by Tawny Taylor
Was he upset about her injury? Had he been missing her as much as she’d been missing him? How much did he care for her?
If only he knew how to express himself.
She closed her eyes and relaxed. This felt so good, so right.
He was the one to release her. Stepping backward, into the bathroom, she gazed into his eyes. They were full of dark shadows again, like always.
“I’ll be back.” He strode out of the room.
Very confused now, Mandy watched him leave before going into the bathroom to take care of her bedtime routine.
That was Zane. Broody. Silent. Powerful. Controlling. And yet she’d clearly seen a vulnerability tonight. That little chink in the armor made her want to reach out to him, comfort him. It stirred instincts she didn’t know she had.
Remember, the last time you saw him, he told you he didn’t want to see you anymore. You’ve got to keep things under control.
Easier said than done ...
She turned her mind to her case as she brushed her teeth and washed her face.
Clark had known they would be back. He’d been waiting for them. She’d have to pull back now. Dammit. This had never happened to her before.
She said to her reflection in the mirror, “I’ve failed.”
Zane knocked on the bathroom door.
She pulled it open.
He handed her a piled stack of clothing. “This is the best I could find.”
“I’m sure they’ll be good enough. Thanks. It’s not like I’m going anywhere.” Her fingertips brushed against Zane’s as she accepted the clothing from him. A sizzle of erotic heat crackled through her body.
He backed away. “I’ll wait out here. I want to talk to you.”
“Okay.” He wanted to talk to her! She closed the door and set the clothes on the counter. Plain black T-shirt. Size XL Tall. Men’s athletic shorts. Also size XL. Playing at least a dozen possible scenarios through her mind, she removed her clothes, leaving only her panties, and pulled the shirt on. The bottom hem reached the middle of her thighs. It made a perfect nightgown. The shorts, however, didn’t work. She pulled them on. They slid right back off. No biggie. The shirt was plenty long enough.
Not that he hasn’t seen it all before.
Her face flushed. The pink color was flattering, she realized as she did one final check in the mirror. She was ready. To hear whatever he needed to say. Out of the bathroom she went.
He was sitting at the end of the bed, waiting for her.
She sat next to him, leaving a little space between his warm body and hers. She locked her knees together. “What did you want to talk about?”
“I want you to come work for me.”
Damn, that wasn’t what she’d hoped to hear. “We talked about this. I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
Staring straight ahead, he jammed his fingers through his hair. Clearly, he was not accustomed to having people refuse him. “I’m more than capable of behaving in a professional manner.”
“That’s never been in question. This is more an issue of making a wise choice. Everyone knows you shouldn’t work for friends.” Or ex-lovers.
“Your job is dangerous.”
“It’s all I have.”
Silence.
“Would you quit if you had another option?” he asked.
She saw where this was headed. Zane was going to ask his friends for job leads. He’d probably find her a position somewhere, doing something boring, safe. But why go to all that trouble for someone he’d fucked a few times? “Possibly. It depends upon that option. How much it paid, what the job was, what the long-range opportunities were. What the environment was like. I haven’t worked for a boss in years. I haven’t punched a clock or had a manager standing over my shoulder, telling me what to do every minute of the day. I can’t work like that.”
“Understood. You need some autonomy.” He flattened his hands on the mattress, curling his fingers over the edge. His elbow brushed against hers. A little flutter flitted in her belly.
“Yes. Autonomy. And challenge. I’ll get bored within hours if I’m hired to file papers or answer phones.”
He nodded.
“I’m—more or less—happy with my current job. Lately, though, things have gone a little crazy with the Clark case. I’ve gotten a little sloppy there. That’s why he caught us. It won’t happen again.”
Zane’s gaze snapped to hers. “No, it will. And what happens if you’re shot instead of punched? You can’t tell me for certain you won’t be caught again because you can’t know that.”
Again, she had to wonder why this mattered to him. He’d made it crystal clear he didn’t want to see her. He hadn’t called since their last date. Not once. “True. But I plan on being much more careful in the future. I’ve been playing a little loose and easy because I’d always believed I was tracking cheating husbands who weren’t violent. I didn’t take cases if there was a history of spousal abuse or criminal activity. I minimized the risk.”
“But you didn’t eliminate it.”
“No.”
A tense moment passed.
Zane stood. He stared down at her for a moment, then cupped her cheeks in his hands. He bent to brush his mouth over hers. “Get some sleep.”
“Good night,” she said as he straightened up. She waited until he’d left the room before cutting off the light and settling in.
There was no way in hell she’d sleep tonight.
She woke to the smell of cooking bacon and brewing coffee. Her stomach rumbled as she climbed out of bed. It rumbled a second time as she barefooted it to the bathroom. She took a quick shower, then, smelling like vanilla and cherry blossoms, wrapped herself in one of the gigantic bath sheets she found folded in the cabinet.
Back in the bedroom, she found her clothes—everything but what she’d been wearing while she slept—folded neatly on the chair in the corner. From the smell, she guessed they’d been washed.
