He cleared his mind and scanned the cars lined up at the curb, searching for his driver. The sidewalk was busy, people rushing past him. Some of them glanced his way, but Zeke tended to stand out in a crowd. At six-four, he was packed with muscle. Not all bodyguards were his size. A lot of the agents he employed were able to blend in, to go unnoticed. That would never be the case with Zeke. In addition to his stature, his mixed heritage made him identifiable, too. He was Samoan and Choctaw from his dad’s side and white from his mom’s.
He located his driver, and within no time, he was riding in the back of a Lincoln, en route to the Hollywood Hills, where Margot lived. They’d sold the Redondo Beach house they’d owned together. Nonetheless, Zeke still lived in that area, making an oceanfront condo his current home.
About forty-five minutes later, he arrived at Margot’s residence, an elegant three-bedroom, four-bath Spanish Colonial Revival surrounded by a wrought iron gate.
Zeke instructed his driver to wait for him, then exited the car. He opened the coded gate and ascended the red clay steps leading to the front door. He had a key to her house, but he never used it. It was strictly for security purposes.
Zeke and his partner operated Z-One Security, a personal protection company with over three hundred employees guarding celebrities all over the world. Whenever they took on a new or complicated assignment, Zeke would spend some time with the client, becoming familiar with their lifestyle and training the rest of his team accordingly.
He rang the bell, and Margot answered, looking soft and luscious in a billowy blouse and wide-legged jeans. He noticed that her nails were decorated in mismatched polish. She’d always had an eclectic fashion sense, with different looks to suit whatever type of mood she was in. Today, he surmised, she was in a state of uncertainty. Would that work in his favor? Or was he reading too much into it? She’d never been short on contradictions.
“Hi, Zeke.” She greeted him with an anxious smile.
“Hey, Margot.” He wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of a smile, anxious or otherwise. He was already pissed at himself for wanting her.
She wore her wild red hair in a low-slung ponytail with loose tendrils framing her face. Her bright blue eyes lent her an innocent quality. Her dimples, however, struck a mischievous chord. They’d served her well when she was a child actor playing a precocious character in The Kid Years, the family sitcom she’d become known for. She was playing an adult version of that same character now, in a sequel of the old show aptly called The Grown-up Years.
The job that had triggered their divorce.
When they’d first started dating, she’d given up acting, only to resume her career after they got married. A move that felt horribly deceptive to Zeke. He’d never wanted a celebrity wife. He’d grown up with a famous mother, and he’d struggled through every minute of it. As a kid, his only salvation had been his mom’s security team. They’d provided a sense of stability in an otherwise chaotic environment, shielding his family from the paparazzi and obsessive fans who hounded his mom. For Zeke, becoming a security specialist when he got older was a no-brainer.
Luckily, Margot didn’t need much of a security detail. Aside from the usual internet trolls who harassed celebrities online, there’d never really been any issues. But he wasn’t taking any chances. He engaged a crew to monitor her social media accounts and keep an eye on the camera footage outside her house.
He was being filmed right now. Not that it mattered. As far as his employees knew, his visits with her were strictly professional. He hadn’t told a living soul that they were lovers. Margot, on the other hand, had blabbed about their affair to Zeke’s sister. The two women had been friends since they were kids, and now his sister was privy to his personal shit.
“Are you going to come inside?” Margot asked.
He nodded and entered the house, catching a glimpse of his dark suit and gray striped tie as he passed a mirror in the foyer. He preferred to wear business attire when he traveled. He would change into a pair of board shorts when he got home.
She escorted him to the living room, a space rife with wood floors, beamed ceilings, a stone fireplace and French casement windows. There was a view of the backyard, including a mixed garden, a pool, a spa and an artfully designed patio.
He glanced at the sofa, but he didn’t take a seat. Neither did she. Flustered by their ever-present attraction, he shifted his stance. The energy between them was thick and tangled.
Confusing, he thought.
“Can I get you anything?” she asked.
By now, he was itching to kiss her, to touch her, to carry her to the master suite and do wicked things. “What did you have in mind?”
“Coffee, water, beer. Whatever you want.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Whatever I want?” He waited a beat. “Surely you know what that is.” He kept his voice low, quiet. Seductive, he supposed. He was making his move, scattered as it was.
Her reaction was just as scattered. In fact, she looked downright dizzy, as if being with him one last time had crossed her mind, too. But then she composed herself and said, “I didn’t arrange this meeting for us to...”
“I know, but it’s been a while since we...” He’d been away on an assignment for what had seemed like forever, eager to see her, to hook up with her again. “Six months to be exact.”
“Yes, but that was before the adoption was finalized and Liam came to live with me.”
Zeke had been wondering if this was about her son. The eight-year-old who’d become her priority. He didn’t know young Liam, but he’d seen plenty of pictures. He had a security file on the boy.
In all honesty, the idea of her becoming a mom twisted him up inside. Once upon a time, they’d talked about having kids of their own. Of course, that was when they’d been madly in love. But those feelings no longer applied.
