Читать книгу The By Request Collection - Kate Hardy - Страница 100

CHAPTER FIVE

“HOW’S IT COMING?”

Demetrius strolled into the office late the next afternoon. He couldn’t help but notice how Zoe jumped. He hadn’t meant to startle her.

“Good.” Her voice said otherwise. “Well, as good as can be expected at this stage.”

“I just visited the work site and the construction of the residential rooms on the backside of the mansion is moving ahead of schedule. Soon you’ll be able to get in there and do your thing.”

A frown pulled at her full, lush lips, but she didn’t say anything. Things definitely weren’t going as well as she’d like him to believe. Maybe she wasn’t up to the task, after all. There were still those dark smudges beneath her eyes. Something was most definitely keeping her up at night. But what?

His immediate instinct was to go to her—to rectify whatever was troubling her. He took a step forward, then hesitated. What was he thinking? Obviously he wasn’t—at least not clearly. Her problems were no longer any of his concern. And that had been her choice. Not his.

She glanced up at him, peering over her laptop. “Did you need something else?”

He cleared his throat. “I’d like to see what direction you’re taking the project.”

Her mouth gaped, but nothing came out. He couldn’t help but notice the pink gloss shimmering on her lips. His thoughts rolled back in time, remembering how her kisses were always sweeter than berries. His body stiffened. With determined effort he focused his mind back on the only thing that mattered—the only thing he could count on—work.

“Perhaps I could see what you’ve been able to do so far on the computer.” His words eased the awkward silence.

“I...I don’t have anything but some rough outlines.”

“That’s okay. It’s just with all of my meetings, we haven’t been able to talk much.”

There was a rebuttal reflected in her eyes, but in a blink it was gone. With a shrug, she stood up. “Be my guest.”

He wasn’t sure by the stilted tone of her voice whether she would be open to his feedback or if she’d just give him lip service and then disregard his input. He wanted to believe they could set aside their differences in order to make this important project a success. They were, after all, both professionals.

He took a seat, surprised that she was doing all of her work on the small laptop when he’d provided her with a computer and a large-screen monitor, which was much easier on the eyes. Then he noticed that she had specialized software. He should have expected that, but he’d noticed how his thoughts became severely distracted around her.

She stood off to the side. “You have to realize that what you’re looking at are some rough sketches. There are no details. I haven’t had a chance to refine them.”

“I understand.”

She showed him how to navigate the software. As she leaned over his shoulder, he caught a whiff of her perfume. The alluring scent was the same as what she wore when they were together.

Concentrate on the pictures.

Minutes passed, and then she asked, “Well, what do you think?”

“I don’t know.” It was the truth.

“Don’t tell me you hate all of the themes.”

He flipped back and forth between the three layouts of the mansion’s ballroom that she’d done up. The first screen cobbled together garden-themed pictures with lots of greens, pinks and yellows. The second screen contained images more in line with ancient Roman ruins utilizing the idea of the large columns on the front porch as well as adding some Greek and Roman statues. The last screen pulled together various Mediterranean aspects from the blues of the sea to the green of the palms.

“Say something. The suspense is torture.”

He’d never seen her so anxious. Under different circumstances, he might have turned this into a bit of fun, but the time for teasing and light banter had long passed them by.

“They all have aspects that I really like.” He flipped through the images once again. “Can you combine them?”

“What?” She moved to stand on the other side of the desk in order to face him. “You’re not serious, are you? They’re too different. It would be a mess.”

He raked his fingers through his hair. “I never said that I was any good at decorating. That’s what I have you for.”

She crossed her arms and leveled a steady stare at him. “And you’re the one who insisted that we work on this together. You went on and on about how you had to approve everything.”

He got to his feet. “Fine. I pick the garden theme. Wait. No. The sea one.”

She waited as though sensing he would change his mind yet again. “You’re sure about the sea setting?”

He thought for a moment and then nodded. “I think it’s the most relaxing of all them. If the residents aren’t capable of making an outing to the seaside, then we can bring it to them.”

“Okay. Then we need to pick out a color scheme.” She pulled up a few color combinations. “I’d like to get some samples up on the walls as soon as possible to get a real feel for the shades before we commit to a color scheme.”

