Читать книгу One Night Of Consequences Collection - Ким Лоренс, Annie West - Страница 15

“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.

“Ready. What’s the deal? Give.”

“You have to wait and see,” he said, moving behind her, placing his hand low on her back as he led her to the gate and out onto a narrow path that wound through a thick canopy of trees and opened on an expansive green lawn.

“Are you kidding me?” she asked, stopping, her eyes widening.

There were two elephants in the field, one equipped with a harness that had small, cushioned seats on top. He was large enough he looked like he could comfortably seat at least four.

“Elephant rides are a big tourist draw in Chiang Mai,” Zack said, the corner of his mouth lifting. “And I’ve never done it before, so I thought I would take advantage of the offer.”

“First time for you?” she asked. She’d intended it as a joke, but it hit a bit to close to that sexual undercurrent they’d been dealing with since they left San Francisco.

A slow smile spread across his face. “Just for the elephant ride.”

“Right. Got it.” She was sure she was turning pink.

“You?”

She just about choked. “The elephant?”

“What else would I have been asking about?”

Her virginity. Except, no he wouldn’t have been asking about that. It wasn’t like she had a neon sign on her forehead that blinked red and said Virgin on it. Unless she did. Maybe he could tell.

She really hoped he couldn’t tell.

“Yes, first time on an elephant,” she said drily, aiming for cool humor. She wasn’t sure she made her mark, but it was a valiant effort.

“Mr. Parsons.” There was a man in white linen pants and a loose white shirt approaching them, his hand raised in greeting. “Ms. Davis, I believe,” he said, stopping in front of her, his dark eyes glittering with warmth.

“Yes,” Clara said, extending her hand. He bent his head and dropped a kiss on it, smiling, the skin around his eyes wrinkling with the motion.

“Isra Amudee. Pleasure.” He straightened and shook Zack’s hand. “Very glad you could make it. Especially after what happened.”

Zack put his arm around Clara’s waist and Clara tried to ignore the jolt of heat that raced through her. “Really, it didn’t take me long to discover it wasn’t a problem. Clara … well, I’ve known her for a long time. I don’t really know how I missed what was right in front of me.”

Mr. Amudee’s smile widened. “A new wedding in your future, then?”

Zack stiffened. “Naturally. Actually I’ve already asked.”

“And she’s accepted?” Amudee looked at her and Clara felt her stomach bottom out.

Zack tightened his hold on her. “Yes,” she said, her throat sandpaper dry. “Of course.”

“And you, I bet, will have the good sense to show up. Now, I’ll leave you to the elephants. I have to go and take a walk around the grounds. But I’ll see you later on.”

Clara watched Amudee walk away and tried to ignore the buzzing in her head as the man who was with the elephants introduced himself in English as Joe. He explained how the ride would work, that the elephant knew the route through the forrest and up to a waterfall, and she wouldn’t deviate from that.

“They’re trained. Very well. Safe. You’ll be riding Anong.” Joe indicated the elephant who was harnessed up. “And I’ll follow on Mali. Just as a precaution.”

He tapped Anong on her back leg and she bent low, making it easy for them to climb up onto the seat. Zack went first, then leaned forward and extended his hand, helping her up onto the bench.

“Seat belts,” he said, raising one eyebrow as he fastened the long leather strap over both of their laps.

“Comforting,” she said, a tingle of nerves and excitement running through her.

“Ready?” their guide called to them.

“I have no idea,” she whispered to Zack.

“Ready,” Zack said.

The elephant rose up, the sharp pitch forward and to the left a shock. She lurched to the side and took hold of Zack’s arm while Anong finished getting to her feet, each movement throwing them in a different direction.

“I think I’m good now,” she whispered, her fingers still wrapped, clawlike around Zack’s arm.

“Just relax, he said this is a path she takes all the time. New for us, but not new for her.”

She didn’t actually want to know the answer to the question, but she asked it anyway. “Accustomed to calming the nerves of the inexperienced?”

“No. I don’t mess around with women who need comforting in the bedroom. That’s not what I’m there for.”

