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She needed to be able to breathe. To think. And she couldn’t do it when he was around.
That realization alone reinforced her crazy, spur-of-the-moment decision to move on with her life, and away from Roasted.
The idea made her slightly sick and more than a little bit sad. Roasted had been her life since Zack had hired her on. The day-to-day of it, the constant push to invent more and more goodies, to push the flavor profiles, to push her creativity … there would never be anything else like it.
But she needed to stand on her own feet. To move on with life. She’d gone from her parents to Zack, and while she didn’t feel familial about Zack in any way, he represented comfort and safety. And other stuff that wasn’t comforting or safe. But being with him, like she was, wasn’t pushing her to move forward.
So she was pushing herself. It was uncomfortable, but that was the way it worked. She hoped it would work.
He opened the door to the town car for her and she slid inside, and he came in just behind her. “So, do you and your boyfriends have fights?”
He must know she never had boyfriends. The odd disastrous date that never went past the front door. Emphasis on the odd, since half the men picked her up while she happened to be in the flagship store. And, in her experience, men who picked you up at ten in the morning in coffeehouses were a bit strange.
“How many long-term relationships have I had, Zack?”
“Well, Pete was around a lot until he moved for work.”
“Pete? He was a friend from high school. And I was not his type, if you catch my drift.”
“You weren’t blonde?”
“Or male.”
“Oh.”
“Point being, I haven’t done a lot of long-term.” Any, but whatever. “And if I’m ever going to … move on, go into that phase of life then I need to be less consumed with work.”
A muscled in his jaw ticked. “But you won’t make this kind of money running your own bakery.”
“I know. But I have a decent amount of money. How much do I need? How much do you need?”
There was a pause. Zack’s hand curled into a fist on the leather seat, then relaxed. “More. Just … a bit more.”
“And then you’re never done.”
“But if not for that then what am I working for?”
She swallowed. “A good question. Good and scary. Though I suppose adding a wife will add … something. When you find a new prospect, that is. Did Hannah have an equally efficient and driven sister, by chance?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
She snapped her fingers. “Darn.”
“Don’t lose sleep over it.”
“I won’t be sleeping tonight, anyway. Because you didn’t wake me up on the plane.” She couldn’t resist the jab.
“Because you sleep like a rock and snore like a walrus.”
“Might be why my relationships aren’t long-term,” she said drily. Not that any man had ever heard her snore but she was so not admitting to that.
“I doubt that.”
“Do you?”
His eyes locked with hers and something changed in the air. It seemed to crackle. Like a spark on dry leaves. It was strange. It was breathtaking, and electrifying, and she never wanted it to end.
“Why?” she asked, pressing. Desperate to hear more. A little bit afraid of hearing more, too.
“Because a little bit of snoring wouldn’t deter a man who’d had the pleasure of sharing your bed.”
She sucked in a sharp breath and looked out the window, and into the inky-black jungle. She felt dizzy. She felt … hot.
“Well, thanks,” she said.
He chuckled, low and rich like the best chocolate ganache. Just as bad for her to indulge in as the naughty treat, too. “You seem uncomfortable with the compliment.”
“You and I don’t talk about things like that.”
“Only because it hadn’t come up.”
“Do you snore?” she asked.
“Not that I’m aware of.”
“Then your lack of long-term relationships doesn’t really make sense at all.”
He arched one dark brow. “Was that a compliment?”
“More a commentary on the transient nature of your love life.”
“I’m wounded.”
She winced. “Well, maybe in light of all that happened today it wasn’t the best thing to say.”
“You’ve never pulled punches before, don’t start now.”
“I don’t know any other way to be.”
“Now that may account for your own short-term relationships.”
She whipped around to face him and her heart stalled. He was looking at her like she was a particularly interesting treat. One he might like to taste.
The car stopped and she nearly breathed a prayer of thanks out loud. She needed distance. She needed it desperately.
“Well,” Zack said, opening the door. “Time to go and have a look at our honeymoon suite.”
CHAPTER FOUR (#ufa22a093-1b61-546b-916a-4447fc20ce0e)
THE honeymoon villa was the epitome of romance. The anterior wall of the courtyard was surrounded by dense, green trees, clinging vines and flowers covering most of the stone wall, adding color, a sense that nature ruled here, not man. There was a keypad on the gate and Zack entered a code in; a reminder that the man very much had his fingerprints all over the property.
“Nice,” she said, as the gates swung open and revealed an open courtyard area. The villa itself was white and clean. Intricate spires, carved from wood and capped in gold, adorned the roof of the house, rising up to meet the thick canopy of teak trees.
“Mr. Amudee had planned on giving Hannah and I a few days of wedded bliss prior to meeting with me, so he made sure I had the code, and that everything in the home would be stocked and ready.”
Clara tried not to think about Zack and Hannah, using the love nest for its intended purpose. More than that, she tried not to think of her and Zack using it for its intended purpose.
She really did try. There was no point in allowing those fantasies. Those fantasies had led to nothing more than dateless Friday nights and lack of sleep.
“Well, that was … thoughtful of him.”
“It was. I believe he has some activities planned for us, too.”
Oh, great. She was going to be trapped in happy-couple-honeymoon-activity hell.
