Читать книгу One Night Of Consequences Collection - Ким Лоренс, Annie West - Страница 21

“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.

“But the frosting is the best part.”

“You didn’t try the cake yet.”

He shrugged and raised his hand to his lips cleaning off the frosting she’d left behind, then he moved his finger near her mouth. “Taste?” he asked.

In that moment, it felt like her vision tunneled, reduced to nothing but Zack. The game, the sounds of the whistle, the crowd, the announcers, faded, blood roaring in her ears.

It was innocent. Or it should have been. She tried to tell herself that for about ten seconds. Because there was no female friend on earth, no matter how close, who would have offered what Zack was at the moment.

So it wasn’t innocent. She looked up, her eyes clashing with his.

They were dark, intense. Aroused. The air between them seemed to thicken, the only sound her breath. Too loud. Too obvious.

It wasn’t innocent at all.

She’d promised herself it wouldn’t happen again. That their last night together had been exactly that: their last night together.

It won’t happen again. I just need a taste.

She leaned in and slid her tongue along the line of his finger and her entire body tightened when a rough groan escaped his lips. The salt of his skin gave bite to the super-sweet frosting. If her cupcakes were a bust maybe she could just spread it all over Zack.

No.

She pulled back sharply, shaking her head. “Sorry. Just … sorry, I …”

He wrapped his arm around her waist and kissed her, deep and long, his tongue still coated in icing. When he released her, she felt dazed in the very best way.

She licked her lips. “You taste like a pineapple,” she said, her breath erratic, her heart pounding.

“Is that a good thing?” His voice sounded strained, like each word was an effort.

“I might have to … test it out again.”

He smiled and her stomach curled in on itself. “I’m more than willing to aid you in the testing.”

He dipped his head and she closed the distance between them, sliding her tongue over his bottom lip, reveling in the rough groan that rumbled in his chest.

He dipped his fingers back in the bowl and tugged at the hem of her shirt, drawing it over her head. “I feel at a disadvantage,” he said, sliding his fingers over her stomach. “Because you got a chance to taste me this way, and I haven’t gotten to do the same.”

He bent down and slid his tongue over her stomach. She shivered, gripping his shoulders, knowing they were going too far, not sure if she wanted to stop.

He stood and reached behind her, unhooking her bra with one hand. “You’re better at that than I am,” she said, her voice shaking.

“Good. That’s kind of the idea. I’d hate to think you’d be better off doing this for yourself.” He cupped her breast and slid his thumb off her nipple, leaving a faint dusting of icing covering her there. He bent his head and circled the tightened bud with his tongue before drawing it into his mouth.

She forked her fingers through his hair, holding his head to her as he continued to lavish attention on her breast.

“Oh, no … I could not do this by myself,” she breathed.

He lifted his head and captured her lips, sweetness clinging to his tongue, his grip tight on her hips as he tugged her body against his. “You’re beautiful,” he said, abandoning her mouth to skim kisses down her neck, across her collarbone.

“You make me believe it.”

He raised his head, his expression serious. “You should never doubt it, not for a moment. You make me lose control.”

The words hung between them, an admission that held power. Because she knew Zack, and she knew what he prized. His control. Above everything. She knew why now, too. She even understood it. And he was saying that her beauty, her body, took it from him.

“Me?” she asked.

“You,” he repeated, his voice hard. “Everything about you.” He moved his palm over her breast and she shuddered. “Now that I’m allowing myself to look … I can’t stop myself. I can’t stop at just looking, I have to touch you, then I have to taste you. And it’s still not enough.”

Zack’s heart raged out of control. It was more than just arousal. His chest burned, the need going so much deeper than sex. It was pleasure and pain, heaven and hell. But he couldn’t turn away from any of it. He didn’t want to.

This wasn’t what was supposed to happen tonight. He’d missed Clara, Clara his friend. The companionship she provided, the safety. She was the one person he ever let his guard down with. The one person he laughed with. Relaxed with.

It wasn’t supposed to turn into this. But his desire for her was like a storm, devastating everything in its path. Devastating his control.

And he’d admitted it to her. Because what else could he do? She’d brought him to his knees.

“It’s a nice apartment,” he said, trying to lighten the moment, to bring himself back to earth. “I bet the bedrooms are really nice.”

She snorted a laugh and buried her face in his neck. “You’ve been in my bedroom.”

He sifted her hair through his fingers. “I’ve never slept in your bed.”

“Do you want to?” She posed the question as though she was asking if he wanted something purely innocent.

“After we get some other business taken care of.”

“I’m in complete agreement with that.”

He swung her up into his arms and she squeaked, looping her arms around his neck and laughing as he dashed to her bedroom.

Zack set Clara down when they got inside her room. A room he’d been in more times than he could count. But never like this. She kissed him, her mouth hungry, pulled his shirt off him in one swift motion. Trading piece of clothing for piece of clothing until they were both naked, limbs entwined, her full breasts pressed against his chest.