She felt a heavy blush spread over her cheeks. “I guess not.”

She was alternately relieved and disappointed by that bit of news. Relieved, because she didn’t really like to think of her friend as some crass seducer of innocents, and she really couldn’t picture him in that role, anyway.

If he was the big bad wolf, it would be because the woman he was with wanted to play Little Red Riding Hood.

But it was disappointing, too, because that pushed her even farther outside the box that Zack’s “ideal woman” resided in.

Ideal bedmate.

Sure, maybe it was more that than any sort of romantic ideal, but she would like to just fit the requirements for that. Well, really, being the woman he was sleeping with was very far away from what she actually wanted, but it would be a start.

A wonderful, sexual, amazing start.

She jerked her thoughts back to the present, not hard to do with the pitch-and-roll gait of the elephant rivaling a storm-tossed boat. It was a smooth, fluid sort of motion, but it was a very big motion, to match the size of the animal.

It also wasn’t hard to do when she remembered that, as far as their host was concerned, she and Zack were now engaged.

“A tangled web, isn’t it, Parsons?” she asked.

“What was I supposed to say?” he countered. “Ah, no, this is just my best friend that I brought along for a roll in the hay.”

“The truth might have worked. He seems like a nice man.”

“Look, it’s done. I’m sure his assumption works even more in my favor, in favor of the deal, and that’s all that really matters, right? We know where we stand. It’s not like it changes anything between us.”

She felt like the air had been knocked out of her. “No. Of course not.”

They moved through the meadow and down into the trees, onto a well-worn path that took them along a slow-moving river, the banks covered in greenery, bright pink flowers glowing from the dark, lush foliage.

She tried to keep her focus on the view, but her mind kept wandering back to Zack, to his solid, steady heat, so close to her. It would be easy to just melt into him, to stop fighting so hard for a moment and give in to the need to touch him.

But she wouldn’t. She couldn’t. Nothing had changed between them, after all. His words.

There was a reason she’d never made any sort of attempt to change their relationship from friends to more-than-friends. The biggest one being that she didn’t want to jeopardize the most stable relationship she had, the one closest to it being unable to stomach the thought of being rejected by him.

Of having him confirm that everything her mother said about her was true. Of having her know, for certain, that a man really wouldn’t want her because she just wasn’t all that pretty. Her mother had made sure she’d known men would still sleep with her, because of course, men would sleep with anyone. But she wasn’t the sort of woman a man would want for a wife. Not the type of woman a man could be proud to take to events.

Not like her sister. Gorgeous, perfect Lucy who was, in all unfairness, smart and actually quite sweet along with being slender, blonde and generally elegant.

Lucy actually would have looked more like Hannah’s sister than like her sister.

A sobering thought, indeed.

She should make sure Zack never met her sister.

The sound of running water grew louder and they rounded a curve in the path and came into a clearing that curved around a still, jade pool. At least twenty fine steams were trickling down moss-covered rocks, meeting at the center and falling into the pool as one heavy rush of water.

Anong the elephant stopped at the edge of the pool, dropping slowly down to her knees, the ground rising up a bit faster than Clara would have like. She leaned into Zack, clinging to the sleeve of his T-shirt as Anong settled.

“All right?” he asked.

She looked at where her hand was, and slowly uncurled her fingers, releasing her hold on him. “Sorry,” she said.

He smiled, that simple expression enough to melt her insides. He was so sexy. Time and exposure, familiarity, didn’t change it. Didn’t lessen it.

Just another reason for her to leave Roasted. If exposure didn’t do it, distance might.

Zack moved away from her, dismounting their ride first and waited for her at the side of their living chariot, his hand outstretched. She leaned forward and took it, letting his muscles propel her gently to the ground. Her feet hit just in front of his, her breasts close to touching his chest, the heat from him enticing her, taunting her.

“Do you want me to wait for you?” their guide asked.

Zack shook his head. “We’ll walk back. Thank you for the ride. It was an experience.”

