by Heidi Rice
His hand dropped to his side. ‘You figure because we slept together, you can’t stay here? Why not? One thing hasn’t got a damn thing to do with the other.’
‘It wouldn’t feel right.’ She felt her own temper kicking in. Why was he making this so hard? ‘It would feel like I was taking advantage of you.’
‘You…? You’re kidding, right?’ The incredulity was bad enough but the rough chuckle that followed had her glaring at him.
‘What’s so funny?’
‘You are, Iona. How would staying here be taking advantage of me? This place isn’t even mine—it belongs to a friend of mine.’
‘Then I’d be taking advantage of your friend, wouldn’t I?’ It all seemed perfectly obvious to her. Why was he being so obtuse?
‘Settle down.’ He grasped her wrist, drew her back towards him. ‘The guy owns half of central California, so you staying here rent-free for a few weeks isn’t going to bankrupt him.’ He rested his hands on her hips, the confident, sexy smile firmly back in place—and having a predictable effect on her hormones. ‘And you didn’t sleep with him, you slept with me, so it’s kind of beside the point.’
She pulled out of his arms. ‘I fail to see why you—’
‘Iona, I want you to stay here,’ he interrupted, the determination in his voice neatly cutting off her tirade.
‘Why?’ she asked, wrapping her arms round her waist as her belly churned with a confusing mix of need and panic. They were strangers, despite what they’d shared last night—couldn’t he see that?
‘Because it’s important to me.’
‘Why?’
Her arms tightened, the churning getting worse. How could she be terrified that he was going to say she mattered to him—and equally terrified that she might not?
Zane saw the puzzled arousal and confusion in her caramel eyes and felt the answering pulse of heat, but steeled himself against the urge to scoop her up, carry her down the shack’s corridor to her bedroom and show her just how important it was to have her nearby.
He wasn’t here for sex. Or not only for sex.
She was probably dealing now with the same misgivings he’d wrestled with all day. When he’d wanted to call, but convinced himself it would be better to let her make the next move. But after a long torturous morning of waiting for the phone to ring, he’d had enough of waiting. Although he still couldn’t quite believe she’d been about to skip out on him.
Seeing her backpack by her feet, and the guilty flush on her cheeks had been more than enough to have his temper straining, but it had taken a Herculean effort of will not to start yelling when he’d read the note she’d written on the back of her drawing:
Zane,
Please accept this sketch as a small thank you for all your help. The money is to pay for the groceries and the phone call I made to my dad in Scotland. I hope it’s enough?
All the best, Iona
Not one mention of last night. He’d had her sobbing out her release in his arms less than eight hours ago and now he didn’t get a decent goodbye?
Cool it, don’t get too worked up.
He didn’t want to spook her. Or give her the idea this was more than it was. So he needed to be careful.
He lifted both palms up, and kept the nonchalant smile in place. ‘Because I need to know you’re safe. I used to be a cop, remember.’
‘That’s the only reason?’ Her cheeks turned a charming shade of magenta and he felt the answering spike of lust. Damn, he’d forgotten how much that easy blush turned him on.
‘Yeah, what else?’ he said, more than happy to oblige if she suggested she wanted a little more than that.
It occurred to him in that moment that this would be the perfect opportunity to give Iona The Speech.
The one about how he wasn’t a good bet for the long haul, how he wasn’t looking for anything too heavy, but how he really liked her in the here and now. He’d given The Speech to every woman he’d ever dated since leaving high school, usually long before they slept together, so it was already overdue.
But as he waited for her reply The Speech sat on the tip of his tongue like a bad taste—and he realised he didn’t want to give it to her.
Not that he wanted anything heavy with her. He didn’t. Exposing yourself to that kind of commitment simply wasn’t in his make-up. He enjoyed the chase way too much, the challenges and the flirting and the non-stop sex that came at the beginning of a relationship—and the cooling-off period afterwards, when he had discovered all of a woman’s secrets and she started nagging him to return the favour, a whole lot less.
