One Night in Paradise

by Maisey Yates

  Zack’s arm twitched and he reached into his pocket. “Phone vibrated,” he said. He pulled out his smart phone and unlocked the screen, a strange expression on his face. “Hannah texted me.”

  “Really?”

  “She’s really sorry about the wedding.”

  “Oh, good,” Clara snorted. The weird jealousy and protectiveness were back together again. She was still righteously angry at Hannah for what she’d done, even while she was relieved.

  “She met someone else.”

  “What?”

  “Yes.” He looked up, his expression neutral. “She’s in love apparently.”

  “And she’s texting this to you?”

  He shrugged. “It fits our relationship.”

  “No, it doesn’t. Love or not, you still had a relationship.”

  “We weren’t sleeping together.”

  Clara felt her stomach free fall down into her toes. “What?” That didn’t even make sense. Hannah was a goddess. A sex bomb that had been detonated in the middle of her life, making her feel inadequate and inexperienced.

  And he hadn’t slept with her? She’d assumed—imagined even, in sadly graphic detail—that half of the meetings in his office had been rousing desk-sex sessions. And … they hadn’t been? So much angst. So much stomach curling angst exerted over … nothing, it turned out.

  “Why?” she asked, her voice several notches higher than usual.

  “Hannah’s kind of traditional. Because we weren’t in love … well, she needed love or marriage. We were going to have marriage.”

  “Hmm. Well, then maybe texting is appropriate. I don’t understand how you were going to marry this woman.”

  “Marriage is a business agreement, like anything else, Clara. You decide if you can fulfill the obligations and if they’ll be advantageous to you. Then you sign or you don’t.”

  “Cynical.”

  “True.”

  “Then why bother to get married? I don’t understand.”

  He shrugged. “Because it’s the thing to do. Marriage offers stability, companionship. It’s logical.”

  “Good grief, Spock. Logical. That’s not why people get married.” She snorted again. “Did your parents have a horrible divorce or something?”

  Zack shook his head. “No.”

  “You never talk about your family.”

  He looked down at his soup. “Not on accident.”

  “Well, I figured. That’s why I never ask.”

  “This isn’t never asking.”

  She looked at him, at the side of his head. He wouldn’t look at her. “We’ve known each other for seven years, Zack.”

  “And I’m sure I don’t know everything about you, either. But I know what counts. I know that you lick the mixer. Even if it’s got batter with raw eggs on it.”

  She laughed. “Tell anyone that and I’ll ruin you.”

  “I have no doubt. I also know that you like stupid comedies.”

  “And I know that you put on football games and never end up watching them. You’re just in it for the snacks.”

  He smiled, his gray eyes meeting hers. “See? You know the real truth.”

  Except there was something in the way he said it, a strange undertone, that told her she didn’t. She wasn’t sure how she’d missed it before. But she had. Now it seemed blatant, obvious. Zack had a way of presenting such a calm, easy front. In business, she knew it was to disarm, that no matter how easygoing he appeared, he was the man in charge. No question.

  Now she wondered how much of the easy act in his personal life was just that. An act.

  His eyes lingered on her face for a moment, and she suddenly became acutely conscious of her lips. And how dry they were. She stuck out the tip of her tongue and moistened them, the action taking an undertone she hadn’t intended when she’d begun.

  This week was going to kill her. Eventually the tension would get too heavy and she would be crushed beneath the weight of it. There was no possible way she could endure any more.

  “I’m really tired,” she said, the lie so blatant and obvious it was embarrassing.

  To Zack’s credit, he didn’t call her on it. “The inner sanctum is all yours. I’ll make do with the couch.”

  She wasn’t going to feel bad about that for a second. “All right, I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Maybe by morning some of the surrealism of the whole day would have worn off. Maybe by morning she wouldn’t feel choked by the attraction she felt to Zack.

  Maybe, but not likely.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “MR. Amudee has extended an invitation for you and me to have a private tour of the forest land.”

