One Night in Paradise

by Maisey Yates

  CHAPTER NINE

  “I’M not going to bite you.”

  Clara glared at Zack from her position in the passenger side of his sporty little two-seater. She was clinging to the door handle, her shoulder smashed against the window. As much space between them as was humanly possible in the tiny metal cage.

  The first words that bubbled up were well that’s a shame. But she held them back, because she was not going to flirt with him. Was not. And she was going to forget about that lapse in the kitchen when she’d wiped the frosting from his mouth. She hadn’t licked it off and that had been her first inclination, so really, her self-control was pretty rock solid.

  “I know,” she said. Much more innocuous than an invitation to bite her, that was for sure.

  “Then stop clinging to the door handle like you’re planning on jumping out when there’s a lull in traffic.”

  She laughed, somehow, even though most of her felt anything but amused by the entire situation. “I’m not, I promise.” She relaxed her hold on the door.

  “Good.” They pulled down into the underground parking lot of Roasted and into the spot that was second closest to the elevator. He’d given her the closest spot years ago. Some sort of chivalrous gesture, silly, but at the time she’d loved it.

  He put the car in Park and killed the engine, getting out and closing the door behind him. She watched him straighten his shirt collar through the window. He hated ties. He didn’t wear them unless he had to. It was sexier when he didn’t, in her opinion. It showed a little bit of his sculpted chest, a bit of dark hair. Of course, it was sexier when he didn’t wear a shirt at all.

  She felt the door give behind her and she squeaked, tightening her hold on the handle. Zack had opened it, just a bit, and was looking down at her, the expression on his face wicked.

  “Are you going to sit in there all day? Because we have a meeting,” he said.

  “Creep,” she said, no venom in her tone.

  He winked and darn it all, it made her stomach turn over. “Only during business hours.”

  She released her hold on the door and he opened it the rest of the way, waiting for her to get out before pushing the up button on the lift. When they got in and the door closed, the easy moment evaporated.

  The tension was back, and so thick she could hardly breathe. Judging by the sharp pitch of his chest when he drew in a breath, he felt the same. It made her feel better. Slightly.

  “So, when is he coming in?”

  “Soon,” Zack said, his eyes fixed on the doors.

  “Oh.”

  The elevator stopped and the doors slid open. Clara nearly sagged with relief as she scurried out of the elevator, eager to get back into non-shared air space.

  When she and Zack walked into the main reception area the employees milling around, scavenging on last night’s baking efforts stopped and clapped for them. She ducked her head and offered a smile and finger wave. She didn’t know if Zack made a reciprocal gesture or not. She was far too busy not dying of humiliation.

  The gleaming, golden elevator doors that would take them up to their offices were just up ahead. She made a dash for it, and Zack got in behind her, the doors sliding closed.

  “So many elevators,” she said.

  “Is that a problem?”

  “Not at all,” she said.

  Two interminable minutes later they were on the floor that housed both of their offices. “I have work to do,” she said, heading toward her own office. A little sanctuary would not go amiss.

  “No time, Amudee is in the building. My office.”

  He put his hand on the small of her back and directed her into his office, closing the door behind them. A horrible, hot, tantalizing sense of déjà vu hit her. Their eyes clashed and held, his all steel heat and temptation. He took a step toward her just as the intercom on his desk phone went on.

  “Mr. Parsons? Mr. Amudee is here to see you.”

  Zack leaned back and punched a button on the phone. “Send him in.”

  She wished she were relieved. She wasn’t. She was just disappointed that she hadn’t gotten to experience the conclusion of Zack’s step forward. Of what he might have intended to do.

  Zack’s office door opened and the reason for their charade walked in, looking as personable and cheerful as ever, the lines by his dark eyes deepening as he smiled. “Good to see you again. Zack, I stopped by one of your locations here in the city on my way in, I was very impressed.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Amudee,” Zack said, his charm turned on and dialed up several notches.

  She watched Zack work, a sense of awe overtaking her. He was good, and she knew that, but seeing him in action was always incredible. He was smart and he was savvy. And the best part was, he really was a man of ethical business practices.

  That, she knew, was the thing that made working with Amudee so important to him. Because he didn’t just want to import coffee and tea from any farm. He didn’t want to get involved in a share-cropping situation. He didn’t want anyone being taken advantage of so that he could turn a profit.

  Unfortunately Amudee seemed just as picky about who he did business with. And when money wasn’t the be all and end all … you couldn’t just throw dollars at it to solve everything. Dollars Zack had. It was the fiancée he’d found himself short of.

  She toyed with the ring on her finger, her secondhand ring. The one that had belonged to Hannah. She would be a happy woman the moment she could get it off her finger and keep it off, that was for sure.

  “So, dinner tonight, then?” Zack said. “Clara?” he prompted.

  “Oh, yes. Tonight. Dinner.”

  “And as for today, I’d be happy to give you a tour of the corporate office. You can see how we run things here.”