He nodded and whistled a signal to Anong, who rose slowly and turned, going back with her owner and friend. She watched them round the corner, a smile on her lips. Yesterday, she was at a beachside hotel in San Francisco, expecting to lose half of her heart as Zack married another woman.

Today she was with him on his honeymoon. Riding elephants.

“An experience,” Zack said, turning to face the water.

“It was fun,” she said.

“Not relaxing exactly.”

“No,” she said, laughing. “Not in the least.”

“Mr. Amudee informed me by phone this morning that this is a safe place to swim. Clean. They don’t let the elephants up here and the waterfall keeps it all moving.”

She made a face. “Good to know. I liked the elephants, don’t really want to share a swimming hole with them. It looks pristine,” she said, moving to the edge, looking down into the clear pool. She could see rocks covered in moss along the bottom, small fish darting around, only leaving the cover of their hiding places for a few moments before swimming behind something else. “Perfect.”

Zack tugged his black shirt over his head, leaving him in nothing more than a pair of very low-cut white board shorts that, when wet, she had no doubt would cling to some very interesting places.

Her mind was a filthy place lately. And the sad thing was, it was hard to regret. Because it was so enjoyable.

“Swimming?”

“No.” She shook her head and gripped her sarong.

“Why?”

“It looks cold.”

He put his hands on his lean hips and sighed, the motion making his ab muscles ripple in a very enticing fashion. “It’s so hot and muggy out here it could be snowmelt and it would feel good. And I guarantee you it’s not snowmelt.”

“It just looks … cold.” Lame. So lame. But she didn’t really want to strip down to her swimsuit in front of him, not when he looked so amazing in his. She was. There was too much of her for a start. She was so very conscious of that. Of the fact that she had hips and breasts, and that she could pinch fat on her stomach.

Zack’s girlfriends had hip bones and abs that were just as cut as his.

“Ridiculous.” He walked over to her and scooped her up in his arms, her heart climbing up into her throat as he did. His arms were tight and strong around her, masculine. Lifting her seemed effortless. His large hands cupped her thigh and her shoulder, his heat spreading through her like warm, sticky honey, thick and sweet.

She realized what was happening a little bit too late, because sexual attraction had short-circuited her brain. She put her hand flat on his chest, another bolt of awareness shocking her even as Zack took two big steps off the bank and down into the water.

The hot and cold burst through her, her body still warm from his touch on the inside, the water freezing her skin.

“Zack!”

He looked down at her, smiling. She sputtered and clung to his shoulders, his arms still wrapped tightly around her. His skin was slick now, so sexy, and it took everything in her arsenal of willpower to keep from sliding her palms down from their perch on his shoulders and flattening them against his amazing, perfect pecs.

She wanted to. She wanted to press her lips to the hollow of his throat, lick the water drops that were clinging to his neck.

She wiggled against him and managed to extricate herself from his grasp. Fleeing temptation.

She walked up to the shallow part of the pool, her pink sarong limp and heavy now, clinging to her curves like a second skin. She untied it and looped it over a tree branch. There was no point in it now.

She felt exposed in her black one-piece. It was pretty modest by some suit standards, but anything that tight tended to make her feel a bit exposed.

“Well, that’s one way to get me in the water. Brute force,” she sniffed, walking back to the water and sinking into the depths quickly, desperate for the covering it would provide.

“Brute?” Zack swam to where she was, treading water, his eyes glinting with amusement.

“Uh … yeah. You took advantage of me.”

He paddled closer, his face a whisper from hers. “I didn’t take advantage of you. If I had, you’d have known it, that’s for sure.”

Strangely, with her body half submerged in water, her throat suddenly felt bone-dry. “I feel um … taken advantage … You … picked me up and threw me in and I’m … wet.”

His expression changed, his eyes darkening. “Interesting.”

“Oh, pffft.” She dunked her head, letting the cold water envelop her, pull the stinging heat from her cheeks. She paddled toward the waterfall, away from Zack. Away from certain mortification and temptation.

