“THIS IS DIFFERENT.” Harper glanced around the lobby, from the gleaming wooden floors, varnished to a high gloss, to the antlered animal head mounted over a vast fireplace. Pictures of cacti decorated the walls, and a metal sculpture of a saguaro towered near a fountain tiled with Mexican-style glazed squares.
“Bienvenidos a Las Posadas!” The desk clerk had a red rose in her shiny black hair, a real rose. Her off-shoulder dress revealed a hint of beautiful brown skin. “You’ll get Casitas eleven and twelve, with an adjoining door. There’s a complimentary breakfast starting at six a.m. The omelets are excellent and we have an award-winning salsa bar.” Her smile was brilliant and she handed over two white keycards in matte envelopes. “Don’t hesitate to call the front desk if you need anything.” Her smile brightened when she looked at Zach, and she adjusted her rose, the gesture sweet and feminine. “Do you need anything right now, anything I can do to help?”
“No, thanks.” Zach gave her his million-watt smile and the clerk practically simpered. Harper held back a scoff. God, all he had to do was exist, and he had them melting and shedding their panties. Ugh.
“Well, I’m Marielle, and if you need anything, anything at all, don’t hesitate to call the desk and ask.” Polite, as behooved an employee of such an upscale resort, Marielle included both Zach and Harper in her smile-contact and glance, but as before, her eyes lingered on Zach just a second longer.
“Thank you.” Harper was so tired she felt dizzy. The remaining anxiety had settled in her skull, behind her eyeballs, making the room expand and contract as if heat waves rose from it. She grabbed for the handle of her suitcase.
“I got it.” Zach took it. “This way.” He led her through an ornate wooden double door into a quaint garden.
Harper found the lush surroundings odd. “Why do they have a manmade stream here in the desert? Where does the water come from?”
“The Colorado River. Phoenix has never wanted for water.” His tone was wry. “Yet. So they’re not very conservation-minded, at least not in the general public.”
In reply, she yawned. “I feel like I’m going to fall over.”
“You okay?” He sounded concerned.
“Being on solid ground, yes. I’m just so tired now. Thank you for getting us a hotel. For not making me get on a plane.”
“I could never make you do anything, Harper. And I wouldn’t leave you alone while you’re upset like this.” He sounded serious. “The only question is whether you want me to take you to an urgent care.”
She shook her head, sort of horrified. “Zach, no! That’s not even close. Yes, I freaked out, but I’m totally fine now that we’re okay.”
“But if you need your medication? You said you forgot it?”
She shook her head. “The only thing I need now is rest.” She could call her doctor and have him send a scrip to the local Walgreens before the flight back.
“This is us.” He pointed to a pretty little casita. “Two apartments. You can relax now, okay?” He slipped the keycard into the lock. “Which one do you want?”
“This one because it’s closer and first.” She tried to laugh. “I’m about to collapse.”
She stepped in as Zach flipped on the light. “Oh, wow. This is just… wow.”
Bathed in a low golden glow from the lamp, the room shone like a cave of gems. The bed, tall and ornate with tall wooden posts, was draped with gauzy fabrics and topped with a dozen colorful pillows. Large oil paintings on the wall, reminiscent of Diego Rivera, gave a decided Southwestern feel, as did the architecture of the room, with New Mexico beams and softer Mexican archways combined into a coherent design.
“This is so pretty.” She dropped her purse on a comfortable-looking loveseat in a red and gold brocade and walked to a window dressed in the same gauzy fabric as the bed. “Is that the pool out there?”
He stood beside her. “Looks like it.” He rested one hand on her shoulder. “Over there you should have a little kitchen and living space, and the bathroom. And I’ll be through there.”
He pointed at a wooden door set in the wall. “If you need me, you can just knock.” He smiled, and her stomach shifted with sudden arousal. Despite everything—the conversations, the rough landing, or maybe because of it—she wanted him more than ever. Even knowing he was an inveterate bachelor, committed to staying commitment-free, she’d learned enough about him in the past few hours to really… like him. Even if she shouldn’t.
