by Ani Gonzalez
And he'd won the Rosemoor.
He should be with Caine and the guys, partying hard. She'd seen the PRoVE guys lugging around kegs and leftover liquor. The paranormies were throwing the after-party to end all after-parties.
Why wasn't Banshee Creek's most notorious party boy there?
"What are you doing here?" she asked, knotting the towel around herself. She was wet and disheveled, and, let's face it, completely naked under the towel. In the past couple of hours she'd evaluated various scenarios for handling this confrontation. None of them involved towels.
"I live here," he said, glancing at her coverup. "And that's my towel."
"Oh, sorry. I just wanted..."
Her voice trailed off. She'd wanted to clean up and eat her own body weight in ice cream. So she made sure Sarah got her dad home safe and then stopped at the quickie mart, bought four pints of Ben & Jerry's Chunky Monkey and headed for Zach's barn. She could have gone home.
But she didn't want to go home. Not tonight.
"...to clean up," she finished, lamely.
Zach's face changed, anger turned into tenderness. He reached out and pushed a wet strand of hair behind her ear. The simple gesture made something inside her melt. She reached up and held his arm. It felt warm and strong, like a lifeline. She traced the bumpy, jagged scar under her hand and the feel of it was weirdly reassuring.
His face twisted with something like pain, and she jerked, afraid that she'd hurt him.
But he sank his hand under her hair and pulled her forward, capturing her lips in a desperate kiss. She leaned into him, feeling warmth return to her body. This is what she'd wanted. This is why she'd come to the barn.
She wrapped her arms around him, as if he were the last refuge in the world. The competition didn't matter. The Rosemoor didn't matter.
This mattered.
Zach's hands dropped to her hips and he pulled her into him, deepening the kiss. A deep, keening need surged through her, and she strained towards him, drawn toward his warmth. The movement released the precarious knot holding the towel and it fell to the floor, leaving her wet and naked.
But not cold. She was anything but cold.
Zach broke the kiss and chuckled. She frowned, feeling lonely and bereft, and pulled him closer. He pulled back, picked up the towel from the floor and wrapped it around her. She tried not to pout in disappointment, but it was hard.
"I hate to interrupt the moment." His breathing was harsh, "but I need to clean up too."
He pulled the green-streaked shirt over his head, uncovering rock-hard abs that made her breath quicken.
She raised a brow. "How quickly can you shower?"
That made him laugh. "I guess we're going to find out."
He stripped down in record time and got into the shower.
"Did I ever tell you," Zach's voice was muffled by the sound of running water, "that I hate cotton candy?"
"I'm not sure." Patricia picked up his sugar-encrusted shirt with a happy sigh. "Maybe you should refresh my memory."
Finally free. She dropped the shirt in the hamper. The green-tinged floss had hardened on the cloth and the shirt felt like sugary, glow-in-the-dark chain mail. Would all that sugar come off in the wash?
Probably not.
Zach laughed. She could see the outline of his body through the steam-coated glass wall. As showers went, this one wasn't particularly quick. Come to think of it, how long did it take her to get all the sugar out of her hair?
Too long, and, come to think of it, she'd never had shower sex before.
She let the towel drop to the floor. It had been a long night and shower sex was exactly what she needed. They'd spent hours saying goodbye to the guests, cleaning up the leftover food, and dealing with an extremely annoyed Fire & Rescue team.
She deserved a treat. She opened the shower door, winced as the steam hit her face, and stepped in.
"Holy hell, Zach," she squealed. "This water is boiling hot."
He stared at her in surprise, then smiled wickedly as her naked body pressed into his.
"Of course it's hot." He adjusted the water temperature, giving her some relief. Warm liquid goodness poured over her tired, aching body. "I'm trying to melt sugar here."
And he'd been successful. His hard body was clean, wet and deliciously tempting.
"Hand me the shampoo," she ordered.
Zach smiled and reached for the bottle, but he didn't give it to her.
"Turn around," he ordered, pouring soapy liquid onto his hand. "I want to wash you."
