He ran a finger through the collar of his shirt and watched the lift count its ascent.
He’d known she’d be the type to still be at work; his instinct hadn’t let him down there. He just hoped he hadn’t got the strength of her attraction wrong too.
The doors opened and there she was, arms crossed over her middle, face like thunder, and he couldn’t help the grin that formed, or the flutter that happened somewhere deep inside. She was damn sexy when she was mad.
‘This place needs new security,’ she blurted. ‘We’re closed.’
‘You’re still here,’ he said, stepping out of the lift.
‘Not for long.’ She spun on her heel and strode for her office, her entire body swaying provocatively and tugging at his groin. Kristus, she killed him.
‘Can we talk, please?’ He moved after her. ‘Just let me apologise?’
She sent him a look over her shoulder. ‘I’d rather you left.’
She reached her desk and grabbed up her jacket, rounding on him to shrug it on, the move parting her blouse far more than his body could take. ‘An apology isn’t going to change anything.’
‘It’ll make me feel better.’
‘Consider your apology delivered, now go.’
She swung her bag over her shoulder and bent to switch off the lamp upon her desk. His gaze fell to the glass tabletop and with it came a flood of memories, a rush of blood directly south.
‘I’ll call your sister tomorrow, once I’ve arranged the next set of viewings.’
He barely heard her; his need to have her accept his apology and get to where they’d been less than twenty-four hours ago had his mind racing with words, none of which seemed good enough.
She strode for the door, her hand closing around its edge, and then she looked to him pointedly. ‘Now if you’ll...’
Piss off, her eyes silently finished, their spark making him grin all over again as he rounded to face her. ‘You know, you’re sexy when you’re angry.’
He saw her throat bob, her eyelids flickering as her gaze fell to his mouth, the move fleeting but enough.
‘Don’t say things like that.’
Her voice had lost its force, and its whisper-like quality was urging him on. ‘Why?’
‘It’s not appropriate.’ She looked away, fixating on the exit. ‘Now please, can we leave? I don’t need you here, dragging the whole paparazzi on your tail and stirring up trouble that my business could do without.’
His shoulders relaxed, their previous tension surprising him. ‘Is that what has you so worried?’
‘One of many things.’
‘Well, let me put your mind at rest,’ he assured her. ‘I’m alone, no one’s followed me, not tonight.’
‘I find that hard to believe,’ she said, her eyes coming back to him and flashing with something akin to pain. ‘If I didn’t know better, I’d think you loved nothing more than creating scenes for them to exploit.’
‘They can be relentless.’
‘But not tonight, hey?’ She looked hurt as she threw the accusation at him. ‘Can’t say I blame them. I’m hardly your type.’
Her words pierced him, resonating with the same argument he’d had a thousand times over, and then her eyes flicked to the desk and for the first time he saw the magazine laid out there.
‘Judging by that double-page spread, you have quite the rep,’ she continued, ‘and I don’t want that anywhere near me.’
She wasn’t worried about her business. If she truly knew all there was to know about him, she would know her association with him would bring people flocking.
No, this was personal, and it was time he set the record straight. Time she understood who he was, accepted it and came to bed with him, her eyes open.
‘You’d be happy never to see me again?’
She flicked her hair back, her hand flexing around the door edge still determined, but it was her eyes that gave her away, even as she spoke. ‘That’s exactly what I’m saying.’
‘Really?’ He stepped forward, his hand reaching out to stroke along her jaw, his thumb tracing over her lower lip.
She made a small noise in her throat—almost a whimper, almost a moan—her eyes falling to his mouth, her teeth drawing back the lip he’d just traced.
‘Can you honestly deny this chemistry?’ he pressed.
Her head shook, the move so slight. But it wasn’t enough. He wanted—no, craved—her verbal denial. ‘No?’
‘No,’ she breathed, her head shaking that little bit more. ‘I can’t deny it.’
Yes. His restraint snapped and he propelled forward, his desire taking her to the wall, his hands thrusting into her hair as her bag hit the floor. She gazed up at him, eyes wide, and then her hands were in his hair dragging him down, their lips colliding in a fierce kiss, tongues plundering desperately.
Heat exploded through him, her essence flooding his taste buds, her hunger rivalling his own, their hands travelling everywhere all at once, wild and crazed.
‘I need to have you,’ he rasped over her, the force of his desire shaking him up inside; he was like a man starved.
‘But you’ll ruin me.’
He pinned her forehead with his own, staring down into her blazing gaze and seeing fear in the depths of her eyes.
Kristus, take a pause, reassure her.
‘I won’t, I promise,’ he assured her. ‘I court the press, not the other way around.’
He felt her brow furrow beneath his. ‘You court the press?’
‘Yes, I control what they see. It’s on my terms, most of the time.’
‘Your terms?’
He took a deep breath, his hands loosening their hold in her hair, his eyes closing. He didn’t like where the conversation was heading; it gave too much away, went too deep. And there was no way she’d understand. Fuck, even he was starting to struggle. ‘It’s complicated.’
