Читать книгу One Night: Exotic Fantasies: One Night in Paradise / Pirate Tycoon, Forbidden Baby / Prince Nadir's Secret Heir - Maisey Yates, Janette Kenny - Страница 14

ZACK’S heart pounded as he scanned the villa’s courtyard. It was too dark to see anything, but he was sure this was where she was. Unless she’d called the car service and asked them to come and get her, which, if Clara was really upset, he wouldn’t put past her. She could be on the next plane back to the States.

His plane.

Which, he had a suspicion he might deserve.

There was a narrow path that led from the main area of the courtyard into an alcove surrounded by flowering plants and trees. And he was willing to bet that, if she was still in the villa, she’d gone there.

He was right. She was sitting on the stone bench, her knees pulled up to her chest. She was simply staring, her cheeks glistening in the moonlight. The sight made him ache.

He was all about control, all about living life with as few entanglements and attachments as possible. But Clara was his exception. She had been from the moment he’d met her.

She was the one person who could alter his emotions without his say so. Make him happy if he really wanted to be angry. Make his gut feel wrenched with her tears.

“Are you okay?”

She dropped her knees and put her feet on the ground, straightening. “I’m sorry. That was stupid. I overreacted.”

He moved to the bench and crouched down in front of it, in front of her. “What did I do?”

“I was just … I told you, it was an overreaction. It was nothing, really.” She sucked in a breath that ended on a hiccup and his heart twisted. “I can’t really … explain it.”

The confusion he felt was nearly as frustrating as the pain he felt over hurting her. He didn’t really understand exactly what he’d done, but not understanding it didn’t make it go away.

Without thinking, he lifted his hand and curved it around her neck, stroking her tender skin with his thumb. It was a gesture meant to comfort her, because he’d upset her somehow, for the second time in forty-eight hours, and he hated to upset her. She meant too much to him.

But something in the touch changed. He wasn’t sure exactly when it tipped over from being comfort to being a caress, he wasn’t sure how her skin beneath his fingers transformed from something everyday to something silky, tempting.

She looked at him, her eyes glistening, the expression in them angry. Angry and hot. And that heat licked through him, reached down into his gut and squeezed him tight.

It was close to what he’d felt down at the river, but magnified, her anger feeding the flame that burned between them. And he couldn’t walk away from it. Not this time.

Without thought, without reason or planning, without stopping to think of possible consequences, he leaned in and closed the space between them, his lips meeting hers. First kisses were for tasting, testing. They were a question.

At least historically for him they had been. This kiss wasn’t.

Something roared through him, filling him, a kind of desperation he’d never felt before. He didn’t ask, he took. He didn’t taste, he devoured. The hunger in him was too ravenous to do anything else, so sudden he had no chance to sublimate it. He wrapped his arms around her, and she clung to his shoulders, her lips parting beneath his.

He growled and thrust his tongue against hers, his body shuddering as his world reduced to the slick friction, to the warmth of her lips on his.

Clara was powerless to do anything but cling to Zack. Powerless to give anything less than every bit of passion and desire that was pouring through her. To do anything but devour him, giving in to the hunger that had lived in her, gnawed at her for the past seven years.

This was heaven. And it was hell. Everything she’d longed for, still off-limits to her for the same reasons it always had been. Except for right now, for some reason, it was as though a ban had been lifted. For this one moment, a moment out of time. A moment that she needed more than she needed air.

His lips, firm and sure, were everything she’d ever dreamed they might be, his hands, heavy and hot on her back even more arousing than she’d thought possible.

This was why there had been no one else. Because the idea of Zack had always been more enticing than the reality of any other man. And the reality of Zack far surpassed any fantasy she’d ever had. Maybe any fantasy any woman had ever had.

She slid from the bench and onto the stone-covered ground, gripping the front of his shirt, their knees touching. He pulled her closer, bringing her breasts against his hard, muscular chest. She arched into him, craving more. Craving everything. All of him.

When they parted, he rested his forehead against hers, his breathing shallow, unsteady, loud in the otherwise silent night.

She didn’t know what to say. She was afraid that he would try to say something first. Something that would ruin it. A joke. Or maybe he’d even be angry. Or he’d say it was a mistake. All valid reactions, but she didn’t want any of them. She didn’t want to deal with anything. She simply wanted to focus on the pounding of her heart, the swollen, tingly feeling in her lips. On all the really good, fizzy little sensations that were popping in her veins like champagne.

