Читать книгу Something About The Boss… - Yvonne Lindsay - Страница 13

Three

Zach pressed the doorbell again. He had said seven-thirty, hadn’t he? He checked the TAG Heuer on his wrist. Yep, he was on time. He stepped back from the door and checked the side window. Lights were on inside and, yes, right there he saw a flash of movement through the crack in the drapes.

The door slowly opened.

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting,” Sophie said, her light-brown eyes looking bigger and sexier than ever with the smoky makeup she wore.

“No problem, we have half an hour until our reservation.” He hesitated, waiting a second for her to invite him in, but when no invitation was forthcoming he continued, “So, shall we head out?”

She gave him an awkward smile. “Yes, well, maybe in a minute or two. I’ve got a bit of a problem with my dress.”

“Anything I can help with?”

Her dress? Maybe that explained why she wasn’t opening the door fully and was talking to him with just her head popped around its edge.

Sophie sighed. “I think you might have to.”

Huh. Well, there was no need for her to sound so eager, he thought. He waited again for her to open the door wider and to invite him inside. Still, she didn’t move.

“Is this something we can fix here on the doorstep?” he inquired.

“Oh, no. No, of course not. You’d better come in.”

She looked flustered, something he wasn’t used to seeing in her. He raised his eyebrows slightly and, taking the hint, she finally eased the door wide enough for him to pass through. She closed it behind her, keeping her back to the door.

She was as skittish as a newborn colt. He wondered what had gotten her so riled up.

“It’s my dress,” she started, then stopped just as suddenly and worried her lower lip with her teeth.

His eyes were caught and mesmerized by the action. Sophie’s lips were slick with gloss, several shades richer than what she normally wore to the office, he noted, and the color made him think of candy apples and all their sugary sweetness. Would she taste like that, too, if he nibbled on her lip the way she was doing right now?

Zach dragged his gaze from her mouth and from the forbidden thoughts she incited in him. She was strictly off-limits. What had she been talking about again? Yeah, that was right. Her dress.

“What’s wrong with it? You look great to me,” he said, letting his eyes skim over her.

Oh, yeah, she was the full package tonight. Her hair sat smooth and sleek in its unassuming bob. Fine, pale-blond hair that made his hand itch to reach out and feel if it was as silky soft as it looked. Desire hit hard and hot, driving a surge of lust straight to his groin. He fought to control it. This wasn’t what tonight was supposed to be about. He firmed his jaw and wrestled his libido back under control, right up until she turned around, exposing the long ivory column of her back.

“My zipper. It’s stuck. I think I’ve caught it on the lining. Do you think you can work it loose for me?”

Think? The woman expected him to think? Without realizing it, his hands moved to her back. One knuckle grazed against her warm skin. He felt her flinch beneath his touch.

“Sorry,” he muttered and forced himself to concentrate on closing his fingers on the delicate tab of the zipper.

“Do you think you’ll be able to work it loose?” she asked over her shoulder. “I’d hate to have to rip the dress.”

He quelled a groan at the image of doing just that. Of ripping the dress from her slender form and exposing more than the hint of sheer green confection that was masquerading as underwear beneath her gown. If that was the back of her bra, he could only begin to imagine how alluring the front would be. On second thought, better not to imagine it, or his current discomfort would be nothing compared to what his body would do next.

“Sure,” he ground out through gritted teeth. “Just give me a minute.”

His knuckle brushed against her skin again. This time she didn’t flinch, but he could see the reaction to his touch as tiny goose bumps rose in a scatter across her skin.

“I’m going to have to pull your dress down a bit,” he said, warning her of his intention to hold the fabric firmly against her as he pulled the tab gently up.

There, he could feel the teeth letting go their grip on the smooth silk lining of the dress. He was almost sorry when the tab pulled free and he slid it up, closing that enticing view of her back and the band of her sheer bra.

“You’re all set,” he said, dropping his hands to his sides and stepping back from her. “And you look amazing.”

“Oh, thank you,” Sophie said, turning around to face him.

“Shall we go?” he suggested, eager now to put them in a position where they were surrounded by other people and where he wouldn’t have to continually fight this urge to reach out to pull her to him and find out just how good those candy-apple lips tasted after all.