It was almost enough for a while, to simply lay on the bed with her, moving his hands over her bare curves, kissing her. Doing nothing more than kissing.

It was almost enough, but not quite.

He swore sharply. “I don’t have anything. I didn’t plan this.”

“It’s okay,” she said, wrapping her hand around his length, squeezing him. He groaned, her soft flesh against his almost making up for the fact that he couldn’t be inside her. Almost.

He put his hand between her thighs and drew his fingers over her clitoris, then repeated the motion.

She gasped and arched against him, tightening her hold on his arms, fingernails digging into his skin. “Oh, Zack,” she breathed, his name on her lips like balm to his soul.

Everything after that was lost in a frenzy of movement, sighs and graphic words that he’d never heard come from Clara’s mouth before. But it was only more exciting, because it was her. Because he knew that he was able to do that to her, to make her say things, feel things no other man ever had.

They reached the peak together, his body shaking down to his bones as he found his release.

He held her soft body against his afterward, a sort of strange contentedness spreading through him that he’d never felt before.

“You’re beautiful, you know?” he asked, pushing her hair to one side and kissing her neck.

She turned to look at him, rolling to her side, making the curve of her hip rounder, her waist smaller. And her breasts …

“You keep saying that.”

“So that you can’t doubt it.”

“I’m starting to believe you, actually,” she said, a smile curving her lips. She reached out and put her finger on his biceps, tracing a long line up to his shoulder. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

“I’m flattered.” He leaned forward and kissed her nose, the contentedness morphing into something else. Something that felt light and … happy.

He wrapped his arms more tightly around her and rolled onto his back. She planted her palms on his chest, her body half on his.

“Hi,” she said, smiling.

“I just want you to know that you’re not second to anyone,” he said, cupping her cheek. “There’s no other woman on earth I would rather be with.”

Her brown eyes glistened. “You really are good for my ego.”

“I’m glad. Someone has to be.”

He wanted to say something. Something bigger than he should, than he could. He just wanted more. In that moment, with her body, so soft and bare and perfect, pressed against his, with her smiling at him like he could solve all of the world’s problems, he wanted to offer her the world. He wanted more than temporary, more than distant for the first time in his memory.

She rested her head on his chest, her fingertips moving lightly over his skin until her breathing deepened and her eyes fluttered closed.

It wasn’t until she was asleep that panic slammed into him. The full enormity of what had happened. He’d lost control. More than that, he’d been letting go of it, inch by inch, with Clara for the past seven years.

With everyone else he was guarded. He never dropped his defenses. He never talked about his past.

He’d cried in front of her. He had allowed real, raw weakness and emotion to escape in her presence when he never even let himself give in like that in private. She was under his skin. So much so she felt like she was a part of him.

A necessary part.

What if he lost her? No, it wasn’t even a matter of if, it was when.

The terror that thought evoked, the absolute, gut-wrenching horror was a sobering as a punch to the jaw. He was playing a game he had no business playing, flirting with things he shouldn’t be. Tempting feelings he couldn’t risk having.

He slid out of her hold and she stirred briefly, stretching, arching her back. His mouth dried. He shook his head and bent to collect his clothes, dressing and walking out of her bedroom, closing the door quietly behind him, ignoring the continual stab of pain in his chest.

He paused in her living room for a moment, the weight of the familiarity of his surroundings crushing him, a feeling of claustrophobia overtaking him.

He had to leave. He had to think. He had to find his control.

He walked out her front door, closing it behind him and making sure everything was locked so that she would be safe. He walked out into the cold night, sucking in a deep breath and blaming the cold for the pain that came with it.

“Where were you this morning? When did you leave?” Clara whispered the words when she went into Zack’s office in the early afternoon. He’d been out of the office all morning, and he had been very noticeably not at her apartment before that.

“I had some things to do,” he said, his voice flat. “Could you bring me a coffee?” His phone rang and he picked it up. She stomped out of the room and picked up the freshly brewed pot that was sitting in the main area of the office. She poured a half a cup and dumped powdered creamer in, no sugar, and stirred it halfheartedly with one of the little wooden sticks that was on the coffee station.

There were still little lumps of powder floating on the top.

She went back into his office and plunked it onto his desk, letting some of it slosh over the side. He didn’t flick her or the coffee a glance as he continued his phone call. He picked it up and took a sip then grimaced and set it back down, shooting her an evil look. She responded with a wide, saccharine smile.

“I’ll call you back,” he said into the phone, hanging up. “Do you have something on your mind?”

“Yes. Where were you this morning, and do not give me another half-assed answer.”

“Clara, there’s a way I conduct physical relationships. I don’t always stay for the whole night.”

She felt like he’d slapped her. Like she was just the same as every other physical relationship he had. But she wasn’t. She knew she wasn’t.

Anger made her scalp feel prickly. “Don’t give me that. Don’t even try. I made you shake last night. Made you lose control.” Boldness came from anger, and she could’t regret it.

