Though she was excited about traveling with Liam, she felt guilty that she was still keeping secrets from him. Last night had been her opportunity to come clean and tell him she was going to leave sooner rather than later. But keeping her own counsel had ensured her safety thus far, and it was a habit hard to break.
Since she skipped breakfast, she went down to the dining room at eleven. Liam hadn’t mentioned lunch in their itinerary, and she was starving. As she was enjoying her last cup of coffee, he showed up at her table looking distinctly harried.
“Have you eaten?” she asked.
He didn’t sit down. “I’ll have to grab something on the plane. It’s been a hell of a morning. Somehow we booked an Arabian sheikh and a presidential hopeful in the same suite for the upcoming weekend.”
“Oh, good grief.”
“I think it happened when we switched over to a new computer system. We’ve managed to juggle some bookings and comp a few guests for the inconvenience, but the whole fracas ate up my morning.”
“Are we still going to make it?”
He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “You can bet on it. Meet me out front in fifteen minutes.”
* * *
Liam was as good as his word. When Zoe stepped outside, he was standing beside the open door of a limo. She raised an eyebrow. “Is this for us?”
He leaned close and whispered in her ear. “Pierre loves driving it, and it makes him feel good, so who am I to complain?”
Zoe slid into the roomy backseat and sighed. Bessie would be jealous, but Zoe planned to enjoy herself anyway. “Maybe my van will be finished by the time we get back,” she said.
“Are you in that much of a hurry?” Liam loosened his tie and reached in the mini fridge for two bottles of water, handing her one.
“I don’t like using someone else’s car all the time.”
“It’s a piece of junk.”
“Says the man who drives a Jag. The silver Sentra is fine, but I’m not used to accepting favors.”
“It’s not always a virtue to do everything yourself.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s a case of the pot calling the kettle black. You don’t even trust your mother to run the hotel without you.”
His jaw dropped. “That’s not true.”
“Of course it is. You never travel. You live on the premises. The Silver Beeches Lodge is your baby.”
* * *
Liam reeled mentally. Could what Zoe accused him of possibly be true? “My mother was grieving when my father died,” he said automatically. “It was hard for her to shoulder the responsibility of the hotel without help.”
“I’m sure that was true once upon a time. But she’s still a young woman. And from what I can tell, she’s smart and energetic and capable. Maybe she doesn’t want to hurt your feelings by telling you she can carry on without you.”
He leaned back in his corner and toyed with the cap of his water bottle. It was okay for him to psychoanalyze Zoe, but when she turned the tables, he didn’t much like it.
Perhaps sensing his mood, Zoe ignored him, doing something on her phone. The uneasy silence lasted all the way to Asheville, through security at the airport and onto the jet. Liam took the window seat in first class, leaving Zoe to chat cheerfully with the male flight attendant. The man was under her spell in five minutes.
Disgruntled and inexplicably irritable, Liam closed his eyes and pretended to sleep.
* * *
Zoe loved to fly. The sensation of speed at takeoff, the beauty of sailing above the clouds, the anticipation of an exciting destination at journey’s end...all of it gave her a buzz unlike most anything else.
It was disappointing that Liam had chosen to sleep. She had hoped to chat with him about what they might do when his meeting was over. But she had to be content with reading the in-flight magazine cover to cover and sipping a Diet Coke.
The trip north was smooth, despite a hurried connection in Atlanta. The landing at LaGuardia was textbook. Neither she nor Liam had any carry-on bags other than Zoe’s purse. After they retrieved their luggage, they met a private car near the taxi stand. Liam gave an address on the Upper East Side. In moments they were speeding toward the city.
And still Liam hadn’t said a word. Finally, his silence began to make her mad. “You don’t have to sulk merely because I pointed out the obvious.”
He glared at her. “I am not sulking. I have a lot on my mind.”
