The Flaw in His Red-Hot Revenge

by Abby Green

  She weakly pushed aside the clamour of her conscience, demanding to know if she had really thought this through. Zach epitomised everything she disdained, and yet all that felt hollow now. It wasn’t that black and white. He was a complex man. Surely, she thought a little desperately, she wouldn’t be attracted to him if he was driven purely by blind, greedy ambition? Surely she was attracted to him because she saw something more...layers...contradictions.

  The realisation that she was trying to justify her decision to stay and indulge in an affair with a man who was entirely wrong for her drove Ashling from her room.

  She was wearing the only other piece of clothing she’d brought, not having expected to stay beyond today. It was a yellow sundress, with wide straps over her shoulders and little buttons all the way down the front.

  When she got to the reception hall she saw Diana, placing a big vase of blooming flowers on the centre table.

  The woman looked up and saw her, smiled. ‘You’ll be pleased to hear that the chef, Marcel, is fine. They think it was some kind of a panic attack.’

  To Ashling’s mortification, she realised she’d forgotten about the chef. Zach’s form of distraction was too potent. Genuinely relieved, she said, ‘That’s good news.’

  ‘I believe you and Zach are staying for the rest of the weekend?’

  Ashling couldn’t help blushing. ‘Yes... I hope that doesn’t put you out too much?’

  The woman smiled wider and said, sotto voce, ‘Not at all, my dear. I’m delighted to see him actually using the house for once. It’s a crying shame to use it as little as he does, and I know he enjoys it here.’

  More evidence that this wasn’t usual for him, which made Ashling’s heart speed up.

  Diana said, ‘He told me that if I saw you to tell you he’s making some calls in his study. You’re to have some lunch on the terrace and make yourself at home—he’ll come and find you when he’s finished.’ The housekeeper winked at her. ‘If I were you, on a beautiful day like this, I’d use the pool. Or even the lake—it’s deep and perfectly safe for swimming.’

  The thought of a swim in either the pool or the lake was definitely appealing. But as Diana was walking away Ashling thought of something. ‘The Stephanides...do you know where they are? Maybe Elena would like another yoga lesson.’

  Diana turned around, ‘Oh, they left a little while ago in the helicopter. They were sorry not to see you, but Zach didn’t want to disturb you.’

  That must have been what had woken her. Their helicopter leaving. Ashling was disappointed not to have been able to say goodbye. She probably wouldn’t see them again and she’d liked them.

  ‘Okay, thanks.’

  Ashling had a light salad on the terrace. She saw the garden was miraculously almost back to its original state, thanks to the hive of workers clearing everything. Not used to feeling redundant, when she was finished she took her lunch things into the kitchen, but was quickly shooed out by Diana.

  She explored the gardens a little more, walked down to the lake. It was utterly idyllic. A beautiful summer’s day. Just a small breeze. The water looked seriously tempting. Ashling looked back towards the house. She couldn’t see a thing—the foliage shielded the lake from view.

  Before she could think about it too much—‘Don’t overthink it, hmm?’—she scowled at Zach’s voice intruding in her head and undid the buttons on her dress, letting it drop to the wooden jetty. She slipped off her underwear. She wasn’t wearing a bra.

  Before she lost her nerve entirely, she dived into the lake.

  * * *

  Zach had looked all over for Ashling. No sign. The last of the event staff were leaving, and he thought of Ashling mentioning getting a lift because she’d assumed he’d meant her to leave so that he could stay here on his own.

  It was something he’d never done. Instinctively he’d shied away from owning the space completely. Avoided thinking about what it meant.

  He was down at the end of the garden now, near the trees that bordered the lake. He heard a sound.

  He walked through the trees and emerged near the jetty. The first thing he saw was a splash of yellow. A discarded dress. He scanned the lake. Then he saw her. She was on her back, floating, her arms outstretched. Limbs pale. The twin mounds of her breasts were visible above the water line...the small pebbles of her nipples. He could see her belly, and the dark blonde cluster of curls that hid the moist and hot evidence of how much she wanted him.