Zack let out a gust of air. “Damn.”

She laughed. She couldn’t help it. Of all the reactions she’d expected, and dreaded, that hadn’t been it. That he would allow an honest reaction, and that his reaction would match hers, hadn’t seemed likely.

“Yeah,” she said.

He braced his hand on the bench behind her and pulled himself up, then extended his hand to her. She gripped it and let him help her to her feet. She brushed some dried leaves from her knees, ignoring the slight prickle of pain and indents of small twigs left behind on her skin.

Her eyes caught his and held, and all of the good exciting feelings that had been swirling through her dissolved. The cushion of fantasy yanked from under her, there was nothing but cold, hard reality. She’d kissed Zack. More than kissed, she’d attacked him.

And there was nowhere for it to go from that point. If she leaned in again, if she kissed him again, then what? They might go to bed together. And where would that leave her after? Where would it leave them?

No, he hadn’t slept with Hannah, but he’d slept with other beautiful women. Lots of them. She’d met a good number of them. And she was … she was inexperienced, unglamorous. And she was here as a replacement. If something happened between them now, on a night that was meant to be his wedding night with another woman, she would always feel like she’d been second.

He was a man, and the pump was well and truly primed. He’d been promised sex after what had been a lengthy bout of not having sex, so of course he was hot for it. But he was hot for it. Not for her.

He’d never kissed her before tonight. That, if nothing else, cemented the point.

She wasn’t going to cry again. She wasn’t going to let him know how vulnerable she was to him. Wasn’t going to let him know how bad it hurt to pull away now.

“This has been a bit of a crazy day,” she said.

“I can’t argue with that.”

“Sorry. About this.” She gestured to the bench. “All of it. I don’t … I don’t really know what that was about.”

The flash of relief she saw in Zack’s eyes made her heart twist. She would finish now. Make sure he’d never want to talk about it again.

“I mean … how do you feel?” She’d said the magic feel word. Zack didn’t like to talk about how he felt. Not in a way that went any deeper than happy, or angry, or hungry.

“Fine. Good, in fact. Kissing a beautiful woman is never a bad thing.”

She felt heat creep into her cheeks. She shouldn’t respond to the compliment. It was empty, an attempt to smooth things over. But it affected her, and she couldn’t stop it from making her stomach curl in traitorous satisfaction.

“I might say the same. Not the woman part but the. You get it.”

“I did something wrong. With the ring. I’m sorry. I’m not hitting them out of the park with you today, am I?”

“I don’t think either of us is at our best right now,” she said. That at least was true. Of course, she hadn’t been her best since the engagement announcement. Her safe little world had been chucked off-kilter in that moment and she’d felt out of balance ever since.

“Probably need sleep.”

She forced a laugh. “You probably do. I got that extra sleep on the plane, remember?”

“But you should sleep again. Otherwise you’ll be off for even longer.”

She did feel tired suddenly. And not a normal tired, an all-consuming sort of tired that went all the way down into her bones. “Yeah. You’re right. I can sleep on the couch tonight.”

“I’ll sleep on the couch again. After being left at the altar, sleeping alone in the honeymoon bed is just a bit depressing, don’t you think?”

For a moment, she thought about inviting him to join her. To play the vixen for once. To say to hell with all of her insecurities and just be the woman she wished she could be.

But she didn’t.

“Yeah, maybe a little.” She swallowed and stuck her hand out. “I’ll take that ring though.”

“You sure?”

“I told you, I was being stupid. Emotional girl moment. The kind specifically designed to boggle the minds of men. Actually, a little secret for you, they occasionally boggle our minds, too. So, ring, give.”

She held her hand out and he took it in his, turning it over so her palm was facing down. He took the ring box out of his pocket and took the ring out of its pink silk nest, holding it up for a moment before sliding it on to her ring finger.

She looked down at it, then curled her fingers into a fist, trying to force a smile.

“Looks good,” he said.

“It’s a diamond, it can’t look anything else,” she said, trying to sound breezy and unaffected. Both things she wasn’t.

“Perfect. And now we’re ready for tomorrow. I hope you brought shoes you can walk in.”

“Of course I did.”

“That’s right. I forgot.”

“Forgot what?” she asked.

“That you’re different. Come on, let’s go try to get some sleep.”

She followed him out of the courtyard, trying to leave everything behind them, all the needs, desires, pain, back in the alcove. But his words kept repeating in her head, and she could still feel his kiss on her lips.

