Chapter Ten
“Knew you’d look good in that shirt.”
Zan pushed off from the doorframe and walked into his bedroom. He ignored the sucker-punch to the gut at how right Daisy looked in his bed, her hair all messed up, her eyes hazy, wearing his T-shirt. He held two cups of coffee. One of his favorite vintage Led Zeppelin shirts hung from her shoulders. He saluted Jimmy with his coffee cup, knowing Mr. Page would approve of a nearly naked woman beneath him.
“I’m at your place?” Her head swung left then right.
“Yep.” He passed her a cup. “I remember how awful you were in the morning before you’re stocked up on caffeine.”
“We are besties,” she murmured taking a sip. “You remembered.” She stared down at the cup then up at him, a smile transforming her face and making him warm from the inside out.
“Cappuccino with a hint of caramel. I had to go out for the caramel, you know my views. You will offend the coffee gods to add anything to a cup of joe.”
She smiled and it sailed straight into his heart. “My compliments to the barista.”
He saluted her with his cup. “The barista thanks you.”
“A man of many talents.” She pushed hair out of her face. “How’d I get here?”
“You were out when I hung up from Brayden, so I brought you here, put you in my T-shirt, and climbed in behind you. You didn’t wake once.” He set his coffee down. “You drool by the way.”
Pink slashed her cheeks. “I do not drool.” She took another sip of coffee then set it down beside his. She swung her legs out of bed.
“We need to talk.”
“Bathroom then I need to find my phone to call a cab.” She fiddled with the hem of his T-shirt. “Then I’ll hit the office.” She squinted out the window. “Can we talk tonight?” She stopped, dragged her eyes to his, then looked away, a blush creeping up her face. “Tomorrow, we’ll talk about it tomorrow. Tonight, I’m meeting Malibu_Man_Loves_Cats.”
A quick, lethal switchblade pierced his heart. She was not meeting Malibu Man tonight or any other night.
He braced for her eruption. “Your phone is downstairs. You have a heap of messages from a Rhonda about today’s agenda. You texted in sick today.”
“You didn’t,” she whispered. The pink in her face was replaced by firecracker red. Sparks flew from her eyes, and she’d planted her hands on her hips. “I’ve never called in sick in my life.”
“Rhonda texted back that she was glad you were taking time off, and she didn’t think you’d recovered after St. Maarten.”
Yeah, nor had he.
“She’s shifted everything to tomorrow and wants you to text her if you need anything.”
“How did you break into my phone?” Her hands balled into fists.
Damn, his sexy firecracker with her feet planted wide, her head thrown back exposing a creamy length of neck his lips were desperate to taste. It took all of his self-control not to throw her on the bed and wake her up all over again, but he’d give her the answers she wanted.
“Came up here, used your fingerprint to open the screen, then proceeded to be an excellent assistant. I’d hire me in a heartbeat.”
Desperation swam in her eyes.
“I appreciate the offer, but I have to go. I’m needed at work.” She trotted to the bathroom off his bedroom. Mint trailed her when she walked back into the room. “Where are my clothes?”
“Don’t know.” He leaned against the bedframe of the California King.
She held out one hand. The other hand on a jutted hip. “Give me my clothes.”
He pushed off the frame and walked toward her. “Here’s the thing. I can’t get you out of my head.”
He’d made the trip to Sydney, met with the CEO of a resort in Cairns who’d flown down to meet him, and instead of hanging around in the city for an extra day looking for another deal, he’d changed his flight and headed back to L.A., pushing the Fiji trip back. He wanted to be back here.
Every time he closed his eyes, he could hear her laugh, her fingers entwined with his, look into her beautiful eyes and know they were going to fight about something ridiculous and he wanted it. There was nothing like winding Daisy up, her hand would go to her hip, her back would straighten, and she’d dish out attitude, which was fast becoming his favorite dish, but there was also a vulnerability about her that brought out his protective side. When she’d been curled against him tracing his ink, he wanted to freeze-frame those moments.
“What are you saying?” She stood so proud, so vulnerable, and so beautiful his gut clenched tighter.
He gathered her into his arms and caressed the back of her head. “Can we have today?” He buried his face in her hair and inhaled lavender, vanilla, and sunshine.
She pulled back and studied him. “I could do one day, but there have to be rules.”
He sighed. He intended on spending every minute he could wring out of the day. Arguing would take more time, and he had plans.
Big plans.
He fisted his hand in her hair and pulled her head back. He kissed her hard, how she liked it, until he swallowed her moan.
“This is about us. One day.”
He backed them up until she hit the bed and collapsed backward on the dark blue quilt. He followed her, bracing himself over her. “I think we need to say good morning again.” He pulled the shirt up and over her head. “This time without words.” He trailed a link of kisses down her neck, loving her gasp.