Nice. Zane sure knew how to treat a houseguest.
Opting to go commando since her panties were dirty, she put her clothes on and strolled downstairs. She expected she’d be greeted by a broody, intense Zane in the kitchen.
He looked intense all right.
But broody... not quite.
It was the apron. Not even Zane could pull off broody wearing a red apron that said REAL MEN DON’T USE RECIPES.
“Good morning,” Mandy said as she shuffled up to the raised breakfast bar. “Smells good.”
Zane gave her a half smile. “Coffee?”
“Thanks.”
He poured her a cup. “Cream? Sugar?”
“Both. Thanks.”
He produced a carton of half-and-half from the refrigerator, then went for the sugar bowl. She thanked him as he set them on the counter, next to her cup.
She poured some cream. “That’s some apron.”
“It was a gift.”
“It’s ... unique. I would never have imagined you wearing something like that.”
He shrugged as he tossed the eggs that were sizzling in a skillet. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
There was a lot she’d like to know about him. But she was afraid to say that. He might shut down again, become the guarded, standoffish man she’d seen all too many times. “I like surprises.”
“Good.” He dumped the eggs onto a plate, added some buttered toast and a few pieces of bacon, and set it in front of her.
“Wow, this is ... very nice.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. It all looks delicious.” She tasted the eggs. Yep, delicious was the correct adjective. And scrumptious would work, too. She watched Zane clean up as she ate. “Aren’t you hungry?”
“I ate earlier.”
She crunched on a piece of perfectly cooked bacon. It had been ages since she’d had bacon. And even longer since she’d had bacon cooked just right—crunchy but not burned. “You’re a great cook.”
“Thank you.”
She was ab
out halfway through eating when he sat on the bar stool next to her.
His eyes were twinkly.
His expression was downright cheery.
Something was going on.
“I found a job for you.”
So, that was the something. “What kind of job?”
“I have an associate who’s an attorney. Has his own firm. Family law. He needs someone to do some research. It isn’t a big departure from what you’ve been doing. But instead of doing the dirty work, you’d be hiring someone else to do it for you.”
“Hmmm.”
“There’s more to it than that, but I don’t know the details. I figured he could give you the rundown when you go for the interview.”
“I don’t know about this. Research? Sounds dull.”
“Would it hurt to check it out?”
“Did you tell your associate I would definitely take the job?”
“No, I just told her you might be interested.”
Her. Mandy felt her hackles rising. “I may not be qualified.”
“I believe you are.”
“But you said you don’t know all the details.”
“I know you.” He had the nerve to poke her nose with his index finger. “I know how tenacious you are. You’re intelligent and determined.”
“I suppose you told her all those things?”
“I did. And more.”
“Great, she’ll be expecting a superstar.”
“She’ll be expecting you, Amanda.”
God, how I love the way he says my name. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because ... I like to help my friends.”
“Is that what we are, Zane? Are we ‘friends’?”
“I’d like us to be.”
I’d like us to be a helluva lot more than that, dammit. “Friends?” she echoed.
He nodded.
Well, fuck. “Okay, I’ll call her later today and set up an interview.”
“The interview is this afternoon.”
Her spine stiffened. This whole thing was making her uneasy. He was practically shoving her into the job. She wondered if his “associate” felt the same way she did.
Ready to tell him off for setting up the interview before talking to her, she sent him some squinty eyes.
He returned her warning glare with a big grin. She’d have thought he’d just told her he’d bought her a winning lottery ticket. More and more, she could see he was the hard-core, controlling type of man who tended to rub her the wrong way. It was probably for the best that he’d decided they should just be friends.
If only he wasn’t so freaking cute. And generous. And sexy. And sweet.
“Two o’clock.” He pulled a card from his pocket and set it on the snack bar’s granite countertop. “I’ll drive you.”
“I can drive myself. After I find my keys. I’ll need a ride home.”
“Later.”
“Now. Unless you want me to miss the interview you set up.”
“I tell you what—if you stay here one more hour with me, I’ll make sure your car is in your driveway by the time I take you home. That way all you have to do is get dressed and go.”
“Zane, I don’t need you to solve all my problems for me. I’m an adult. I can handle things.”
“I know. I’m not trying to treat you like a child. I’m being selfish.” He dragged her stool toward him. His eyes sparkled with erotic hunger. That was hardly a let’s-be-friends sparkle. His lips curled into a devious smile. That wasn’t a let’s-befriends grin either. Her blood warmed. A few other parts of her body warmed, too. “You’ll forgive my selfishness, won’t you?”
For some reason, it was easy forgiving Zane.
Especially when he looked at her like that. She guessed he was looking for more of a friends-with-benefits type of relationship than a strictly platonic friendship.
I can live with that.
He leaned in and nuzzled her neck. “Do you know how hard it was not to tear off that T-shirt last night?” He nibbled on her earlobe. “I wanted you. I want you now even more.”
Earlobe nibbles were her kryptonite. And Zane knew that. She shivered. She sighed. When his tongue swept along the whorl of her ear, she tipped her head to give him better access. “I thought we were friends.”