"But I'm already clean."
"So?" His gaze slid down her naked body, making her shiver. "Clean is not the point."
Her feet slid on the soapy floor as she hurried to comply, turning around until her back was pressed to his front. He poured the shampoo on her hair and rubbed it into the sticky strands. He dug deeper, his strong fingers rubbed her scalp, easing the tension from her body.
She moaned in pleasure, relaxing into his touch. A soft, languid feeling spread through her limbs and she leaned into his hard, wet body.
He chuckled, a sound that reverberated through her, leaving ripples of desire in its wake.
"Now that I have you captive..." Zach's voice was deep and dark, and she felt like she could wrap it around herself like a velvety blanket.
He straightened, breaking the contact and leaving her cold and bereft.
"...we can discuss how angry I am with you."
His voice was harsh and Patricia winced in response.
"I'm sorry I missed your concert..." she started.
He turned her around roughly. "I'm not talking about the concert." His eyes flashed with anger. "I'm talking about your ex-boyfriend, the one who stole all your recipes and chased you out of culinary school, being in town."
Patricia straightened, downright offended. "Trevor did not chase me out of culinary school. I graduated." Without honors, true, thanks to her graduation project debacle, but, still, a degree was a degree.
"And came back home...and told no one about it." He glared at her. "I heard the story from Sarah, of all people."
"How did Sarah..."
"She drove our parents home and weaseled the whole story out of your dad." Zach did not look happy. "She was pretty shocked that I didn't know."
Patricia bit her lip guiltily.
"And, frankly, so was I."
He picked up the handheld shower and rinsed her off.
So much for shower sex.
She followed him out of the shower.
"Look, Zach." She shivered in the cold air, and he grabbed a fluffy white towel and wrapped it around her. "I'm sorry. I just didn't want anyone in town to know."
"Why not? Everyone would have supported you. Why keep it to yourself?"
She shrugged. "It was too embarrassing. I didn't..."
"What?"
Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I didn't want people to know I failed."
"You didn't fail." He looked at her sharply. "You were sabotaged. Is this going to be a problem tomorrow, when we find out who won the Rosemoor?"
She frowned, confused. "Wait, you don't know yet?"
"No." His fingers moved down to her nape, kneading the tight muscles. She instantly relaxed. "Elizabeth was being evasive."
"That's not like her."
Zach sighed and turned her around so she would face him. "I don't care. I don't care about Elizabeth or the committee or the damn building."
He looked into her eyes. The water had cooled, making her shiver.
But she didn't feel the cold.
"I just care about you."
She felt something inside her, something torn and broken, heal. How strange, she hadn't even known she was hurt. The wound had festered inside her, poisoning everything and she simply hadn't recognized it. She smiled and reached for Zach.
"I'm fine." She laughed, recognizing the truth in her words. "I'm perfectly fine."
Zach looked doubtful.
"My recipes are good," she said. "Trevo
r wouldn't have stolen them otherwise. And everyone loved the conservatory concept. I can make it work somewhere else. I'll ask Elizabeth about another property. There's no lack of haunted buildings in this town, I'm sure I'll find something."
Zach looked relieved, and Patricia was touched. Happy-go-lucky Zach Franco had been really worried about her.
Who'd have thunk it?
"Losing the Rosemoor is not catastrophic," she said firmly, wrapping her arms around his neck.
He smiled and drew her closer and an electric current ran through her as he ran his hands over her slick skin. She stood up on tip toe until their lips almost touched.
"But, I swear to god, Zach Franco, if you don't make love to me right now, I'll show you catastrophic."
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
"WE'RE KILLING it online," Abby squealed happily over the phone. "And the suits really liked our demo album."
"That's great," Zach replied, beating egg whites for another batch of pisco sours. It was a bit early for cocktails, but the protein-rich pisco sours were listed as hangover cures on his menu, and, today, they were very popular.
By all accounts, the PRoVE party had been an epic event.
