Hot chocolate and breakfast? He folded his arms across his chest. Zahra’s eyes lowered briefly to his biceps, then found his gaze again. “Depends,” he said.
“On?”
“Whether or not you can cook.”
A slow smile curled her lips. “My sister and I spent summers with our old-school, Southern grandmother who cooked like every day was Thanksgiving. I was raised by traditionally Southern parents who rarely allowed us to eat fast food. I can handle myself in the kitchen quite well, Mr. Carter.”
For a moment, Gregor envied Zahra. The mention of a sibling, grandmother, parents, reminded him of what he’d craved growing up. A family. “We’ll see,” he said. “I don’t play when it comes to my food.”
“We shall.” Her eyes lowered to his mouth for only a second, before she turned to leave. “I’ll let you get that shower.”
Gregor peered out into the hallway and ogled Zahra as she glided down the hall. He didn’t retreat when she tossed a half glance over her shoulder, presumably to see if he was watching her walk away. Yes, he was. Unapologetically, at that. Her hips swayed as if they were moving to some unheard melody.
While he doubted she would ever admit it, there was something Zahra Hart wanted. Him. He wanted her, too.
Chapter 6
Those back muscles.
The chest.
That bulge.
That imprint against Gregor’s black boxers gave Zahra heart palpitations. By the looks of things—and she’d looked hard—the man was heavenly endowed. And she’d never thought of herself as a tattoo person, but the sight of them on him did something to her.
She eyed Waterspout stretched out at her feet. “This is all your fault.”
Waterspout’s head rose. She tilted it to one side and perked her ears as if to say, “My fault?”
“Yes, your fault,” Zahra said in response. “Had you not wandered off, I would have never been exposed to Gregor’s hard, firm, delicious body,” she said in a whisper. “I saved your life. Kind of.” Gregor had done most of the heavy lifting.
In those tantalizing moments she’d stood toe to toe with him, she’s most certainly had wanted him. And he’d known it.
Ugh.
Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope. She would not allow that man to get to or inside her. Still, heat pooled between her legs at the thought of making love to Gregor. If he handled the female body the way he handled a football—and something told her he did—he could ruin a woman for other men.
The idea of being ruined by Gregor was far too appealing. “Legs closed, Zahra.”
“Do you always do that?”
Zahra’s attention snapped to Gregor. The burgundy sleeveless T-shirt he wore, displaying those cannonball arms of his, yanked her good sense for a moment. “Do what?”
“Talk to yourself.”
Her breath hitched for a moment. Had he heard her lusting over him? “Sometimes I need expert advice,” she said. To deviate from the subject, she pointed to a mug. “Your hot chocolate is ready.”
Gregor retrieved the mug, took a whiff, then a sip. Then another. “Damn. This is the best hot chocolate I’ve ever tasted.” He brought the mug to his lips again. “I hope there’s more.”
“Plenty.” After Gregor finished a second serving of hot chocolate, she slid an onion toward him, then a knife. “Here you go.”
He stood beside her. “What am I supposed to do with this?”
“Chop the onion.”
He barked a laugh. “I don’t cook. I have people for that.”
Zahra rested a hand on her hip. “Well, unless you can pull said people from those black sweatpants, you chop.”
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a little bit on the bossy side?”
She shrugged. “Once or twice. But I like to think of it as having keen leadership skills. Let me guess, you’re used to a submissive woman?”
“I’m used to a woman who prefers to shop rather than cook.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I’m also guessing she didn’t feel she had to cook. You’ve got people for that, remember?”
Gregor chuckled, then commenced chopping the onion. Clearly, he’d had some experience in the kitchen, because he handled the onion like a pro. Zahra tried her best to ignore the way his forearm muscles flexed each time he cut into the onion. God, his arms were beautiful. His entire body was beautiful, in a drive-a-woman-a-fool type of way.
“What?”
Gregor’s voice brought Zahra back to reality. “Nothing. Just admiring your...chopping skills. They’re impressive.”
“I haven’t always had people. At The Cardinal House...”
Gregor’s words dried up as if he’d realized he was about to say too much. His eyes slid back to the onion. Too late. He’d stirred her curiosity.
“The Cardinal House?”
He studied her a second or two before finally saying, “A group home. I grew up in foster care.”
When he turned away, Zahra assumed this was a subject he didn’t particularly like to talk about, so, she didn’t push. Focusing on the potato in front of her, she said, “Sooo, I may have mentioned to Leona that I would be staying for the next two weeks.”
“You were offered the place, too, which means you have just as much right to be here as I do. We’ll make it work.”
Zahra was sure surprise showed on her face. Seemed someone had experienced a change of heart toward her. Wait. Something occurred to her. We’ll. He’d said we’ll make it work. “You’re staying, too?” flew out before she could catch it.
“Do you have a problem with that?” he asked.
No, but she should have. “I was never the one with the problem, remember?”
“That’s arguable,” he said.
“Shall we argue it?” she shot back.