  Zack strode into the kitchen area and Clara sucked coffee down into her lungs. He was wearing jeans, only jeans, low on his lean hips, his chest bare and muscular and far too tempting. She could lean right in and.

  “Coffee for me?” he asked.

  “Oh, yes. Sure.” She picked up the carafe and poured some coffee into a bright blue mug. “It’s the shade-grown Chiang Mai Morning Blend. Really good. Strong but bright, a bit of citrus.”

  “I love it when you talk coffee to me,” he said, lifting the mug to his lips, a wicked grin curving his mouth.

  There was something borderline domestic about the scene. Although, nothing truly domestic could have such a dangerous, arousing edge to it, she was certain. And Zack, shirtless, had all of those things.

  “All right, tell me about the tour,” she said, looking very hard into her coffee mug.

  “Very romantic. For the newly engaged.”

  Her stomach tightened. “Great.”

  “I hope you brought a swimsuit.”

  Oh, good. Zack in a swimsuit. With her in a swimsuit. That was going to help things get back on comfortable footing. She looked at Zack, at the easy expression on his handsome face. The ridiculous thing was, the footing was perfectly comfortable for him. Her little hell of sexual frustration was one hundred percent private. All her own. Zack wasn’t remotely ruffled.

  Typical.

  “Yes, I brought a swimsuit.”

  “Good. I’ll meet you back here in twenty minutes.”

  “Right.” Unfortunately it would take longer than twenty minutes to plot an escape. So that meant Zack and swimsuits.

  She tried to ignore the small, eternally optimistic part of her that whispered it might be a good thing.

  Clara tugged at her brilliant pink sarong and made sure the knot was secure at her breasts before stepping out into the courtyard, where Zack was standing already.

  “Ready. What’s the deal? Give.”

  “You have to wait and see,” he said, moving behind her, placing his hand low on her back as he led her to the gate and out onto a narrow path that wound through a thick canopy of trees and opened on an expansive green lawn.

  “Are you kidding me?” she asked, stopping, her eyes widening.

  There were two elephants in the field, one equipped with a harness that had small, cushioned seats on top. He was large enough he looked like he could comfortably seat at least four.

  “Elephant rides are a big tourist draw in Chiang Mai,” Zack said, the corner of his mouth lifting. “And I’ve never done it before, so I thought I would take advantage of the offer.”

  “First time for you?” she asked. She’d intended it as a joke, but it hit a bit to close to that sexual undercurrent they’d been dealing with since they left San Francisco.

  A slow smile spread across his face. “Just for the elephant ride.”

  “Right. Got it.” She was sure she was turning pink.

  “You?”

  She just about choked. “The elephant?”

  “What else would I have been asking about?”

  Her virginity. Except, no he wouldn’t have been asking about that. It wasn’t like she had a neon sign on her forehead that blinked red and said Virgin on it. Unless she did. Maybe he could tell.

  She really hoped he couldn’t tell.

 
; “Yes, first time on an elephant,” she said drily, aiming for cool humor. She wasn’t sure she made her mark, but it was a valiant effort.

  “Mr. Parsons.” There was a man in white linen pants and a loose white shirt approaching them, his hand raised in greeting. “Ms. Davis, I believe,” he said, stopping in front of her, his dark eyes glittering with warmth.

  “Yes,” Clara said, extending her hand. He bent his head and dropped a kiss on it, smiling, the skin around his eyes wrinkling with the motion.

  “Isra Amudee. Pleasure.” He straightened and shook Zack’s hand. “Very glad you could make it. Especially after what happened.”

  Zack put his arm around Clara’s waist and Clara tried to ignore the jolt of heat that raced through her. “Really, it didn’t take me long to discover it wasn’t a problem. Clara … well, I’ve known her for a long time. I don’t really know how I missed what was right in front of me.”