“Friends nibble on each others’ earlobes sometimes.” He supported her head with his hands, shifting it slightly to allow him to tease and torment her ear, her mouth, and her neck at will. “And they bind them, tease them, make them beg for release, too. Say the words,” he whispered between nips.
“Hmmm,” was her response. Her eyelids fell closed, shutting her into darkness. Now she was completely tuned in to her other senses. The taste of his lips lingering on hers. The tingles buzzing up and down her spine each time he kissed or licked her. The scent of man and food and desire hanging in the air. And the sound of her little gasps as he drove her absolutely insane with need within a few seconds.
That man knew how to use that tongue—oh, yes, he did.
“Say it. Say what I’ve been waiting to hear,” he murmured.
She sighed. “Take me, Zane. Make love to me.”
18
Hell yes, he’d take her. He’d take her every way he could imagine. She was his. Only his.
Fuck. What was he thinking?
What was he doing?
He didn’t deserve a goddamn thing. Not a taste of her succulent skin. Not a sniff of her fragrant scent. Certainly not the pleasure of her slick heat wrapped around his cock.
She wasn’t just asking to play with him. She’d said, “Make love to me.” Those were words he never wanted to hear. So why couldn’t he cut things off? Why couldn’t he walk away? He’d done it before with other women. More than once.
He kissed her.
That didn’t make things better. Hell no.
Now his cock was straining against his pants. His heartbeat, normally so sluggish it could barely be picked up by a doctor, was now pounding heavily in his chest.
She sighed into their joined mouths. “Oh, yes, Zane. Make me beg.”
The flame in his body flared hotter.
Her tongue found his, stroking shyly. Her hands slipped beneath his shirt, her fingertips tracing tingly lines up and down his stomach.
His fingers curled, closing around two fists full of silky hair. Struggling to cling to the final threads of his self-control, he tugged. Her head fell back.
He could hear her heart beating.
He could see her pulse pounding against the thin skin.
He could practically taste her blood spilling over his tongue.
His tongue stabbed into her mouth now, fiercely, wildly. She didn’t fight against his possession, didn’t shy away from it. Her little fingers curled. She dragged her nails down his chest. The sting only stirred his need.
He didn’t want her anymore; he needed her. All of her. Forever. Always. Desperately. With every cell of his being.
He broke the kiss. Dragged his tongue down the column of her neck, feeling the blood course through the vein lying just below the surface of her skin.
His fangs pierced through his gums.
He could bite her. Feed from her. Take her essence into him.
Don’t do this to her.
“Please, Zane.”
Dammit.
His need was like a steel blade, piercing clean through his heart. He jerked her against him. Her breath puffed out of her chest as her body molded to his.
She doesn’t know what kind of monster you are.
“Zane, I need you.”
He clenched his jaw. His blood burned in his veins. The pain was excruciating.
She wants this. Listen. Look. Feel.
“No.” He pushed her back onto her stool and staggered to his feet.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, looking confused, hurt.
“Nothing. Just ... give me a minute.”
She nodded. Wide, guileless eyes lifted to his. He looked away. “My suite.
Go there. Wait for me. I’ll come in a minute.” He needed time to collect himself. When she hesitated, he said, “It’s a surprise.”
“O-okay.”
He watched her walk away on visibly shaky legs.
If only she realized how shaky his legs were, too, how torn and conflicted and confused she made him feel.
She couldn’t know that. Somehow he had to muscle his way out of this strange pit he’d flung himself into. She was a submissive. Just like all the others. That was all.
He took a deep breath.
Be a dom. Only a dom. And a friend. Nothing more. She can’t be yours. Not ever.
Maybe it was time to find her another dom. A mortal dom. Perhaps that would be best. For them both.
Mandy stepped into Zane’s silent, empty suite. Now what?
He was acting strangely, as if he was fighting some kind of need or impulse. What was the problem? Was it their so-called friendship he was struggling with? Or was it something else?
Couldn’t be his definition of friends. He seemed quite comfortable with that.
Sarah had warned her about Zane’s reputation. He was known to be a hard-core dom, the kind who pushed a submissive’s limits unmercifully. So far, she’d seen nothing to back up such rumors. But she was wondering if he’d been forcing himself to take it easy on her, and now he was finding it difficult to hold back for some reason.
Maybe that’s why he said he couldn’t see me anymore.
Could she handle a tougher dom?
She didn’t know yet. She wondered if she might find out soon.
She sat on the couch and waited. She wasn’t kept waiting long. Zane strolled in within a few minutes, looking strong, dominant, and in complete control.
He walked up to her, took her hand. “This way.” To her surprise, he led her out of the room, down the stairs, and into the dungeon she’d originally met him in. That had seemed such a long time ago. He released her hand when she reached the center of the room. “I think we need to clarify some things before we begin.”
“What things?” Her heart jumped.
“We’ve talked about this. You know we must remain dom and submissive—”
“And friends.”
“And friends. There cannot be anything more. No commitment. No monogamy. You understand, don’t you?”