an inferno.
‘I want you,’ he murmured, his hand stroking her backside. ‘Let’s stop playing games.’
‘I’m not the one playing games. You are.’
He stared at her. ‘How do you figure that?’ His breathing was a little harsh, his voice huskier than before. The knowledge gave her a much needed burst of power.
Maybe she couldn’t throw his confidence, his arrogance, his conviction that he would soon have her again back in his face. After all, her erect nipples were practically boring a hole in his chest, her sex was so swollen and ready for him she had to clamp her thighs tight to stop her knees from giving way. And the heady masculine scent of him was making her head spin. But she could at least get things back on an even footing.
‘I’m not prepared to jump every time you click your fingers, Zack. I want some ground rules.’
‘What rules?’ he asked, incredulous, his eyes skimming down her figure. He didn’t sound quite so calm and in control any more. It was music to Kate’s ears.
‘Rule Number One,’ she announced, easing his arms down. ‘Just because Zack is the boss in the boardroom, does not mean he’s the boss in the bedroom.’
He let her go. ‘You ought to know by now, I don’t play by anyone’s rules but my own.’ He cursed softly and raked his fingers through his hair. ‘But I guess I can give you some more time to figure that out.’
She wanted to argue with him, to take offence at his dictatorial manner, his cast-iron confidence, but not a single word would come out of her mouth. Because she knew, if he’d pressed the point, they’d already be breaking all the rules. And her body wouldn’t be putting up an argument.
He left her standing at the rail and marched back into the cottage. He turned in the doorway and her eyes took in the impressive bulge in his trousers. ‘You’ve got a little while, Kate, to get used to the idea. But after that I intend to have you again. And by then, you won’t want to stop me.’
She stood dumbstruck as he walked off to the smaller bedroom, snagging his suitcase on the way. Now why did the audacious statement sound more like a promise than a threat?
CHAPTER TWELVE (#ulink_e751c94c-d40e-50a9-9896-6237b20fbef9)
‘TAKE OUT THE second clause here,’ Zack said, pointing at the document over Kate’s shoulder. ‘And rephrase the third paragraph according to the attorney’s instructions.’ The cotton of his shirt sleeve brushed against her cheek. ‘When that’s done, I’ll take another look.’
‘Yes, boss,’ Kate murmured without thinking, all too aware of the sudden drop in temperature as he straightened away from her.
‘And no cheeky remarks,’ he said, walking around the terrace table to sit in the chair opposite Kate’s.
‘No, boss,’ she said, a flirtatious smile lifting her lips.
He pulled his glasses down, eyed her over the top of the horn-rimmed frames. ‘Watch it,’ he said, his voice lowered in warning. ‘I might think you want to play.’
She bit back the provocative reply that wanted to burst out and ducked her head to start typing in earnest.
She had to stop goading him. But how could she when he was driving her insane?
Maybe it was the sleepless night she’d had, unable to get comfortable on the huge, empty four-poster bed, or the fact that he’d been ordering her about for the last twenty-four hours.
Problem was, every time he gave her another order, the promise he’d made yesterday afternoon kept running through her head. That he didn’t have the slightest qualm about touching her, leaning over her, and generally getting into her personal space every chance he got, wasn’t helping much either.
Much more frustrating, though, was the fact that he seemed a lot better at playing this waiting game than she was. He hadn’t talked once about their personal relationship since yesterday’s ultimatum. Last night he’d wished her a pleasant evening and walked off to his bedroom alone without a backward glance.
When they’d gone to dinner earlier in the evening at the hotel’s restaurant, he’d watched intently as she’d licked lobster butter off her fingers, but had kept the conversation on his plans for moving his business to California. By the end of the evening, Kate had been hyperventilating. Finding six packets of condoms neatly stacked in the bathroom cabinet this morning had made things even worse. She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about them and him—and what he intended to do with them—all day long. And to top it all off, he kept wearing those damn glasses. All he had to do now was take them out of their case and twirl them in his fingers and she got aroused. It was mortifying.