“Let me get my bag.”

He looked around the apartment as she went into what he assumed was her bedroom. He liked what she’d created here. Despite its compact size the apartment had a light, airy feel to it—the furnishings combining a few good pieces with what were obviously refurbished yard-sale finds. It felt like a home. More so than his expertly furnished mansion on the outskirts of town. He loved living there, but it lacked the small touches that made a place more than just somewhere to eat and sleep. Mind you, for the amount of time he’d spent there lately, what did it matter? Besides, it was a prime investment. One he wouldn’t hesitate to flick off when he was ready to move on or when the market was right. He didn’t like to attach sentiment to assets the way his parents did. You never got ahead that way.

“I’m ready. Sorry for the delay, Zach.”

She’d replenished her lip gloss while she’d been in her room and looked so incredibly perfect from head to toe it was difficult to equate the woman in front of him with the slightly nervy creature who’d greeted him when he’d arrived. Women. He’d never understand them fully, nor did he really want to. Who had the time? But he certainly was in the right frame of mind to appreciate this one.

He guided her outside and waited on the path while she locked the front door, then escorted her to his gleaming black Cadillac CTS-V Coupe.

“New car?” Sophie inquired as he held open the passenger door for her.

“Not so new, but it’s my fun car. For weekends and special occasions only,” he said before closing the door on the inviting view of her slender legs.

He settled himself in the driver’s seat and started up the engine, allowing the growl of the 6.2-liter V8 engine to course through him for just a moment.

“You like it?” he said with boyish enthusiasm.

“It certainly looks and sounds sleek and fast, but somehow I would never have pictured you driving something like this,” she commented as she fastened her seat belt.

“No, why so?”

“With your reputation, I’d have picked you for European flash.”

“My reputation?” He raised an eyebrow.

“For being a risk taker. I would have thought your idea of a fun car would be some imported speed machine.”

He smiled. “No, proudly American all the way, that’s me.”

She was easy company on the drive to Claire’s, not being one of those women who felt the need to fill empty space with constant idle chatter. By the time they entered the restaurant, he felt it safe enough to lay his hand at the small of her back without worrying that it would trigger a wave of heat and desire. He couldn’t have been more wrong.

The instant his hand rested against the fabric of her dress, he could sense the warmth of her skin through its fine weave. The effect was more of a tsunami, threatening to swamp him. This was ridiculous, he thought as they were promptly shown to their table. He worked with Sophie every day. She was attractive, he’d always found her so, but he’d never had this kind of trouble keeping his attraction under control before.

He’d also never been quite this close to her before, never touched her, never smelled the light fragrance that trailed her now—a scent that reminded him of summer and roses and long hot aching nights. Maybe this was the real reason he’d envied his friend his capable assistant. Maybe it had nothing to do with her efficiency and all too much to do with the fact he hadn’t been laid in far, far too long. He’d have to remedy that. For now, though, he had to exert his self-control—and remind himself that Sophie was off-limits.

They sat at the table, Sophie refusing an aperitif when the waiter offered.

“Did you want to have a glass of wine with dinner?” Zach asked as he perused the menu once the waiter had left.

“Sure, just one.”

“Not much of a drinker, then?”

“No, I don’t like losing control.”

For a second there she looked surprised that she’d admitted as much. Zach gave her a nod.

“I know what you mean. It can bring out the best and the worst in people.”

She smiled back at him, relief evident in her eyes.

“I’m glad you understand. Most people just think I’m some kind of control freak.”

“I’ve seen you at work. I know you’re a control freak,” he teased gently.

A light flush colored her cheeks and she ducked her head, her short blond hair swinging forward to obstruct his view of her face as she put her attention to studying her menu.

“Anything in particular take your fancy?” he asked. “I know the steak is always good here.”

“I’ve never been here before, but it all looks good to me.”

“Did you want an appetizer?”

“No, I’ll save myself for dessert.”

“Ah,” he said, “a sweet tooth, huh? I didn’t know that about you.”