He had a full house. True, his customers were mostly bedraggled cosplayers who'd partied too hard, but, hell, paying customers were paying customers.
The bakery was also seeing brisk business today. He'd called Patricia, wanting to hear her voice, but she'd been busy making her new "Love That Ectoplasm" lattes with bright green mint syrup drizzle. He had to hand it to her, she could come up with a catchy gimmick in a flat nanosecond.
And that wasn't the only thing she had going for her.
"So, when can you get here?"
Abby's voice interrupted his reverie.
"Wait, what?"
"When can you get to Nashville? Tomorrow would be good, but today would be even better."
He looked around the packed restaurant. Several patrons had tablets and computer devices out. A couple of cheers rang out. The PRoVE group in table six broke out in cheers.
He could leave Sarah in charge. She was still glowing from her Rosemoor success and she could take more responsibility. She and Diego could take over the new project.
As his über-successful brother, Gabe, always said, it pays to delegate.
"I can't leave until the Rosemoor decision comes down, so it may be a couple of days."
Maybe he could convince Patricia to take a small vacation and join him there. They could go to concerts and have romantic dinners cooked by other people. It would be a blast.
"They're still not done?" Abby sounded incredulous. "What are they fighting about now?"
"I don't know." He was honestly baffled. "They were supposed to have a decision last night. I thought they were just delayed because of the cotton-candy debacle, but I guess they've hit a snag."
"What kind of snag?" Abby asked sharply.
"How would I know?" Her quick retort made him instantly suspicious. "Do you know something I don't?"
His question was greeted by silence.
"C'mon, Reed. Spill it."
Abby sighed. "I guess I should, if you're really thinking of opening up a business in that building."
Zach froze. What did she mean? He was, if his attorney's interpretation of the contract documents was correct, already committed. If he won the contest, he had to open up the restaurant. He had no choice.
Abby's voice was an ominous whisper. "The PRoVe guys think there's something weird going on in that building."
Zach laughed. "Abby, the PRoVE guys think there's something weird going on in every building."
He had a haunted pizzeria for crying out loud. Cotton candy projectiles definitely did not scare him.
"It's not like Pepe," Abby counted. "Your poltergeist likes all the hustle and bustle of the pizzeria. Caine says that the little critter almost went mad from boredom when you guys were closed for the big remodel."
Zach rolled his eyes. Boredom? Pepe had blown up the tools, torn up the wires and mixed up Lily's paints so that the Tippi Hedren mural looked like a brunette. Boredom didn't begin to describe it.
"But Mrs. Danvers is different," Abby continued. "She didn't like it when the Rosemoor was a bed and breakfast, she really didn't like the party, and she, most likely, won't like a restaurant in the premises. And, to make things worse, Caine thinks that she's getting stronger."
"Caine is a couple of tacos short of a combination plate, Abby." His voice was firm. "I can handle a ghost. Or, rather, Sarah can handle a ghost."
Abby laughed. "I guess she can. Your restaurant manager can be quite scary."
Zach joined in. Mrs. Danvers versus the The Brit from Hell. That sounded like a well-matched fight.
"Let me know when you can come down. We have a lot of work to do."
"Will do," Zach said, hanging up.
He poured the egg whites over the pisco sours and handed the tray off to a waiter. Then he checked his e-mail for the one-thousandth time.
Nothing. No Rosemoor decision. No Historical Preservation Committee. Nothing.
When the hell would the official decision come down?
"Hi, sweetie!"
He looked up and stifled a groan. It was his mom, looking warm and cozy in a weirdly fluffy cream sweater. His dad followed her, glancing around the restaurant with a vaguely disapproving look on his face.
"There's a lot of drinking going on." He sniffed.
"Pisco sours have egg whites in them, Dad," Zach replied testily. "They're practically breakfast."
His dad opened his mouth to respond, but his mom interrupted. "Can you get a table for us, dear?" she asked sweetly. "And order me some of that Satanic Ziti I like so much?"
His dad walked off muttering something about God and punishment and heresy.
Zach sighed.