And she felt different. Like a completely different woman than the one who had walked into the garden with tears streaming down her face.

One kiss shouldn’t have that kind of power. But that kiss had. She felt changed. She felt a a tiny bit destroyed, and a little bit stronger. And she wasn’t sure she would take it back. Even if she could.

Sleep had been a joke. An elusive thing that had never even come close to happening. Zack looked at the tie he’d brought with him for meetings with Mr. Amudee, and decided against putting it on. Not twice in one week.

He left two buttons undone on his crisp white shirt and pushed the sleeves halfway up his forearms. That should be good enough. They were spending the day looking at where the coffee and tea plants were grown.

Maybe spending the day outdoors would clear his head. Would lift the heavy fog of arousal that had plagued him since the kiss. Not just the kiss, since that strange, tense moment at the lake before the kiss.

But the kiss. A few more minutes and he would have had her flat on her back on the stone bench with more than half of her clothes stripped from her gorgeous curves.

He bit down hard, his teeth grinding together. He shouldn’t be thinking of her curves. But he was.

“Zack?”

The sound of her voice hit him like a kick in the gut.

“Here,” he said, sliding his belt through the loops on his pants and fastening the buckle as she walked around the corner, into the bedroom. Her pale cheeks colored slightly when she saw him.

“How did you sleep?” she asked.

“Great,” he lied. “Thanks for letting me use the room to get ready.”

“Yeah, no problem. I got up pretty early. Wandered around in the garden. There are so many flowers here.”

And she’d put a few different varieties in her hair. It was silly. And it was cute. She had a way of making that work for her.

“I didn’t know you liked flowers so much.”

She shrugged. “I always have some on my kitchen table.”

She did, now that he thought about it. He wondered if anyone ever bought them for her. He wondered why he’d never really stopped to notice before. Why he’d never bought her any.

Because, bosses don’t buy employees flowers. And friends don’t buy friends flowers.

Friends also didn’t kiss each other like he and Clara had done last night. His pulse jump-started at the thought, his blood rushing south. He tightened his hands into fists and tried to will his body back under control.

“Ready to go?” he asked, his voice curt because it was taking every last bit of his willpower to keep his desire for her leashed.

She frowned slightly. “Yeah. Ready.”

“Good. Remember, you’re my fiancée, and we’ve been very suddenly overcome by love that can no longer be denied.”

One side of her mouth quirked up. “Is that the story?”

“Yes. That’s the story. As Amudee created it, so he’ll believe it. He’s the one who assumed.”

“A romantic, I suppose. Either that or he just thinks you move fast.”

“I’m decisive. And we’ve known each other for years.” He studied her face for a moment, dark almost almond-shaped eyes, pale skin, clear and smooth. Perfection. Her lips were pink and full and, now he knew, made for kissing. And he had to wonder how he’d known her for so long and never really looked at her.

Because if he had he would have realized. He would have had to realize, that she was the most gorgeous woman. Exquisite. Curved, just as a woman should be, in all the right places. Beautiful without fuss or pretension.

“Yes, we have,” she said slowly, those liquid brown eyes locked with his.

“So it stands to reason that after Hannah decided not to go through with things …”

“Right.”

The air between them seemed thicker now, that dangerous edge sharpening. Now that he knew what it was like to touch her, to feel her soft lips beneath his, well, now it was a lot harder to ignore.

“So let’s go, then,” he said.

“Right,” she said again.

He moved to her and slid his arm around her waist. It was more slender than he’d imagined it might be. “We have to do things like this,” he said, his voice getting rougher as her hips brushed against his.

She nodded, her eyes on his face. On his lips. She would be the death of him.

“Lovely to see you again, Ms. Davis,” Mr. Amudee said, inclining his head. “And with a ring, I see.”

Her heart rate kicked up several notches.

“Oh. Yes. Zack … made it official last night. It’s lovely to see you, too.” She touched the ring on her finger and Zack tightened his hold around her waist. She nearly stopped breathing, her accelerated heart rate lurching to a halt with it. From the moment they’d arrived at Mr. Amudee’s house, he had put his arm around her and kept it there. She’d assumed she would get used to it, to the warm weight of his touch. But she wasn’t getting used to it. If anything, she was getting more jittery, more aroused with each passing second.

The sun was hot on the wide, open veranda that overlooked rows of coffee trees with flat glossy leaves and bright red coffee cherries. But Zack’s touch was the thing that was making her melt.