However, as she leaned over his shoulder to type something in the computer, one of her barrel-roll curls landed on his shoulder. A driving need grew in him to wrap her silky strands around his finger. If he were to turn ever so slightly—if he were to reach out to her and draw her closer—she’d land in his lap.

As though in a trance, he reached out. His fingers slid down over the soft, smooth strands. What would it hurt to taste her sweetness again? He started at the end of her curl. His finger and thumb worked together wrapping her hair inch by inch around his digit.

Her surprised gaze met his. His heart pounded in his chest. But there was something more in her gaze. Interest. Excitement. Desire.

The fact that he could still turn her on sent the blood roaring through his veins, drowning out his common sense. Long-denied desire drove him onward. One thing that couldn’t be denied was that they had chemistry. They should have a warning sign—combustible when mixed.

With each twist of her hair, her face moved closer. He would show her what she’d given up. He’d remind her that all of this could have been hers if only she’d believed in them—if only she’d loved him.

A noise in the hallway caused her to jump back. He reluctantly relinquished his hold on her hair, allowing her to straighten. He tried to tell himself that it was for the best, but a sense of regret churned in his gut.

He cleared his throat as he tried to remember where they’d left off. “What about this gray-blue color? I like it.”

There was an unmistakable pause before Zoe spoke. “That is a bit dark and you have to realize the darker the shade, the smaller the space will appear. Why don’t you see what you like on this page?” She adjusted the computer so that it displayed dozens of much lighter shades of blue. “Trust me. They’ll appear darker on the wall.”

This time instead of hovering, she stepped back, giving him space. Though he knew it was for the best, he missed that brief moment where they’d recaptured a bit of the past. He’d have to be more alert going forward. Things were already complicated enough between them.

For the next hour, they went over the various shades, mixing and matching. There was even a slick computer software program that let her slip the colors into the basic layout of the common rooms. It gave them a better idea of what it would look like in real life. But Zoe insisted there was nothing like seeing it in person with the natural light bouncing off the walls. He took her word for it. They agreed to wait until then to make the final decisions.

* * *

Two full days had passed. And she still had a job.

Zoe smiled.

This arrangement, though a bit bizarre working with her ex, just might work out in the end.

After a long day at the palace offices, Zoe had Demetrius’s car drop her off at the market so she could pick up some food for dinner—not that she had much appetite these days. It seemed her stomach was forever filled with the sensation of a swarm of fluttering butterflies. She hoped a salad might pique her appetite.

Armed with fresh fruit, vegetables and some still-warm-from-the-oven bread, she walked toward her apartment. Ever since she’d left the market, something hadn’t felt right. Zoe glanced over her shoulder.

Nothing out of the ordinary.

Still, the little hairs on Zoe’s arms remained lifted.

She picked up her pace. At an intersection, she paused and glanced back. Her gaze met a set of dark, menacing eyes. The creepy reporter. Her heart lurched.

Though he didn’t approach her, there was something threatening about the way he looked at her. There was no point calling for help. What would she say? He looked at her the wrong way?

The best thing she could do was keep moving. It wasn’t much farther to her apartment. Hopefully she’d lose him. Her feet moved rapidly along the sidewalk. She refused to glance back again. She was making too much of seeing the reporter. Still, she recalled his eerie words about finding out her secrets. What secrets? About her mother? Demetrius?

Zoe rushed across the street. Her apartment building was in the next block. Though she’d promised herself she wouldn’t, she paused and glanced back. The street was busy as people rushed home to their families. She didn’t see any sign of the reporter. She breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps it’d just been a coincidence.

Once safely in her apartment, she did something she didn’t normally do—locked her door. She rushed to the kitchen window and peered out. She searched up the street. Nothing. Down the street. Nothing.

Get a grip. You’re imagining things.

And then she saw him across the street. He emerged from between the buildings. The breath caught in her throat. He leaned back against the bakery and pointed his camera up at her. She ducked out of sight. Hastily, she closed the kitchen curtains.

What do I do now?

She rushed to put her groceries in the fridge, having lost any bit of hunger she may have had. She thought of calling Demetrius, but what would she say? Some guy was following her? Would Demetrius believe her? And after the way she’d walked out of their marriage, why should he care?