However long later, he didn’t know, he lay on the bed and held Daisy, who’d collapsed against his chest, a ball of sweat, her hair matted, her eyes closed, purring. After she’d shattered around him on an explosive orgasm, whispering his name, he’d pounded into her the way she liked, hitting her spot. After a shower, they’d tumbled on the bed for round two, which left him exhausted but unable to wipe the smile off his face.
If anyone would have asked him if he wanted to stay around because he was bewitched by a woman, he’d have told them they needed medical intervention, especially when you added the name Daisy Carter.
She wasn’t under his skin; she was in his bloodstream.
Yeah, he was still buying her shares, and he’d be her boss soon, but business came first, with Daisy a close second. Whatever he had with Daisy he wanted more. Much more. And he had a proposition that would fit both their worlds.
He kissed her forehead.
Daisy wriggled out of bed then pulled on his Zeppelin T-shirt.
“Clovis, I’m exploring. I’m curious to see the man behind the house.”
He jumped from the bed and pulled on jeans, going commando. No point putting on boxers that would only be coming off soon. He grinned at her appreciative gaze. He returned the favor. Her wearing his T-shirt, that perfect heart-shaped butt, that smile.
“You’re the first person I’ve brought here.” He didn’t care for flashy, expensive houses, but his broker had found this at a brilliant price, and he’d make money on it.
“I’m not reading anything into that, by the way.” She smiled over her shoulder.
You will be after our discussion.
“Are black and glass your favorite colors?” Daisy had explored the eight upstairs bedrooms then moved down a level to the media room, the wine cellar, and gym. She now stood in one of the living rooms that looked out over the extensive garden, an infinity pool and the high, white wall that enclosed the property. She sat on his black leather sofa then sprung up.
“Have you embedded knives in there?” She rubbed her butt.
Damn. That was his job.
He moved and caressed her luscious ass.
She prowled around the rest of his house. They ended back in the main living room. A fire behind a cube of glass would heat the room in winter, presumably. A larger fire pit on the balcony sat unused. Her feet slapped on the white marble floor.
“No photos on the fridge, no notes to self.” She grinned at him. “No lists.”
“Go with your gut. You should try it sometime.”
“Never.” She rubbed her hands up and down her arms. “Are you here much? It feels kind of impersonal. Like I said, lots of black and glass.”
“Hardly here at all.” His gaze slid to where Daisy prowled around his kitchen; she opened the fridge door then her face dropped.
He shrugged. “I let Summer know I was staying, and she sorted me out.”
“Summer,” she said into the fridge, a slight edge to her voice.
His stomach growled, and his cock twitched. Which beast to feed? He walked to the walk-in pantry, snagged a jar, tugged Daisy’s hand, and picked her up and plonked her butt on the marble countertop. He then pulled the T-shirt over her head, nudged her knees open and cracked the lid on the jar of peanut butter.
Her eyes widened. “What about chocolate sauce?”
He scooped out a handful of peanut butter. “Don’t like chocolate.”
“What about cream?” She gasped when he coated her inner thighs in his go-to breakfast. Instead of using a spoon he was using her legs.
“Haven’t got a sweet tooth.” He pushed her legs wider. “Lean back, baby.”
“Who doesn’t have a sweet tooth?”
“Me.” He spread peanut butter on her thighs and grinned at her quiver. He leaned in and licked the paste from her soft thigh.
“Crunchy or smooth?” she gasped.
“Smooth.”
“Another reason we’re incompatible.” She widened her thighs when he kissed the inside of her leg.
Good girl.
A thrill of electricity surged through him. Weird. It zapped between his balls and heart like a pinball.
“Baby, I have plans. Big plans.”
Plans he fulfilled spectacularly.
He lifted damp hair from her shoulder, leaned forward, and kissed a line of freckles on her neck.
He’d made a decision, but something like nerves bounced in his gut.
“Daisy.”
She leaned her head against his shoulder. “I’ll have a ten-minute power nap here.”
“Daisy,” he said, a bit harder, a bit louder.
Her head shot up.
He tangled his fingers in hers and rested his forehead against hers. “We need to talk.”
…
“About what?” Daisy’s throat dried.
Zan’s serious eyes held hers.
Damn. Nowhere to hide, not when intense dark green eyes scanned her. She tried to pull back, but the grip of his fingers strengthened.
“Okay,” she said, trying to work his angles and coming up with nothing. Lines crinkled his forehead, the lips that owned her earlier were now pressed into a thin line. Only his beautiful eyes held a question. She reached for the Zeppelin T-shirt, the need to cover herself urgent.
Zan stepped aside. She instantly jumped down, smoothed her hand down the old cotton, wondering how she could steal his T-shirt. He led her to the couch and pulled her down beside him. “I can’t get you out of my head.”
Same.