“I had not met the other woman you intended to marry, Zack, but I must say that comparing the photos of the first one, to Ms. Davis, I find I prefer Ms. Davis.”

Clara’s heart bumped against her chest. “That’s kind of you to say.” She knew her face had to be beet-red, it was hot, that was for sure. Because it was nice of him to say, but there was no way it could be true.

There was no comparison between her and Hannah. Hannah was … well, sex bomb came to mind yet again.

“Not kind,” Isra said. “Just the truth. I was married, a long time ago, to the most wonderful woman. I have a good judge of character. Unfortunately I was too busy to see just how wonderful she was. Don’t make that mistake.”

Zack cleared his throat. “Clara is also very knowledgable about our product. I know we’ll both enjoy getting a look at the growing process today. And we’re both excited about the tasting.”

Back to business. Zack was good at that. Thank God one of them was.

“I’m excited to share it with you. Come this way.” They followed him down the stairs that led to the lush, green garden filled with fragrant foliage. He moved quickly for a man his age, his movements sharp and precise as he explained where each plant was in the growing stage, and which family was leasing which segment of the farmland, and how the soil and amount of shade would affect the flavor of each type of coffee, even before it was roasted.

The tea was grown in a more remote segment of the farm and required walking up into the rolling hills, where the leaves were in the process of being harvested.

“A lot depends on when you pick them,” Mr. Amudee said, bending and plucking a small, tender-looking cluster of leaves. “Smell. Very delicate.”

He handed the leaves to Zack and he did as instructed. Then he held them out for Clara. She bent and took in the light fragrance. She looked up and her eyes clashed with Zack’s and her heart beat double time.

“And this will be … what sort of tea will it be?” she asked, anything to get her mind off Zack and his eyes.

“White tea,” Zack said. “Am I right?”

Mr. Amudee inclined his head. “Right. Ready to go and taste?”

Her eyes met Zack’s again, the word tasting bringing to mind something new and different entirely. Something heady and sexual.

She swallowed hard.

“Yes, I think we are,” Zack said slowly, his eyes never leaving hers.

And she wondered if he’d been thinking the exact same thing she was. And if he was thinking the same thing, if he wanted to kiss her again, she wasn’t sure what she would do.

No, that was a lie. She was sure. She would kiss him again. Like nothing else mattered. Like there was no future and no consequences. Because she’d had enough of not getting what she wanted out of life. Quite enough.

She looked at Zack again and she wondered if she’d only imagined that momentary flash of heat. Because his eyes were cool again, his expression neutral.

She tried to convince herself that it was better that way.

Clara spent the next few days carefully avoiding Zack. It was easier than expected, given the cozy living situation. But during the day he had meetings with Mr. Amudee and when she wasn’t needed, she took advantage of all the vacation-type things that were available in the resort.

There was a spa down in the hotel, and also some incredible restaurants. Her favorite retreat was up on the roof of the villa that gave her a view of the mountains, and the small town that was only a short walk away, the golden rooftops reflecting the sunlight like fire in the late afternoon. It was the perfect view for yoga, which kept her mind focused and relaxed at the same time.

She even managed to forget about the kiss. Mostly. As long as she made a concerted effort not to think of it. And as long as she didn’t get into bed before she was ready to fall asleep instantly. Lying awake for any length of time was a recipe for disaster. And for replaying that moment. Over and over again.

Clara took a deep breath and tried to focus on the scenery, on the sky as it lightened. Orange fading into a pale pink, then to purple as the sun rose from behind the sloping hills. She would focus on that. Not Zack. Because that door was clearly closed. He hadn’t touched her again, unless it was absolutely necessary, since the night in the garden. Since the kiss that had scorched her inside and out.

The kiss that didn’t even seem to be a vague memory to him.

“Got plans for today?”

She turned and her heart lodged itself in her throat. Zack strode onto the roof in nothing more than a pair of low-slung jeans, his chest, broad and muscular, sprinkled with the perfect amount of chest hair, was streaked with dirt and glistening with sweat.

She had to remind herself to breathe when he came closer. And she had to remind herself not to stare at his abs, bunching and shifting as he moved.

“Do I.” She blinked and looked up at his face. “What?”

“Do you have plans? You’ve been busy. Remarkably so for someone on vacation.”

“Well, down in the village they have these neat classes for tourists. Weaving and things like that. And one of the restaurants in the hotel has a culinary school.”

