One Night: Exotic Fantasies: One Night in Paradise / Pirate Tycoon, Forbidden Baby / Prince Nadir's Secret Heir. Maisey Yates
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forth between your—What did you have when I met you? Fifteen stores up and down the West Coast? It was fun.”
“Yes, but now we have money.”
She nodded. “We do. And it’s great. You’ve done this incredible thing, Zack. The growth has been … amazing. Way beyond what I imagined.”
“Not beyond what I imagined.”
“No?”
He shook his head. “It was always the plan. Planning is key. It’s when you don’t plan, when you drift, that’s when things are a surprise. Good or bad.”
“You didn’t plan for Hannah to opt out of the wedding.”
“I didn’t plan for you to leave Roasted, either. Sometimes other people come in and mess with your plans,” he said, his dark eyebrows locked together.
“This doesn’t mean I won’t see you anymore,” she said. Though she probably shouldn’t. But the thought of that made her chest feel like there was a hole in it. Still, she’d baked the man’s wedding cake. She was such a pushover, such a hopeless case, it was obscene. It had to end.
She didn’t want it to. But if she didn’t see him at work every day … it would be a start.
“I know you’ll still see me,” he said, his mouth curving. “You’d have withdrawals otherwise.”
If only that weren’t true. “Right. Can’t live without you, Zack.” She felt her throat get tight. Stupid. So stupid. But Zack really did mean the world to her, and she had a very strong suspicion that her statement was nothing but the truth. He had offered her support when no one else in her life had. He still did.
She regretted saying she wanted to leave Roasted. Regretted it with everything in her. But she couldn’t change her mind. The reasoning behind the decision was still sound. And she really would still see him. He just wouldn’t fill up her whole world anymore. She couldn’t let feelings for him, feelings that would never be returned, hold her back for the rest of her life.
Zack’s arm twitched and he reached into his pocket. “Phone vibrated,” he said. He pulled out his smart phone and unlocked the screen, a strange expression on his face. “Hannah texted me.”
“Really?”
“She’s really sorry about the wedding.”
“Oh, good,” Clara snorted. The weird jealousy and protectiveness were back together again. She was still righteously angry at Hannah for what she’d done, even while she was relieved.
“She met someone else.”
“What?”
“Yes.” He looked up, his expression neutral. “She’s in love apparently.”
“And she’s texting this to you?”
He shrugged. “It fits our relationship.”
“No, it doesn’t. Love or not, you still had a relationship.”
“We weren’t sleeping together.”
Clara felt her stomach free fall down into her toes. “What?” That didn’t even make sense. Hannah was a goddess. A sex bomb that had been detonated in the middle of her life, making her feel inadequate and inexperienced.
And he hadn’t slept with her? She’d assumed—imagined even, in sadly graphic detail—that half of the meetings in his office had been rousing desk-sex sessions. And … they hadn’t been? So much angst. So much stomach curling angst exerted over … nothing, it turned out.
“Why?” she asked, her voice several notches higher than usual.
“Hannah’s kind of traditional. Because we weren’t in love … well, she needed love or marriage. We were going to have marriage.”
“Hmm. Well, then maybe texting is appropriate. I don’t understand how you were going to marry this woman.”
“Marriage is a business agreement, like anything else, Clara. You decide if you can fulfill the obligations and if they’ll be advantageous to you. Then you sign or you don’t.”
“Cynical.”
“True.”
“Then why bother to get married? I don’t understand.”
He shrugged. “Because it’s the thing to do. Marriage offers stability, companionship. It’s logical.”
“Good grief, Spock. Logical. That’s not why people get married.” She snorted again. “Did your parents have a horrible divorce or something?”
Zack shook his head. “No.”
“You never talk about your family.”
He looked down at his soup. “Not on accident.”
“Well, I figured. That’s why I never ask.”
“This isn’t never asking.”
She looked at him, at the side of his head. He wouldn’t look at her. “We’ve known each other for seven years, Zack.”
“And I’m sure I don’t know everything about you, either. But I know what counts. I know that you lick the mixer. Even if it’s got batter with raw eggs on it.”
She laughed. “Tell anyone that and I’ll ruin you.”
“I have no doubt. I also know that you like stupid comedies.”
“And I know that you put on football games and never end up watching them. You’re just in it for the snacks.”
He smiled, his gray eyes meeting hers. “See? You know the real truth.”
Except there was something in the way he said it, a strange undertone, that told her she didn’t. She wasn’t sure how she’d missed it before. But she had. Now it seemed blatant, obvious. Zack had a way of presenting such a calm, easy front. In business, she knew it was to disarm, that no matter how easygoing he appeared, he was the man in charge. No question.
Now she wondered how much of the easy act in his personal life was just that. An act.
His eyes lingered on her face for a moment, and she suddenly became acutely conscious of her lips. And how dry they were. She stuck out the tip of her tongue and moistened them, the action taking an undertone she hadn’t intended when she’d begun.
This week was going to kill her. Eventually the tension would get too heavy and she would be crushed beneath the weight of it. There was no possible way she could endure any more.
“I’m really tired,” she said, the lie so blatant and obvious it was embarrassing.
To Zack’s credit, he didn’t call her on it. “The inner sanctum is all yours. I’ll make do with the couch.”
She wasn’t going to feel bad about that for a second. “All right, I’ll see you in the morning.”
Maybe by morning some of the surrealism of the whole day would have worn off. Maybe by morning she wouldn’t feel choked by the attraction she felt to Zack.
Maybe, but not likely.
“MR. Amudee has extended an invitation for you and me to have a private tour of the forest land.”
Zack strode into the kitchen area and Clara sucked coffee down into her lungs. He was wearing jeans, only jeans, low on his lean hips, his chest bare and muscular and far too tempting. She could lean right in and.
“Coffee for me?” he asked.
“Oh, yes. Sure.” She picked up the carafe and poured some coffee into a bright blue