“I’ll be fine.”
She wandered into the little kitchenette, opened the fridge. “Zach! Look. There’s even a bottle of wine in here, and lots of waters. And on the counter, a basket of snacks.”
“This is a luxury resort,” he said. He stood a few feet away, hands in his pockets. Behind him, the yellow light at the doorstop lit up the open door like a halo. She could see a—was that a fat moth? Fluttering around.
He turned. “Better close that before bugs get in.” He jogged over and shut the door, but stood beside it. She came up.
“Bugs?”
“Ah, you know. The usual desert wildlife.”
“I don’t actually know, though. So… like, what are we talking?”
“Well, we’re by the foothills, and this place uses natural pest control. So you’re going to get your desert roaches, your scorpions, your spiders, your—”
“Ugh. I know they lived here, of course, but I didn’t expect them to be, you know, in my room.”
“You don’t need to worry, Harper. They take good care of the property, so if you see one, don’t squash it with your bare hand or foot. Use something solid, like a shoe or rock.”
“With my bare hand? Ha, you’re funny. And what exactly is a desert cockroach? How is it different from a, you know, regular one?” She wrinkled her nose.
“Well, it’s not a desert cockroach, per se. They live in the desert. They’re… large. They fly. Like the ones in Florida.”
Her eyes widened. “That’s not cool, Zach.”
“Well, you probably won’t get too many of those in here, anyway. And about the rattlesnakes, just if you go hiking early in the morning, stay on the path and keep your eyes open. Make noise, rattle gravel, toss a rock ahead on the path now and then, so they can hear you coming and slither away. They don’t want a confrontation any more than you do.”
“You are just a fountain of knowledge, Zach.” She rolled her eyes. “And a wonderful boss, to have found us a resort near the most poisonous creatures in the US.” She paused. “I have sort of always wanted to see a rattlesnake in person, though. And if I see real live scorpions, I probably get bragging rights for life, yes?”
Zach chuckled. “Absolutely. I bet they’d put your name up on some digital billboard in Times Square. Hey, it’s late. I’m going to give you privacy. Let’s meet up for breakfast tomorrow and discuss our game plan. Eight a.m. work for you?”
“Sure.”
“Great. I’m sorry about all of this. The rest of our trip will be better, I’m sure of it.”
He touched her arm, leaned in for a second like he was going to kiss her cheek, then straightened up. “Good night.”
CHAPTER 8
Exhausted to the point of mania, still she couldn’t sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the seatback in front of her, and the flash of lights on the wing. Then her hands hurt and she found they were clenched tight, as if gripping the wide plastic seat rests, scrabbling with her fingernails. Her toes were clenched, too, as she remembered pressing her soles to the floor, as if by pushing down she could safely bring the plane down, or maybe as if by pulling up on the armrests she could keep the thing aloft. Feeling the dull, even throbbing beneath her skin, murmuring and humming into her body, every nerve expectant, waiting for the plane to fall, to plummet.
“Fuck.” She was sweating. “Fuck this.”
She tossed off the covers and got up, flicked on the lamp. Taking deep breaths to calm her racing heart, she grabbed a cold bottle from the fridge. The cheap plastic rippled a
nd crinkled under her hands and water spurted out of the lid as she twisted it off, spilling down her chest. The cold shock felt good on her stomach.
She drank deeply and drained the bottle, then recapped it, enjoying the feel of the slippery thin vessel, and crushed it sharply, biting her lip as the sounds built to a crescendo of static. When she dropped the thing to the counter, it sat there and started to expand in places, making small pops and dinks as the plastic unformed.
She sat on the chair, tugging her feet under her. Unfamiliar room, strange fabric on her feet: It was lonely instead of exciting. She hugged herself, and a tear rolled down her eye. She opened the bottle of wine and drank a glass, then another. When the panic didn’t abate, she stood up.
A minute later, she was up and knocking on the connecting door. “Zach?”
He was there in a second. “Harper?”
She breathed a sigh of relief to see his face. “I’m okay.” She swallowed and gestured to her room. “I don’t want to be alone.”