She surfaced again and looked back at Zack, still treading water where she’d left him.

Nice, Clara. Next time just tell him straight up that you’re hot for him and would like to jump him, if that’s all right with him.

She pulled a face for her own benefit and climbed up one of the mossy rocks that sat beneath the slow flowing falls, water trickling down, mist hovering above the surface of the cool, plant-covered stones.

She pulled her knees to her chest and looked up, squinting at the sunlight pouring through the thick canopy of trees.

“You’re like a jungle fairy.”

She looked down into the water and saw Zack, his hair wet and glistening.

“You’re startling me,” she said. More with his statement than with his presence, but she didn’t intend to elaborate.

He planted his palms flat on the rocks and hoisted himself up, the muscles in his shoulders rolling and shifting with the motion. He sat next to her, the heat from his body a welcome respite from the cold. But that was about all it was a respite from. Because mostly he just made her feel edgy.

And happy. He made her so happy that it hurt. Just being with him made everything seem right. Like a missing part of herself was finally in place. Like some of her insecurities and inadequacies didn’t matter so much.

And that was just stupid. Not to mention scary. Because it was an illusion. He would never be with her in the way she wanted, and watching him marry another woman, give someone else everything she longed for, that would turn her happiness into the bitterest pain.

The kind she wasn’t sure she could withstand.

“You’re beautiful,” he said.

She turned sharply to look at him, her heart in her throat. “What?”

“Just stating a fact.”

“It’s not one you typically state. About me, I mean.”

He put his hand out and brushed a water drop from her cheek with his thumb, the motion sending an electric shock through her body, heat pooling in her stomach and radiating from there to her limbs.

“Well, I thought it needed to be said.”

It was so tantalizingly close to what she wanted. But to him it was simply an empty compliment, or maybe he even meant it. But not in the way she would. He didn’t mean she was beautiful in the same way she found him beautiful. The way that made her body warm and her heart flutter.

“Thanks for that. You aren’t so bad, either.” She tried to sound casual. Light. Like a friend. Like she was supposed to sound.

He smiled and lifted his arm, curling his fist in, showing off his very, very impressive biceps.

“You’re shameless,” she said, somehow managing to laugh around her stubborn heart, still lodged firmly in her throat.

“Sorry.”

“About as sorry as you are for dumping me in the water?”

“Yeah. About.” He leaned in, his arm curving around her waist and everything slowed down for a moment. He tightened his hold on her, his face so close.

And then they were falling.

She shrieked just before they hit the water. And surfaced with a loud curse, unreasonable anger mingling with disappointment. “Zack! You jackass!”

She moved to him and planted her hands on his shoulders, attempting to dunk him beneath the water. He put his hands on her waist and held her still in front of him, her movements impotent against his strength.

“You can touch bottom here, can’t you?” she asked, her feet hovering above the sandy floor of the pool while Zack seemed firmly rooted.

“Maybe.”

His hands slipped down, resting on her hips, the heat from his touch cutting through the icy chill in the water. He kept one hand there, the other sliding around to her back, his fingers drifting upward, skimming the line of her spine.

She shivered, but she wasn’t cold. And he didn’t let go.

His eyes were locked with hers, the head there matching the heat he was spreading over her skin. Her hands were still on his shoulders. And since he’d just moved his hands, it seemed … somehow it seemed right to move hers.

Her heart thundered in her chest as she slid her hands down, palms skimming his chest hair, the firm muscles beneath, as she rested them against his chest. She could hardly breathe. Her chest, her stomach, every last muscle, was too tightly wound.

His fingers flexed, the blunt tips digging into her flesh. His hands were rough, strong, everything she’d ever imagined and so much more.

Zack loosened his hold, a muscle in his jaw jerking. She pulled away from him, the water freezing where his hands had been.

“We should go,” Zack said, his words abrupt.

“I … We haven’t been here very long.” She felt muddled, as though the mist from the waterfall had wrapped itself around her, making everything seem fuzzy.

And she was glad. Because she had a feeling that when the reality of what had just happened, of how stupid she’d been, hit, it was going to hit hard.

