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He moved in front of her, under the guise of leading her to the deck, but really just so he wouldn’t let himself look at her butt while she walked. Occasionally he allowed himself the indulgence of looking at her curves. Harmless enough. He was human, a man, and she was a beautiful woman. But it seemed less harmless after a moment like that.
“This is really nice,” she said when they were outside.
Her words were true, banal and safe. He’d set the table and turned on the string of lanterns that were hung above the table. A moderate effort, but he had wanted it to be nice. Now it felt strangely intimate.
He couldn’t remember the last time a dinner date had seemed intimate. He couldn’t even remember the last time that word had seemed applicable to something in his life. Very often, sex didn’t even seem all that intimate to him.
Of course, it had been so long since he’d had sex maybe that wasn’t true. That was likely half of his problem now.
Clara wandered to the railing and leaned over the edge, tossing her glossy copper curls over her shoulder and sniffing the air. Or maybe the sex wasn’t the problem. Because being alone with Hannah hadn’t made him feel this way. And there were days when the scent of Clara’s perfume hitting him when she walked past made his stomach tighten.
But he ignored that. He was good at ignoring it.
“What are you doing?”
“It smells amazing out here. Like when you bake bread and the air is heavy with it. Only it’s flowers instead of flour.” She turned to him and smiled, the familiar glitter back in her eyes.
The knot inside him eased even more.
“I would never have thought of it that way.” He pulled her chair out and nodded toward it and she walked over to the table and took her seat.
He sat across from her, ladling reheated Tom Yum Ka into her bowl and then into his. She smiled at him, the slight dimple in her rounded cheeks deepening as she did.
Things seemed to have stabilized, even if her sweet grin did have an impact on his stomach.
“So, tell me more about this deal with Mr. Amudee.”
He put his forearm on the table and leaned forward. “I think we covered most of it. Although, another reason it’s nice to have you here is your palate. I’d like you to taste the different roasts and come up with pairings for them. It would be particularly nice to have in our boutique locations.”
“Pairings!” Her eyes glittered. “I love it.”
“Good coffee or tea really is just as complex as good wine. There are just as many flavor variations.”
“I know, Zack,” she said.
“Of course you do. You appreciate good coffee. It’s one reason we get along so well.”
Clara took another bite of her soup and let the ginger sit on her tongue, enjoying the zip of spice that hurt just enough to take her mind off the weird reaction she was having to Zack. Yes, being attracted to him was nothing new.
But this was different. The attraction she felt at home was like a sleeper agent. It attacked her when she least expected it. In dreams. When she was looking at other men and contemplating accepting a date. It wasn’t usually this shaky, limb-weakening thing that made her feel tongue-tied and exposed in his presence. Maybe it was the feeling of utter seclusion. Or maybe it was because she knew just what that big bed was here for, what he’d been planning on doing with it.
“That and I bake you cupcakes,” she said, swallowing the tart and spicy soup.
“There is that.” Zack looked toward the railing of the deck, off into trees, the look in his eyes distant, cold suddenly. “Tell me about your bakery.”
“The one I hope to have?”
“Yes. And the life you’re going to put with it.”
Her chest constricted. “It will be small. I’ll have regular menu items and daily specials. I’ll have more time to make fancy little treats with a lot of decorations. I’ll have a hand in everything instead of just conceptualizing and farming the instructions out to hordes of employees.”
“And that’s important to you?”
“It’s how we started. Me in the flagship store, you going back and forth between your—What did you have when I met you? Fifteen stores up and down the West Coast? It was fun.”
“Yes, but now we have money.”
She nodded. “We do. And it’s great. You’ve done this incredible thing, Zack. The growth has been … amazing. Way beyond what I imagined.”
“Not beyond what I imagined.”
“No?”
He shook his head. “It was always the plan. Planning is key. It’s when you don’t plan, when you drift, that’s when things are a surprise. Good or bad.”
“You didn’t plan for Hannah to opt out of the wedding.”
“I didn’t plan for you to leave Roasted, either. Sometimes other people come in and mess with your plans,” he said, his dark eyebrows locked together.
“This doesn’t mean I won’t see you anymore,” she said. Though she probably shouldn’t. But the thought of that made her chest feel like there was a hole in it. Still, she’d baked the man’s wedding cake. She was such a pushover, such a hopeless case, it was obscene. It had to end.
She didn’t want it to. But if she didn’t see him at work every day … it would be a start.
“I know you’ll still see me,” he said, his mouth curving. “You’d have withdrawals otherwise.”
If only that weren’t true. “Right. Can’t live without you, Zack.” She felt her throat get tight. Stupid. So stupid. But Zack really did mean the world to her, and she had a very strong suspicion that her statement was nothing but the truth. He had offered her support when no one else in her life had. He still did.
She regretted saying she wanted to leave Roasted. Regretted it with everything in her. But she couldn’t change her mind. The reasoning behind the decision was still sound. And she really would still see him. He just wouldn’t fill up her whole world anymore. She couldn’t let feelings for him, feelings that would never be returned, hold her back for the rest of her life.
Zack’s arm twitched and he reached into his pocket. “Phone vibrated,” he said. He pulled out his smart phone and unlocked the screen, a strange expression on his face. “Hannah texted me.”
“Really?”
“She’s really sorry about the wedding.”