He was wearing nothing but boxers, and his lean torso and muscular legs looked good. His eyes travelled down her body, and she flushed. The sheer nightgown wasn’t overtly sexy, but neither was it meant for platonic company; thin and breezy, it outlined her breasts and hips.
His voice was hoarse with the night. “You want company?” He quirked an eyebrow, looking around, his eyes lighting on the wine bottle and empty glass.
“Can you come in for a while?” She wrapped her arms around herself. “I keep thinking about the plane and starting to panic. I don’t know if I even want to go on to Hawaii. I might need to rent a car to even get back to Chicago. I’m really not even joking. I hate this.”
“Hey, don’t talk that way.” His voice was deep and reassuring. He put a hand on her shoulder and the warmth felt good. “We had a rough landing, but it was safe. If anything, you lived the odds. From now on, every flight you’re on is a guaranteed safe one, statistically speaking.”
He grinned, but it faded when she didn’t smile back. “Come here.” He tugged her into his arms.
She went willingly, pressing her cheek to his strong chest, inhaling his scent. He smelled faintly of soap, the fabric of the hotel, and his own essence, all man. Good.
“Will you just sit with me? We can listen to music, or the TV, or something. I don’t want to focus on a show; I just need to be distracted. I’m sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry for.” He took her hand and led her to the couch. “Here.” He held up a Mexican printed fleece blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders. “Come on, relax for a minute.”
He sat down and helped arrange the blanket. “Okay?”
She nodded, leaned her head back. “Thank you.”
He leaned back, too, and put his arms up, stretched out his legs. “You mind if I’m like this? Should I put something on?” He laughed. “Never mind, I’ll wear the other blanket. Make myself decent.” He wrapped a second fleece around his middle and waist.
She sighed. She liked the sight of his bare chest and legs, but it made sense that he should cover up, too. Inappropriate, probably. The wine made her head floaty so she closed her eyes. “Can we talk some more? I like talking to you.” The words sounded like they were coming from far away.
“Of course.” From his side of the couch, he lifted her foot into his lap. “Relax. Want me to massage you?”
“Okay.” It wasn’t professional, but neither was that kiss, and she wasn’t sorry. It had kept her sane, given her something to grab onto, in a moment when she was desperate.
“So, what’s our new topic?” He rubbed her toes and she groaned in pleasure.
“God, that feels so good. You’re lucky I showered, though. My toes were pretty sweaty before.”
“Maybe I’m a foot guy. Maybe the sweatier, the better.” He tickled her sole.
“Eeeew!” She giggled. “You’re not, though. Right?”
He stroked over her instep. “Not a fetish, no. Just wanted to make you laugh.”
She pushed her heel into his hard thigh. “I see. Hey, those foot fetish guys. If a girl has more than the usual amount of toes, does that make her even hotter?”
“It’s not my area of expertise,” he responded. “But a fascinating question. Perhaps you can Google it tomorrow. Not, of course, when you’re doing work for me.” He squeezed each toe in turn. It felt heavenly.
“Of course not. It just crossed my mind, you know.”
“I’m sure it did. So what’s our topic?”
“I don’t know. Anything, I guess. What do you want to talk about?”
He paused. “Tell me why you’re scared. What’s in your head?”
“No! Anything but that,” she protested, stiffening under his hands. “I want to forget about that.”
“Sometimes,” he responded, “the only way past something is right through. Talk about it and make it go away.”
“I don’t know if it works that way.” But she licked her lips. “Well, what the hell. So I thought we were going to crash. I was terrified. I kept thinking of all the things I never got to do. The things I did wrong. The way my life isn’t complete yet. That it wasn’t fair.”
“Yeah?” His voice was low. “What else?”
“That I was scared to die.” Her voice caught. “Because I hadn’t finished living yet. I never skydived. Or petted a llama. Had a crazy affair on a tropical island. So many things.”
“But you’re here. You made it through. You can do all those things, and more.” His voice was low, his hands sure.