  Zach’s body jerked in response. He shed his own clothes and executed a near-soundless dive into the water, coming up for air just as Ashling turned her head. She squealed and lost her balance, sinking under the water. Zach reached for her, tugging her up again.

  She came up gasping, hair slicked back, her body lithe and smooth. ‘What the...? I didn’t even hear you...’

  Zach pulled her into him and she put her arms around his neck. The sharp points of her breasts against his chest sent blood rushing to his head and groin.

  ‘Put your legs around me.’

  She did it wordlessly.

  He covered her mouth with his, relishing that sweet, cushiony softness, then giving way to something deeper and more erotic when she opened up to him.

  She squirmed in his arms and he reached between them to where she was exposed, sliding his fingers along the slick folds of flesh before exploring deeper, sliding in one finger, then two. She tensed against him and he felt her shudders of release, the contractions around his fingers.

  He pulled back. She looked at him, shocked.

  ‘You’re so responsive...’

  It was beyond gratifying to have this effect on her. Gratifying enough to almost take the edge off his own sharp need. But then the dreamy soft-focus look faded from her face and she reached for him, circling his length with her hand, stroking his flesh until he was the one losing control and shuddering into her hand.

  Breathless at the speed with which they’d responded to each other, Zach didn’t try to hold her when she pushed back a little. He watched her tread water, a little bit away. His body felt languorous.

  He said, ‘If I’d known the lake was this much fun I would have used it long before now.’

  Ashling trod water. ‘You haven’t used it before? But it’s amazing. If I lived here I’d never leave and I’d swim here every day.’

  Colour poured into her cheek—which was astounding given what they’d just done.

  ‘That is... I don’t mean I want to live here. I mean, I would, who wouldn’t? But that’s not what I—’

  Zach took pity on her, reaching for her again, pulling her into his rapidly recovering body. ‘Don’t overthink it, Ash.’

  She rolled her eyes and pushed free of his embrace again. She smiled at him cheekily and said, ‘Race you to the jetty.’

  ‘What does the winner get?’

  ‘To have their wicked way with the loser.’

  ‘I thought I just did that?’

  Ashling splashed water at him, and then turned and struck out with a graceful crawl to the jetty.

  Zach had no problem losing this game. He just watched her, an alien sensation of lightness filling his chest. Then he struck out after her to avoid deciphering what that sensation was.

  * * *

  ‘I’ve given Diana and Rob the rest of the weekend off, so they can go and visit their grandkids. Diana has left meals in the fridge, so we won’t starve.’

  So they were here alone now.

  The prospect of that sent more than a tremor of awareness and anticipation through Ashling. She was still reeling from the aftermath of Zach joining her in the lake a few hours ago. From watching him pull his sleek body out of the water and the fact that he’d revealed that he’d never swum in the lake before.

  They’d walked back up to the house, their clothes pulled on over damp bodies. Zach had had to go and make a
few calls, and Ashling had taken the opportunity to have another shower and try to gather her wits again. Except she had a feeling that as long as she spent time with Zach any sense of equilibrium or control would be elusive.

  She wondered if it would ever come back.

  ‘What would you like to drink?’

  Ashling had joined Zach on the terrace for an aperitif. The evening was humid. The sky was turning a bruised colour. ‘White wine, please.’

  He came out with their drinks. He was wearing dark trousers and a dark polo shirt. He looked vital and sexy.

  He observed, ‘You like colour, don’t you?’

  Ashling made a face. ‘I had to borrow some more clothes. I didn’t bring enough with me for the weekend.’

  She wore a strapless black silk jumpsuit, with splashes of vivid colour.

  He said, ‘It suits you.’

  ‘I didn’t always like colour,’ Ashling admitted. ‘I used to prefer to fade into the background.’

