“Give it back,” she said, already resigned to the fact that he absolutely wouldn’t.
His laughing eyes focused on the lift doors instead of her. Zach-speak for This is not a debate. “No. It’s heavy.”
“Which is why I should be carrying it.”
“Shut up,” he said. “Who lets his girlfriend carry her own shit? Kevins, that’s who.”
He was like a mugger, stealing her smiles at gunpoint. “Zach…”
One dark brow arched, deliciously arrogant. “Don’t pretend you’re pissed. I always know when you’re faking it. That’s my specialty.”
“Spotting fakes?” She cocked her head. “How ironic.”
“Hey. Stay in character.”
“I didn’t say anything!”
“You’re flirting with confession, sunshine.” He looked around warily, like they were running from the mob. “You never know who’s listening.”
“Oh, for God’s—”
The ding and slide of elevator doors interrupted her eyeroll. Fuck. A pair of men she recognised stepped out of the shiny chrome box, their eyes widening as they caught sight of her. It’d been years since she’d seen Mark and Ed Pike, brothers and cowriters with a love of cheap Scotch, loud conversation, and thoughtless, nasty ‘opinions.’ Mark was the elder, his fringe of dark hair being rapidly swallowed by a pink bald patch, his brow permanently furrowed. Ed, the taller of the two, still had a thick head of waves, along with green eyes so bright they could stop traffic. Those eyes were the only interesting thing about him. Both men were rather average in appearance—which would be fine, if they weren’t convinced they were sex gods sent to save the planet with the power of their mighty wangs.
Rae nodded politely and attempted to scurry by. That, of course, did not fucking work.
“Hey,” Mark said, pointing a finger at her. He’d chewed his nail almost to the quick. Maybe she wasn’t the only writer who got nervous about weekends like this. “I know you. You’re… ahhhh, I know it, I know it—”
“Kevin Cummings’s missus,” Ed supplied helpfully, offering a tobacco-stained smile and a wink. “Haven’t seen you in a while, love.”
How was she supposed to reply? Should she snap, I’m not Kevin’s wife, like it was a sore spot, and receive that Oh, God, a hysterical female look? No; she should just smile and say, all cool, Actually, Kevin and I parted ways. Was that a thing normal people said about relationships? Parted ways?
Dealing with your first ever breakup at forty was a special kind of torture.
Now she’d hesitated for too long, and she knew what happened when a woman hesitated with men like these: they’d sweep up the conversation like a broom, rolling her into their pile of social dust and muck, boring her half to death. She’d lose her patience and say something rude to make them piss off, and they’d wander away muttering about Kevin’s bitchy wife. Kevin would hear about it later on and make one of those mild, detached comments he was so good at. The ones that seemed guileless but were sharper than a scythe. She would be shredded in her absence and hear about it three weeks after the fact. That was how it usually happened—and it would be even worse now they were no longer together.
Then, in the midst of her panic, she heard Zach’s voice. “Actually, Rae’s with me now.” It was the kind of statement that could’ve sounded all macho ownership, but he turned it into a friendly update, a calm, no-big-deal correction. Actually, they lowered the speed limit around here. Actually, Emily Bronte wrote Wuthering Heights. Actually, Rae’s with me now.
She officially changed her mind about everything. This weekend was going to be just fine, and their fake relationship was inspired.
“Oh,” Mark said. “It really has been a while. Alright, mate?”
Zach shifted all the luggage in a ripple of hypnotising muscle, shaking Mark’s hand, then Ed’s. She quietly fumed at the fact that no-one had shaken her hand, then remembered that giving a shit about the manners of men in general, and irritating, arrogant men in particular, was a waste of precious energy.
“So,” Ed said in that drawn-out, leading way that meant an awkward comment was forthcoming. His gaze flickered to Rae’s scars, and in that split second, she realised: it had indeed been a while. Maybe five years or more. Which meant she was about to be asked her least favourite question of all time.
With calm interest, as if this were an acceptable topic, Ed nodded at Rae and said, “That’s a corker, eh? What the hell happened to your face?”
Fighting a flare of white-hot fury, Zach spoke through gritted teeth. “What the fuck did you just say to her?”