“I thought you wanted to relax.”

“Cooking is relaxing for me.” And it had been conducive to avoiding him. “Anyway, now I can make you some killer Pad Thai when we get back home.”

“Well, I support that.”

“What are you doing up so early?”

“Working. Before the sun had a chance to get over the mountains and scorch me. Part of the deal. I need to understand where it all comes from. How important the work is to the families. I’m really pleased we’re going to be part of this process.”

“Me, too,” she said. Although, she wouldn’t be. Not once everything was in place. This was it for her.

“I’m going up to Doi Suthep, to see the temple. I thought you might want to come with me.”

She did. Not just to see the temple, although that was of major interest to her, but to spend some time with him. It was that whole inconvenient paradox of being in love with her best friend again. She wanted to avoid him, because she felt conflicted over the kiss. She wanted to be with him, confide in him, because she felt conflicted, too.

“I …”

“Are you avoiding me?” he asked, hands on his lean hips. “Well, I know you’re avoiding me, but I guess I don’t know why. Does this have to do with you leaving Roasted?”

“No!”

“Then what the hell is your problem?”

Hot, reckless anger flooded her. “My problem? Are you serious? You asked me to come here, and play fiancée, and I have. I don’t have a problem.”

“When you aren’t avoiding me.”

“I have done exactly what you asked me to do,” she said. “I have played the part of charming, simpering fiancée, I’ve worn this ring on my finger, and you can’t, for one second see why that might not be … something I want to do. And then you kiss me. Kiss me like … like you really are on your honeymoon, and you want to know what my problem is?”

He looped his arm around her waist and drew her to him, his eyes blazing. She braced herself against him, her palms flat on his bare chest. “I think I do know what your problem is. I think you’re avoiding me because of the kiss. Because you’re afraid it will happen again. Or because you want it to happen again.”

She shook her head slightly. “N-no. I haven’t even thought about it again.”

“Liar.” He dipped his head so that his lips hovered just above hers. “You want this.”

She did. She really did. She wanted his lips on hers. His hands on her body. She wanted everything. “You arrogant bastard,” she said, her voice trembling. “How dare you?”

“How dare I what? Say that you want it again? We both know you do.”

His lips were so close to hers and it was tempting, so tempting, to angle her head so that they met. So that she could taste him again. Have a moment of stolen pleasure again.

“You do want it,” he said again, his voice rough, strained.

“So?” she whispered.

“What?”

“So what if I do?” she said, finding strength in her voice. “What then, Zack? We’ll kiss? Sleep together? And then what? Nothing. You and I both know there won’t be anything after that. We’ll just ruin what we do have.”

He released his hold on her and took a step back, letting his hands fall to his sides. “Sorry.”

“You’ve been apologizing to me a lot lately,” she said, her voice trembling. “You don’t need to do that.”

He nodded. “I’m going to take a quick shower.”

“Not going to the temple?”

He smiled ruefully. “Still am. And you can come if you want. Provided you’ve worked the tantrum out of your system.”

“That was your tantrum, Parsons, not mine.”

“Maybe.” He tightened his jaw, his hands curling into fists. “Just tense I suppose. Coming with me or not?”

She hesitated. Because she did want to go, but things weren’t … easy with him at the moment. And the scariest thing was she wasn’t sure she wanted them to be easy again. She was sort of liking this new, scary dynamic between them. The one that made him touch her like she did something to him. Like he was losing control.

“I’ll be good. I promise,” he added.

She laughed, a fake, tremulous sound. “I wasn’t worried.”

Zack wasn’t the one who worried her. She hesitated because she wasn’t sure she trusted herself to behave.

“I was,” he said, turning away from her and walking back into the house. She watched him the whole way, the muscles on his back, the dent just above the waistline of his jeans, and his perfect, tight butt.

She let out a slow, shaky breath. Yeah, it was definitely herself she didn’t trust.

The temple at Doi Suthep was crowded with tourists, spiritual pilgrims and locals. Clara and Zack walked up the redbrick staircase, the handrails fashioned into guardian dragons with slithering bodies and fierce faces.

They were silent for the three-hundred-step trek up to the temple, Clara keeping a safe distance between them, in spite of the crush of people all around them. She was mad at him.

And fair enough, he’d been a jerk earlier. That was sexual frustration. Sexual frustration combined with the desire to give in to the need to kiss her again. To do more than kiss her.