She palmed his chest, pushing him away, the heat of her touch searing through his shirt even as she parted their bodies and the cold air seeped between them. He opened his eyes and immediately regretted it, the disgust in hers tearing through him.
‘You want them to splash you all over the media,’ she said incredulously, her frown furrowing further, her body righting as her own strength seemed to build at the disappearance of his. ‘You want to feed this hideous persona.’
‘It is what it is,’ he said simply, although inside he hurt, actually hurt.
What the hell is wrong with you?
He looked into her eyes, to the disgust still burning bright, and something inside him died. An irrational anger surging. ‘I am what I am.’
‘But why?’ She shook her head. ‘Why be like that at all?’
Why? He had a thousand reasons why, although, in truth, it really came down to two. His parents. They’d taught him all he needed to know. But that was none of her business. He didn’t need to indulge this conversation. He could sooner be gone and get himself back to how things were, in company where he could be at ease with who he was. Johansson was waiting on him after all. ‘I have to go.’
‘Can’t you at least try and explain it to me?’
Explain? Kristus, she was at it again.
Pressing into his past, forcing it to the surface, making him talk. She really wasn’t his type. He never should have come here. Never should have pushed to indulge this crazy obsession he had developed over her.
‘Why?’ He threw his panic-driven anger at her, not caring that it was misdirected, not caring that she wrapped her arms around her middle in a gesture that smacked of her own pain. ‘You want me to convince you that you’re not just another notch in my headboard?’
Her cheeks paled, and he knew he’d hit his mark, but the joke was on him. He was the one that needed convincing of that fact, not her.
He thrust his fingers
through his hair and moved past her. ‘Just call my sister when you’re ready to sort the arrangements.’ He didn’t look back as he headed for the lift, couldn’t bear to see the way her eyes glistened and body shook.
This is for the best. If she’s this upset already, just think what it would be like a few weeks down the line.
‘You’ll be pleased to learn that, following your little chat this afternoon, she’s ensuring we have no more need to see one another going forward.’
‘So that’s it, you’ve delivered your apology, attempted to seduce me when I’m in the know and, now that I’ve questioned your behaviour, you’re leaving?’ She stormed up behind him, the heat of her wrath penetrating his back, her words hitting so many nerves he could barely think straight.
‘It’s not like that.’
‘No?’
He paused at the lift and he sensed her stop too, but he didn’t dare look at her. He needed to be gone. Now. Before he backed up and kissed it all away, the pain, the disgust, and sank them both deeper into this mess.
‘I’m sure you’ll agree, it’s for the best.’ He ignored her question and pressed the button for the lift, grateful when the doors promptly opened. ‘Now you don’t have to see me, unless you choose to.’
He didn’t know why he’d added the latter.
Liar. You still hope she’ll look past your reputation to your bed. Well, fuck hope. You’re leaving this one well alone and moving on...
‘Goodnight, Ms Anders.’
He stepped into the waiting lift and pressed ‘Ground’, his eyes finding hers of their own volition. His insides clenched, her bright gaze holding his own, and then the doors came to his rescue, shutting out her penetrative stare and calming him the fuck down.
It’s okay, some space, some time away, and life can go back to how it was.
Pre-Zara.
Pre-all-this-weird-feeling-shit.
* * *
What the fuck just happened?
Dazed, Zara rubbed at the back of her neck, trying to coax away the unease that prickled there. How could the mood have changed so suddenly? So dramatically? One minute he wanted her and the next, he couldn’t move away fast enough. And all because she’d probed.
She turned away from the lift and forced her legs to return to her office, her limbs still shaky with the thrill of him. Not even the chill of his departure had stamped that out.
And what the hell was that about?
All that she knew of him, of what was wise and sensible to her sanity, and still she wanted him.
She scooped her bag up off the floor and tossed it onto her desk, dropping into her swivel chair and letting it spin with the force of her fall—Now what?
Something didn’t sit right.
As the chair came to a rest, she looked to the magazine still spread open, the words bouncing off the page even though she was too far away to read it. Not that it mattered—she knew it by heart.
The man on the page and the man she’d met yesterday, though they looked the same, they weren’t. He was a contradiction, a dangerous contradiction at that. And although her sanity told her to leave well alone, to keep him painted bad, she couldn’t.
Something had called to her, something she’d glimpsed when she’d thrown her insults at him. A pain, an anger even, that went far deeper than what she’d said had warranted, and for all her self-preservation, she didn’t want to believe the article. She didn’t want to believe the press. She wanted to believe in him. To gain an understanding of him.
Don’t be a fool. You’re playing with fire.
She laid her head over the back of her chair and stared up at the ceiling, her thoughts turning to the very real fire he’d stoked up low in her gut.
Yes, to pursue him would be foolish. No matter that her body ached for him. No matter that she knew somewhere beneath that cocky exterior was a pain she wanted to understand, to fix. He wasn’t for her.
She should be relieved that his sister had stepped in, that her eyes had been opened to this side of him, the side that very much mirrored Charles.
So why did she have the irrational urge to run after him?
Because you’re a glutton for punishment.