The brothers must have heard the murder in his voice, because, all of a sudden, they looked mighty alarmed. “Woah,” Ed said, raising his hands like he was warding off a rabid animal. “Come on, mate. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
For some reason, that only made Zach angrier. Then, through a burning barrier of rage, he felt a hand against his back. Rae’s hand. Without noticing, he’d moved to stand in front of her. Her voice was like a distant song, a half-forgotten lullaby in the back of his mind.
“Zach. It’s fine.”
No, it fucking wasn’t, but he heard the warning beneath her words. He breathed in deep. Exhaled. Then he stepped aside and shut his furious mouth, which was a good idea because his teeth felt like deadly weapons. Finally, he shot her a look. Well? I stopped.
Her answering expression was all amusement. The sight soothed him. If she could tease with nothing but the glint in those dark eyes, she couldn’t be too upset. And if she wasn’t too upset, he wouldn’t have to sneak into Ed and Mark’s room tonight for a bit of mild decapitation.
Still, he caught her hand in his, because that’s what a boyfriend would do—touch her, ground her, make sure she was okay. Only, the moment he did it, his mind went blank. Palm against palm, fingers intertwining, hers long and fine and delicate. For no reason he could discern, it just… it fucked him up. Everything about him glitched. Like she was a plug socket and he’d just been shocked. Bright heat, a thrill of sensation, a slight jump to his heart, and he was staring down at her like he’d never seen her before.
Had he ever seen her before? She looked different, somehow.
Oh. The change must have something to do with her anger. She’d told him to calm down, but he saw what she was trying to hide: Rae was furious, calculating, and magnificent. Her smile was a bite. Her voice was a knife. She turned to the brothers and said matter-of-factly, “I was in a bar fight.”
The two men leaned back a little, as if shoved by surprise. “A bar fight?” Ed echoed faintly.
“Yes. A strange man made an unwanted, unnecessary and intrusive comment about my appearance, so I hit him over the head with a chair.” Rae shrugged, rolling her eyes in a What am I like? gesture of self-deprecation. “It’s all a bit of a blur from there.”
Zach bit down on the inside of his cheek to stop from laughing. The brothers looked slightly stunned, then slowly irritated. They shared a grim look, and Ed said coldly, “Very funny. There’s no need to get snippy.”
“I know.” Rae gave them a brilliant, one-sided smile. “But I so enjoy it.”
With twin scowls and spluttering, disapproving huffs, they swept away.
“Oh, dear,” Rae said, utterly serene. “We lost the lift.” She shook her head and pressed the button to call another. Zach tried not to bubble over with laughter or admiration. It wasn’t easy.
The elevator arrived with impressive speed, a sparkling, mirrored box made up of reflections. He got in and was treated to a thousand different angles of Rae’s smile, a slight, smug tilt of the lips. She was pleased with herself, and he liked it. Something powerful crackled in her gaze, like a bonfire dancing in the dark.
It made him smile, too. “You know what that was?” he asked.
She raised her eyebrows in question as the chrome doors slid shut. “What?”
“That was Ravenswood Rae out in the wild.”
Her eyes crinkled at the corners as she grinned. “Hmm.
It was, wasn’t it?”
“Oh, yeah.” You don’t need me at all, you know. But he was glad to be there, anyway. Then a thought occurred to him, souring his mood. “Do you get questions like that a lot?”
“Of course I do.” She said it mildly, but her pleasure dimmed a little, her gaze shuttering.
He was pissed all over again, but for once, the emotion didn’t feel dangerous. He didn’t want to pour it, bruised and bitter, into manual labour, or to cut it off cold. He remembered the touch of Rae’s hand against his back, the care and trust and connection in that simple movement, and he felt… balanced. Released from expectation. Like he didn’t have to chain up his negative emotions and leave them in the dark just to keep her by his side.
He breathed in her sugar-and-lemon scent and let the anger pass.
Then he said, “That’s fucked up.”
“Yes. But it helps me figure out who’s worth befriending and who I should write off immediately. I appreciate the efficiency of it all.” She paused, turning to look at him. Her eyes were so intense, like whole worlds existed there in the dark. “You’ve never asked me about them.”