“Yes, but I have some things to take care of before tonight. We have dinner reservations at the restaurant down in the main part of the resort.”

He reversed direction and swam to shore, walking out of the pool, his muscular legs fighting against the water pressure, his swim trunks conforming to his body. A hard pang hit her in the stomach when she looked and saw the outline of his erection. Had she really gotten him hot? Was that about her?

He turned away from her and pulled his shirt on.

And was the arousal why they were leaving now?

So he felt something. Even if he was running from it. Something that was at least physical.

Her hart hammered, echoing in her head, making her temples pulse.

Maybe she did matter to him, like that, at least a little bit? Maybe. Yes, she knew men were excited by women but this had to be personal. It had to be about her, at least a little bit. Did he think she was sexy?

She followed him to shore, scrambling onto the sandy ground, her feet picking up grains of dirt, clinging to her toes. She shook her foot out, grateful to have something else to concentrate on for a moment.

She looked back up and saw Zack, his eyes on her, his jaw locked tight.

She swallowed hard and grabbed her sarong. “So we’re having dinner out tonight?”

“Yes,” he bit out. “I have to go and pick up a package down in town and then I’ll meet you back up at the villa. The car will be by around seven.”

“Okay.” She wished she could come up with something better than the bland, one-word answer, but she just couldn’t.

Something had changed. The air around them seemed tight, the way Zack looked at her new and strange. And for the first time, she felt power in her beauty, in her body.

And she wondered if maybe he could want her. If she could be the sort of woman he wanted.

Maybe tonight she would actually try.

It was criminal. The dress that Clara was wearing should be illegal. She certainly shouldn’t be allowed out in public. It was tight, like that black, second-skin swimsuit, accentuating curves that, until this afternoon, he hadn’t realized were quite so … lush.

Breasts that were round and perfect, firm looking. They would overflow in his hands. And her hips were incredible, nothing like the androgynous, straight up-and-down supermodels that were so in style. Not even like Hannah, whose image he was having trouble conjuring up.

Today, at the river, with her body pressed against his, wet and slick, soft and feminine, he’d had a reaction he really hadn’t counted on. He hadn’t counted on touching her like he had, either. Exploring the elegant line of her back. Holding her to him. It had been a big mistake.

Getting out of the water, in front of his best friend, sporting an erection inspired by her, hadn’t really been his idea of a good time.

He put his hand in his pocket, let his fingers close around the velvet box that was nestled there. The one that Hannah had had rush delivered to the resort. Because it was the right thing to do, or so she’d said. He hadn’t really cared whether he got the engagement ring back or not. But he could use it.

The thing with Amudee, his assumption, had been unexpected. But Zack was good at reading people and the older man’s delight at the thought had been so obvious, there had been no way he would disappoint him. Not with so much riding on things going well this week.

His other plans had all gone to hell. He wasn’t sending this one there with the rest of them.

“What exactly is that?” he asked. They were in the car, being driven up to the main area of the resort, and being closed in with her when she looked like that and smelled, well, she smelled sweet enough to taste, was a bit of torture.

“What?” she asked.

“What you’re wearing.”

Her cheeks colored. “A dress.”

“But do you … call it something?”

“A dress,” she said again, her voice low now, dangerous.

“It’s a nice dress.”

She looked straight ahead. “Thank you.”

The car stopped in front of an open, wooden building that had all the lights on despite the late hour. There were people sitting at a bar, musicians set down in the center of the seating area, and dancers out on the grass, candles balanced on their hands as they moved in time with the music.

He opened his door and Clara just sat, her posture stiff. “What?”

“Now I’m not sure if I should go back and change.”

“I don’t even want to understand women,” he said.

“Why?”

“You just changed into that dress, so clearly you thought it was a good choice, and now you want to change back?”

“Because there must be something wrong with what I’m wearing. Although, you didn’t seem to have a problem with my bathing suit, and it showed a lot more than this.” She put a hand on her stomach. “It’s too tight.”