The only thing keeping her from giving in to the sexual tension crackling in the air was pride. She didn’t want to lose this game of cat and mouse—with Zack in the role of tomcat and her in the role of obedient mouse.
He was toying with her, waiting for her to show a weakness and then he would pounce—and she didn’t want to be pounced on. Well, not quite yet anyway—not until he showed a weakness too. But she was beginning to think he didn’t have any. And the strain of holding back was making her crazy. Why else would she have this reckless urge to flirt with him again?
She clicked the laptop’s keys, forced herself to concentrate on the job at hand and ignore the liquid pull in her belly. At least she’d managed to keep abreast of all the work he’d set her as his PA. She’d typed so hard her fingers ached, made so many phone calls she was worried she might be going deaf in one ear, and had started reciting Zack’s business diary in her sleep. The job was challenging and exciting and she knew she’d impressed him with her efficiency. And he couldn’t possibly know how much sexual energy she was channelling into her job to keep from leaping into his lap.
Zack watched Kate’s fingers fly across her keyboard and admired the titanic effort she was making to get back on task. Good to know he wasn’t the only one performing at the top of their game thanks to a raging case of sexual frustration. His groin had ached like a sore tooth the night before when they’d got back from their meal. He’d spent most of the evening staring at her lips all shiny with melted butter. He’d taken his second cold shower of the day as soon as he’d wished her goodnight, only to step out of the cubicle and be assaulted by the smell of Kate’s rose-petal perfume. Had she sprayed it round the bathroom to drive him nuts? But still he’d stuck to his guns and resisted the urge to march straight into her bedroom.
She was damn well going to come to him this time.
He’d made his feelings clear. He knew she wanted him as much as he wanted her. As soon as she admitted it, they could stop kidding around. He hadn’t liked her accusation that he was being too pushy with her. He was never pushy with women. They could either take what he had to offer, or leave it. It was always their choice. With her the lines had gotten a little blurred. All right, maybe more than a little blurred. As soon as she came on to him the way he knew she wanted to, they’d be crystal-clear again. He tore his eyes away from her rattling away on the keyboard and looked out over the terrace rail.
The glorious spring weather and the comforting smell of pine resin and sea salt he remembered from his childhood lifted his spirits some more. It was good to be back. And despite the havoc Kate was causing to his libido, she’d also been lively company, a worthy adversary and a dynamo at work. He’d never had a better PA. All of which amounted to a great distraction when he needed it.
He’d expected the jolt when he saw Harold Westchester again, but he hadn’t quite bargained on having all those emotions he’d spent years burying deep being wrenched back to the surface. The games he’d been playing with Kate had done a great job of taking his mind off the ghosts of his past.
He started to scroll through the emails on his laptop while letting the feeling of anticipation wash over him. The last few days of torture were going to be worth it in the long run. In fact, now might be a good time to turn up the heat on Kate. After that flirtatious little smile a moment ago, he figured she was real close to throwing in her hand.
‘It’s finished,’ Kate said. ‘Do you want to take a look at it before I print it out?’
‘Sure,’ he said, levering himself out of his chair. He braced his hands on the desk on either side of her, his cheek almost touching her hair. God, she smelled good.
‘This looks great,’ he said, scanning the copy and savouring the spurt of satisfaction when she tensed. Nope, it wouldn’t be long now before she folded. ‘I can’t see Hal putting up any more resistance,’ he said, inhaling the scent of her hair and thinking the deal with Westchester wasn’t the only thing about to get settled.
‘Who’s Hal?’ she asked, turning to face him.
‘Hal Westchester, the old guy whose hotel we’re buying,’ he said absently. She was close enough for him to see the beguiling rim of purple round her irises.
‘I thought his name was Harold.’
‘Hal’s his nickname. That’s what I called him when—’ He stopped, clamped his mouth shut. What the hell was wrong with him? He’d nearly blurted out something he hadn’t spoken about in more than twenty years.