One corner of his mouth curved into a sexy smile that drew Zahra’s full attention. Yep, she definitely should have a problem with him staying. Oh, the delicious trouble she could get into with this man.
“I think we already have, and I’m pretty sure I lost,” he said.
Zahra laughed and so did Gregor, each returning to their task.
“What’s up with the camera?” Gregor asked.
She eyed the black camera bag sitting on the counter. “I don’t plan on snapping pictures of you and selling them, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“It had crossed my mind.”
And with good reason, she thought. “I love capturing pictures anywhere I go. I have a small studio in NoDa. North Davidson and Thirty-Sixth,” she said for clarification, but was sure he was familiar with Charlotte’s popular art district. “You should swing by sometimes. I’ll give you a free head shot.”
“Thanks, but no thanks. Cameras and I aren’t on the best of terms right now.”
“Because of the scar?”
Gregor’s eyes met hers. When he didn’t respond, simply pinned her with a hard stare, she wondered what raced through his head. The poker face he donned was unreadable, but somehow, she knew she’d touched on a delicate subject for him. “I only ask because you constantly shift that side of your face away from me. But at least you’re no longer wearing that creepy-ass hoodie,” she said for comic relief.
He chuckled but remained silent.
Zahra dried her hands and shifted toward Gregor, resting her hip against the island. “There’s no reason to be self-conscious, Gregor. You’re still an extremely attractive man.” Before she realized what was happening, she rested her hand against his cheek and turned his head to face her. “It’s your battle wound. Wear it with pride.” Her index finger glided along the raised tissue. “A little coconut oil, and in a few weeks you’ll never even know it was ever there.”
Realizing she was caressing his cheek, she allowed her hand to fall. Shifting back to the potatoes, she could feel Grego
r’s gaze on her. When she glanced up, something gentle swam in his eyes. No man had ever scrutinized her so intensely. “Chop, chop,” she said. Turning away, she took a moment to catch her breath and pretend he hadn’t electrified her soul.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You know, I’m surprised you didn’t let me drown this morning.”
It took Gregor a moment to respond. “I’m not a monster. Despite what the media is saying about me.”
“They are going in pretty hard on you, huh?”
“Hard is an understatement. Who knows, maybe I deserve it.”
Zahra whipped her head toward him. “No, you don’t. No one deserves that type of treatment. They’re bullies, and bullying is never okay. Especially by so-called adults. That kind of behavior teaches children it’s okay to make someone feel like crap. It’s not.”
“You seem...passionate about bullying.”
“I had a heroine who was a child psychiatrist. Sure, you hear about it, but in my research, I discovered how truly devastating bullying can be. The toll it has on lives. And not just the lives of the individuals being bullied. It’s horrifying.”
“I have conversations with my boys all the time about bullying,” he said.
Zahra arched a brow. “I didn’t know you had kids.” He’d done a fantastic job of keeping that out of the news.
Gregor held up his hands in a defensive manner. “I don’t. I’m referring to the boys who participate in my Cultivating Men Foundation.”
“You have your own foundation?” Zahra was impressed.
“You sound surprised.”
Admittedly, she was. “What does your foundation do?”
“We provide mentorship for young men in foster care.”
“Nice. How long have you been doing this?”
“We’re coming up on our third anniversary.”
“Okay. I see you. Using your superpowers for good.” She smiled. “Something tells me there’s far more to Gregor Carter than you allow the world to see.”
“Even if I showed them, the world would only see what they wanted to see.”
“True,” she said.
A wave of comfortable silence played between them.
“I asked you out,” Gregor said.
Zahra pushed her brows together. “What?”
“The day of the photo shoot. I asked you out to dinner. You said no.”
So, he did remember that. When he hadn’t mentioned it earlier, she assumed he’d forgotten. Unfortunately, he didn’t remember the day clearly. “Your henchman asked me out, not you. My man Gregor wants to take you out for steaks and shrimps,” she said, mimicking the raspy-voiced, three-hundred-pound man who’d approached her.
Gregor laughed. “Tiny.”
Zahra’s brows shot up. “Tiny! The man was at least seven feet tall and as wide as the front of my SUV.”
They shared a laugh.
“That tactic usually worked,” Gregor said. “But not on you.”
“I can’t believe any woman in her right mind would think that was an acceptable way to be asked out.”
“You’d be surprised.”
“Actually, I doubt I would be. I imagine most women would have jumped at the opportunity to be wined and dined by Gregor freaking Carter.”
“And yet, you flat-out turned me down.”
“I’m not most women.”
“No, you’re not,” he said.
Something about the way he eyed her caused heat to swirl in the pit of her stomach. Their gazes held a long and paralyzing moment.
“If I had approached you, would you have said yes?” he asked.
“No,” she said without hesitation.
“Ouch. Mind if I ask why?”
“Are you sure you can handle my answer?”
“Try me.”
* * *
For a moment, Gregor wasn’t sure Zahra would answer his question. She eyed him as if trying to discern whether or not she thought he really could handle her response. Trust him, he could.