  Zach affected a look of shock. ‘Not possible.’

  Ashling bit back a smile. Like this, he was...irresistible. And she didn’t have to resist him.

  The thought was heady. Intoxicating.

  ‘Why did you want to fade into the background?’ he asked.

  Ashling gave a little shrug. ‘My mum was a single parent. We were living in a posh area, albeit very much downstairs. My school was conservative. Most other kids had two parents. My mum was...not afraid to express herself. She wore her red hair piled up. Big jewellery. Trendy clothes. And Cassie’s dad never let me forget where I belonged.’

  ‘How?’

  Ashling told him the story of Cassie’s father not allowing her in the main part of the house. ‘It’s silly, and it was a long time ago, but I still feel intimidated sometimes. Especially in places like this. As if someone is going to come along and accuse me of trespassing.’

  She looked at Zach, where he stood near her by the terrace wall. His face was in shadow, which made it easier for her to say, ‘That night of the party four years ago... I only realised when I was walking up to you that they’d totally set me up to look as out of place as possible. To make it even worse...for you.’

  ‘But it affected you too?’

  ‘Yes—if that’s any consolation.’

  ‘It’s in the past now.’

  ‘Is it?’ Ashling almost whispered, afraid to ask. ‘Am I still being punished?’

  Zach put his glass down and took hers, setting it aside. He came close and cupped her face in his hands. Ashling felt vulnerable. There were moments like these when she felt so exposed, and it would take nothing much at all for Zach to capitalise on her vulnerability and crush her. She held her breath.

  He said, ‘No more punishment. Now it’s just about pleasure.’

  Ashling released her breath, shakily, and it mingled with Zach’s as he covered her mouth with his and showed her exactly the difference between punishment and pleasure.

  * * *

  To say that Ashling felt as if she was in a bubble outside of time was an understatement. She lay on a sunbed in a swimsuit she’d borrowed from the pool house and wasn’t even sure what time of day it was, never mind what day.

  The last twenty-four hours had been spent mainly in bed, punctuated by trips to the kitchen. And once to the lake again, as dawn had risen. That swim had been magical...magical enough to make Ashling very afraid that she was fast losing any grip on remembering what this weekend was about.

  Short and hot.

  Weakly, she felt she could happily live in this dreamlike state and never go back to the real world again. She’d never felt so at peace. Which was disconcerting when she was in a milieu that she’d always found a little uncomfortable.

  She heard the sound of someone emerging from the pool and opened her eyes, squinting up at a six-foot-plus embodiment of masculine perfection, with water sluicing down over his hard muscles. Short swim-trunks left little to the imagination.

  ‘Sure you don’t want to swim?’

  Ashling feigned a level of nonchalance she really wasn’t feeling. ‘I’m happy to take in the view.’

  She squealed when he came down over her, showering her with droplets of water. This relaxed version of Zach Temple was more than a revelation. He was fatally seductive.

  He kissed her, and any hope of pretending to be nonchalant melted. The craving he woke in her with just a look, a kiss, was seriously addictive. Ashling had heard people talk about sex as if it was a drug and she’d never understood it. Till now...

  When Zach pulled back she went with him, loath to break the contact. He lay down on the sunbed beside hers.

  Ashling turned on her side to look at him. ‘This house must have been amazing for a child.’

  ‘I’m sure it was,’ Zach said lazily.

  Ashling was surprised. ‘It wasn’t in your family?’

  He shook his head, eyes closed. ‘I bought it a few years ago.’

  Ashling recalled what he’d said about his father. ‘You said your father’s not in your life...were your parents divorced?’

  For a long moment Zach said nothing, and then, ‘My mother was a single parent. I grew up in a tower block in one of the roughest parts of London.’

  It took a long moment for that to sink in. When it did, Ashling sat up on the sunbed, shocked.

  Zach turned his head and looked at her. Mocking. ‘Weren’t expecting that, were you?’

