Chapter 6

Jessibelle

When Zachary Rose walked into the office, I didn’t recognize him at first, but everyone else did. I’d had no idea who the crazy-sexy guy with the long, dark hair, sharp jaw was—or what he was doing in the office. Then he smiled that damn smile from the day before, and I sprang to my feet to greet him.

I ushered him into a meeting room, trying to keep myself steady, and told him the ideas I’d come up with. He was instantly excited, nodding along with a big grin on his face, and I found myself growing in confidence, relaxing into the meeting. And then, suddenly, he asked me out.

“You want to go for a coffee?”

I just stared at him at first. Is he asking me on a date? No, it had to be about the deal. It made sense. After all, look at him. He could have any woman he wanted. Why would he bother with a woman he’d just met whose firm had sent her over to give his legal department some advice on managing assets? Like how low on the totem pole can you get?

“Uhm . . . sure.”

We headed to a small coffee shop down the street. He rested his hand on the small of my back as he guided me to a seat, his touch sending sparks down my spine. Zach commanded the room without trying, casting his gaze around and grabbing a table for us. A few minutes later a waitress arrived at his elbow to take his order while offering him a grin a half a mile wide. He looked so damn gorgeous. I knew his body was amazing from his private body building show yesterday, but this was a whole different ballpark of fine-as-hell.

“So,” he turned to me once our coffees were in front of us. I peeped at him over the mug, holding it in front of my face like a defensive measure against his megawatt smile. “Let’s talk about how we’re going to implement this plan.”

If I was expecting the standard business discussion involving planning strategies to outwit an opponent, I was caught off guard. Waaaay off guard. Usually, those chats were nothing more than polite pleasantries, then a laying out of the tried and true tactics to achieve a successful end. But this meeting was something different. Zach Rose challenged me, forced me to think fast, demanded methods and actions and timelines. He was sharp and smart and even made me laugh, tossing in a few dry comments about the upper management that told me he hadn’t lost his famous ruthless streak. I wasn’t sure how many coffees we had, but it was enough that the caffeine had me practically jittering on the spot. Or maybe it was being the center of his attention.

I looked at my watch, and my eyes widened when I saw it was nearly five in the afternoon. He cocked his head at me.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Did I keep you out too long?”

“No, it’s not that.” I waved my hand. “It’s just the time went really fast.”

“I appreciate you coming out here and giving me your time.” He nodded, clicking back into professional mode. “I guess I should let you get back to your work.”

“It’s a little late for that,” I pointed out, and the flicker of a smile passed across his face, his eyes flashing with amusement.

“In that case,” he suggested lightheartedly, “dinner?”

I considered him, and he met my gaze, burning a hole in me that lit a fire. He raised his eyebrows at me as though daring me to turn him down. Was this a dating type of situation? Ugh. I hated being so inexperienced.

“I know a place just down the street.” He shrugged casually, as though it wasn’t a big deal, and it made me relax. He probably wanted to discuss the case further, and I could handle that. I nodded. It wasn’t like I’d turn down a chance to get some alone time with a guy who could launch my career to new heights, was it? At least, that’s how I rationalized dinner.

“Why not?” I agreed, and he paid the tab, despite my protests. We headed down the street a few blocks until he came to a stop outside a restaurant I recognized, and my jaw dropped.

“This place?” I gasped, and he looked at me with his brow furrowed.

“You don’t like it?” he asked.

“This is,” I gestured at the storefront, “way too fancy. I come by here every day, but I never thought—”

“Come on, I used to have a standing table booked here.” He waved away what I was saying. “Let’s see if it still stands.”

“Whatever you say,” I muttered, letting him lead me inside the ridiculously glamorous—and ridiculously expensive—restaurant. Immediately, the host greeted him like an old friend and led him to a table for two. Lit by a single, small candle, the soft, warm glow bathed both of us like something out of a cheesy romantic movie. He even pulled my chair out for me. I took a seat, crossing and uncrossing my legs nervously. I wasn’t sure how to act in a place as classy as this, and I’d considered myself well-versed in fine dining up until now.

A waiter returned with a bottle of wine, insisting it was on the house to welcome him back, and Zachary, or Zach, as he insisted I call him, shrugged and the waiter cracked it open, and after Zach tasted it, the waiter poured me a generous glass.

“Are you sure this is okay?” I let the words hang in the air between us, and he half-grinned at me.

“Just tell me when you’ve had enough.” He lifted his glass to tap against mine. Glinting in the candlelight, his eyes warmed me from across the table, and something inside me gave in. I didn’t want to fight this attraction any more.