She blinked up at him. Malibu_Man_Loves_Cats would be her first date since she’d arrived back. She’d been hanging around the house, missing Zan when she’d given herself a pep talk that if she wanted a relationship, she needed to pop back on the pony.
“Every time I turn around I feel you beside me. I can taste you on my lips, feel your hand in mine, I can’t sleep.” He again dug his hands into his hair. “And it’s fucking killing me.” She read the anguish in his stormy eyes, covered the distance between them, and hugged him.
Was she an idiot for wanting more in a crash-and-burn scenario?
Yes.
Did a little part of her wish upon every single star in the sky that this could somehow work?
Yes.
Did she want to fall into this man and not know where she started and he ended?
A thousand yesses.
“I want more.”
She blinked.
Determined eyes held hers. “I want this.”
“We can’t,” she said, her throat clogged and raw. She stood then backed away.
Damn. More tears. What was up with the waterworks?
“We can.” He pulled his hand through his hair. “What we’ve got going here is the best I’ve ever had, and I’m not letting us go. I’m not letting you go.” He stalked to her, and she backed away, hitting the cold of the fridge door. Her heart was a tangled mess of want, desire and hope. “Never felt like this before.”
Nor had she.
She wanted this man. She fell into him deeper every minute. When they weren’t together all she thought about was him. His bossiness, his smile, the way he held her like she belonged to him.
Everything about him was perfect.
Everything about them was wrong.
“All I know is for the last few days all I’ve wanted to do is walk through any door and see your smile and hear you whisper my name.”
Reality, that ever-present bitch, gave her a check.
“But aren’t we playing house here? You’ve said you’re not the stick around kind of guy and you’re not looking for a relationship, and I am. I want the whole white picket fence, maybe not now, but in the future, I do. I’m an all-in or all-out kind of girl.”
She swallowed as silent tears slid down her face.
He cupped her face with his hands. “Baby, I don’t have a crystal ball. I work a lot, but coming home to you will be the sweetest thing in my life, so can’t we wing this? See where it goes. Compromise and take a chance, you know, be impulsive?” A smile hovered on his lips, but his eyes were serious.
A million questions flew through her mind. Could they give this a shot? Would the bad blood between their families complicate them? Would the infighting, the accusations between the rival families, pull them down until they hated each other? She sucked in a sticky breath. Or was the real reason lurking in the back of her mind that she was scared to try and walk away from the man she knew was hers?
She wanted a relationship, the commitment, the whole working toward something. He wasn’t. He’d maybe think about it, but would probably become bored. He traveled a lot. She didn’t. When would they even see each other? She thought about her profile and the man she hoped to find. Not one tick for Zan. Easygoing? Nope. Flexible? Not a chance. Holidays to sandy beaches? The man didn’t vacation, so a big double X marks the spot there.
She gnawed on her nail. The horrified faces of her sisters and mother stared at her in her mind. Poppy wouldn’t understand; she doubted Brayden would be thrilled that Zan and her had hooked up.
“Nothing about us works.” There was a fluttering in her voice she couldn’t hide.
“I know.”
“I live by rules and lists, and you charge in.”
“Agreed.”
“Our families hate each other. They’ll never understand.”
“Yeah, there’s that,” he said with a sigh.
“We’ve been rivals since our first hotel went up. Do you think with all that history and hostility between our families we’ll end up looking at each other with hate-filled eyes? We’ll question each other’s motives, and wonder if we’re playing each other.”
His fingers on her shoulders flexed. “We’re past that.”
“But what if we aren’t? I don’t want to have to choose between you and my sisters. I couldn’t do it. So why start something that will only end in disaster?” A funny little quaver in her voice had his eyes locked on hers.
His forehead rested against hers. “Everything you’ve said is right, but for all that’s wrong there’s a shit load that works. Don’t ask me how to explain, because I can’t. Chemistry? Failed that in high school, but we fit.”
“But our families will never forgive us.”
He wrapped his arms around her, and she lay her head on his shoulder. It felt so right to be here with him. Held in arms that made her feel safe, wanted, and cherished.
“Do you want to try?” He smoothed his hand down her hair.
She did. The blowout would be huge, but she was falling for this man, and if she walked away for the reasons she’d thought about and they’d said, she could be walking away from the one man put on the planet for her.
“I do.”
He let out a long breath. He led her to the couch and pulled her down next to him and held her hand.
“You must promise me that our business and personal lives will always be separate, and whatever happens nothing comes between us.”
A cold chill invaded her. She went to move back, but his grip was firm. “That’s a lot to promise, considering we’ve been rivals for a long time.”
His hand tightened around hers. “Promise me.”
The fierce look on his face made her pause.
Her heartbeat thumped against her breastbone. “You’d never do anything to hurt me, would you?”