  No. Not in a million years. She was speechless as she absorbed this. Finally she said faintly, ‘But you went to boarding school... Oxbridge...’

  ‘Scholarships.’

  Suddenly Ashling felt cold, in spite of the heat. ‘Your father...’

  ‘He wanted nothing to do with me. He has his own family, who were all bred with the right woman.’

  This was all too sickeningly familiar. ‘You have half-siblings?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Ashling wrapped her arms around her knees. ‘I just assumed you came from that world.’

  ‘Rich. Entitled.’ He stated the words.

  She nodded. Zach was expressionless, but she could see the tension in his form. She felt defensive, because she hated it that she’d misjudged him so badly. ‘You let me assume...’

  He shrugged. ‘I find that people don’t really like to have their assumptions disproved.’

  That hurt. But he was right.

  She said, ‘I pride myself on not judging people, but I judged you.’

  Because it had kept him at arm’s length.

  ‘You saw what you wanted to see.’

  Ashling swung her legs around to the side of the sunbed. She felt agitated. ‘Zach...we’ve had the same experience. More or less.’

  ‘It’s a small world.’

  He sounded blasé, but Ashling wasn’t fooled. ‘Have you ever met your father?’

  Zach sat up and reached for her, tugging her up from her sunbed and over to his. She landed in an inelegant sprawl across his chest, her breasts crushed against warm, damp skin.

  He said, ‘Funnily enough, I can think of better things to do than talk about my father.’

  He trailed his hands up along her waist, across the bare skin of her back, and then traced the side of her breast, exposed by the far too daringly cut swimsuit that she hadn’t been able to resist choosing earlier. Now she regretted it.

  He took his hands away and looked at her. ‘But if you’d prefer to talk...’

  Ashling wanted to scowl. He knew exactly how he affected her. The inevitable fire lit up her blood and turned it molten in seconds. And she of all people could understand his need to deflect.

  What he’d just revealed was huge. Maybe she wasn’t ready to pursue that line of conversation either...afraid of what it would change between them.

  Weakly, she put her hands on either side of
his head, and just before touching her mouth to his she said, ‘You win... I vote we go with this...’

  * * *

  ‘You don’t have to cook.’

  ‘I like cooking. Just sit there and look pretty.’

  Ashling pushed a glass of wine towards Zach, who was sitting on the other side of the island. What she didn’t mention was that she found cooking therapeutic—especially when she needed to think stuff over in her head. Like the bombshell Zach had dropped earlier about his background...

  He’d managed to keep her pretty distracted for the rest of the afternoon, until she’d left him sleeping in bed, had a shower and come downstairs. She’d been inspired to cook when she’d seen Diana’s well-stocked larder and fridge.

  The fly in the ointment was that the object of her ruminations was sitting a few feet away, looking far too distracting in a dark T-shirt. She didn’t have to see his bottom half, because the image of him appearing in the kitchen in worn denims a short time before was seared on to her brain.

  ‘What are you cooking?’

  ‘Seafood risotto.’

  ‘Tell me how you ended up doing a cordon bleu course.’

  Ashling added onion, garlic and some other ingredients to a heavy pan. ‘It was the year my mother took me to Paris for my birthday.’

  ‘You were eighteen.’

  Ashling looked at him, hating the spurt of warmth in her chest because he remembered. ‘Yes. Well, I fell in love with the food, so when I’d saved up enough money to do a basic course I went back. I waitressed to make money while doing it.’

  Zach took a sip of wine. ‘So why didn’t you become a chef?’

  Ashling added rice to the pan, stirring with a wooden spoon. ‘I knew from early on that I wasn’t really cut out to be a chef. I don’t have the temperament.’

  ‘You’re too nice.’

  Ashling smiled sweetly and added white wine to the mixture, and more stock. She’d found a white off-the-shoulder peasant-style dress in the dressing room. She was aware of Zach’s eyes on her, but she was still not quite believing that she could be that enticing to him.