What had he been about to say? Kate had never seen him flustered before, but he’d paled beneath his tan. He pushed away from her, straightened. ‘Why don’t you email the—?’
‘I didn’t know you and Harold Westchester knew each other,’ she interrupted, intrigued. What had put that haunted look in his eyes?
‘It was a long time ago.’ His face went hard and expressionless.
She swivelled in her chair. ‘Why did you both pretend you’d never met?’
His shoulders tensed. ‘Hal wasn’t pretending.’ His eyes flicked away. ‘He doesn’t remember me.’
Apprehension churned in Kate’s gut. What was really going on here? Why couldn’t he look at her? Was that guilt she’d heard in his voice? Did he have some ulterior motive for buying Westchester’s resort? Kelly had said he was ruthless in business. But how ruthless?
‘Why didn’t you tell him you’ve met before?’ she asked.
It occurred to her in that moment that, although she’d spent one unforgettable night of passion with this man—developing a major sexual obsession for him in the process—and had travelled all the way to California with him, she knew next to nothing about him. Because she hadn’t asked. It was about time she stopped letting her hormones make all her decisions for her.
He turned back, studied her face. ‘Stop looking at me as if I just drowned a kitten,’ he said impatiently.
‘Well, stop avoiding the question, then,’ she replied.
His eyes narrowed and he sank his hands into his pockets. ‘I don’t have to explain myself to you.’
The curt statement hurt in a way Kate would never have expected. ‘I know that, but we have been lovers and…’ she hesitated, took a deep breath, knowing what she was about to say would end the game for good ‘…and we’re going to be lovers again.’
The flare of arousal turned his eyes a dark jade-green. Taking his hand from his pocket, he brushed a finger down her cheek. ‘Good to know you’ve finally accepted the inevitable.’
She pulled away from his touch. ‘What’s your history with Harold Westchester?’
He shoved his hand back into his pocket. ‘The connection between Hal and me is old news. It hasn’t got a damn thing to do with us.’
Kate acknowledged the hit. ‘Of course it does. I’m not about to jump into bed with a guy who might be doing something unethical.’
‘Unethical!’he shouted, genuinely outraged. ‘What the hell are you talking about? There’s nothing unethical about this deal. Westchester’s getting a good price for the resort, more than a good price. I would never cheat him, he means—’
He stopped abruptly, turned away. He gripped the terrace rail, his knuckles whitening. She wasn’t sure what she’d unearthed, but this was the first time she’d ever seen him lose that implacable cool. She wasn’t about to let it drop now.
He’d collected himself when he turned back. Crossing his legs at the ankle, he leant against the rail. She could see he was trying for casual indifference. ‘Look, Kate,’ he said. ‘It’s no big deal.’
‘If it’s no big deal, why are you scared to talk about it?’
He shot upright, casual biting the dust in a big way. ‘I’m not scared, damn it.’
‘Then tell me.’
‘All right. Fine.’He threw up his hands, frustration pumping off him. ‘When I was eight years old, my old man checked us in here, then split. He didn’t show up again for six months. That’s it.’
Kate didn’t know what she had been expecting, but whatever she’d been expecting it wasn’t the anger that blindsided her. ‘Are you saying your father abandoned you here?’
‘No, not exactly.’ He gave a harsh laugh. ‘Jean-Pierre wasn’t a bad guy. He just wasn’t cut out to be anyone’s father. He was a gambler. When he was on a roll, he forgot about everything else. It’s no big secret. Now can we drop it?’
Not on your life, thought Kate. She’d caught a glimpse of the man behind that super-confident mask. It both stunned and fascinated her. ‘Where was your mother?’ she asked quietly.
He sat down opposite her, sighed. ‘Do we have to talk about this?’
‘Yes, we do.’ More than he could possibly know.
He shrugged and looked out at the dusky light. The evening was closing in, scarlet clouds bleeding into the blue of the ocean on the horizon. The shadows on his face weren’t just from the dying day, Kate realised.