Zeke cleared the scratchiness from his throat. Now that her kid had become part of the discussion, he was at a loss for words. Margot was silent, as well. But that was typical of them. Aside from getting naked, they didn’t know how to communicate anymore. Their sexual escapades didn’t even include spending any nights together. They just did the deed, then went their separate ways, like hot-blooded strangers hungry for a fix.
Suddenly, he needed a cold drink, something to take the edge off. “If your offer is still good, I think I’d like a beer.”
“No problem.” She gazed at his mouth, wetting her own lips in the process. “I’m thirsty, too. I’m going to get myself some water.” She headed toward the kitchen. “I’ll be right back.”
Zeke watched her dash out of the room. In spite of the obvious tension, she was trying to act casual. But that did little to ease his mind—or his relentless desire for her.
* * *
Margot entered the kitchen and caught her breath. Why did ending her affair with Zeke have to be so painful? Why did she have to want him so badly?
She filled a glass with water from the fridge and drank half of it, telling herself to relax. She could do this. She could let Zeke go for good. It wasn’t healthy for her to keep sleeping with him. For now, she needed to focus on her son. Liam was at school today. He was a great student, a smart boy who’d learned to adapt to whatever situation he was in. But his life, thus far, hadn’t been easy. He’d spent most of his youth bouncing in and out of foster homes, hoping for a forever family. And now he had Margot.
She’d never intended to become a single parent, but when she’d met Liam at a children’s charity, she’d connected with him instantly and knew he was meant to be hers.
She used to think that Zeke was meant to be hers, too, but their divorce had proved otherwise. And their affair? That was insanity. Who slept with their ex instead of moving on? Someday, when she was ready, she would start dating again. But next time she would have a normal relationship, not the turmoil she’d endured with Zeke.
/> She put her glass in the sink and almost left the kitchen without his beer. Good Lord. She grabbed it and returned to the living room. She handed him the bottle, and they both sat. He took the sofa, and she scooted onto an overstuffed chair. He opened the beer and took a long, hard swallow.
He met her gaze, and her heart banged against her ribs. He was a breathtaking man, imposing in his size, with rugged features and eyes that were nearly as black as his hair.
“Where’s your water?” he asked.
“I drank it in the kitchen.”
“And you’re not thirsty anymore?”
“No.” At least not for water. Slaking her thirst for him wasn’t so easy, but she was determined to exorcise those demons.
She was thirty-three now, and he was thirty-eight. At this point, she’d known him for over half of her life. In addition to her friendship with his sister, she’d also had a close association with his dad. Caine Mitchell used to be Margot’s agent. Her own father had walked away when she was seven, abandoning her without a care. She understood that Zeke’s childhood was difficult on account of how famous his mother was. But she used to love hanging out at his parents’ house and seeing them together. The Hollywood agent and the Hollywood star. They’d been a good match, even if their union had first stemmed from tragedy.
Zeke wasn’t Caine’s biological son. His birth father was a stuntman who’d been killed in a work-related accident soon after Zeke was born, leaving his mother devastated. In the midst of her grief, she’d married Caine, and he’d adopted her infant son. Bailey had come along five years later, making her Zeke’s half sister. Caine was gone now, too. He’d died twelve years ago, leaving an emotional legacy behind. He was the glue that had held everyone together, and they all missed him terribly. Even Margot still brought flowers to his grave.
She looked into Zeke’s eyes, those deep, dark hypnotic eyes. To keep things from getting too quiet, she said, “I was just thinking about Caine and how he adopted you.”
“And now you have an adopted son.” A muscle ticked in his jaw. “But you always wanted kids.”
Margot’s chest went tight. He’d wanted them, too. Before their marriage had gone awry, they’d talked about having babies. “Becoming a mom has been amazing. But it’s still so new and different, and I’m still learning, figuring things out as I go.”
“That’s normal, I suspect. But I wouldn’t really know anything about it.” After an uncomfortable pause, he asked, “Are you going to hire a nanny or an au pair? If you are, I need to screen your applicants. Me or one of my agents.”
“I’m not going to hire anyone. My mom enjoys watching Liam. She’s available whenever I need her. Or she has been so far.”
“That’s good,” he replied, pinning her with his gaze. He swigged his beer without breaking eye contact.
Margot tried not to fidget under his scrutiny. The way he was looking at her made her want to take him straight to bed. But she couldn’t, she reminded herself. Not unless she was willing to get all jumbled up again.
Before she did something stupid, she said, “When I texted you last night and said that I was having second thoughts about our affair, I was still struggling with my decision. There was a part of me that wanted to hang on.” A part that still did, she thought. Even now, her traitorous body ached for his. “But I need to create a healthy environment for myself and Liam, and I don’t see how that’s possible if I’m still sleeping with you.”
He set his drink on the coffee table. “Then, this is it? It’s over?”
“Yes.” It had to be, she told herself. No more heart-thundering sex. No more lusty rendezvous.
He leaned back, his massive body sinking into the sofa. “I’m going to miss being with you.”
