Chapter Ten
War, indeed.
War with her stomach.
Bea had thought the beer thing would teach them a lesson, but it had totally backfired. Zane and Mike had some pretty awful shots of their own up their sleeves.
When the three of them started competing in darts and shuffleboard, boy, had they pulled out the big guns. Cement Mixer. Motor Oil. Prairie Fire.
Bleh. Worst. Idea. Ever.
And because alcohol was a bastard, she kept forgetting all the reasons why she wasn’t supposed to sleep with Zane. As the night progressed, the idea looked more and more appealing.
Thankfully, so far she had been victorious in the test of her willpower.
She wasn’t sure how much longer that would last, though.
The hardest test would be when they said good night. Which was about to happen.
Please, God, let me be strong.
“I like thish bird, mate,” Mike slurred as they stepped out of the bar onto the sidewalk in front. The guy wasn’t as good at bar games as he liked to think, and he’d gotten trashed.
“Thanks,” she said with a loopy grin, though the statement hadn’t been directed at her. Even though she had won most of the games, she still had a nice buzz going.
“Schee makes you laugh, and women never make you laugh,” Mike continued, his body tipping precariously to one side.
Zane looked embarrassed by that assessment. “Mike—”
“Plus, schee haz a higher al-cohol tolerance than moscht of the blokesh I know. And that’s schomething to be admired.”
“Clearly, a higher one than you,” Zane muttered, throwing an arm out when Mike stumbled. “Whoa. I’ll call you an Uber. Okay?”
Mike nodded and slapped Zane’s arm. “Oi, thanksh, Mum, but I’ll juscht get a cab.” He turned to Bea and bowed dramatically as he laid a sloppy kiss on her hand. “It was an abscholute pleaschure. I do hope we’ll be scheeing each other again schoon, my lady.”
She stifled a laugh but curtsied in as ladylike a fashion as she could manage. “The pleasure was all mine, good sir.”
Zane rolled his eyes, and Mike laughed, slapping his back. “Yep, schee’s a good one.” They watched as he flagged down a taxi, poured himself into it, and took off down the street.
There were a few moments of heavy silence. Neither she nor Zane seemed to know what to do or say.
This was the moment she’d been dreading.
Did they both go home? Alone? Did they go back in the bar together?
Did she allow her weakened resistance to guide her and let him seduce her again?
“Fancy some ice cream?” Zane asked, shocking her back to the present. “I know a nice little spot a couple of blocks from here.”
Fifteen minutes later, they walked out of Dinkle’s Sprinkles with homemade waffle cones the size of Bea’s forearm.
“What kind of lame cone is that?” Zane asked accusingly. “It’s got nothing on it.”
She took an inappropriately long lick of her ice cream and moaned. “It’s chocolate. You don’t need to do anything to chocolate because it’s chocolate. Perfect just the way it is.” She looked over at his scoops, which were covered in fudge, caramel, almonds, cherry flavoring, and whipped cream. Basically, a sundae in a cone. “Adding anything to it would just ruin it.”
Zane waved his cone and reciprocated by taking a huge bite of it. And dammit, she couldn’t take her eyes off of his tongue as it flicked across the ice cream.
“This cone is living right,” he said. “It is taking life by the balls and having some fun with it. Yours is dull and boring, luv. I’m disappointed in you.”
She shook her head. “Nope. This is savoring a classic. I have no problem with putting a little relish on my hot dog in everyday life. But this is chocolate ice cream, Zane. The one thing I just won’t mess with.”
“Fair enough, I suppose. You did say it was your favorite food, after all.”
They fell into easy conversation as they walked down the sidewalk along the Potomac River. There was a pleasant breeze and the sky was cloudless and clear, making the moon appear even brighter against the nighttime backdrop. They talked about their childhoods, hers growing up in Alabama, his in England. After comparing their college years, she realized they actually had quite a bit in common.
“So, you were an athlete?” Zane asked.