‘My mother died when I was a baby. I don’t remember her.’ He looked back at her. ‘It was me and my old man and it worked fine, most of the time.’
‘Most of the time?’ she said, hating the feckless reprobate. ‘Did he forget about you more than once, then?’
‘Never for more than a couple of days.’ He shrugged. ‘Until we landed here.’
‘But that’s appalling.’ How vulnerable and alone he must have been. A little boy abandoned by the one person who should have been looking after him. Was that why he fought so hard for control now, because he’d once had so little of it as a child?
‘JP signed us in under false names, then did his vanishing act. After he’d been gone five days, I panicked.’
‘What did you do?’
He gave her a crooked half-smile. ‘I tried to steal some money from the motel register. Hal caught me and figured out the truth.’ He sighed. ‘I freaked out, swore at him, kicked him in the shins, tried to run away. I was a real brat.’
‘You were frightened,’ Kate said gently.
‘Maybe,’he said casually, as if his feelings hadn’t been important. ‘I thought they’d turn me over to the cops. But they didn’t. They took me in.’Astonishment tinged his voice. ‘Hal’s sitting room still looks exactly the same as it did back then.’
No wonder he’d been so tense when they’d walked into Harold Westchester’s parlour.
‘What happened when your father returned?’
He leaned his forehead on his open palm, ran his hand down his face. It seemed this memory was the hardest. ‘It wasn’t pretty,’ was all he said.
‘You should tell Hal who you are.’
He stiffened. ‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because I don’t want to,’ he said with a vehemence that shocked her. ‘I’m not that miserable brat any more. I left him behind years ago.’
She wanted to ask him why he hated that desperate child so much. From the closed look on his face, though, she knew he wouldn’t answer the question. She decided to approach the problem from a different angle. ‘Why did you want to buy The Grange so much, then?’
‘Honestly? I don’t have a clue. I decided a while back to sell up in Vegas. But I don’t know why I chose this place.’ He pushed his chair back, got up. ‘It was just some dumb impulse I couldn’t stop.’ He paced over to the rail, leaned against it, his body stiff with tension. ‘When Monty started the negotiations, I got him to check out what Hal knew. I didn’t want Hal connecting me with that kid.’
‘I can’t believe Hal would forget you so easily.’
‘Hal and Mary never knew my real name.’
‘You mean you never told them, all the time you were living with them?’
‘No, I never did.’ He paused, as if debating whether to tell her more. Was this where the guilt had come from? ‘They thought my name was Billy Jensen. At first I didn’t tell them my real name because I thought it’d be safer, but then…’ He sighed. ‘I don’t know. It was like I’d become a different person.’
‘You were a scared little boy,’ Kate said gently. ‘Believe me, Hal’s not going to hold it against you if he’s the man you described to me.’
‘How can you know that?’ His voice broke on the words, and she realised that inside the tough, commanding man there was still a tiny part of that abandoned child—who didn’t think he was worth the trouble to love.
She crossed to him, laid her hands against his chest, felt the hard pulse of his heart. Her own heart squeezed in response. ‘You have to tell him who you are,’ she whispered. ‘You have to tell him the real reason you’re buying The Grange.’
‘What do you mean, the real reason?’
‘You want a home,’ she said simply. ‘And this is the only one you’ve ever had.’
Zack was dumbfounded. It was as if she’d reached into his soul and pulled something out he didn’t even know was there. A secret yearning he’d never once admitted to anyone, not even himself. He turned away from her, stared out to sea, the conflicting feelings of guilt and remorse and longing making his stomach pitch like the surf below.
Her hand rested on his back, smoothed over his spine. ‘Hal’s the real reason you came back.’
He bent his head, his fingers clenching on the warm solid wooden railing. The earth had just shifted beneath his feet. It made him feel exposed and needy, the way he’d felt as a kid. The way he’d sworn he’d never feel again.
He swung round and her hand fell away. ‘You’re wrong. I don’t need a home and I don’t need Hal Westchester.’