His body hardened. “Trust me, it’s not. Every man in the bar is going to give himself whiplash when you walk by.”

She frowned. “Really?”

She looked … mystified. Doubtful.

“Did you not look at yourself in the mirror?” he asked, completely incredulous that she somehow didn’t see what he did. That she didn’t realize how appealing a dress that was basically a second skin was to a man. It showed every bit of her shape, while still concealing the details. Made him feel desperate to see everything, the tease nearly unbearable.

She looked away from him. “That’s the trouble, I did, and I chose to wear it anyway.”

“What makes you think it doesn’t look good?”

“You reacted … funny.”

“Because I’m not used to seeing so much of you. But what I can see is certainly good.”

“Really?”

He took a lock of her silky hair between his thumb and forefinger. A mistake. It was so soft. Like he imagined the rest of her would be. “Didn’t I tell you any man would put up with your snoring for the pleasure of having you sleep with him?”

His eyes dropped to her mouth and he felt an uncomfortable shock of sensation when, for the second time in the past hour, she stuck her pink tongue out and slicked it across her lips, leaving them looking glossy and oddly kissable.

Clara felt like there was someone sitting on her chest, keeping her from breathing. The knot of insecurity that had tied up her stomach was changing into something else, something dangerous. A strand of hope she had no business feeling. A kind of feminine pride that didn’t make sense.

Zack was a charmer. He could charm the white gloves off a spinster, and what he was saying to her was no different. Empty charm that had no real weight behind it. It was easy to say that some other man would like to share her bed. It didn’t mean he did. Or that anyone he even knew would.

All right, in reality, she knew how men were about sex. If she was willing to put out they wouldn’t care if she had a pinch of extra flesh around her middle, but that wasn’t really the issue. She didn’t want to be a second choice. Second best.

She was even second-guessing the physical reaction Zack had had to her down at the river. Because that could simply be a man overdue for sex. Nothing more. She’d made it personal because she’d been desperate for it. But in reality, he was supposed to be here, with his wife, having lots and lots of sex, and he wasn’t. But she doubted he’d forgotten.

She was tired of being in the shadow of someone else. Even tonight, she was the consolation prize for Zack. Rather than spending the night with Hannah, he was with her, watching traditional dancing instead of having hot, sweaty, wedding night sex. Ah, yes, all fine and good for him to say those things to her, but he wasn’t really backing it up.

She forced a smile. “You did. All right, let’s go … drink or something.”

He chuckled. “Sounds like a good idea to me.”

They both got out of the car and walked over to an alcove, shrouded in misty fabric, like everything in the whole resort property. It was designed for people to take advantage of the perceived privacy. It was an invitation to some sort of heady, fantastic sin. Traditional values her fanny.

She sat down on one of the cushions, positioned in front of a low table. Zack sat next to her, so close she could feel the heat radiating off his body.

“So what about my comment spawned the dress edition of twenty questions?” he asked.

“I don’t usually wear things that are this tight, so you … your reaction made me think it looked. You’ve met my mother, right?” She changed tactics.

“Yes.”

“She’s like a model. And my sister … well, she takes after my mom. I take after my dad.”

“Something wrong with that?”

“Well, I’m just not … not everything Lucy is. And my mother let me know that. Let me know that I was second best in nearly every way. She didn’t just get beauty, she had a perfect gradepoint average without even trying. I was just average. I liked school, but I didn’t excel at it. The only thing I’ve ever excelled at is baking, which in my mother’s estimation contributes to my weight issues.”

Zack swore and Clara jumped. “Weight issues? You don’t have weight issues.”

“I did. More than I do now, I mean. It was a whole … thing in high school. Remember, I mentioned the time my date stood me up?”

He nodded and she continued on, hating to dredge up the memory. “Asking me was a joke in the first place, not that I had any idea, of course. And I was supposed to meet him by the stage in the gym, which is where the dance was, and he walked up with his real date, and the guys doing the lights knew to put a spotlight on me right then. And I was all chubby and wrapped up in this silly, tight pink dress that was just so … shiny. That stays with you. Sometimes, for no reason, I still feel like the girl under the spotlight, with everyone looking at all my flaws.”