His mom looked at him, a sharp glint in her eye. "I hear you got back to Gabe's investors. He's not too happy about that."
"Why would he be unhappy?" Zach stared at her in surprise. "I gave them everything. I'll stop using the horror movie concepts and will do a complete remodel of the restaurant. I won't use any of their images or trademarks. Isn't that what they wanted?"
He'd already sent Lily an e-mail asking her for a quick estimate. The Rosemoor library had been so well received it had given him an idea. Why do a new restaurant? Why not just move the pizzeria to the Rosemoor, and turn the bungalow into a take-out restaurant?
If he won the building, of course.
His mom's lips turned up in a half-smile. "Apparently, not. They didn't want a film library collecting dust. They wanted a new restaurant concept they could franchise so they could monetize their intellectual property."
Intellectual property? Monetize? Mom had definitely been talking to Gabe. "Well, tough."
She shook her head. "I know you like telling your brother and his investors to go to H-E- double hockey sticks."
Zach looked at her in disbelief. That was as close to cursing as he'd ever heard her go.
"But this is a lot of money." Her voice was firm. "Both for you and for Gabe and Elizabeth."
"What does Elizabeth have to do with it?" But even as he asked the question, he came up with an answer.
Elizabeth, or more accurately her movie alter-ego Lizzie Lovecraft, was enjoying a resurgence in popularity thanks to her role as "Real Estate Agent to the Undead" in House Haunters, and she had a substantial body of B-movie work. Could that be used to sell pizza?
Probably. But why would Elizabeth want to enter the restaurant business?
"Are Gabe and Elizabeth thinking of a joint venture?" he asked.
His mother gave an elegant shrug. "Gabe may be. Elizabeth is more interested in making sure that Trevor person doesn't get the funding. Apparently, the investors are desperate enough to consider giving it to him. Elizabeth wants to make sure he's done with the restaurant business. Permanently."
That made more sense. Vengeance, as far as Princess Verdala was concerne
d, was a dish best served anytime.
"Will you at least think about it?" his mother asked.
He nodded. He didn't want to think about franchising his pizzeria. He wanted to focus on his music and let Gabe and Salvador and their investor posse rot in themed-restaurant hell.
But not if it meant that the guy who stole Patricia's recipes would get a food empire.
Oh, yes, he'd definitely think about it.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
"YOU COMMANDEERED my restaurant?" Zach asked, brows raised in disbelief. "Who gave you the right to do that?"
Elizabeth looked calm and collected in a bright white sweater-like dress and high heels. A stray curl and a run on her black tights were the only signs of distress.
Well, those and the Nosferatu Nachos that she was downing by the truckload. They were in the pizzeria, waiting for enough people to show up to start the meeting. Luckily, the place was almost empty, and Zach had managed to rope off a couple of tables in the back to house the attendees.
"Oh, don't you start, Zach," she answered around a mouthful of cheese and jalapeño peppers. "I can't use the library or the Rosemoor because Fire and Rescue have them both under 'observation.' I can't do it outdoors because it's freaking Siberia out there. What am I supposed to do?"
"Skype?" Sarah interjected.
Elizabeth glared at her.
"Not for this meeting," she said, shoveling nachos into her mouth. "Can we have some of that peach and mint sangría I like?"
Sarah rolled her eyes, but Zach signaled the bartender for some sangría.
Elizabeth smiled happily.
"You seem upset," Zach noted. "Is it because of Gabe's investors?"
She stared. "Why would I be concerned about Gabe's business? Is this because of the pizzeria buyout?"
"I was told that they were going to bring you in. I figured it was because of your Lizzie Lovecraft movies. Some of them are horror and they would fit with the theme."
Elizabeth's brows lifted. "Oh, yes. That's part of it." She glanced down. "I guess."
"What's the other part? Are you trying to keep the investor's from signing up with your best friend's ex-boyfriend?"
He'd gone to his office after talking to his mom, done some research, and called a couple of his industry contacts. Gabe's idea could make a lot of money.