He dragged a hand through his hair. “I’d rather cut out my heart than hurt you.”
A chill swept through her body. “Zan, is there something going on here that I don’t know about?”
The grip on her hand was stronger. “If shit happens in the future we can’t let it come between us. We stay and talk it out. You don’t run or back away.”
Her breath caught at the back of her throat. She doubted her legs would hold her if she tried to stand. “You’re scaring me,” she whispered.
His eyes drilled into hers. “We will always talk everything out.”
“And if we can’t?”
He pulled her into his lap. “I’m making a rule.”
“Wow. You are a changed man.” She wanted to lighten the mood because it had become somber very fast and although she wasn’t going into this naively, she wanted trust laid as a foundation.
“We don’t talk about work.”
His phone buzzed, he plopped her back on the couch, walked into the kitchen where he’d thrown his phone on the counter, walked back into the room, the ringtone stopped. “When we’re together, no phones.”
“That works,” she murmured. “What about our families?” She twisted her hands in her lap. Rose may come around eventually, but she doubted Poppy would be onboard. She couldn’t hurt her sisters.
“Thought about that. Let’s keep it quiet for the time being. It will cause a shit storm with my brothers, and I don’t believe that it will be different with your sisters. Don’t misunderstand me. I want nothing more than my arm around you showing everyone you’re mine, but I don’t want to share you yet.”
“I agree.” She didn’t want to share him, either. She wanted to stay cuddled up in their cocoon, tucked away from the outside world until it was time to explain to her sisters that the only man on the planet for her was their bitter business rival.
He grabbed the finger she didn’t know she’d been chomping on and kissed it.
“I’m going to have to find a way of distracting you.” He kissed the top of her head. Her arms instantly went around his waist, and she kissed the hollow in his throat, the beat of his heart strong under her lips.
“I can think of a way,” she murmured.
“You are incorrigible. Thank God.”
She swatted his shoulder. “Food, you fool.” Her stomach now grumbled. “You don’t have any Lean Cuisines, do you?”
“Jesus. No.” He looked confused. “Wait. What are they?”
“Three-minute calorie-controlled microwaveable meals.” She smiled. “They are awesome.”
He frowned. “No. And you don’t need calorie-controlled meals, either.”
His hand swept over her shoulder, brushed the side of her left breast, traced her waist through the cotton, and came to land on her hip. Her skin heated under his touch. She melted into his warm, hard chest.
“I’ll order Thai.”
She should call him out on picking the restaurant without consultation. That could go on the master list, or she could let it go because she loved Thai, and she’d bet the food would be excellent. She let it go. While he was on his phone ordering, she wandered into his living room and moved toward a bookcase.
Her fingers brushed over spines of Stephen King, Clive Cussler, and the complete works of Shakespeare. She traced her fingertips over the old volume of Byron. Two arms circled her waist and turned her. She squealed when she landed upside down on his shoulder, her T-shirt rode up, and his hand splayed across her bare butt.
“Clovis put me down,” she said, giggling.
He strode from the living room as if she weighed nothing then took the stairs two at a time and headed toward his en suite bathroom. He set her gently down on a marble counter. He turned on the taps of a huge shower that could hold a party of thirty and pulled the denim jeans from his body.
Her mouth watered as it always did at the thick column of this throat. Her gaze roamed over the vast expanse of his shoulders A six-pack Thor must have gifted him. Slim but powerful hips. Runner’s legs made up a lickable package. Her eyes strayed to his nipple ring. And it was all hers.
Her heart burst, and a grin exploded on her face.
“See something you want?”
“Yeah.” She raised her eyes to meet his. “You.”
“You’ve got me. But only for twenty minutes before the food arrives, so clothes off.”
“So bossy.” She pulled off the T-shirt and stepped into the shower.
“I’ll show you bossy.”
Zan had tipped the amused delivery driver wearing only a towel. Daisy had wolfed down a tofu pad Thai which Zan wouldn’t touch while he’d slain fish cakes, chicken satay, and had tried her vegetable curry. They’d chased the meal down with a Corona and were curled up on his bed watching What Would You Do? Not a lot of people returned the hundred-dollar bill to a harassed looking businessman on his phone; slightly more returned the money to his female equivalent. The homeless guy scored high, and everyone gave it back to the teenager trying to buy her prom dress.
“I’d give it all back.” Daisy twisted in Zan’s arms.
He kissed the top of her head. “I know.”
“Do you want to come to my house tomorrow night and meet the other man in my life. Virgil?”
“I can’t tomorrow. I have back to back meetings,” he said, sounding regretful.
Disappointment slithered through her.
“After that, I’ll be in Sydney, then Fiji, but after that, yeah, I’d love to meet Virgil.”
Her heart swelled in her chest until it hurt to breathe. Maybe they could have it all.