Knock. Knock.

Zoe jumped.

She moved to the window and peeked out. The reporter was gone.

Knock. Knock.

Or was he?

* * *

It was time they talked.

And Zoe had given him the perfect excuse.

Demetrius glanced down at her leather-bound day planner. She always had it close at hand, marking every meeting and deadline in it. She impressed him with her attention to detail. He knew that he could have left the planner on her desk till the morning, but he liked having an excuse to visit her at home—especially if her mother answered the door.

He’d knocked twice but still no one answered the door. That was strange. He’d thought he’d overheard her mention to Annabelle that she was planning to stay in and make a salad—not that he’d stuck around eavesdropping. Perhaps she’d decided it was easier to eat out. That would be just his luck.

Unwilling to give up the thought of seeing her—of finally gaining some answers about the annulment—he knocked one last time.

“Go away!”

What?

“Zoe? Open the door.”

“If you don’t leave, I’m calling the polizia.”

The polizia?

What is going on?

“Zoe, it’s me. Demetrius. Open up.”

There was the sound of footsteps. Then a pause as he felt her gaze through the peephole. Followed by the click of the lock. At last the door swung open. A pale-faced Zoe stood there.

“I...I wasn’t expecting you.” Her gaze didn’t quite reach his.

“Obviously. Who did you think I was?”

She shook her head and waved away his question. “It’s nothing.”

“It is quite obviously something. I insist you tell me.” Her face was devoid of color. Her eyes were filled with worry. He wasn’t leaving until he got to the bottom of what had her scared.

“Remember that reporter from the interview at the mansion? You know, the creepy one?”

He nodded, not liking the direction this conversation was going. “What did he do to you?”

She shook her head again. “Nothing.”

“You look awfully worked up for nothing. Tell me and let me be the judge.”

“It’s just that he’s been lurking around here, watching me and taking photos.”

Demetrius’s gut tightened. “And just now you thought he was knocking on your door?”

She shrugged.

“When’s the last time you saw him?”

“He followed me home from the market. I...I saw him out the kitchen window, standing across the street. He tried to take my picture, but I think I ducked before he could.”

Without waiting to be invited inside, Demetrius strode past Zoe toward the aforementioned window. This was his fault for thrusting her into the media spotlight. Now that she was working closely with him, the media would want to know everything about her. They would dissect her life, looking for a juicy piece of gossip.

Demetrius swept aside the curtain and peered out at the busy roadway. He didn’t see anyone acting suspicious. “Do you still see him?”

She moved to his side and gazed out at the numerous faces. “No. He disappeared just before you arrived. That’s why I thought you were him.”

Demetrius let the curtain fall back into place. He glanced around, noticing the quietness. “Are you here alone?”

She nodded. “My mother is visiting a friend at the coast.”

“Well, you can’t stay here alone. Pack a bag. Tonight you’re staying at the palace.”

Her eyes grew round. “No, I can’t. I won’t.”

Why was she being difficult? This was for her own welfare. “You can and you will. I’m not leaving you here.”

“I’ll be safe. I’ll keep the door locked.” Her lips pressed into a firm line as her gaze took a defiant gleam.

He wasn’t going to let her have her way. Not this time. Not with her safety at stake. “Why are you being stubborn? It’s not like I’m asking you to return to the palace as my wife.”

Her chin lifted. “So far I’ve been lucky enough to avoid the king and his advisors. I won’t be able to do that if I’m living there. And...and I don’t want to deal with them. I didn’t exactly leave on the best of terms.”

Demetrius couldn’t argue that point. The king’s advisors were certain that she was a gold digger, but surprisingly the king had been quite reserved with his thoughts about Demetrius’s failed marriage. Maybe his father thought that he’d suffered enough without adding an “I told you so.”

Still, there had to be an alternative. A way to assure himself of her safety until the media set their sights on a new target. He rolled the options around in his mind.

“I have the perfect alternative.” Why he hadn’t thought of it in the first place was beyond him.

Her eyes widened with interest. “You do? What?”

“You’ll see. It’s not far from here.”