  Mr. Amudee’s smile widened. “A new wedding in your future, then?”

  Zack stiffened. “Naturally. Actually I’ve already asked.”

  “And she’s accepted?” Amudee looked at her and Clara felt her stomach bottom out.

  Zack tightened his hold on her. “Yes,” she said, her throat sandpaper dry. “Of course.”

  “And you, I bet, will have the good sense to show up. Now, I’ll leave you to the elephants. I have to go and take a walk around the grounds. But I’ll see you later on.”

  Clara watched Amudee walk away and tried to ignore the buzzing in her head as the man who was with the elephants introduced himself in English as Joe. He explained how the ride would work, that the elephant knew the route through the forrest and up to a waterfall, and she wouldn’t deviate from that.

  “They’re trained. Very well. Safe. You’ll be riding Anong.” Joe indicated the elephant who was harnessed up. “And I’ll follow on Mali. Just as a precaution.”

  He tapped Anong on her back leg and she bent low, making it easy for them to climb up onto the seat. Zack went first, then leaned forward and extended his hand, helping her up onto the bench.

  “Seat belts,” he said, raising one eyebrow as he fastened the long leather strap over both of their laps.

  “Comforting,” she said, a tingle of nerves and excitement running through her.

  “Ready?” their guide called to them.

  “I have no idea,” she whispered to Zack.

  “Ready,” Zack said.

  The elephant rose up, the sharp pitch forward and to the left a shock. She lurched to the side and took hold of Zack’s arm while Anong finished getting to her feet, each movement throwing them in a different direction.

  “I think I’m good now,” she whispered, her fingers still wrapped, clawlike around Zack’s arm.

  “Just relax, he said this is a path she takes all the time. New for us, but not new for her.”

  She didn’t actually want to know the answer to the question, but she asked it anyway. “Accustomed to calming the nerves of the inexperienced?”

  “No. I don’t mess around with women who need comforting in the bedroom. That’s not what I’m there for.”

  She felt a heavy blush spread over her cheeks. “I guess not.”

  She was alternately relieved and disappointed by that bit of news. Relieved, because she didn’t really like to think of her friend as some crass seducer of innocents, and she really couldn’t picture him in that role, anyway.

  If he was the big bad wolf, it would be because the woman he was with wanted to play Little Red Riding Hood.

  But it was disappointing, too, because that pushed her even farther outside the box that Zack’s “ideal woman” resided in.

  Ideal bedmate.

  Sure, maybe it was more that than any sort of romantic ideal, but she would like to just fit the requirements for that. Well, really, being the woman he was sleeping with was very far away from what she actually wanted, but it would be a start.

  A wonderful, sexual, amazing start.

  She jerked her thoughts back to the present, not hard to do with the pitch-and-roll gait of the elephant rivaling a storm-tossed boat. It was a smooth, fluid sort of motion, but it was a very big motion, to match the size of the animal.

  It also wasn’t hard to do when she remembered that, as far as their host was concerned, she and Zack were now engaged.

  “A tangled web, isn’t it, Parsons?” she asked.

  “What was I supposed to say?” he countered. “Ah, no, this is just my best friend that I brought along for a roll in the hay.”

  “The truth might have worked. He seems like a nice man.”

  “Look, it’s done. I’m sure his assumption works even more in my favor, in favor of the deal, and that’s all that really matters, right? We know where we stand. It’s not like it changes anything between us.”

  She felt like the air had been knocked out of her. “No. Of course not.”

  They moved through the meadow and down into the trees, onto a well-worn path that took them along a slow-moving river, the banks covered in greenery, bright pink flowers glowing from the dark, lush foliage.

  She tried to keep her focus on the view, but her mind kept wandering back to Zack, to his solid, steady heat, so close to her. It would be easy to just melt into him, to stop fighting so hard for a moment and give in to the need to touch him.

  But she wouldn’t. She couldn’t. Nothing had changed between them, after all. His words.