He swore sharply. “That’s bull. That’s … kids are stupid and that’s high school.” He swallowed. “It’s not real life. None of us stay the same as we were back then.” His words ended sounding rough, hard.

“Maybe not. Still, even though I’ve sort of … slimmed out as I’ve grown up, as far as my mom is concerned, since I’m not six feet tall and runway ready, I’m not perfect. I have her genes, too, after all,” she said, echoing a sentiment she’d heard so many times. “And that means I could be much thinner if I tried.”

“Let me tell you something about women’s bodies, Clara, and I know you are a woman, but I’m still going to claim the greater expertise. Men like women’s bodies, and there isn’t only one kind to like, that’s part of the fun. Beauty isn’t just one thing.”

She tried to ignore the warm, glowy feeling that was spreading through her. “I know that. I mean, part of me knows that. But it’s hard to let go of the second-best thing.”

“Better than feeling like you’re above everyone else,” he said slowly. “Like nothing can touch you because you’re just so damn perfect life wouldn’t dare.”

“I don’t know if Lucy feels that way, my mother might but.” She trailed off when she noticed the look on his face. There was something, just for a moment, etched there that was so cold, so utterly filled with despair that it reached inside her and twisted her heart.

“Zack …”

He shook his head. “Nothing, Clara. Just leave it.” The dancers had cleared the area out on the lawn and there were couples moving out into the lit circles, holding each other close, looking at each other with a kind of longing that made Clara ache with jealousy. “Care to dance before dinner is served?”

Yes and no. She felt a bit too fragile to be so close to him, and yet a part of her wanted it more than she wanted air. Just like in the water today, she’d wanted to run and cling at the same time. She was never sure which desire would win out.

He offered his hand and she took it, his fingers curling around hers, warm and masculine. He helped her up from her seat and drew her to him, his expression still strange, foreign more than familiar. He looked leaner, more dangerous. Which was strange, because even though Zack was her friend, she always felt an edge of danger around him, a little bit of unrest. Probably because she was so attracted to him that just looking at him made her shiver with longing.

“Just a warning,” he said, as they made their way out onto the grass. “People will probably stare. But that’s because you look good, amazing even. And you certainly aren’t second to any woman here.”

“Flatterer.”

“No, I’m not, and I think we both know that.”

“Okay, I suppose that’s true,” she said, kicking her shoes off and enjoying the feeling of the grass under her feet. Although, losing the little lift her shoes provided put her eyes level with Zack’s chest.

He pulled her to him, his hand on her waist. She fought the urge to melt into him, to rest her head on his chest. This wasn’t that kind of dance; theirs wasn’t that kind of relationship. That didn’t mean she didn’t want to pretend. It was easy, with the heat of his body so close to hers, to imagine that tonight might end differently. To imagine that he saw her as a woman.

Not just in the way that he’d referenced, that vague, sweet, but generic talk about women and their figures. But that he would desire her body specifically. She kept her eyes open, fixed on his throat. She knew him so well, that even looking there she knew just who she was with. And she didn’t want to shut that reality out by closing her eyes. She wanted to watch, relish.

For a moment reality seemed suspended. There wasn’t time, there wasn’t a fiancée, one more suited to Zack than she was, looming in the background. There was only her and Zack, the heat of the night air, the strains from the stringed instruments weaving around them, creating a sensual, exotic rhythm that she wanted to embrace completely.

She loved him so much.

That hit her hard in the chest. The final, concrete acknowledgment of what she’d probably always known. A moment that was completely lacking in denial for once. She loved Zack. With her entire heart, with everything in her. And she was in his arms now.

But not in the way she wanted to be. She breathed in deeply, smelling flowers, rain and Zack. Her lungs burned, her stomach aching. She wished it was real. So much that it hurt, down to her bones.