She followed Zack through the vast courtyard and to the wide, ornately carved double doors at the front of the villa. She touched one of the flower blossoms etched into the hard surface. “These are gorgeous. I wonder if I could mimic the design with frosting.”
“I will happily be a part of that experiment.” He pushed open the doors and stood, waiting for her to go in before him.
“You do seem to hang around a lot more when I’m practicing my baking skills.”
“I don’t know how.”
“I could teach you,” she said. “Maybe sometimes after I can teach you how to use a food processor.”
“I think I’ll pass. Anyway, I’m a bachelor. Have pity on me. I wasn’t supposed to be a bachelor after today, but I am, and now I still need my best friend to cook for me.”
“And probably do your laundry.”
“I wouldn’t mind.”
Basically he wanted her to be his wife with none of the perks. She nearly said so, but that would sound too much like she wanted the perks, and even if a part of her did, she’d rather parade naked through the Castro District than confess it.
“I’m not doing your laundry.”
Zack closed the door behind them and a shock of awareness hit her, low and strong in her stomach. She felt so very alone with Zack all of a sudden that she could hardly breathe. And it wasn’t as though she’d never been alone with him. She had been. Hundreds of times. Late nights in the office, at her apartment cooking, at his luxury penthouse watching a movie.
But this wasn’t San Francisco. It wasn’t their offices; it wasn’t one of their apartments. It felt like another world entirely and that was … dangerous.
She looked up at the tall, peaked ceilings, at the intricately carved vines and flowers that cascaded from wooden rafters. Swaths of fabric were the only dividers between rooms, gauzy and sexy, providing the illusion of privacy without actually giving any at all.
And in the middle of it all was Zack. He filled the space, not just with his breadth and height, but with his presence. With the unique scent that was so utterly Zack mingling with the heavy perfume of plumeria. Familiar and exotic all at once.
This was like one of her late-night fantasies. Like a scene she’d only ever allowed herself to indulge in when she was shrouded in the darkness of her room. And now, those fantasies were coming back to bite her.
Because they were mingling with reality. This was real. And in reality, Zack didn’t want her like she wanted him. But in her fantasies he did. There, he touched her like a lover, his eyes locked with hers, his lips.
She needed her head checked.
“I have a housekeeper, anyway. I was teasing,” he said.
“I know.” She hoped she didn’t look as flushed as she felt.
“I don’t think you did. I think you were about to bite my head off.” He looked … amused. Damn him.
“Is there food?”
His lips curved into a half smile. “I can check.”
He wandered out of the main living area, in search of the kitchen, she imagined, and she took the opportunity to breathe in air that didn’t smell of Zack. Air that didn’t make her stomach twist.
She walked the opposite direction of Zack, through one of the fabric-covered doorways and stopped. It was the bedroom. The bed was up on a raised platform, a duvet in deep red spread over it. Cream colored fabric with delicate gold vines woven throughout hung from the ceiling, shielding the bed. It was obvious that it wasn’t a bed made for one, or for sleeping.
She swallowed heavily, her eyes glued to the center of the room.
She heard footsteps behind her and turned. “I found food.”
“Good,” she said, trying to ignore the fast-paced beating of her heart. Zack and the bed in one room was enough to make her feel like her head might explode. “There is. I mean, this isn’t the only bedroom is it?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Oh,” she said.
“I set dinner out on the balcony, if you want to join me.”
“Don’t you want to go to bed?” she asked, then immediately regretted the way the words had come out. Heat flooded her face, and she was certain there was a very blatant blush staining her cheeks. “I mean … well, you know what I mean. That wasn’t. I meant you. By yourself. Because I slept and I know you didn’t.”
“At least let me buy you dinner first, Clara,” he said, his mouth curved in amusement, his eyes glittering with the same heat she’d noticed earlier. It made her uncomfortable. And jittery. And a little bit excited.
She laughed, a kind of nervous, fake sound. “Of course.”
Zack ignored the jolt of arousal that shot through his veins. For a moment at least, he and Clara had both been thinking the same thing. And it had involved that bed. That bed that was far too tempting, even for a man who prided himself on having absolute control at all times.
Things with Clara had always been easy. No, he’d never been blind to her beauty, but their relationship had never been marked by moments of heavy sexual tension. Not until today.
And knowing that, even for a moment, she’d shared in the temptation, well, that made it all worse. Or better. No, definitely worse, because in his life, he valued boundaries. Everything and everyone had a place and a purpose. Clara had a place. It was not in his bed.
Or this bed.
It was important that his life stay focused like that. Controlled. That nothing crossed over. He’d been rigid in that, uncompromising, for the past fourteen years.
“This way, beautiful,” he said, clenching his hand into a fist to keep from putting it on Clara’s lower back. He would have done it before. But suddenly it seemed like far too risky of a maneuver.
Clara shot him a look that was pure Clara, his friend, and it made the knot in his chest ease slightly. Though it didn’t do much for the heat coursing through his veins.
He was questioning why he’d thought bringing her was a good idea. And he never questioned his decisions. Not anymore. Because he thought everything through before he acted. Not thinking, letting anything go before reason, was a recipe for disaster.
And bringing Clara had been the logical choice. At least until thirty seconds ago.
