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.
He pressed his body against hers, hard and long, perfectly muscular. She started working the buttons on his shirt, popping a few of them off in her haste to get him undressed. He helped with the sleeve cuffs and tossed the shirt down to the bottom of the stairs.
“Oh, yes,” she breathed, running her hands over his bare chest, the crisp hair tickling her palms. “You’re so hot.”
He chuckled. “I could say the same.” He gripped the zipper tab of her dress and tugged it down, letting her dress fall off her body. She hardly had time to think about it, to worry about how she looked to him.
She kicked the dress down to the next stair, still wearing her heels, a strapless bra and a pair of underwear that may as well not exist for all that they covered.
But tonight, she really did feel sexy. She didn’t feel the need to cover herself, to hide anything. And she really didn’t want him hiding anything. She made quick work of his slacks, pushing them down his muscular thighs, her body heating when she looked at him, dressed in nothing more than a pair of tight black boxer briefs that revealed the outline of his erection in tantalizing detail.
She put her hand on him, sliding her palm over his cloth-covered length, reveling in his harsh, indrawn breath.
“Do you know how many times I thought of you?” she asked, the question requiring a whole lot of boldness she hadn’t realized she possessed. “Of touching you. Having my way with you. You’ve kept me up a lot of nights, Zack. Imagining what it would be like if you kissed me.”
“You thought of me?” he asked, his words rough.
“I did.”
He didn’t have to ask why she hadn’t acted on it. Because what would the point have been? They didn’t want the same things. He wanted a loveless marriage, no family. She wanted more. There was still no point to this. No point beyond trying to satisfy the sexual hunger that was burning between them.
And