The meal was divine, but my stomach was too wrapped up in knots to relax and enjoy the food. Instead, I knocked back quite a bit of the free wine that came with the meal, enough that I didn’t notice when the conversation slipped from business into something a little less professional, our hometowns, our friends, our favorite books. He was attentive, smart and cultured, and shit, I was letting myself forget he was my boss.

When it came time for the bill, he insisted on paying again. While we waited, he let his knee brush against mine underneath the table. A jolt of electricity passed along my nerve endings. A little tipsy now, I watched his hand around the wine glass. Wondering what would those fingers would feel like somewhere else.

I should have gone home. If I left, I could pass the night off as trying to make a depressed guy feel comfortable being out again, doing my job as his client and adviser. But, of course, I didn’t.

“You know, there’s this club I used to go to all the time,” he said a little wistfully. “A couple of streets away from here.”

“There are no clubs around here,” I pointed out. He flashed another grin.

“There are if you know where to look.” Soon enough, he led me down a winding back alley to a nondescript door I would’ve walked straight past. A bouncer saw him coming, stepped aside, and swept us in. Once again, I entered a world I didn’t recognize.

The place was gorgeous, with soft lighting, dark wood, a small band playing sultry jazz a few feet from the entrance like something out of an old gangster movie. Zach looked down at me, cocked an eyebrow, and held out his hand. “Dance?”

I wasn’t sure whether he was kidding, but before I could stop myself, I slid my hand into his. When our skin connected, it was like passing an open wire across my body, a shock but in the best possible way. He pulled me against his chest, the wine getting the better of both of us, and I breathed in the scent of his aftershave, closed my eyes, and lost myself to the back-and-forth sway of our bodies pressing close. I was in heaven, and it had nothing to do with the wine and everything to do with the gorgeous man holding me tight.

We danced till the song ended, and I stepped away from him, but his arm was still tight around my waist, pulling me back in. I couldn’t resist him. Shit. Shit.

“Finished already?” he asked. I shook my head, letting him press me against him. He murmured in my ear, his breath hot on my skin.

“When you’re tired of dancing, just tell me,” he reminded me, and I felt his light stubble brush against my forehead as we danced. I wasn’t sure how long we stayed swaying together, long enough to feel that the entire night was stretching out to fit us, like we were the only thing that mattered.

“It’s getting late,” he pointed out after a few more dances.

“It is,” I agreed, but my heart was beating too fast, my brain too awake for me to be anything close to done with this night.

“My car is back at the office. Give me a minute.” His voice was velvet, settling around my shoulders, enveloping me.

“Okay.” I looked up into his eyes, wondering what he was thinking and then he brushed his lips ever so lightly against my forehead.

“I’ll be right back.” He stepped away, leaving me glued to the spot and wondering how the hell I was going to get myself away from this man. I didn’t want to, but this was wrong, so wrong. He was my client, recovering from major depression, and I was supposed to help him navigate his business, not fuck him. Or think about fucking him. He returned before I could talk myself out of going further.

“I have a car waiting outside.” He offered his arm, and I took it, enjoying the strength of his muscles beneath his blazer. We stepped out, and I blinked a couple of times at what I saw waiting for us.

“Is that a limo?” My eyes widened and he shrugged.

“Yep.” he answered.

“I can’t let you pay for this.” I shook my head, but he held up a hand.

“Already done.” He grinned at me wickedly. “You can get the next one.”

He opened the door and helped me slip into the back seat, leaning forward to give the driver an address. Were we heading all the way back to his mansion or did he have a place somewhere in the city? My car was still at the office, too.

“I know it’s late, but I thought we could have a nightcap,” he explained, “I have an apartment here in town.”

I agreed, and then we were alone. The leather seat was luxuriously soft, but I could hardly enjoy the decadent surroundings when my breath was coming fast and my body was tense and I was so . . . so aware of his presence.

Suddenly, he was next to me, touching me. His arm snaked around my shoulders, and his gaze softened into mine. My breath hitched and my heart beat double time. This couldn’t be happening. I’d only met this man the day before, and so much should have kept him from me, and yet . . . his mouth lowered to mine.

As soon as our lips touched, my mind went blank and I melted into the kiss. He slipped a hand behind my head and pulled me close, the quietest moan passing from his mouth to mine and setting off fire and heat deep inside me. I kissed him back, losing myself to him as the car drove on, toward his apartment and the promise of what the night would bring.