Damn.

He could still remember the first time he’d seen Clara. She was working behind the counter at a bakery, flour on her cheeks. She was cute. Not the kind of woman he was normally attracted to. But she’d fascinated him. Utterly and completely. It had turned out she’d made great cupcakes, too. And that she was smart and funny. That it felt good to be with her.

The emotional connection to her, when he’d been lacking a connection with anyone for years, had been shocking, instant, and had immediately found him shoving his attraction to her away.

A friendship with her was fine. Anything else … he didn’t have room for it. Anything else would go beyond the boundaries he’d set for himself. And he needed his boundaries. His control. He valued it above everything else.

Just another reason he’d intended to marry Hannah. Marriage brought stability, a sort of controlled existence that attracted him. One woman in his bed, in his life.

And now that that had gone to hell, it seemed his feelings for Clara were headed in the same direction. He’d done with her, for seven years now, what he did with everything in his life. She had a place. She was his friend. She didn’t move out of that place in his mind.

His body was suddenly thinking differently. He’d made a mistake. He’d allowed himself too much freedom. He’d indulged his desire to look at her body. To touch her soft skin when they’d gone swimming. And that night, he’d given in to the temptation to allow her to feature in his fantasies. To find release with her image in his mind.

He’d allowed himself to cross the line in his mind, and that was where control started. He knew better. Yet it was hard to regret. Because wanting her was such a tantalizing experience. Just feeling desire for her was a pleasure on its own.

Her sweet, short, sundress was not helping matters. Though, thankfully she’d had to purchase a pair of silk pants to wear beneath it before they could head up toward the temple.

Still, even with her legs covered, there was that bright, gorgeous smile that had been plastered on her face since they’d arrived. She was all breathy sighs and sounds of pleasure over the sights and sounds. It was the sweetest torture.

“Incredible,” she breathed, her voice soft, sensual in a way. Enough to make his body ache.

“Yes,” he agreed. Mostly, he was looking at her, and not the immense, gold-laden temple.

He forced himself to look away from Clara. To keep his focus on the gilded statues, the bright, fragrant offerings of flowers, fresh fruit and cakes left in front of the different alters that were placed throughout the courtyard. A large, dome-shaped building covered entirely in gold reflected the sun, the air bright, thick with smoke from burning incense.

Monks in bright orange robes wove through the crowds, talking, laughing, offering blessing.

It was incredible. And still nowhere near as interesting as the woman next to him.

“Have you been enjoying yourself here?” he asked.

“More or less,” she said, looking at him from the corner of her eye, color creeping into her cheeks. Probably not the smartest question to ask. Why was he struggling with his words and actions? That never happened to him. Not anymore.

“The less would be me being a jerk and planting my lips on you, right?” Might as well go for honesty. Clara was the only person in his life who rated that. He didn’t want to violate it.

She blew out a breath. “Um … mostly the being a jerk. You’re a pretty good kisser, it turns out.”

“So you didn’t mind that?”

“Not as much as I should have.” Her words escaped in a rush.

“Glad to know I’m not the only one,” he said, forcing the words out.

“Not sure it helps anything.” She walked ahead of him, straying beneath the overhang of a curled roof, her eyes on the murals painted on the walls of the temple.

“Maybe not.” He leaned in, pretending to examine the same image she was.

“So … is there a solution?” She put her hand on the wall, tracing the painting of a white elephant with her finger.

He covered her hands with his, his heart pounding, his hand shaking like he was a teenage virgin. “Let me see.”

He leaned in, his mouth brushing hers. He went slow this time, asking the question, as he should have done the first time he’d kissed her. She didn’t move, not into him or away from him. He angled his head and deepened the kiss and he felt her soften beneath him, her lips parting beneath his, her breath catching, sharp and sweet when the tip of his tongue met hers.

He pulled away, his eyes on hers.

She released a breath. “How do you feel?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing.”

She looked up. “The roof didn’t fall in.”

“No,” he said, following her gaze. “It didn’t.”

She leaned into him, her elbow jabbing his side, a shy smile on her face. “Good to know anyway.”

“Glad it comforts you.”

She laughed, her cheeks turning pink, betraying the fact that she wasn’t unaffected. “Comfort may not be the right word.”

He looked around the teeming common area, at the completely unfamiliar surroundings. And he found he wanted to pretend that the feelings he was having for Clara were unfamiliar, too.