“I would think there’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

Her tone was slightly quelling, but Zach was nothing if not challenged by her statement. He noticed the exact second she realized the light of that challenge had reflected in his eyes.

“Not that I expect you to know anything about me, that is,” she said, her voice flustered.

“I’d like to know more about you,” he answered, closing his menu and laying it on the crisp white linen of the tablecloth. “We work together. There’s no reason why we can’t be friends also.”

* * *

Sophie swallowed. There was a determined set to his jaw that she knew from watching him at work meant he wasn’t going to let this go. Why, oh why had she been so careless with her tongue? From the second she’d agreed to this dinner she’d been off balance. Could she be friends with someone like Zach? She very much doubted it; especially considering how unfriendlike she’d felt when he’d ever so slightly touched her while rescuing her dress from the voracious teeth of the zipper.

She’d all but melted at the unintentional caress, and had had to draw on every last ounce of self-control to stifle the gasp that had threatened to expose her reaction to his touch. No, friendly was the last word she’d ever employ to describe how he made her feel.

Could she be friends with him, though? Honestly?

It would be tantamount to torture. But worse, how on earth could she explain that to him? She took a deep breath and let it go slowly before speaking. “I’m pretty boring, really.”

“You think so?” he answered, cocking his head and locking those startlingly green eyes of his onto her like twin lasers.

She squirmed a little in her seat, and immediately regretted the action as she became even more aware of the silky softness of her underthings against her skin and of the way the silk lining of her dress whispered against her body.

“Well, by comparison to you, for example,” she deflected, quite neatly she thought, right up until he let loose with a rich belt of laughter.

“Oh, Sophie, you couldn’t be more wrong. I’ve been told I live to work. There’s not much more boring than that.”

Even though he joked at his own expense, she could see the light of an old hurt lingering in the back of his gaze. Compassion flooded her. A man in his early thirties, in his prime both mentally and physically, living to work? It was sad. Something must have shown on her face, because he sobered and reached across the table to grasp her hand.

“Don’t worry about me,” he said, his voice dropping intimately.

Oh, she wasn’t worried about him, not exactly. Of more immediate concern was the crazy flip-flop her stomach did as his thumb lightly stroked the inside of her palm. She gently pulled her hand away from his, relief and regret fighting for supremacy as he made no move to stop her.

“What makes you think I’m worried?” she asked, a note of defense in her voice.

“You have the most expressive face,” he answered, his eyes not shifting an inch. “It’s easy to see when something’s troubling you.”

As long as that was all he could see, she thought worriedly. What if he could see the longing she felt every time she looked at him? A man like Zach Lassiter was so far out of her league it wasn’t even funny. But a girl could dream, couldn’t she?

“There’s not much that troubles me,” Sophie said, closing her menu and placing it in front of her. She could barely concentrate on the culinary delights the pages offered. It wouldn’t matter what she ordered, it was bound to be delicious.

“But you’re worried about Alex, aren’t you? I can see it on your face every morning when you arrive in the office and he’s not there.”

“Aren’t you?” she countered. “He’s your friend as well as your colleague. Aren’t you worried about where he is, what might have happened to him?”

“Sure I am,” Zach replied. “I feel frustrated I can’t do more. The only thing I know I can do is keep all those plates he had spinning from falling down so that when he comes back everything will still be as it should.”

“Is that why you’re in the office so early each morning and don’t leave until after I do?” Sophie asked without thinking.

He looked startled at her question and his eyes became slightly shuttered before he replied. “Yeah, there’s a lot going on right now.”

“Can I take more of your load off you?” she offered.

“No, of course not. You already are the glue that holds the office together. No one could expect more of you than you already give. In fact, let’s make that the end of the subject of work. We’re here tonight because I wanted to thank you for everything you’ve done, not discuss how you can do more.”

He smiled at that last sentence but Sophie could tell it was a deflection. She’d been wondering what it was that was keeping him in the office for such long hours. He was right, she did keep the office running, and she knew exactly what stage each of Alex’s projects had been at before he’d disappeared. Unless Zach had suddenly become wildly incompetent, he should have been able to handle everything—his own portfolios included—within normal business hours, which made her wonder: What was he really up to?