She’d managed to leave out the whole Evan-scholarship debacle from her stories, though Zane’s question still made her chest ache with a series of “what if” scenarios.
She kept all of that buried and pasted on an amiable smile. “Yep. I played every sport known to man, but running track was my favorite. I still run in races and marathons whenever I have the time. If I’m not active somehow, I just feel lazy. Or I go stir-crazy.”
He finished off his cone and threw the wrapper in a nearby trash can, while she still had half of hers to go.
“I’m the same,” he said. “I was actually on my university’s football team. Here, I play football or rugby with Mike and some of his mates whenever we can get together.”
“I’ve always wanted to learn how to play rugby,” she said excitedly, instantly forgetting her melancholy thoughts. “I’ve never figured it out. I should come play with you guys sometime.”
He laughed and looked over at her. When he realized she was serious, his eyebrows drew together. “Are you barking mad? There’s no way I would let you play with us.”
She planted her feet on the sidewalk, pursing her lips angrily. “Because I’m a weak, defenseless little girl?”
He snorted then took a step closer, inserting himself all up in her space. “Because those tossers are grown men, most of them twice your size, and they get pretty rough. There’s at least one or two black eyes and some split lips at the end of every match. I don’t think I could handle it if you played.”
“And why not? You don’t know, I might be pretty good.”
He shook his head in clear disbelief. “Because if I saw you with so much as a scratch, I would have to duff up the bloody wanker who did it.”
The slang was a bit lost on her, but it didn’t really need translating. Wow. That was hot.
She never fell for that whole macho caveman routine, for obvious reasons. But it worked on Zane. Because he wasn’t trying to isolate her; he was trying to protect her.
She nudged his shoulder with hers and continued walking. “You would get into a fight for me?”
He quirked an eyebrow as they strolled along. “There’s quite a bit I would do for you. But letting you play rugby with us isn’t one of them.”
“Fair enough, I suppose,” she replied, throwing his words back at him. She hadn’t capitulated quite yet, but he didn’t need to know that.
She went along when he changed the subject.
“So, what made you become an interior decorator?”
“Designer,” she corrected automatically.
His expression turned quizzical. “Pardon?”
“Interior designer, not decorator,” she clarified. “What I do involves developing whole concepts for spaces. Creating a color scheme, determining the right energy flows. And in some cases, we even work hand in hand with the architects in the early stages when the property owners have specific ideas in mind. We do a lot more than just decorate. We design.”
He looked at her with something in his eyes—pride maybe? “My apologies,” he replied, his tone sincere. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”
She waved him off. “You didn’t. Most people don’t understand the entire process, which is fine. I don’t mind correcting them.”
One side of his mouth quirked up in a half grin. “I’m sure you don’t. What made you decide on this career path?”
It was my only option after I allowed my dumbass ex-boyfriend to make decisions for me.
No. That was a lie. Evan may have closed one door, but eventually becoming an interior designer had been her plan all along. You couldn’t be a competitive runner forever.
Giving Evan any credit for her profession felt all kinds of wrong.
“I’ve always had a passion for the creative process,” she said. “I like being able to take something plain and forgettable and turn it into a work of art. Creating beauty from nothing. The sense of accomplishment you get when you see your completed project is…immensely satisfying.”
For a moment, she worried she had shared too much. But when she peeked up at him through her lashes and saw the upward curve of his lips, she breathed a sigh of relief.
“You chose well, then,” he said approvingly.
“What about you?” she asked, curious about his life and how he’d gotten here. “Why did you go into your field?”
He was quiet as he thought about his answer. The night breeze ruffled his hair as he contemplated the dark silent river curving next to the sidewalk, and her insides did a funny little twist.
“I guess for some of the same reasons you just mentioned,” he said. “I like the creative process. When I first started with Envision, I was a software designer. I was fascinated with computers as a kid and it just branched out from there. I enjoy the way programming exercises my mind, finding the answers in intricate algorithms, always seeking ways to improve the old. I like progress.”
