she said, her tone grudging. She put her phone down and stretched her legs out in front of her and her arms straight over her head, back arching, thrusting her breasts forward. His body hardened, his blood rushing through his veins hotter and faster.
That was a direct result of the fact that he was supposed to break his long bout with celibacy tonight, on this very plane, and it wasn’t happening now. Still, his body hadn’t caught up with his mind yet. Damned inconvenient considering he was now fixating on his friend’s breasts. Breasts that he was not supposed to fixate on. Basically two of the only breasts on earth that were off-limits to him.
More inconvenient, considering they were about to spend the week in Chiang Mai in a very secluded and gorgeous honeymoon villa. Even more when you considered that she was leaving the company soon after.
Well, that wasn’t happening. He would make sure of that. He would offer her whatever he had to offer to get her to stay, and until then he would simply nod whenever she brought it up.
He wasn’t sure how he would convince her, only that he would. He’d successfully stolen her away from her bakery job back when he’d only had a handful of coffee shops to his name. He had no doubt he could do an even better job of keeping her now that he had so many resources at his disposal. He could give her whatever she wanted, more freedom, more time off. And she was his friend. She wouldn’t leave him.
She was just mad about the whole fake fiancée thing. But she would get over it. She always did. It wasn’t the first time he’d made her mad. Likely it wouldn’t be the last. But that was just how it was. She wouldn’t really leave him.
He was a master negotiator. And he didn’t lose. He was good at keeping control, of his life and of his business.
“The property we’re staying on is supposed to be amazing. It borders a Chiang Mai, and there’s a spa right on site. It’s more of a resort than anything else, but you have to be invited to stay there by the owner. Very exclusive.” He got nothing but silence in response.
“They have unicorns, I hear,” he continued, “with golden hooves. You’ll love it.”
He heard her try to stifle a very reluctant snicker.
He leaned in and looked at her face, at the faint shadows marring the pale skin beneath her eyes. “Are you tired?” he asked.
She leaned back in the chair. “You have no idea.”
“There’s a bedroom.” His blood jumped in his veins again, like the kick-start on a motorcycle. “You could lay down for a while if you want.”
“How long have we got?”
“Ten more hours.”
“Oh, yeah, I need sleep.” She stood up and did another little stretch move that accentuated her breasts.
Clara needed more than sleep. She needed to get out of the tiny, enclosed space with Zack and all of his hot, male pheromones that were wreaking havoc on her good sense. If she had any at all to wreak havoc on. Well, she did have some. She’d used it to ask for her out.
For a little bit of a chance to move on and forward with her life. Because Zack hadn’t married Hannah today, which was fine and good, but he would marry someone. He’d decided to, and when Zack put his mind to something, he did it. That meant it would happen, sometime in the very near future, she imagined, now that she knew love wasn’t necessarily on the docket. Heck, if he smiled just right at the flight attendant they would probably be engaged by the time they landed in Thailand. And then she could sleep in the guest room in the villa.
She snorted.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
“The scariest word known to man when issued from the lips of a woman.”
Her lip curled voluntarily at his statement. “Sexist.”
“I prefer realist, but you’re free to call it as you see it.”
“So tell me this, Zack.”
“What?” he asked, one dark eyebrow arched.
“I assume you’ll attempt marriage again.”
“If I find the right woman.”
“And by that, you don’t mean the woman you love?”
Something in Zack’s posture changed, subtle but obvious to her, his shoulders straightening, his muscles tensing beneath his expertly tailored shirt. His eyes changed, too. There was something dark there, haunted, something she’d never seen before, not this clearly. She’d felt it before, an intensity lurking beneath his cool exterior, but she’d never seen it so plainly.
It was almost frightening in its intensity, transforming a man she’d seen every day for seven years into a cold stranger.
“I don’t do love, Clara. Ever.” He turned his focus to the newspaper that was folded on his lap. “Good night.”
Clara turned toward the bedroom, exhaustion burrowing beneath her skin, down into her bones. Yesterday, everything had been the way it had always been. It had sucked; it had been heading in a direction she hadn’t liked, but for the most part, it had been the same.
Today everything felt different. Most of it was her fault. And even though she wouldn’t change it, she hated it.
“We just landed.”
Clara sat up and pushed the wild mass of auburn curls out of her eyes. She blinked a few times and Zack’s face came into focus. For a moment, she didn’t do anything. She didn’t move, she didn’t breathe, she just concentrated on his face being the first thing she saw.
She’d never woken up next to a man before. And, yeah, this wasn’t really waking up next to a man in the traditional sense. And he was more leaning over than next to her. But it was a really nice thought, and it was a very nice sight first thing in the morning. If it was even morning. She had no idea.
“What time is it?” she asked.
“It’s 10:00 p.m. local time.”
She flopped backward. “Oh, no. Why did you let me sleep?”
“I tried to wake you.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“I did, you were out.”
She felt a strange sort of disappointment curling in her stomach. She wished, well, part of her did, that he had woken her up. She swallowed hard. Her throat felt like it was lined with cotton. It was far too easy to think of a lot of very interesting ways he might have woken her up.
No. Bad.
“I’m going to be a wreck.”
“Sorry.”
“I take it you didn’t sleep?” She looked down and realized she was still wearing her jeans.
“No.