“I’ll miss being with you, too.” She wasn’t going to lie or pretend otherwise. “This wasn’t an easy decision.”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t end it so soon. We can keep doing it for a while and see how it goes. Being a mom doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to have a lover.”
“I know. But I’m trying to do the right thing, and sneaking off with you isn’t going to help my cause. There’s no future in it. We’re divorced,” she reminded him.
“I’m well aware of our relationship status.” He tugged at his tie, as if the perfectly tied knot was starting to choke him. “But I never would’ve filed the papers if you’d held up your end of the bargain. When we first got together, you told me that you were done with acting. But then you took that damned sequel. Your old producer called, and you went running.”
She narrowed her eyes, irked that he was inciting the same old argument, spinning the narrative to suit him. “I had a right to change my mind. Being an actor makes me happy.”
“Oh, really? Then why were you so miserable half the time?”
“I was only miserable when it wasn’t going well.” She’d made it big at nine years old, and by the time her stardom had ended, she was a teenager, struggling to find her footing. A phase that had lasted through her twenties, when she’d fallen head over heels in love with him. A mistake, if there ever was one. “Everyone else wanted me to succeed again. My mom, your family. Everyone except you.” She glared at him. “You’re the least supportive person I know.”
He loosened his tie all the way. “I supported you plenty. Besides, you knew that I never wanted to be married to a celebrity. That it was a deal breaker for me.”
She huffed out a breath. “You didn’t even try to compromise.”
“Damn it, Margot, I wanted a conventional life with you. Not all of the TV-star hoopla.”
“It’s not hoopla. It’s my job,” she shot back.
“A job you chose over me.”
“I didn’t choose it over you. I wanted my old career back. But you refused to listen to my side of it.”
“You didn’t care about my side of it, either.”
“Yes, I did.” She’d taken his issues into consideration. She’d stressed and worried about his feelings. But she’d been foolish in believing that he’d loved her enough to make it work. “You divorced me, not the other way around.”
“What was the point of staying together if all we did was fight? I did you a favor by leaving.”
She mocked him. “Lucky me, having such a considerate husband. But you know what? You need to go now.”
“Gladly.” He stood, coming to his towering height.
At five-nine, Margot was considered tall, too. But with his size and strength, he was Hulk material. She used to tease him and say that she was going to paint him green. Now she just wanted to knock him flat on his ass.
He polished off the rest of his beer. “I’ll bet that after I’m gone, you’re going to run right over to Bailey’s and bitch to her about me.”
“I can share my feelings with her if I want to.” She wasn’t going to let him control her friendship with his sister.
“This is bullshit.”
“If you say so.” She gestured to the front door, but he didn’t leave. Instead, he went into the kitchen to rinse out the empty bottle and put it in the recycling container below the sink.
She dogged him. “Look at you. Mr. Tidy.”
“So, I’m not a slob. Not like you.”
Margot gritted her teeth. “I’m not a slob. A little disorganized, maybe. But that’s not the same as being messy.”
“Are you kidding? You never clean up after yourself.” He glanced at her sparkling counters. “At least you have a great maid service. It’s obvious they were here this morning.”
“Whatever.” It was true, her housekeeper had been there. “Just get out of my sight and don’t ever come back.”
He rounded on her. “Are you sure you don’t want to kiss me first? Or rip off my clothes and claw the crap out of me?”
Her pulse zipped through her body, going straight to the instant heat
between her legs. A half-cocked smile spread across his lips. Could he tell that she was turned on by what he’d said? His security training made him a bit of an expert in that regard. He was good at reading people’s emotions. Of course, he used to say that she was sometimes hard to gauge. A fact that both challenged and perplexed him.
She lifted her chin. “I never should’ve had an affair with you.”
He stared her down. “Yeah, well, it’s too late. You already did.”
He didn’t immediately leave like he was supposed to. He stayed put, keeping her hanging on by a thread. There was no way she was going to kiss him, or unclothe him, even if she wanted to. Idiot that she was, she would probably fantasize about him tonight: sighing, moaning, touching herself.
“This isn’t fair,” she said.
“What isn’t? That you still want me? Or that I still want you? I wish I knew how to fix it.”
“Me, too. It would be nice if we could find a way to get past it without being so angry.” She searched his gaze, desperate for a solution. Neither of them should be suffering this way. “There’s got to be something we can do.” She studied him, her mind whirring. “Maybe we can try to be friends.”
“Friends?” he parroted.
“Yes, you know. A platonic relationship between people who are supposed to like each other.”
“Do you like me, Margot?”
“Sometimes,” she replied honestly.
“I like you sometimes, too,” he said softly.
She always got a little woozy when he whispered. To combat the feeling, she squared her shoulders. “We can use that as our starting point.”
He looked worried, dragging a hand through his hair and spiking the short, thick strands.
“Do you really think that’ll work?” he asked.
“I don’t know.” She wasn’t any better at being his friend than he was at being hers. “But it’s got to be less stressful than fighting.” Or wanting each other, she thought. She needed to stomp out her hunger for him. To crush it to bits.
The Rebel Heir Page 17