When Zahra burst into laughter, he eyed her like she was crazy. “What’s so funny?”
“You should see your face right now.”
She laughed some more.
“What’s wrong with my face?”
“You look like you’re waiting for someone to reveal whether or not you’re the father.”
And she laughed some more.
Her amusement was so contagious, he found himself laughing right along with her.
“You can be so intense,” she said, tossing a piece of potato at him. Sobering, she said, “There were a few reasons I said no.”
A few? He couldn’t wait to hear them. “Such as?”
“For one, I thought I was worth more than a secondhand invite to steaks and shrimps,” she said, using the same raspy voice as before.
He nodded. “You’re right.”
“For two, I was already seeing someone.”
Back then, that would have only been a hiccup, not a complication. In his skewed manner of thinking, no woman had been off-limits. If he wanted her, he usually got her. All except this one.
She continued, “For three...”
Her words trailed, leading Gregor to believe whatever hedged on her tongue wouldn’t be pleasant. And since he had an idea about what it was, he continued for her.
“My reputation.” It hadn’t been a secret that he’d...enjoyed an active social life.
“Yes. I usually form my own opinions about people, but it was kind of hard to discount your reputation when you constantly highlighted the fact that you loved women. Lots of women.”
He wouldn’t deny that. “You were right to say no. I was an asshole back then.”
“Back then?” She smirked.
“Damn, woman. You really don’t pull any punches, do you?”
“Not my style, playboy.”
“Ex-playboy. Are you forgetting that for the past year and some change I’d been in a committed relationship?”
Zahra’s forehead crinkled. “Yeah, that stunned me.”
“You make me sound like a monster.” And maybe he had been. “People change.”
“I won’t dispute that. But the more people change, the more they stay the same.”
“Maybe.” But not in his case.
An hour or so later, Gregor pushed away from the table after enjoying one of the best breakfasts he’d ever consumed. Zahra had clearly wanted to prove a point—that she could throw down in the kitchen—and she’d succeeded. Herb and garlic steak and onion potatoes. Buttered grits seasoned to perfection. The most mouthwatering biscuits he’d ever tasted. The woman could cook. Waterspout apparently thought so, too.
Gregor eyed the dog, lapping at the last of the grits Zahra had placed in her bowl—minus the salt and butter, of course. But Waterspout didn’t seem to mind. The dog cleaned her bowl, glanced toward Zahra and whined.
“No more,” Zahra said, wagging her finger at Waterspout.
Obviously, the K-9 knew better than to protest, because she flashed one of the most pitiful faces he’d ever seen on any animal, then curled up next to her empty bowl. Probably hoping Zahra would feel sorry for her. Good luck with that. The woman was a hard case.
Gregor reared back in the chair, crossed an ankle over his thigh and eyed Zahra. “So, do you normally go around risking your life for drowning dogs?”
“Not usually, no. But I had a heroine in another book who was an animal rights activist. I guess her love for animals sort of wore off on me.”
“You could have died.”
“I could die crossing the street. Plus, I wasn’t worried. Our ancestors had me covered.”
“What does that mean?”
“Apparently, you don’t know the history of Lake Lamont or Hinnetville.”
&nbs
p; Gregor shook his head.
“Let me school you. Hinnetville was established by free slaves after the Civil War. It was incorporated in 1885. Rumor has it the water of Lake Lamont is sacred. So many were baptized here that the waters contain the spirits of our ancestors.”
He laughed. “How in the world do you know all of that?”
“Research. I’m a romance writer. Everything is a potential love story,” she said.
“Maybe I should start writing romance novels. It obviously exposes you to interesting facts.”
“Do you believe in happily-ever-after?”
“No,” he said without hesitation.
“Wouldn’t you consider being a number-one draft pick, signing one of the largest contracts in history and playing for your dream team a happily-ever-after?”
“That’s all career stuff. I thought we were talking personal. The L-word.”
“The L-word.” She laughed. “Gregor Carter, are you afraid to say love?”
“No.”
“Then say it. Say it three times and it just might come true.”
“You say it.”
“Love, love, love, love, love, love,” she said, poking him playfully. “See, I didn’t even turn to stone.”
Obviously, she wasn’t apprehensive when it came to love. “If you’d been through what I’ve been through, you’d understand why the word doesn’t interest me.” His jaw clenched at the memory of his ex’s betrayal.
“How do you know I haven’t gone through something similar?”
He chuckled. “I doubt there’s a man out there stupid enough to have cheated on you.”
“There is. My ex.”
“What happened?”
By her expression, she contemplated whether or not to share something so personal with him. He understood her hesitation. Talking about what had gone down with him and Selene wasn’t easy either.
“Several months ago, I learned he’d slept with his assistant. Of course, he went through the whole spiel about how it hadn’t meant anything, and how much he loved me and how he should be allowed to make one mistake. The nerve of him,” she said more to herself than to Gregor.
While she laughed, he knew she really found no humor in the situation. Sometimes, laughter was a coping mechanism.
Then Came You ; Written with Love Page 20