experience or observation?’
He lifted his glass as if toasting an eternal truth. ‘It’s hard to get to the age of thirty-four without a little collateral damage.’
What had put that cynical gleam in his dark blue gaze? What had made his mouth smile in that mocking way?
‘So why family law? Why not commercial, criminal or conveyance?’
His gaze remained game shooter steady. ‘Why are you a florist?’
‘I love flowers.’
‘But why wedding flowers?’
Holly could feel her cheeks heating up when she thought of how wedding-obsessed she had been in the past. Her bedroom walls hadn’t been plastered with boy band posters but with bridal ones. She hadn’t doodled in class with boys’ names but had drawn wedding bouquets instead. ‘I might not want to get married any more but that doesn’t mean I don’t love weddings. They’re happy occasions where whole families get together to celebrate the commitment of a couple they know and love. I love being a part of that. Helping the bride choose what she wants, finding out her vision for the special day and making sure it happens. I love seeing the church or garden or wherever they’re getting married decked out with my designs. And the thought of the bride carrying a bouquet I’ve made specially for her is very rewarding, and no, I don’t just mean financially.’ Holly stopped to draw a breath and suddenly realised how much she had told him. And what a good listener he was. ‘But you didn’t answer my question. Why family law?’
‘It pays the bills.’
Holly flicked her gaze over his superb tailoring. ‘Apparently quite handsomely too.’
Zack’s lazy smile made something in her stomach flip. Damn the man for being so attractive. ‘The golden rule in making a success of your career is never to undersell yourself. If you’re good at what you do, then your fees should reflect that expertise.’
‘Isn’t there a fine line between charging a fee for a service and exploiting people during a vulnerable time?’ Holly raised her eyebrows and injected her tone with Sunday school–teacher disapproval.
He glanced at her mouth, then back to her gaze, his eyes going a deeper shade of blue. Sapphires with a backdrop of steel. ‘I don’t exploit my clients. I give them what they pay for—excellent service.’
Holly gave him one of her mortuary-slab smiles. ‘If ever I find myself in need of a divorce, then you’re apparently my go-to man.’
His eyes glinted and her stomach did another jerky somersault. ‘Likewise for wedding flowers.’
You’re flirting with him.
No, I’m not.
Yes, you are. And you’re loving it.
Holly took a sip of her champagne. ‘Don’t let me keep you.’
‘From?’
She waved a hand at the crowd of guests. ‘Hooking up with someone for a raunchy one-night stand.’
The glint of amusement was back in his eyes. ‘You don’t approve of raunchy one-night stands, Miss Frost?’
Holly’s cheeks were getting so hot she was worried all her fresh flower arrangements would wilt. Her fault for mentioning raunchy sex, but still. She had trouble thinking of anything but sex when standing near him. It was like her mind was stuck in a groove like a vinyl record under a turntable needle. Sex. Sex. Sex. She couldn’t look at his mouth without thinking of it clamped to hers. She couldn’t glance at his hands without imagining them touching her body. She couldn’t look at his body without wanting him to pin her to the nearest surface and have his wild and wicked way with her.
She didn’t understand why she was reacting like this. It was out of character. It was like a fever had taken over her body—a virulent fever that sabotaged her self-control like a lightning strike to a power box. She hadn’t thought about sex for years. She’d been as celibate as a ninety-nine-year-old nun. But one glance at Zack Knight was enough to make her eggs pack their bags and head for the nearest exit.
Holly forced herself to hold his satirical I’m-going-to-win-this gaze. ‘I’m not sure why I’m the lucky recipient of your peacock-like display of charm. And I apologise if this inflicts any bruises to your undoubtedly robustly healthy ego, but I’m not interested in continuing this discussion. Do I make myself unmistakably clear?’
He gave a mock shudder. ‘I love it when a woman talks starchy schoolmistress with me.’
Holly’s mouth twitched and she hated him for making her smile. She refused to be charmed by him. By any man. ‘You’re impossible. I’ve never met a more annoying man.’
‘And I’ve never met a more fascinating woman.’
‘Because I’m the only woman who’s ever resisted you?’
‘So far.’ His smile and his tone had a hint of ruthless hunter meets cornered prey.
Holly chastised herself for being so transparent. What was she these days? Cling film? ‘I can assure you, Mr Knight, I have zero interest in you physically.’ She tried to keep her gaze away from his mouth. Tried, but failed.
He gave a deep chuckle and raised his glass to hers. ‘I’ll be seeing you. Ciao.’
Holly was still thinking of a pithy comeback when he turned and walked away. She stood silently fuming that he’d had the last word. Furious that he’d made her feel things she didn’t want to feel. She felt alive for the first time in two and a half years. She was furious because he had done that to her. Her blood zinged through her veins like it had been injected with a potent drug.
Holly sucked in a deep breath and marshalled her self-control back on duty. Zack Knight could be as charming and handsome and amusing as he liked—she was not going to break her man drought.
Zack half listened to the conversation going on around him while he watched Holly move about the room. He could tell she was pretending to be captivated by the lively chatter, and every now and again would give a brief smile, but then she’d look vacant.
He couldn’t remember a time when he’d been more intrigued by a woman. Kendra had warned him about Holly’s self-imposed celibacy. His interest had been piqued because he hadn’t had a woman brush him off since he was a teenager. Her cool reception of him turned him on. Dating had become so predictably boring. He figured it was time to change things up.
And right now he wanted Miss Holly Frost with her damn-you-to-hell brown eyes. Eyes so rich a brown they reminded him of toffee. Her eyelashes were thick and ink black like miniature fans. He couldn’t stop thinking about her curly, burnished-copper-coloured hair spread over his pillow. Or over his chest. He’d caught a whiff of her fresh flowery scent when he’d stood in front of her and had longed to lean in to breathe in more of her intoxicating fragrance. Her mouth was soft and supple, except when it was flinging quick-witted comebacks at him.
But those lushly shaped lips never failed to draw his eyes, even when they were as flat and as intractable as a search warrant. He couldn’t stop looking at her mouth, imagining it crushed beneath his own. Her figure was slim with curves