“Whatever.” She turned her attention out the window, noting the frantic traffic and congested roadways that were so unlike western North Carolina. Perhaps she should try living in New York for a while. There were thousands of venues here for aspiring musicians who were willing to play for little or nothing. Maybe a change of scenery would do her good.
She was taken totally off guard when a big hand grasped her wrist and tugged. “Come closer,” Liam said.
Now almost in his lap, she glared. “What are you doing?”
His smile was lopsided. “Apologizing. And kissing you.”
“But I—’’
Two fingers touched her lips. “Shhh,” he crooned. “Let me grovel.”
When his mouth settled over hers, she could have sworn that the chauffeur began driving erratically. Her stomach flipped in dizzying loops and her heart raced. The setting was not exactly private. Liam didn’t seem to mind. He was barely touching her, but she began to melt.
That a man could convey so much in a kiss was eye opening. He kissed her sweetly but desperately, as if trying to convince himself or her that what they had was going to last. She clung to his waist, attempting to maintain some semblance of dignity. “I think the driver is watching us in the mirror,” she whispered.
“No, he’s not.” Liam’s sharp teeth nipped her lower lip. “Close your eyes, Zoe.”
She obeyed his command, not because she wanted to, but because she had no choice. His taste seduced her, as did his touch. And the sound of his harsh breathing told her she wasn’t alone in the midst of this sensual exploration. The wine-dark river of pleasure that Liam conjured made her move restlessly, her knees bumping his.
“Are we almost there?” she asked, wanting to unbutton his shirt and stroke his warm, hard chest. His suave facade seemed nothing more than a thin veneer at the moment. In every way he was a male predator, and he had fixed his sights on her.
Liam nodded, his teeth raking a sensitive spot on her neck. Pulling away suddenly, he sighed, his chest heaving. “You’d better do something to your hair.”
She took a mirrored compact from her purse and felt her face go hot when she saw her reflection. Her lips were swollen, her eyes hazy. While she managed some quick repair work, Liam gently smoothed her skirt where he had shifted it to caress her bare thighs. His hands were warm against her skin.
Moments later, the car pulled up in front of a small, elegant hotel tucked beneath the shadow of two larger buildings. Colorful flags hung from a parapet over the main entrance. Enormous planters shaped like lions flanked the glass doorway, only partially constraining masses of begonias, tulips and hyacinths.
Liam took care of the fare and gave Zoe a hand as she climbed out. A smiling doorman welcomed them while a bellman hurried forward to take their luggage.
At the front desk, Liam handed over a platinum card. His hold on Zoe’s hand was firm enough to make her wince. When the clerk apologized profusely because their room would not be ready for an hour, Zoe had to bite her lip to keep from laughing at the look on Liam’s face.
She patted his arm. “It’s okay. We’ll shop first.”
There was a certain look a man got when he was fixated on carnal matters. Liam had it. “Fine,” he grumbled, not quite managing a smile for the poor hotel employee.
Outside on the sidewalk, Zoe dared to tease him. “We’ll have all night for what you have in mind.”
Liam’s expression went from thundercloud to mildly irritated. “Is that a promise?”
She rested her cheek on his shoulder for
a brief moment. “I think that it is.”
* * *
Liam relaxed in an armchair and sipped the champagne supplied by an obsequious woman whose eyeglasses were an unlikely shade of neon-green. If that was the big color on the runway this year, he had to hope Zoe wasn’t a slave to fashion.
His little flower child wandered around the shop, her lips pursed, as she examined one thing after another. This was the third boutique they had visited. The first one had been big on rivets and studs. Zoe had turned up her nose. The next one had had a definite Jackie Kennedy vibe, which as Zoe pointed out, was beautiful, but not her style.
This particular establishment seemed more her speed. “So what do I need?” she asked, her attention focused on a rack of gowns.
“Two nice dresses for daywear, and two fancy ones for the evenings.” He was looking forward to showing her off. Zoe’s fresh charm would be a hit among his colleagues. The group was mixed, about half female and half male. That all of them would be enchanted by his date, he had no doubt.