Her scars. “If you wanted to tell me, you probably would. If it was important, you definitely would.”
“No,” she said lightly. “I mean, it’s not important at all. But I never tell people important things, anyway. I don’t know how.”
Nothing about her expression said she was hurting, but suddenly, he felt sure that she was—and he didn’t like it. So, he raised a hand, and when she didn’t pull away, he cupped her face. He was glad the awkwardness between them had faded over the last couple of weeks, because touching Rae was something he never wanted to give up. It always felt so easy, so right.
“If you want to share something,” he murmured, “you start like this. Hey, Zach, did I ever tell you about…?”
She smiled softly and closed her eyes. Began with an air of release, as if he’d given her permission. “Hey, Zach, did I ever tell you about New Year’s Eve three years ago?”
“No. Tell me.”
Her smile widened, and he saw it reflected around them countless times. The sight tugged at something in him, something raw and vulnerable and unfamiliar. Probably because he could already tell that this would be a sad story—not tragic-sad, but subtle-sad, like the fact that she’d never had a dog before.
He couldn’t stop thinking about that information, even weeks later. It had pissed him off royally.
“We had a party,” she said. “Kevin and I. We were the fun friends because, you know, no kids. So, every year, up until that year, we hosted. That night, I passed out on the sofa, woke up at dawn, and had this bright idea—if I cleaned up the mess before Kevin woke up, he’d be really happy. He hated untidiness, and the house was my responsibility. I suppose I got a bit nervous. So, I stood up to move all of the empty bottles… only, I’d forgotten about my heart.”
The smooth glide of the elevator became slow and weighty. They were almost at their floor, but if the doors opened and the world flooded in, this moment might shatter like glass. It took half a second for Zach to smack the emergency stop button. The lift jerked, then stilled.
Rae laughed, and he felt it, his hand still cradling her face. “What are you doing?” she asked, incredulous, delighted.
“Keep going. Finish the story.”
She nodded solemnly, like she got him, even though he barely got himself. “I stood up too fast. My heart panicked, and I passed out and dropped everything. Then there was all this blood, shouting… It was a dramatic way to ring in the new year.” She held up her hand and showed him something he’d never noticed before: fine slashes dissecting her palm, pale and shiny.
“Shit,” he murmured. When she lowered the hand again, his gaze returned to her face—to the scar by the corner of her lovely mouth. He found himself asking, “Can I touch you?”
She didn’t point out that he was already touching her. She didn’t even ask what he meant. Just whispered in the shimmering silence of the lift, “Yes.”
For some reason, that simple permission rung loud in his ears. He felt as if she’d set something caged between them free. A voice in his mind whispered, We were meant to touch, but the thought couldn’t be his, so he pushed it away. Pretended he hadn’t heard a thing, and swept an absent thumb over the fine line of Rae’s scar.
She sucked in a breath.
He froze. “You okay?”
“Yes,” she said quickly. “I just… no-one’s ever really touched them before.”
He didn’t like that idea. Not at all. “Maybe it should be my job, then.”
He only realised how the words sounded after they’d left his mouth.
Her eyes widened, and she stepped away, out of his reach. The minute he lost her skin, her softness and her warmth, the spell broke. He blinked hard and caught sight of his reflection, the faint flush on his cheeks taking him by surprise. What the hell was he doing?
Running his mouth and making Rae uncomfortable, clearly. He cleared his throat, searching for some kind of joke that would lighten the mood, but a staticky voice filled the lift, cutting him off. “Everything alright in there?”
Oops. He pressed the button on the control panel beside the speaker. “Yeah. Sorry. Must’ve leaned on something.”
The response was a disbelieving huff. “Right.” Then the lift surged back to life.
Chapter 7
Keep it together. That was all Rae had to do: keep it together, keep her distance, and avoid freaking Zach out the way she had at the park. It should’ve been easy, but by the time the elevator doors slid open, her heart was shuddering with the effort. She’d barely managed to pull away from him, had almost succumbed to the urge to step closer. When Zach touched her, looked at her, spoke to her with so much feeling in his voice, something inside her trembled. Unwieldy emotions and dangerous thoughts battled their way to the fore. If this wild and ravenous need was purely carnal, she’d deal with it, no problem.