His enthusiasm made her heart stutter. She could see why the man had gotten to where he was today. Intellectual go-getters were the millionaires and billionaires of today’s world. “Do you still work with software?”
He shook his head. “Not really. I’ll dabble a little, occasionally help the R and D department with a problem, but I like the business side of things, too. My current position gives me the opportunity to oversee multiple projects at once, not to mention research what some of our competitors are doing.”
“How long have you been in the U.S.?” she wondered.
“About a year now.”
She knew she should probably stop with the questions, but she just had to ask. “Will you have to go back to London at some point?” She wasn’t sure if she actually wanted to know the answer.
And she didn’t think the underlying intent of that question was lost on him.
He narrowed his eyes. “I’m returning shortly after the store launch. Haven’t I mentioned that?”
She gave an involuntary shake of her head while her heart climbed up her throat.
“Denise will take over when I leave,” he continued. “The CEO—Mike’s cousin, Peter—wanted me here to oversee the three branches, assess operations, and spearhead the retail opening. It was never going to be a permanent situation, though.” He went silent for a moment before adding in a softer voice, “There are things back in London that require my attention.”
“You mean with your position there?”
Zane stumbled, as if he had tripped over something on the sidewalk, and muttered, “Yeah. With my position.”
He had an odd look on his face that Bea couldn’t pin down. What was that about? What was back in London that made him act all weird? Her chest clenched at the reality of him moving back. She’d most likely never see him again. For some disturbingly mysterious reason, that bothered her.
In fact, she hated the idea of him leaving and never coming back.
She forced herself not to dwell on those thoughts.
They were walking past an antiques shop when Zane stopped and pointed at the window. “Oh, hey, look. It’s an old Western Electric telephone. Looks like a B3 model. Wow, it’s in great condition.”
She watched his reaction with an amused grin. “I wouldn’t have pegged you as an antiques buff.”
He continued to stare through the window like a kid at a candy store. “My mum was a collector, of sorts. I just appreciate a solid piece of technology when I see it, vintage or otherwise.”
“Geek,” she teased.
The look he shot her said he wasn’t going to deny it. “Guilty,” he said. “I’ve actually had an idea for the store opening that I’d really love to do. It’s been on my mind for a while.”
“What’s that?”
He hesitated. “It’s not really plausible…”
She placed a hand on her hip, now determined to hear his idea. “Out with it.”
His eyes lit up and he turned to face her. “Okay. You know our new Evolution line?”
She nodded. “Yeah. Supposed to be your most advanced products to date.”
“Right,” he replied, his words coming out fast. “Well, I just thought it would be great to have some of Envision’s very first products on display next to the Evolution line. To show the progression of ETI’s product base, you know?”
“As in, the Evolution of Envision,” she offered, nodding slowly.
He rubbed his hands together, clearly psyched about the idea. “Exactly. I mean, when the company was founded, they were churning out the first analog computers and personal pagers. Then there was the flip phone and the personal organizers and so forth. I thought it would be a cool way to show how far we’ve come over the years.”
It was actually a brilliant idea, and her wheels started to turn.
“Of course, it’s not something we could do in every store,” he said. “But something like that in our launch store would be tantamount to displaying ETI’s success. Opening up brick-and-mortar stores has been the company’s goal ever since it was founded. This would pay homage to that vision.”
Once again, his enthusiasm was contagious. “I’m game. Let’s do it,” she said. “Where can we find old Envision products?”
His shoulders slumped as all the air suddenly left his body. “That’s the problem. We don’t have any. There was a fire years ago at our warehouse that destroyed most of our inventory, and we lost almost all of the old prototypes. I honestly don’t know where we would find any now. You see why I haven’t bothered mentioning the idea before. It’s damn near impossible.”
Maybe. For anyone who wasn’t an expert in tracking down rare vintage pieces.