With the saleslady’s help, Zoe collected an armful of clothing and headed for the fitting rooms. “I’m going to start with these.”
“Make sure you come show them to me,” he said. If he were being forced to shop instead of make love to Zoe, he might as well get something out of the experience.
She started with the regular outfits, the first one a traditional little black dress that fit her beautifully. The hem stopped just above the knees. “What do you think?” she asked.
He cocked his head and studied her. The more sophisticated attire made her seem older, but didn’t detract from her appeal. “Perfect for the meeting.”
Next was a more casual striped frock in yellow and cinnamon and orange that hearkened back to the days of Grace Kelly. Spaghetti straps held up a fitted bodice that flared out in a short, flirty skirt underlain with multicolored petticoats. Forget Grace Kelly. Zoe’s smile made him think of Audrey Hepburn, all innocent delight.
Though she went through several more choices, they both decided that the first two were the best. For a moment, he debated asking her if she wanted to try on lingerie, but doubtless that would embarrass her. When Zoe switched to evening gowns, Liam knew he was in trouble. She looked amazing in everything she put on.
Even so, some were easily discarded. The ones with too many beads and sequins tended to overpower her delicate frame. Gradually she gravitated toward choices that were exceedingly plain on the hanger, but transformed when Zoe modeled them.
She came out in a fire-engine-red number that dried his throat. The collar fastened high on her neck, but the arms and shoulders had been cut away, barely leaving enough fabric to mold to her firm breasts and to cover her shoulder blades. The skirt was fluid and slit to midthigh. “How about this one?” she asked.
“Do you like it?”
Glancing in the three-way mirror, she looked over her shoulder and studied the image of her backside. “This is definitely a grown-up dress.”
He smiled at the doubt in her voice. “I have every confidence you can pull it off, sweet Zoe. Now pick one more and we’ll be done.”
The clerk, already sniffing a fat commission, refilled his glass. “Your young lady is lovely, Mr. Kavanagh.”
“Yes, she is,” he said softly.
In moments, Zoe changed and tiptoed out one last time, stopping to look at her reflection. Their eyes met in the mirror, his hot and hungry, hers filled with a dawning awareness of the sexual power she wielded.
The final gown was a brilliant aquamarine that complemented her blond hair beautifully. It was made almost like a wedding dress, strapless, cinched at the waist, and with a skirt that billowed in layers of tulle on top of silk and taffeta.
Zoe twirled, an involuntary motion that brought a smile to his face. He wondered if he handed the saleswoman a wad of bills if she would agree to close the store and disappear for an hour. Liam was imagining everything he could do to and with Zoe in view of those three mirrors.
He cleared his throat. “I don’t think there’s any question,” he said gruffly. “That dress was meant for you.”
Zoe’s starry-eyed gaze tangled with his. She wet her lips. “I feel like a princess.” Smoothing the skirt with both hands, she lifted her shoulders and let them fall. “This dress costs more than my van.”
“I told you it was my treat.”
She shook her head vehemently. “No. If I’m going to live outrageously, it will be on my dime.” She turned the saleslady. “All four of these, please. I’ll be out in a moment to pay.”
The older woman hurried to zip the couture gowns and dresses into clear garment bags. Zoe handed out the last one and appeared moments later, back in her own clothes.
“I’d forgotten how lovely it is to dress up. Makes a woman feel special.”
He stood and put his hands on her shoulders, moving behind her as they faced the mirror. “You are special,” he murmured. “Very special.”
Nothing about their current situation was conducive to intimacy, but he was not going to be able to wait much longer. Zoe made him hunger in a way he couldn’t quite fathom. Sexual desire was a common thing for a man, an ingrained component of the Y chromosome. Men could look at a stranger crossing the street, a girl in a magazine ad, an actress in a movie...and get aroused. It was predictable and inevitable.