  There was a reason she’d never made any sort of attempt to change their relationship from friends to more-than-friends. The biggest one being that she didn’t want to jeopardize the most stable relationship she had, the one closest to it being unable to stomach the thought of being rejected by him.

  Of having him confirm that everything her mother said about her was true. Of having her know, for certain, that a man really wouldn’t want her because she just wasn’t all that pretty. Her mother had made sure she’d known men would still sleep with her, because of course, men would sleep with anyone. But she wasn’t the sort of woman a man would want for a wife. Not the type of woman a man could be proud to take to events.

  Not like her sister. Gorgeous, perfect Lucy who was, in all unfairness, smart and actually quite sweet along with being slender, blonde and generally elegant.

  Lucy actually would have looked more like Hannah’s sister than like her sister.

  A sobering thought, indeed.

  She should make sure Zack never met her sister.

  The sound of running water grew louder and they rounded a curve in the path and came into a clearing that curved around a still, jade pool. At least twenty fine steams were trickling down moss-covered rocks, meeting at the center and falling into the pool as one heavy rush of water.

  Anong the elephant stopped at the edge of the pool, dropping slowly down to her knees, the ground rising up a bit faster than Clara would have like. She leaned into Zack, clinging to the sleeve of his T-shirt as Anong settled.

  “All right?” he asked.

  She looked at where her hand was, and slowly uncurled her fingers, releasing her hold on him. “Sorry,” she said.

  He smiled, that simple expression enough to melt her insides. He was so sexy. Time and exposure, familiarity, didn’t change it. Didn’t lessen it.

  Just another reason for her to leave Roasted. If exposure didn’t do it, distance might.

  Zack moved away from her, dismounting their ride first and waited for her at the side of their living chariot, his hand outstretched. She leaned forward and took it, letting his muscles propel her gently to the ground. Her feet hit just in front of his, her breasts close to touching his chest, the heat from him enticing her, taunting her.

  “Do you want me to wait for you?” their guide asked.

  Zack shook his head. “We’ll walk back. Thank you for the ride. It was an experience.”

  He nodded and whistled a signal to Anong, who rose slowly and turned, going back with her owner and friend. She watched them round the corner
, a smile on her lips. Yesterday, she was at a beachside hotel in San Francisco, expecting to lose half of her heart as Zack married another woman.

  Today she was with him on his honeymoon. Riding elephants.

  “An experience,” Zack said, turning to face the water.

  “It was fun,” she said.

  “Not relaxing exactly.”

  “No,” she said, laughing. “Not in the least.”

  “Mr. Amudee informed me by phone this morning that this is a safe place to swim. Clean. They don’t let the elephants up here and the waterfall keeps it all moving.”

  She made a face. “Good to know. I liked the elephants, don’t really want to share a swimming hole with them. It looks pristine,” she said, moving to the edge, looking down into the clear pool. She could see rocks covered in moss along the bottom, small fish darting around, only leaving the cover of their hiding places for a few moments before swimming behind something else. “Perfect.”

  Zack tugged his black shirt over his head, leaving him in nothing more than a pair of very low-cut white board shorts that, when wet, she had no doubt would cling to some very interesting places.

  Her mind was a filthy place lately. And the sad thing was, it was hard to regret. Because it was so enjoyable.

  “Swimming?”

  “No.” She shook her head and gripped her sarong.

  “Why?”

  “It looks cold.”

  He put his hands on his lean hips and sighed, the motion making his ab muscles ripple in a very enticing fashion. “It’s so hot and muggy out here it could be snowmelt and it would feel good. And I guarantee you it’s not snowmelt.”

  “It just looks … cold.” Lame. So lame. But she didn’t really want to strip down to her swimsuit in front of him, not when he looked so amazing in his. She was. There was too much of her for a start. She was so very conscious of that. Of the fact that she had hips and breasts, and that she could pinch fat on her stomach.