  Mr. Amudee nodded in approval and started to head out the office door with Zack. “So,” she said, “I think I’ll go to my office and get some work done then.”

  “Great.” He leaned in and kissed her cheek before walking out of the room.

  She knew it was an empty gesture, all part of the show. But it still made her feel like she was floating to her office instead of walking. And no matter how much she tried to tell herself not to think about it, her cheek burned for the rest of the morning.

  “What is this?”

  When Zack had seen Clara’s number flash onto his cell-phone screen, he’d heard her sweet hello before he’d even answered. So being greeted by a venomous hiss was an unexpected, unpleasant surprise.

  “What is what, Clara? I’m currently battling traffic on North Point so I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “This dress. This … Do you even call it a dress? I mean it’s short and slinky and I think the neckline is designed to show skin all the way down to a woman’s belly button.”

  “I saw it, and I liked it, so I had my PA send it over.”

  “I agreed to a lot when I agreed to play fiancée, but I did not,” she growled and paused for a moment before continuing, “agree to stuff myself into a gown that has all the give of saran wrap like a Vienna sausage!”

  “I like the visual, but your attitude needs work.”

  “Your head needs work,” she shot back.

  “Wear the dress.” He hung up the phone and tossed it onto the passenger seat before maneuvering his car against the curb in front of Clara’s apartment.

  He didn’t bother to wait for the elevator. He took the stairs two at a time and knocked on her door, beneath the pretty, pink flowery wreath thing she had hung there. A clever ruse to make people think the owner of the apartment was sweetness and light when, at the moment, she was spitting flame and sulfur.

  The door jerked open and he met Clara’s glittering brown eyes. And then he looked down and all of the blood in his body roared south.

  She was right about the dress. A deep scarlet, it would draw the eye of everyone in the restaurant. And while it didn’t show her belly button, it did put her amazing cleavage on display. The soft, rounded c
urves of her breasts were accentuated by the sweetheart neckline, the pleating in the waist showing off just how tiny she was, before her hips flared out, the fabric conforming to that gorgeous, hourglass shape of hers.

  “I am not going out in this.”

  “It’s too late for you to change,” he said, barely able to force himself to raise his eyes to her face. He had to admit, the dress was counterproductive as when it came to trying to put Clara back into the proper compartment she was meant to be in in his life, he didn’t want her to change.

  He wanted to look at her in that dress for as long as he could. And then, he wanted to lower the zipper on the back of it and watch it slither down her body. He wanted to see her again, soft, naked and begging him to take her.

  “Zack …”

  “Do you have something against looking sexy?”

  “What? No.”

  “Then what’s the problem? If it honestly offends your modesty in some way, fine, change. But otherwise, you look …”

  “Like I’m trying too hard?”

  He took a step and she backed away from the door, letting him into the apartment. He shouldn’t touch her. Not even an innocent gesture. Because with the thoughts that were running through his brain, nothing could be innocent.

  He did anyway, and he ignored the voice in his head telling him to stay in control. He was in control. He could touch her without doing more. He was the master of his body, of his emotions.

  He put his finger on her jaw, traced the line of it down her neck, to her exposed collarbone.

  “You look effortless. As though bringing men to their knees is something you do every day of the week without breaking a sweat. You look like the kind of woman who can have anyone or anything she wants.”

  “I … I … well, I don’t appreciate you dressing me,” she said. “It’s demeaning.”

  “I don’t know if it was demeaning, but selfish, perhaps.”

  “Selfish?”

  “Because I’m enjoying looking at you so much.”

  She bent down and picked up a black shawl from the couch, looping it over her arms before grabbing a black clutch purse from the little side table. “You shouldn’t say things like that.”

  She breezed out the door ahead of him, clearly resigned to wearing the dress.

  “Probably not,” he said, his tone light.

  “But you did anyway,” she said, turning to face him.

  “I did. There are a lot of things I shouldn’t have said or done over the past couple of weeks, and yet, it seems I’ve said and done them all.”

  “I haven’t,” she said, turning away from him again and heading down the stairs, eager to avoid being in an elevator with him, he imagined.

  “Oh, really?”

  “Mmm. I have been virtuous. I’ve wanted to say and do many things in the past week that I haven’t.”

  “Why do I feel disappointed by that news?”

  “I don’t know. You shouldn’t be,” she said, her stilettos clicking and echoing in the stairwell. “You should be thankful.” She pushed open the exterior door and they both walked out into the cool evening air.

  “I find I’m not.”

  “I can’t help you there.”

  Something hot and reckless sparked in him. She must have noticed because she backed away from him until she bumped against his car. That was a picture, Clara, in scarlet silk, leaning against his black sports car. The fantasies that were rolling through his mind should be illegal.

  “I wish you could,” he said, taking a step toward her.

  She shook her head. “There’s no help for either of us.”

  “I’m starting to think that might be true.”

  He wanted to kiss the red off her lips. He wanted to take her back upstairs and do something about the unbearable ache that had settled in his body more than a week ago and hadn’t released him since.