But it wasn’t.
She needed to get a grip. Zach had made it clear that he wasn’t interested, and she had no desire to hurt him with her lust. She also had no desire to hurt herself with… with feelings. Rae shouldn’t want a man this way. Not so personally, so specifically, like only Zach’s hands and Zach’s smile and Zach’s strength would do. That was something more than attraction. It was something she couldn’t risk again.
They padded down the 11th floor corridor in silence, their footsteps muffled by the thick, grey-flecked carpet. When they reached their room, she fumbled with the key card, suddenly awkward and hyper aware of her body. Of the way it strained toward him, even when she was still. She shoved the feeling ruthlessly away.
Their hotel room was Boring Blue just like the foyer, all smooth and sharp and spacious—which was a relief, since Zach’s presence felt larger than life. At least they wouldn’t be squashed together like sardines, with nowhere for her secrets to hide. The furniture was all clean, dark wood, reassuringly business-like. There was a tea set, a decent TV, a huge double bed—
Oh. Shit. The huge double bed.
Zach dumped their luggage at the foot of that bed, staring at the plump white pillows and snowy sheets with a slightly stunned expression. She didn’t blame him. In her head, a king-size had seemed vast enough to hold two very separate human islands. But now she compared the space to the breadth of his shoulders and wondered if she’d end up sleeping on top of him.
“Sorry,” she blurted, because they’d never explicitly discussed this. “I—I didn’t think this part through. The room was booked and then you were coming, and it was all so—”
“This is fine,” he interrupted roughly. Then he cleared his throat, smiled, and everything was easy again. “I heard someone saying downstairs that the hotel’s been fully booked for months. Plus,” he winked, “I trust you with my virtue.”
Rae huffed out a rusty, creaking laugh that did nothing to hide her discomfort and went to the window, running a frazzle
d hand over her hair. They had a stunning view of the grey, blocky office building next door. It was blessedly dull, bland enough to distract her from forbidden, shameful wants. Hopefully.
Zach appeared beside her, his wonderful hands safely on the windowsill instead of cradling her face like she was precious. Thank God. “So, what’s the plan, Captain?”
She snorted. “Plan? Never heard of her.”
“Colour me surprised.” His voice was a warm mix of fondness and exasperation. It was no secret that preparation wasn’t one of Rae’s talents, or even one of her interests. Still, the last thing she expected was for him to say, all self-consciously casual, “Luckily, I printed out an itinerary.”
She turned to face him. “I’m sorry. You did what?”
He whipped out a folder from somewhere. “Thought you might forget your schedule.”
He knew damn well that she had never laid eyes—never mind hands—on a schedule. “Where did you get that?” she demanded, staring at the folder with horrified fascination. It looked so… official. Organised. Put together. She was starting to sweat.
“I checked the website,” he said calmly.
“You did?”
“I did.” He opened the folder. “And then I printed it out and highlighted all the shit we should go to. There’s a colour-coding system, if you’re into that. Actually, never mind. I know for a fact you’re not into that.” He thrust the folder at her. “Go wild.”
She flicked through the pages and said faintly, “It looks like you already did.”
She had the delicious pleasure of seeing the ever-confident Zach Davis look slightly nervous. He grunted, rubbing the back of his neck. “I like organising shit. I knew you’d be too busy to do it—”
“Incapable, more like.”
“Your brain,” he said seriously, “is full of more important things.”
For some reason, those words hit her hard—maybe because she’d never heard anything like them before. Usually, it was, Jesus, Rae, pay attention. Hurry up. Stop daydreaming. Can’t you do anything useful? The mental voice that repeated those barbs was a disturbing mixture of Mother’s drawl and Kevin’s irritated snap, a toxic cocktail that tightened her gut and hardened her jaw automatically. It was as if the two had joined forces to emphasise that the contents of Rae’s head—the stories and fantasies and incandescent what-ifs—would never be important enough to make up for everything she lacked.
Hold Me Close Page 68