But with Zoe, something else happened. Something he didn’t quite understand. All he knew was that she made him tremble with lust. How could he be rigid with passion and yet incredibly weak at the same time? In her presence he experienced the full measure of his masculinity and a simultaneous and inescapably humbling recognition of his vulnerability where she was concerned.
Before he could do something foolish like drag Zoe back into one of those little dressing rooms with the fancy gold doors, the store employee returned, taking Zoe’s card and running it through a nearby register. “Would you like me to have these delivered?” she asked, finishing the transaction and producing Zoe’s receipt.
Liam nodded. “In the morning will be fine.” He gave the hotel’s address, and finally, they were back out on the street. He looked down at Zoe. “Would you like to have dinner somewhere nice? See a play? My evenings are all yours, even if I do have to pay attention to business during the day.”
All around them, crowds of people passed by. Not the manic movement of Times Square. Just a steady stream of men and women returning home from a busy day. He and Zoe created an island of calm. She took one of his hands and lifted it to her lips. “At the risk of sounding incredibly gauche and boring, I was thinking we might order room service and then have an early night.”
Fifteen
Zoe knew she had made the right choice when Liam’s eyes darkened to navy and his strong cheekbones went ruddy with color. “I brought you here to have a good time,” he said, clearly trying to be a gentleman.
She went up on tiptoe and pressed a kiss to his firm, wonderful lips. “I’ve been to New York City before. And there are a lot of ways to have a good time.”
Liam held her at arms’ length, staring at her intently as if he could read some secret in her eyes. “You amaze me. Everything is more fun with you. How do you do that?”
“I don’t know. But I think it’s both of us together. When I first met you, I thought we were too different, but maybe that’s what makes it work.”
“C’mon,” he said, slinging an arm around her shoulders. “If our room is not ready now, we’re going somewhere else.”
Zoe decided to let Liam take the lead in what happened next. Not that she thought a woman couldn’t initiate sex. But he seemed to be on a short fuse, and it might be fun to be wooed. Fortunately for her companion’s peace of mind, one of the two penthouse suites awaited them. Their French doors opened out onto a lovely rooftop garden. Though the view was blocked by other structures, the spot was intimate and appealing.
After Liam gave a terse nod of approval to the terrace, he tipped the bellman generously and ushered hi
m out the door. Zoe watched from a distance as her would-be lover investigated the spacious accommodations. His one glimpse into the sybaritic bedroom was short. She gauged his mood pretty well. Perhaps room service could come afterward.
Stepping back inside and locking the double glass doors, she leaned against them. Her earlier burst of confidence had winnowed away. Liam’s brooding intensity churned all sorts of feelings in her belly. She wanted him desperately, and yet some primitive female reaction to the male’s arousal abashed her and kept her from making a move.
He ripped off his tie and tossed it on an antique escritoire. Next followed his conservative jacket. It landed short of an ottoman. Liam made no move to retrieve it. His manner was agitated. “What do you want to order for dinner?” he asked gruffly, not looking at her.
“Um...”
The air in the room was charged with something fierce, something erotic. She didn’t know how to respond. Or perhaps she knew but was afraid. And with every second that passed, Liam shed another layer of civility. He prowled like a fierce animal.
Whirling to face her suddenly, he lifted a dark eyebrow. “What did you say?”
“Well, I...”
“You pick,” he said impatiently. “I don’t care what we eat. I’m going to take a shower while you order.”
Before she could say a word, he disappeared.
The air whooshed from her lungs audibly. She hadn’t even realized she was holding her breath. Never had she felt less like eating dinner. So that was that. She refused to pick up the phone. Because she was fairly certain that Liam had no interest in food either.
But without a meal to ease the way with social convention, what was her next move? Stealthily, she hung out a do-not-disturb sign and locked the door firmly, bolting it for good measure. She did use the phone after all, but only to call the front desk and ask not to be disturbed. With the sun still shining brightly, though low in the sky, the request seemed extremely wicked and daring.
A Not-So-Innocent Seduction Page 14