* * *
Two beers in and the heavy weight in Daniel’s gut hadn’t shifted. He was slumped in Johansson’s deep leather sofa, head back over the curve, eyes unseeing on the ceiling. All he could see was Zara’s face, her eyes as she’d expressed her disgust over him, his life.
‘If I’d known you’d be in such great spirits, I would have said to hell with the press and let’s go out-out.’
He sent his friend a look.
‘Jeez, don’t give me the puppy-dog eyes,’ Johansson said, taking a swig from his bottle and pushing off the sofa. ‘Another?’
Daniel tilted his bottle back and fore, eyeing the drop left. ‘Sure.’
‘God, you even sound broken,’ he said. ‘I thought this was supposed to be a let’s cheer Johansson up evening, not the other way around.’
‘Ah, hell, I’m sorry.’ He dropped forward to rest his elbows on his knees, his eyes on his bottle, his mind still on her disdain-filled face. ‘It’s just the way she looked at me. I can’t get it out of my head.’
‘Yeah, you’ve said that, at least three times already.’ The guy actually had the audacity to grin as he strode across the open living space and into the kitchen. ‘She’s really got under your skin.’
‘You don’t have to sound so pleased about it.’
‘Don’t I?’ Johansson said, dropping his empty on the side and pulling open the sleek black fridge. He extracted two bottles, the glass chinking together, and swung the door closed again, his eyes coming back to Daniel, alive with amusement. ‘You’ve been giving women the runaround for years—feels like payback to me.’
Daniel scoffed. ‘Nice to have you onside, old friend.’
Johansson laughed as he popped open each bottle and headed back towards him. ‘Hey, I’m just speaking the truth. I love you, man, but seriously, it’s time you were treated to your own medicine.’
‘Right, fuck it, we’re going out.’ He chucked back the remnants of his current drink and stood with new-found determination. ‘I’m not listening to this skit.’
‘Sit,’ his friend said, thrusting the fresh bottle at him. ‘I was kidding. Going out is the last thing either of us need.’
‘You reckon? Because I could sure as hell do with burying this unpleasantness in a woman far less concerned with my reputation and all about the fun I can deliver.’
Johansson shook his head, inhaling slowly as he considered him. ‘I’ll make you a deal—you’re still like this after this drink, then we’ll head out.’
* * *
Still like it. Hell, Daniel was still like it several bottles and two bars later.
Nothing could dissuade him from her, no amount of blonde, brunette, short or tall, nothing was working for him.
‘Come, Danny,’ the redhead purred as she curved her body into his side, ‘I think your friend and mine look too at home to have us cramping their fun.’
He sipped his drink and disengaged his fingers from between the bar edge and her over-zealous hip bone, flexing them to regain some feeling. He should’ve discouraged her by now, done something to get rid, but he hadn’t had the inclination to do that either. He didn’t like this sudden obsession with one woman. It wasn’t him. And it sure as hell wasn’t convenient.
She shifted into his eyeline, pouting up at him. ‘So, Danny, what say we head back to mine?’
He grated his teeth together—her Danny was doing overtime on his nerves. He looked to Johansson and met the guy’s desperately pleading ‘Help me’ gaze over the honey-blonde seemingly intent on devouring his entire neck. It would have been funny if the cause of their discomfort weren’t so troubling.
Troubling for D
aniel. Not so troubling for Johansson. It was good to see him out of place in surroundings and company such as this. This had been their norm for years, when they weren’t working their asses off, that was. And it was still Daniel’s go-to on a night off. But he couldn’t settle. Neither of them could. His friend’s reasoning was solid: he’d met the right woman for him, and the sooner his sister and Johansson could get past whatever nonsense kept them apart, the better.
But for Daniel, his reasoning made no sense. He barely knew the woman, and he’d been ordered out of her life for good. Maybe that was the problem. He didn’t take orders from anyone, least of all his liten syster who, as much as he loved her, had no hold over him.
And he got Zara’s upset over his past, he really did, but he also knew she wanted him and he wasn’t letting go of that. He just needed to come up with a plan that ensured she couldn’t escape him so easily.
He necked his bottle and gestured to Johansson—time to break out. He had a plan brewing and he wanted a clear head when he put it in motion.
Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘HOW’D IT GO?’
EJ asked the question from under her desk, head and fingers buried in a nest of cables.
‘It was okay,’ Zara said, slipping off her jacket and rubbing away the tension in her neck. The tension that had taken up permanent residence since Daniel had walked out the previous night. ‘What exactly are you doing?’
‘Trying to make sense of this mess,’ EJ muttered. ‘The IT dude may be a dreamboat to look at, but his technical abilities I’m less than sure of.’ She gave a harrumph and tossed the stuff aside to clamber up, brushing off her summer dress as she went. ‘Just okay, huh? Doesn’t sound good.’
‘No, no, it was fine,’ Zara assured her, knowing full well her less than enthusiastic response was down to a very different cause.
‘Fine?’ EJ raised her brow. ‘So, what’s the problem?’
Zara rubbed at her neck again. ‘Blasted men.’
‘Amen to that,’ EJ said on a laugh. ‘I’m getting some water on ice—you fancy one?’
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