He’d had some sticky moments in his twenties, when he’d been less aware of who he was and what he wanted, and he’d made the mistake of lingering too long. But since then he’d become an expert in reading the signs, getting his timing right and letting the women he dated down gently before they got the wrong idea.
But then Iona had thrown his usual dating routine totally out of whack right from the start and not one single thing had gone according to plan since. When was the last time he’d slept with a woman on a first date, or effectively been a woman’s first lover? Because he wasn’t counting what had happened with that deadbeat Demarest.
And then there was yesterday night. When was the last time he’d had to stop a woman touching him, simply so that he could keep a lid on his own desire? Not since he was a teenager.
But last night, he’d had to practically tie her down to stop her from tipping him over the edge.
She’d confused things again today, by not calling—leaving the need for her burning hot and hard, and forcing his hand. And now, for the first time ever, The Speech felt kind of redundant.
With all the whys and why nots and what the hells fogging up his mind as he waited, he didn’t hear her muffled reply.
‘What was that?’
She lifted her head and stared straight at him. ‘I think you’re right, Zane.’
‘About what?’
‘That it’s better if we don’t sleep together again.’
‘Huh?’ When did I say that?
He stared at her, dumbfounded, The Speech forgotten.
‘I had fun last night,’ she continued in the same steady serious voice. ‘You were…’ her blush brightened ‘…completely amazing.’
‘Thanks,’ he said flatly, more irritated than flattered. He’d been praised before for his skills in the sack, and it had always given him a nice little ego-boost, but it didn’t feel like much of an achievement now. Did she think she owed him something, because the man who’d taken her virginity had been such a selfish jerk?
‘But I don’t want to complicate things,’ she continued as he tried to concentrate on what she was saying and not the low level irritation grinding in his gut. ‘Especially if I’m going to stay here.’
Okay, that did it.
‘Sex doesn’t have to be complicated,’ he said. ‘Not if we keep things casual.’
‘But it doesn’t feel casual, if you feel responsible for me.’
‘Iona, it feels casual to me.’ Or it would, once he’d made certain she was safe.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Sure I’m sure. Look, why don’t you unpack, get settled, check out the job situation in Monterey and then give me a call in a couple of days when you’re ready?’
The suggestion tasted like ash on his tongue. He didn’t want to leave—or stay away until she was ready to call him. But he needed to get this fling back on track. And this was exactly how he would have played things in the past.
‘I’d like to see you again,’ he continued. ‘And I’ve got the weekend free.’ His first in months, he thought, looking forward to the chance to see her again already. ‘But it’s your call, okay?’
Iona was right; last night had been spectacular—but neither one of them wanted this to be anything other than casual. Which meant he needed to back off, and get over the urge to take her to bed right this second. This had to be her choice. Not his.
; ‘Okay, that would be lovely,’ she said, the smile in her eyes turning the caramel to a rich chocolate. ‘And you’re sure it’s okay with your friend for me to stay?’
He sent her a long-suffering look.
‘All right, great. And thanks.’ She gave a little sigh of relief, the movement making her breasts move under her T-shirt.
The desire to cup the ripe flesh in his palms and tease the nipples into tight buds with his teeth was so acute he could taste her. He forced his gaze back to her face and watched the lids on her sultry golden eyes go heavy with the same longing.
‘Good luck with your job hunt,’ he murmured. ‘But don’t forget to call me this time.’
Three days, Montoya. You can last till Saturday. Then she can call you, and there won’t be any more confusion about just how casual this is.
He picked up her sketch, but left the crumpled bills beside the phone as he crossed to the door.
‘But what about what I owe you?’ she asked as he opened the door.
‘We can settle up once you’ve got a job.’ Or more like when hell froze over, but that was an argument for another day.
‘Okay, if you’re sure.’
‘I am.’ Cradling her cheek, he gave her a light teasing kiss, but forced himself to pull back when her lips parted, inviting him in.