His eyes glittered and he looked like he might pounce on her. But he didn’t. “I just went home, so that I could get a good night’s sleep. I have to go over some legalese in the contract I’m having drawn up for the deal with Amudee. That’s all.”

That wasn’t all. She knew it wasn’t all. But she didn’t know what the rest of it was, either, so that didn’t help.

“And that looks like it’s going to go through?” she asked, looking down at the ring again, the ring she was starting to hate, willing to let the subject drop, for now.

“Looks like, but nothing is finalized. So we’re still in this until the ink is dry.”

She nodded. “I know.”

It was all about the contract to Zack. Last night … she could have sworn that last night something had changed. There had been more in their lovemaking. There had been fun. Their friendship had been in it.

It had been special.

Well, today things felt different. It just wasn’t the sort of different she’d been hoping for.

“I’ll be down in the kitchen,” she said, eager to get away.

It was going to take a whole lot of cupcakes to make this day feel okay.

The next few days Zack really did manage to be busy and stay busy. He didn’t stop by her apartment late at night, or any time of day. Her head hurt and her bed felt empty. Which was silly, since her bed had been empty of anyone other than her for twenty-five years.

It was just the past couple weeks she’d had Zack sometimes. And she found she really liked it, and it wasn’t just because of the orgasms. It was just listening to him breathe. Feeling his body heat so close to hers. Just being with him, finally, finally able to express how much she wanted him. To not have to hold such a huge part of herself back from him anymore.

She loved the way he made her feel about herself. That he wanted her in a sexy red dress, or yoga pants, or nothing. That he made her feel beautiful. That he made her see things in herself she hadn’t seen before.

And if she told him that he’d undoubtedly run away screaming.

Tonight, the contracts remained unsigned and that meant they still had plans to go to the big charity event. Something to do with a children’s hospital. She wondered if that was by design. If it would bother him. Make him think of his son.

Her heart hurt every time she thought of Zack’s past. Of what that false front of his was created to hide. To hide what he’d been through, who he really was. He had perfected a persona, controlled, light, charming, and even she had bought into it. Not even she had seen everything.

But she was starting to.

Tonight was going to feel more like a real date. A public event with just the two of them, not with Mr. Amudee sitting by, watching their performance as a couple. She was dressing up in a dress she’d selected this time. Something between her usual fare and that screaming, sex-on-a-hanger number Zack had picked out for her.

It was a full-length gown with a mermaid-style skirt that conformed to her body before flaring out around her knees. It swished when she walked, and a halter-top neckline showed her cleavage. And she felt sexy in it. She felt like a woman who was ready to conquer the world. One who could outshine other women, at least for the man she was with. And that was what mattered, anyway.

She heard a knock on her door and she tried to shove her feet into stilettos, while standing, and fastening dangly diamond earrings. “Coming!”

She opened the door and all the air rushed out of her body. Zack was a wearing a suit, black jacket, crisp white shirt and a perfectly straight black tie. He was the epitome of gorgeous. He always was, half dressed, all dressed or completely naked. But there was something about a man in a suit.

It sort of reminded her of his wedding. The wedding that wasn’t.

“You look … you look great,” she said.

“So do you. I brought you something,” he said.

There was something strange about his tone, something formal and distant. It matched his clothing. Cool, well-tailored, nothing out of place. And yet, that in and of itself felt out of place. Zack wasn’t formal with her. Why should he be? They’d known each other for years. They had slept together for heaven’s sake.

She held her hand out and smiled, trying to make him smile. It didn’t work.

He took a flat, black box from his jacket and opened it.

“Oh, my … Zack this is … it must have cost.” None of her words would gel into a complete sentence, everything jumbling and stalling half thought through.

It was a necklace, a truly spectacular necklace, not the sort you saw under the display case of just any department store. Not even the sort of thing you saw at Saks. It was too unique, too extravagant.

She reached out and touched the center stone, a deep green emerald, cut into the shape of a teardrop and surrounded by glittering diamonds.

“I don’t think I can accept this.”

“Of course you can,” he said, his voice still tinged with that unfamiliar distance. “Turn around.”

She did, slowly, craning her neck to look at him. He swept her hair to the side and took the necklace from the box, draping it over her, the stone falling between her breasts, the chill making her shiver. He clasped the necklace, his fingers brushing the back of her neck as we worked the tiny clasp.

“This isn’t … this isn’t a friendships gift,” she said, her voice trembling.

That did earn her a short chuckle. “Maybe tonight friendship isn’t what I want.”

His words made her shiver, the sensual promise in them turning her on. The underlying, darker meaning she couldn’t quite grasp making goose bumps break out on her arms. “It really is too much,” she said, turning to face him, her nose nearly touching his.

He straightened putting some distance between them. “It’s a perfectly fitting gift for a lover. Are you ready?”

“Yes,” she said, turning his choice of word over in her head. Yes, she was his lover, in the sense that they’d slept together. But there was something in the way he said it, something that seemed cold, when a lover should be something warm. Something personal.

She touched the necklace, the gems cold beneath her fingertips.