But he couldn’t. Because they had been there, for a long time, lurking beneath the surface. Ignored. Unwanted. But there.

“No. Comfort is definitely not the right word.”

They’d spent most of the day at the temple, then taken a car back to Chiang Mai where they’d wandered the streets buying food from vendors, and watching decorations go up on every market stall for a festival that was happening in the evening.

Now, with the event coming close, the streets were packed tight with people, carrying street food, flower arrangements with candles in the center, talking, laughing. It was dark out, the sun long gone behind the mountains, but the air was still thick, warm and fragrant. There was music, noise and movement everywhere. The smell of frying food mixed with the perfume of flowers and the dry, stale scent of dust clung to the air, filled her senses.

It almost helped block out Zack. But not quite. No matter just how much it filled up her senses, it couldn’t erase Zack. The imprint of his kiss. It had been different than the first one. Tender. Achingly sexy.

It had made her want more. Not simply in a sexual way, but in an emotional way. It didn’t bear thinking about. Still, she knew she would.

She kept an eye on the food stalls, passing more exotic fare, like anything with six legs or more, for something a bit more vanilla. Maybe food would help keep her mind off things. At least temporarily.

“I definitely don’t need this,” she said, stopping to buy battered, fried bananas from the nearest food stall.

“But you bought it,” he said, breaking a piece off the banana and putting it in his mouth.

“Well, that’s because sweets are my area of expertise. You’re here for the beans and tea leaves, I’m here for the pairing, right? This is research. It’s for work. I need to capture the new and exotic flavor profiles Chiang Mai has to offer,” she said, trying to sound official. “Maybe I can write off the calories?”

They dodged a bicycle deliveryman and crossed the busy, bustling street, moving away from the stalls and toward the river that ran through the city. “You don’t need to worry about it. You’re perfect like you are.”

She looked down at the bag of sweets. “You’re just saying that.”

“I’m not.”

She sucked in a sharp breath and looked at the lanterns that were strung from tree to tree, glowing overhead. “We should do this more. At home.”

“Eat?”

“No. Go do things. Mostly we work, and sometimes I feed you at my house, or we watch a movie at yours. Well, we do go out to lunch sometimes, but on workdays, so it doesn’t count.”

“We’re busy.”

“We’re workaholics.”

Zack frowned and stopped walking. He extended his hand and took a lock of her hair between his thumb and forefinger, rubbing it idly. “Is that why you’re leaving me?”

She looked up at him. “I’m not leaving you. I’m leaving the company.” And she was counting on that to put some natural and healthy distance between them. Roasted had brought them together, and because they got along so well, after spending the day at work together, half of the time it felt natural to simply go and have dinner together. Watch bad reality TV together. Once they weren’t involved in the same business it would only be natural they would drift apart. And with any luck, it would only feel like she was missing her right arm for a couple of years.

“What do you need? I’ll give it to you.”

“You’re missing the point, Zack. It’s about having something of my own.”

“Roasted isn’t enough for you? You’ve been there from the beginning, more or less. You’ve helped me make it what it is.”

“No. I just bake cupcakes. And there are a lot of people who can do my job.”

“But they aren’t you.”

She closed her eyes and let the compliment wash over her. She’d say this for Zack; he gave her more than most anyone else in her life ever had, including her family. But it was still just a crumb of what she wanted.

“No,” she said, “some of them are even better.”

She wove through the crowd to the edge of the waterfront. People were kneeling down and putting the flower arrangements with their lit candles into the stream. The crowd standing on the other side of the waterfront was lighting candles inside tall, rice paper lanterns, the orange spreading to the inky night, casting color and light all around.

Zack was behind her, she could sense it without even turning around. “I’m glad we came tonight,” she said.

Zack swept his fingers through Clara’s hair, moving it over her shoulder, exposing her neck. He didn’t normally touch her like that, but tonight, he found he couldn’t help himself. Things were tense between them. The kiss at the temple certainly hadn’t helped diffuse it.

He wondered if most of the tension had started in the bedroom back in the villa. That moment when they’d both looked at the bed and had that same, illicit thought.

If it had started there, they might be able to finish it there.

Temptation, pure and strong, lit him on fire from the inside out. She turned, and his heart slammed hard against his rib cage, blood rushing south of his belt, every muscle tensing. He could feel the energy change between them, like a wire that had been connecting them, unseen and unfelt for years had suddenly come alive with high-voltage electricity. He knew she felt it, too.