Not yet, but soon.
He brushed his thumb across her chin, enjoying the look of stunned passion. ‘I’ll see you Saturday.’
Her lips curved, the smile quick and spontaneous.
‘I’ll be looking forward to it,’ she said, the burr of her accent smoky with need.
Not as much as I will be, querida.
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘ZANE, YOU’RE HERE.’
Zane’s gut tightened as he lifted Iona’s fingers to his lips and buzzed a kiss across her knuckles. ‘I thought we had a date.’
Colour flared in her cheeks and he grinned.
‘Oh, yes, now I remember,’ she said, the coy words somewhat contradicted by the dancing light in her eyes.
What the heck had possessed him to suggest they go for a drive? After three torturous days of waiting to have her again?
‘I’ll get my coat,’ she said.
He watched her collect the denim jacket. She’d added gloss to her mouth, and there was something dark and sultry smudged around her eyes. Beaded sandals, a vivid pink scarf tied round her shoulder-length hair and a thin gold ankle chain completed the outfit. She looked chic and sexy and cute enough to eat.
But it wasn’t until they’d climbed into the car, and he got a lungful of her scent, that the hunger really started to eat at him.
‘So where do you want to go?’ He laid his arm across the back of her seat, and played with the curl that had escaped from her scarf.
‘You decide? I’m easy.’
He laughed. ‘I certainly hope so. I’ve been in agony for the last three days.’
She giggled; the light flirtatious sound had the heat twisting and turning. ‘Haven’t you ever heard of deferred gratification?’
‘I’ve heard of it,’ he said as he backed out of the drive. ‘I’ve discovered I’m not real wild about it.’
Her smoky laugh drifted on the wind but when he stopped the car to lean across the console, ready to suggest they give in to instant gratification—and leave the drive till later—his cell phone buzzed.
Iona touched her finger to his lips. ‘Uh-oh, saved by the bell.’
‘Not really.’ He nipped her finger. ‘I’m gonna give the caller some deferred gratification. See how they like it.’
But when he touched his lips to hers, she wriggled out from under him. ‘You should answer it. It might be important.’
He sent her a long-suffering look, but lifted the phone off the dash, stabbed the caller ID. Seeing his mother’s number, he sighed. Maria rarely called him, and, although it was unlikely to be life or death, if she wanted to speak with him she’d only call back—better to get this over with.
‘Hold that thought,’ he said as he took the call.
It was only when his mother’s voice rang out in his ear at top volume that he realised he’d forgotten to take the cell off speaker phone. ‘Zane, where are you? The quinceañera started two hours ago. You promised you’d come this time.’
He stabbed the button to turn down the volume, but one glance at Iona told him the damage had already been done. She’d heard that loud and clear.
‘I can’t make it. I’m sorry.’
‘Why not?’ his mother asked in her typically pragmatic way.
‘Something came up at the last minute.’ He shifted, stupidly embarrassed by the double entendre he hadn’t intended—and had to bite down on the flicker of annoyance when Maria continued to harass him about the party. She knew he didn’t like spending time with her family. Why couldn’t she let this drop?
‘How about if I get Maricruz a present, make it up to her later?’ he asked, trying to get out of the situation gracefully. He would do pretty much anything for his mother, but not this.
‘It’s not enough. You need to come. Why is it so hard for you to be a part of this family?’ He flinched at the accusation—and the knowledge that he could never tell her the reason why.
He felt the light touch of fingers on his arm, and turned to find Iona looking at him, her eyes bright with sympathy. She mouthed something to him.
‘Just a minute, Maria,’ he said, and covered the handset.
‘Is this your cousin’s party? You should go,’ she said as soon as he turned his attention to her. ‘You can come back afterwards,’ she said, the sincerity in her eyes crucifying him. ‘I’ll still be here.’
No way.
Everything inside him rebelled against the idea of leaving her alone for the evening. After waiting three days to see her, it wasn’t just the sex he’d been anticipating.