Fortunately, she had quite a bit of experience in such things. The upper crust of DC society liked to have unique, one-of-a-kind pieces in their homes, and it was her job to find them. Her years’ worth of contacts in the antiques and collectibles world would definitely come in handy for this task.
She began to form a plan, and murmured, “I’ll see what I can do.”
Zane didn’t respond, seeming to have given up on the idea, which only motivated her further.
They eventually turned back toward their cars, and by the time they reached hers, she had finally finished her cone. She groaned and took a deep breath. “I think I’m going to have to run ten miles tomorrow to work that off.”
She glanced up to find him watching her with intense eyes. They were focused on her mouth.
He reached up and rubbed her bottom lip with his thumb, wiping something away.
“You had a bit of ice cream there,” he said in a rasp.
They stood there in silence, neither looking away. Her breathing became labored. Her eyes searched his for answers, and his did the same.
She knew it shouldn’t happen.
She knew she should put an end to it right then and there. Say “good night” and shake his hand.
No, shaking hands was lame—
He pulled her to him and kissed her.
She moaned. Loudly.
It had been weeks since she felt Zane like this. How she had missed it, craved it!
Forgetting her inhibitions—and her resolve—she flung her arms around his neck and he pulled her in tighter. She melted under that hold, loving his strength as he supported almost all of her weight. Images from their one night together flashed through her mind and, holy shit, she wanted to do it again.
Too soon, a car alarm went off, startling her out of her fantasies. Their connection broke, the moment ruined. She stepped back from him and fought to calm her breathing.
“Sorry,” she muttered. “I got a little carried away.”
His expression was warm and sensual and his eyes burned with heat. “Do I look like I’m complaining?”
She nibbled her bottom lip. “I don’t think we should do this again. It’s not a good idea. Once was excusable. We could say we were drunk that night—”
“I wasn’t drunk.”
“—but knowingly doing it again could cause problems.”
The warmth turned skeptical. “Why would it cause problems?”
She’d have thought it obvious. “Because I’m working for you. Our company needs your account, and I don’t want to do anything that might screw that up. We have loans to pay off.”
He frowned. “I would never do anything to jeopardize your account. I promise.”
“It’s not just that.” She pushed out a breath of frustration. “Given any other circumstances, I would enjoy going home with you tonight, but…this situation is different.”
His frown deepened to a scowl. “What’s so different about it?”
She hesitated. But he deserved honesty. “Because I can actually stand to be around you outside the bedroom, which is rare. Granted, you still drive me crazy at work, but like tonight…I had a great time.”
“Me, too.”
She almost caved when he smiled. Especially when it only made him look even more confused.
“Things would just get too complicated,” she said. “I think we should go back to the way we were before…you know.”
“Before I put my cock inside you, and you came all over it?” he prompted with a cheeky grin.
It felt as though she had stepped into a sauna, the way her body heated up. She could vividly recall what it had felt like to have him inside her. And how much he liked to talk dirty while he was there. Lord Almighty.
Clearly, he was not getting the message.
“Yeah. That.”
He studied her for a minute and then offered a short nod. “All right, Bea. We’ll go back to the way we were.” He mumbled something under his breath—he liked to do that.
Wait. “What?” she asked, slightly taken aback.
Maybe he had gotten the message.
Damn.
“Nothing,” he muttered.
But she was almost positive she’d heard him say, “and see how long we last,” but she wasn’t going to acknowledge it.
He walked her to her car, where she turned to face him after she opened the door. “By the way, the next time you see Mike,” she said, “tell him that his American accent is the worst thing I’ve ever heard.”
Zane threw his head back and barked out a laugh. “You should hear his German.” He started to walk away but swung back around when he was a few feet away. “By the way…you didn’t have any ice cream on your face. I just wanted to kiss you.”
She watched him stroll away from her, whistling to himself and looking annoyingly satisfied. The smug jackass.
And God help her, she loved that he’d left her smiling.