Maybe, just for a moment, she could pretend that it was real. That this was romance. That he held her because he wanted her. Because after this, after the fake engagement, after the ink was dry on the contracts, there would be no more chances to pretend.

She would go her way, and she would leave Zack behind. Why couldn’t she ignore it now? Just for now.

She didn’t want the song to end, wished the notes would linger in the air forever, an excuse to stay in his arms. But it ended. And that was why she shouldn’t have said yes to the dance in the first place. Playing games wouldn’t come close to giving her what she wanted with Zack. It just made her aware of how far she was from having what she really wanted.

He took her hand and pulled her away from the other dancing couples, and for one heart-stopping moment, she thought he might lean in and kiss her. His lips were close to hers, his breath hot, fanning across her cheek. Her body felt too tight, her skin too hot. She needed something. Needed him.

“I have something for you,” he said. “For tomorrow.”

“I like presents,” she said, trying to keep her voice from sounding too shaky. Too needy. Too honest. “It’s not a food processor, is it?”

He chuckled, a low, sexy sound that reverberated through her. “I told you, I’m keeping my food processor.”

She tried to breathe. “All right then, I can’t guess.”

He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. Everything slowed down for a moment, but unlike before, when the gauzy, frothy film of fantasy had covered it all, this was stark reality. She shook her head even before he opened it, but he didn’t seem to notice.

He popped the top on it and revealed a huge ring, glittering gold and diamonds. She sucked in a sharp breath. Such a perfect ring. Gorgeous. Extravagant. Familiar. The ring he’d given to Hannah. The exact same ring. The ring for the woman who was supposed to be here. The ring for the woman he should have danced with, the woman he would have kissed, made love to.

A well of pain, deep, unreasonable and no less intense for it, opened up in her, threatened to consume her. What a joke. A cheap trick. And the worst part was that she’d played it on herself. Letting herself pretend that he’d wanted her at the river, playing like he wanted her in his arms tonight.

Letting hope exist in her, along with the futile, ridiculous love she felt for him. Ridiculous, because for half a second, her breath had caught when she’d seen the ring, and she’d forgotten it was fake.

“No,” she said.

“Clara …”

“I don’t …” She was horrified to feel wetness on her cheeks, tears falling she hadn’t even realized were building. She backed away from him, hitting her shoulder against one of the bar area’s supporting pillars. But she didn’t stop. “I’m sorry.”

She wasn’t sorry. She was angry. She was hurt. Ravaged to her soul. Maybe it had been ignorant of her not to think all the way to the ring. To think that the farce wouldn’t include that. Of course it would. Zack didn’t cut corners and he didn’t forget details. So of course he wouldn’t forget something as essential to an engagement as a ring.

But it hurt. To see him, impossibly gorgeous and, in so many ways, everything she’d always dreamed of, offering her a ring, a ring he’d already given to another woman, as part of a lie, it killed something inside her.

Maybe it was just the fact that it pulled her deepest, most secret fantasy out of her and laid it bare. And made it into a joke. Designed to show her that there was no way he would ever consider her. Not with any real seriousness. That she was nothing more than a replacement for the woman he’d intended to have here with him.

That she was interchangeable.

She was hopeless. She needed a friend to tell her what a head case she was. To tell her to get over him. To take her out to pie and tell her she could do better, have better.

But Zack should have been that person. He was her best friend. He was the one she talked to. The one she confided in. And she couldn’t confide this, couldn’t tell him that he’d just shredded her heart. Couldn’t tell him she was hopelessly in love with a man she couldn’t have, because he was the man.

The crushing loneliness that thought brought on, the pain, was overwhelming.

Her stomach twisted. “I have to. I’m sorry.”

She turned away from him, walking quickly across the lawn, back to into the lobby area to find a car, an elephant, whatever would get her back to the villa the fastest.

She was running and she knew it. From him. From her hurt. And from the moment she knew would come, the one where she’d have to explain to him just why looking at the ring had made her cry.

It was an explanation she never wanted to give. Because the only man she could ever confide her pain in, was also the one man she could never tell. Because he was the man who’d caused it.