“We broke things, didn’t we?” she whispered.

It was like she read his thoughts, which, truly, was nothing new. But inconvenient now, since his thoughts had a lot to do with what it might be like to see her naked.

“Because of the kisses?”

She nodded once. “I can’t forget them.”

“I can’t, either. I’m not sure if I want to.”

She took a deep breath. “That’s just what I was thinking earlier.”

“Was it?”

“Yes. I should want to forget it, we both should. So we can get things back to where they’re supposed to be but …”

He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, soft again. “Do you think we could break it worse than we already have? Or is the damage done?”

“I have no idea.”

Everything in him screamed to step back. Because this was an unknown. A move that would affect his life, his daily life, and he couldn’t see the way it would end. And that just wasn’t how he did things. Not since that night when he’d been sixteen and he’d acted unthinkingly, impulsively, and ruined everything.

He wasn’t that person anymore. He’d made sure of it. If he didn’t walk away from Clara now, from the temptation she presented, if he didn’t plan it out and look at all the angles, he was opening them both up to potential fallout.

He stepped forward and kissed her again. Deepening the kiss this time, letting the blood that was roaring in his ears drown out conscious thought.

Clara knew she should stop this. Stop the madness before it went too far. It already had gone too far. It had gone too far the moment she agreed to come. Because the desire for this, for the week to turn into this, had been there. Of course, she’d never imagined that Zack would—could—want her.

The breaking of things wasn’t just down to the kiss. It was the day at the river, the intense moment on the balcony. The fact that she’d realized she was deeply, madly, irrevocably in love with a man who was just supposed to be her friend.

He kissed the tip of her nose, then her cheeks. “Zack,” she whispered.

“Clara.”

“Are we trying to see if we can break things worse?”

“Actually, I’m not thinking at all. Not about anything beyond what I feel right now.”

“What is it you feel?” she asked, echoing what she’d said after they’d kissed.

“I want you.”

She hesitated, her heart squeezing tight. “Do you want me? Or do you want to have sex?”

He looked at her for a long time, the glow of flames across the river reflected in his eyes. “I want you, Clara Davis. I have never slept with one woman when I wanted another one, and I would never start the practice with you. When I have you, I won’t be thinking of anyone else. I’ll only have room for you.”

His words trickled through her, balm on her soul. Exactly the right words.

The real question was, did she want to accept a physical relationship when it was only part of what she wanted?

You only have part of what you want now. A very small part.

“Just for tonight,” she said, hating that she had to say it, but knowing she did. Because she knew for certain that there could be no romantic future for them. She loved him, she was certain of it now. She had for a long time, possibly for most of the seven years she’d known him. It had been a slow thing, working its way into her system bit by bit. With every smile, every touch.

And he didn’t love her. Looking at him now, the light in his eyes, that wasn’t anything deeper than lust. But if that was all she could have, she would take that. Right now, she would take it, and she wouldn’t think about the wisdom of it, or the consequences.

Because she was staring hard into a Zack-free future, and she would rather have all of him tonight, and carry the memory with her, than be nothing more than his trusty sidekick forever, standing by watching while he married another woman. Watching him make a life with someone else, someone he didn’t even love, while her heart splintered into tiny pieces with every beat.

“One night,” she repeated. “Here. Away from reality. Away from work and home. Because. We can’t keep going on like this. It can’t be healthy.”

The people around them started cheering and she looked around them, saw the paper lanterns start to rise up above them, filling the air with thousands of floating, ethereal lights.

“Just one night,” he said, his voice rough. “One night to explore this.” He touched her cheek. “To satisfy us both. Is that really what you want?”

“I want you. So much.”

He kissed her without preliminaries this time, her body pressed against hers, his erection thick and hard against her stomach as his mouth teased and tormented her in the most delicious way. She wrapped her arms around his neck and gave herself up to the heat coursing between them. When they parted she felt like she was floating up with the lanterns.

One night. The proposition made her heart ache, and pound faster. It excited her and terrified her. She didn’t know what she was thinking. But one thing she did know: he wanted her. He wasn’t faking the physical reaction she’d felt pressed against her.

The very thought of Zack, perfect, sexy Zack wanting her, was intoxicating. Empowering. She wanted to revel in the feeling. One night. To find out if her fantasies were all she’d built them up to be. One night to have the man of her dreams.

One night to make a memory that she would carry with her for the rest of her life.