“I know. My brain knows it, anyway. My stomach and my heart aren’t caught up, though. I feel all sick and fluttery.”
“I understand.” His voice was soft. “I was pretty confident the pilot would pull it off. But when I saw that runway coming up so fast, it was—” He shook his head. “Pretty surreal. My heart sped up a little, I admit it.”
“But you weren’t terrified.”
“No.”
“I hate being weak like that.”
“I don’t think it’s a matter of weakness. It’s a fundamental, visceral response and it’s really not uncommon. You shouldn’t feel bad about yourself.” He squeezed her feet. “Sometimes, anyway, don’t they say it’s the most intelligent people who have flying phobias?”
“Did you just make that up to make me feel better?”
He laughed. “I’ll never say.”
“Well, then, the answer is yes. Yes, it’s true. It’s my incredible I.Q. It takes up so much space in my brain, that the part responsible for fear control got a little squeezed. That, and my fantastic artistic lobe, which is responsible for my photography.”
He pressed on her heel, and she made a sigh of contentment. “Question. Let’s say you could keep your Einstein-like mad skills and your photography, but still be afraid of flying. Or, you could give up a little bit of your talent. Say, five percent, and be totally cured of the fear. What would you pick?”
“Your questions suck!” She pushed her foot into his leg again, savoring the feel of his toned muscles. “Would I at least still know how to spell Galapagos?”
He laughed. “No, spelling goes away with the five percent. Seriously. What would you pick?”
“Well, I’d keep myself the way I am, and just work on getting over the fear. No way am I giving up even one percent of what makes me, me.”
“So there you have it. Nothing weak about that.” His voice was serious and solemn, and when she looked at him, the emotion in her face made her catch her breath.
“Thank you.” She smiled. “Really.”
“You’re welcome.” He smiled back, and butterflies surged in her stomach, this time not from fear, but from arousal.
“Your kiss.” She picked at the soft lint of the blanket. “You saved me.”
He smiled, a brief flash. “The pilot saved you. They train for that, and the runways are built long enough to account for a flapless landing. Technology saved you.”
“Well, yes. In the long run. In th
e minute, it was you. Thanks.” She felt her cheeks flush.
“You’re welcome.” He wasn’t laughing. When she looked up, his fingers stilled on her feet and his eyes met hers. “Any time.”
She blinked, and he looked away.
“Any time?” she asked.
“Well.” He shifted. “Harper, I—if you need help, you can come to me, okay?”
“What if I wanted a kiss right now?”
He sat forward. “I’m not sure…”
“Come on, you’re the master of the one-night feel better. What if I wanted a kiss right now?”
He looked uncomfortable. “Is that really what you want?”
Zach was nearly naked, and she wanted him more than ever. She was filled with a powerful urge to grab him right now while she was savoring the fact that she was alive.
She stood up and let the blanket go behind her. The thin straps of her gown fell from her shoulders. She approached him, and before he could react, she climbed up and straddled him, one leg on each side of his lap. “Just one kiss.” She put both hands onto the sides of his face. “It’s not like we haven’t kissed before.”
A muscle clenched in his jaw, and then she leaned in and pressed her lips to his. Instantly, his arms went around her and he pulled her closer, tugging her hips to mate her against his body. The kiss deepened and he ran his hands over her back, resting on the curve of her ass, pulling her closer. His touch was hot and his mouth amazing, and she melted into him, stroking his shoulders and arms, reaching down to trail her fingers across his rippled abs.
God, his lips were so good! At that moment, she craved him more than she’d ever craved a man. Something about the way he smelled and felt and touched her, the sounds he made, everything was so perfect. And while she was kissing him, the chaos in her head shut down entirely, everything quiet, just sparks of gold and copper shooting behind her eyelids. She felt him harden beneath her, and wiggled, enjoying his groan of appreciation.
“You like this?” she whispered, knowing full well he did. He flipped up her nightgown and ran his hand across her skin, then ducked his fingers under the fabric of her panties to cup her ass cheek.
Tropical Tryst: 25 All New and Exclusive Sexy Reads Page 232