But then she said, ‘I don’t feel right about keeping you away from your family,’ and he knew he was sunk.
‘Okay, great,’ he said grudgingly. ‘I’ll go, but you’re coming with me.’ If she was going to guilt him into this, he didn’t plan to be the only one suffering.
‘Don’t be silly. I can’t go, I hardly know…’
Ignoring her protests, he put the phone back to his ear. ‘We’re on our way,’ he added, blanking the gasp of annoyance from the passenger seat.
‘We? Who’s we? Are you bringing a date?’ His mother sounded so surprised, and pleased, it suddenly occurred to him all the ways in which this could go wrong.
He never talked to his mother about his love life, to avoid any awkward conversations. And she hadn’t met any of the women he’d dated since he was sixteen. ‘I’ll be there in about half an hour,’ he replied, deliberately ignoring the question.
He switched off his cell. And raked his fingers through his hair.
Hell, the evening he’d had planned featuring some flirting, a little foreplay and lots of hot sex had already taken a turn he didn’t like. But if Maria met Iona it could get a lot worse. His mother would be bound to overreact—totally screwing up the whole ‘casual sex’ vibe he’d just spent three days of abstinence to establish.
‘Buckle up,’ he said to Iona, who still looked mutinous about the invite. ‘You wanted deferred gratification. You’ve got it.’
‘That’s enchanting.’ Iona sighed, feeling more than a little overwhelmed by the dazzle of lights as the car approached the huge estate on a hill carpeted by rows of ripening vines.
The sun was slipping behind the Santa Cruz mountains, haloing the majestic hacienda on the brow of the hill in the golden glow of twilight. As they approached she realised the lights were lanterns, suspended from the porch railings and shining in the red, green and white livery of the Mexican flag.
What looked like fifty cars were crammed in the driveway, parked on the verges and squeezed under the towering oaks that edged the fields. Ornamental rose bushes and showy oleander vied for attention with wild flowers and ferns in the flowerbed
s that framed the house. A band of teenagers hung out on the porch, the girls looking like beautiful peacocks in their elaborate ballgowns and the boys lanky and uncomfortable in matching tuxedos.
‘I think we’re a little underdressed,’ Iona murmured as they walked towards the house, tugging down the hem of her minidress. As if it weren’t bad enough that she’d been forced into coming, now she felt like a hooker. ‘You could have mentioned the dress code.’
‘Why? It’s not like we had any time to change,’ he replied, holding her hand as he led her towards the house.
She felt herself starting to pout. Hating the fact that he had a point. What had she been thinking suggesting he come? It was just that the woman on the phone had sounded so upset, it had made her feel guilty for thinking prurient thoughts about him, while he was supposed to be at a big family event.
But she was so over that now.
‘Hey, don’t sweat it.’ Zane squeezed her hand, taking pity on her. ‘The Queen of England would look underdressed at this thing. We won’t stay long.’
The romance of fiddles and guitars played energetically in the background competing with the lively hum of conversation as they mounted the steps to the house. Someone shouted a greeting in Spanish to Zane as he led her past the group of teens. Her hand felt clammy in his wide palm, the nerves buzzing in her stomach like hyperactive bees as dark eyes settled on her, most staring with open curiosity.
Zane didn’t pause, but led her round the deck to a huge landscaped garden at the back of the house festooned with more lanterns. The remains of an elaborate banquet lay on trestle tables while suited waiters dispensed sparkling wine and beer to the groups of guests crowded into every corner. A band of musicians played in front of a dance floor set up beside a glorious infinity pool. Numerous people in their finery waved at them or shouted greetings at Zane, which he returned with a perfunctory salute.
Then the crowd parted and a young woman dressed in beaded white lace like a Disney Princess raced towards them.
‘Zane, you came!’ She grasped the tiara on her head under the waterfall of artfully arranged curls before throwing her arms around Zane’s neck.