  “Let’s go. We have a dinner date,” he said, his voice curt, harsher than he’d intended.

  She nodded and went around to the passenger side and he let out a long, slow breath, trying to ease the tension in his body.

  Being with her once hadn’t helped at all. One night hadn’t been enough.

  But there wouldn’t be another night. There would be no point to it.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “THANK you for doing that,” Zack said, once they were back in the car and away from the presence of the man they were putting on the show for.

  Dinner had gone well, and it looked like everything was on track for Mr. Amudee to sign the exclusive deal with Roasted. It turned out he was thrilled that Zack was marrying a woman he worked with, a woman who understood and shared his passion for the business. It was one of the things, they’d found out over dessert, that had placed Zack slightly ahead of his rival at Sand Dollar. Because Amudee felt Zack and Clara were working together, and the owner of the other coffee-shop chain would be spending more time away from his family.

  So, just another way their farce had helped. She still didn’t feel good about it.

  “You’re welcome.”

  “I’m serious. I should have thanked you before.”

  “Gourmet dinner after a week in Thailand? I’m not all that put out by it.” A big lie, and they both knew it.

  “I’m sorry about earlier,” she said. “About freaking out about the dress.”

  “Not a big deal.”

  Tension hung thick in the air between them. She just felt … restless and needy. The kiss, the one they’d shared in his office, still burning her lips.

  It was only supposed to be the one time. Just once. In Chiang Mai, not here.

  “I really liked my … salmon,” she said. It was lame but she didn’t want to leave Zack yet. Didn’t want to get into her cold, empty bed and slowly die, crushed beneath the weight of her sexual frustration.

  A dramatic interpretation of what would actually happen, but she felt dramatic.

  “You didn’t have salmon.”

  “I didn’t?” she asked.

  “No. You had … I think you had chicken.”

  “Oh.”

  The only thing she could remember about dinner was trying not to melt every time Zack looked in her direction.

  “So … I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” she said slowly, reaching for the door handle.

  “Wait.” She froze. “I have a nice vintage wine at my house. I’ve been meaning to have you come and try it,” he said.

  She moved away from the car door, letting her back rest against the seat again. “Really?”

  “Yes. Do you want … You could come over and have some?”

  Zack could have cut his own tongue out. As pickup lines went, it was a clumsy one. He shouldn’t be handing her pickup lines at all, clumsy or otherwise. They’d committed to only sleeping together one time, and the fact that he was so turned on his entire body had broken out into a cold sweat shouldn’t change that. Once should have been enough. But it wasn’t.

  He watched her face, watched her eyes get round, her mouth dropping open. As if she’d just realized what the hidden question was.

  It was hidden. If she said no, they could both pretend that it wasn’t another night he was after. They could brush it under the rug. Simple.

  “Now?” she asked.

  He nodded once.

  “I don’t.” She looked at her apartment building for a moment, her hands folded in her lap, toying with the fabric of her skirt, twisting it. “I’d love some wine.”

  “Good.”

  He turned the key over and the engine purred as he pulled away from the curb and headed out of the city, toward the waterfront.

  Zack’s house was a marvel, grand and pristine, massive windows with views the bay and the Golden Gate Bridge. It was a physical testament to the wealth he’d accumulated since he started his business. How much he had done. How far he had come on his own.

  Every time she came over, she stopped and looked at the gorgeous, stained-glass skylight in the entryway.
Not this time, though. This time, she didn’t have energy to focus on anything beyond Zack and the desire that was roaring through her body. Desire that was finally going to be satisfied tonight.

  A week without him, without him inside of her body, had been far too long of a wait.

  He closed the door behind them and stood still, poised near the door. He looked like a predator lying in wait. The thought of it, of being the object of his desire, heated her from the inside out.

  When he moved, it was quick and fluid. He wrapped his arms around her, kissing her deep and long, his tongue stroking against hers, the evidence of his arousal hard and tempting against her body.

  “You’re sure?”

  “No,” she said.

  “I’m not, either.”

  “But I want to.”

  “Me, too. You know where the bedroom is,” he said.

  “I do. But I haven’t spent that much time in it.”

  “You’ll be lucky if I let you out of it tonight,” he said, his voice a low growl. Feral and uncontrolled. It sent a shiver of pure need all the way down to her toes.

  It was crazy. Stupid crazy and not at all what they’d agreed to.

  Just one more time. One more night.

  “I don’t mind.”

  She walked ahead of him, to the winding staircase that led up to his room. She heard him following behind her as she walked up the stairs, and she knew the action was making her dress ride up, made it hug the curve of her bottom, and barely covered it at all.

  He grabbed her arm and turned her to him. He was on the step below her, which, with her heels, made them close to the same height. He put his hand on her lower back and pressed her to him, kissing her again, his mouth hot and hungry on hers.

  She cupped his face, his stubble rough on her fingertips, a potent, sexy reminder of his masculinity. He reached up and took her hands, lacing his fingers through hers and backing her against the wall as he stepped up onto the stair she was on.