“Oh, good,” Clara snorted. The weird jealousy and protectiveness were back together again. She was still righteously angry at Hannah for what she’d done, even while she was relieved.
“She met someone else.”
“What?”
“Yes.” He looked up, his expression neutral. “She’s in love apparently.”
“And she’s texting this to you?”
He shrugged. “It fits our relationship.”
“No, it doesn’t. Love or not, you still had a relationship.”
“We weren’t sleeping together.”
Clara felt her stomach free fall down into her toes. “What?” That didn’t even make sense. Hannah was a goddess. A sex bomb that had been detonated in the middle of her life, making her feel inadequate and inexperienced.
And he hadn’t slept with her? She’d assumed—imagined even, in sadly graphic detail—that half of the meetings in his office had been rousing desk-sex sessions. And … they hadn’t been? So much angst. So much stomach curling angst exerted over … nothing, it turned out.
“Why?” she asked, her voice several notches higher than usual.
“Hannah’s kind of traditional. Because we weren’t in love … well, she needed love or marriage. We were going to have marriage.”
“Hmm. Well, then maybe texting is appropriate. I don’t understand how you were going to marry this woman.”
“Marriage is a business agreement, like anything else, Clara. You decide if you can fulfill the obligations and if they’ll be advantageous to you. Then you sign or you don’t.”
“Cynical.”
“True.”
“Then why bother to get married? I don’t understand.”
He shrugged. “Because it’s the thing to do. Marriage offers stability, companionship. It’s logical.”
“Good grief, Spock. Logical. That’s not why people get married.” She snorted again. “Did your parents have a horrible divorce or something?”
Zack shook his head. “No.”
“You never talk about your family.”
He looked down at his soup. “Not on accident.”
“Well, I figured. That’s why I never ask.”
“This isn’t never asking.”
She looked at him, at the side of his head. He wouldn’t look at her. “We’ve known each other for seven years, Zack.”
“And I’m sure I don’t know everything about you, either. But I know what counts. I know that you lick the mixer. Even if it’s got batter with raw eggs on it.”
She laughed. “Tell anyone that and I’ll ruin you.”
“I have no doubt. I also know that you like stupid comedies.”
“And I know that you put on football games and never end up watching them. You’re just in it for the snacks.”
He smiled, his gray eyes meeting hers. “See? You know the real truth.”
Except there was something in the way he said it, a strange undertone, that told her she didn’t. She wasn’t sure how she’d missed it before. But she had. Now it seemed blatant, obvious. Zack had a way of presenting such a calm, easy front. In business, she knew it was to disarm, that no matter how easygoing he appeared, he was the man in charge. No question.
Now she wondered how much of the easy act in his personal life was just that. An act.
His eyes lingered on her face for a moment, and she suddenly became acutely conscious of her lips. And how dry they were. She stuck out the tip of her tongue and moistened them, the action taking an undertone she hadn’t intended when she’d begun.
This week was going to kill her. Eventually the tension would get too heavy and she would be crushed beneath the weight of it. There was no possible way she could endure any more.
“I’m really tired,” she said, the lie so blatant and obvious it was embarrassing.
To Zack’s credit, he didn’t call her on it. “The inner sanctum is all yours. I’ll make do with the couch.”
She wasn’t going to feel bad about that for a second. “All right, I’ll see you in the morning.”
Maybe by morning some of the surrealism of the whole day would have worn off. Maybe by morning she wouldn’t feel choked by the attraction she felt to Zack.
Maybe, but not likely.
CHAPTER FIVE (#ufa22a093-1b61-546b-916a-4447fc20ce0e)
“MR. Amudee has extended an invitation for you and me to have a private tour of the forest land.”
Zack strode into the kitchen area and Clara sucked coffee down into her lungs. He was wearing jeans, only jeans, low on his lean hips, his chest bare and muscular and far too tempting. She could lean right in and.
“Coffee for me?” he asked.
“Oh, yes. Sure.” She picked up the carafe and poured some coffee into a bright blue mug. “It’s the shade-grown Chiang Mai Morning Blend. Really good. Strong but bright, a bit of citrus.”
“I love it when you talk coffee to me,” he said, lifting the mug to his lips, a wicked grin curving his mouth.
There was something borderline domestic about the scene. Although, nothing truly domestic could have such a dangerous, arousing edge to it, she was certain. And Zack, shirtless, had all of those things.
“All right, tell me about the tour,” she said, looking very hard into her coffee mug.
“Very romantic. For the newly engaged.”
Her stomach tightened. “Great.”
“I hope you brought a swimsuit.”
Oh, good. Zack in a swimsuit. With her in a swimsuit. That was going to help things get back on comfortable footing. She looked at Zack, at the easy expression on his handsome face. The ridiculous thing was, the footing was perfectly comfortable for him. Her little hell of sexual frustration was one hundred percent private. All her own. Zack wasn’t remotely ruffled.
Typical.
“Yes, I brought a swimsuit.”
“Good. I’ll meet you back here in twenty minutes.”
“Right.” Unfortunately it would take longer than twenty minutes to plot an escape. So that meant Zack and swimsuits.
She tried to ignore the small, eternally optimistic part of her that whispered it might be a good thing.
Clara tugged at her brilliant pink sarong and made sure the knot was secure at her breasts before stepping out into the courtyard, where Zack was standing already.
