Chapter 62

I turned to face him. "What'd you say?"

He looked dead-serious. "I said you're staying with me."

Instantly, an image of Bob popped into my brain. I couldn't help but wonder, why hadn't he been offered a place to stay? After all, he needed shelter way more than I did.

And yet, Zane's offer was so very tempting.

Embarrassingly, it wasn't even because I had no options. It was because, even now, I wanted to throw myself into his arms and forget everything else – the squashed house, the tension between us, and worst of all, the slump of Bob's shoulders as he shuffled away.

It was that final image that stiffened my resolve. I shook my head. "No. Thanks, really. But I'm not."

"That's what you think."

"No," I told him. "That's what I know."

"We'll see." With that, he turned, once again, to look at the house.

I looked, too. As I took in the damage, I couldn't help but compare this place to Zane's estate. Unlike the mess in front of me, Zane's place was big and luxurious. It even had a swimming pool.

Plus, it wasn't squashed.

But it wasn't his house that was tempting me. It was Zane himself. Heaven help me, I probably did love the guy – because the longer this went on, the more I wanted to cry at the thought of life without him.

I was pathetic.

But I wasn't so pathetic that I'd actually jump on his offer – or him, as tempting as he was, standing beside me, looking annoyingly fine in the morning light.

I had to end this now, before I forgot all of the reasons why this would never work. With that in mind, I turned and began striding toward the front of the house, planning to grab my suitcases and settle this once and for all.

As I moved purposefully toward the driveway, Zane silently kept pace, never letting me out of arm's reach.

When I reached the back of the limo, I paused as a realization hit home. The trunk was locked. Trunks were always locked. I knew that. I'd just forgotten, that's all.

Undaunted, I strode to the limo's driver's side and rapped on the window. When the glass slid down, I said to the driver, "Could you please pop the trunk?"

The driver looked to Zane, who gave a slight shake of his head. The driver looked back to me and said, "I'm sorry, but no."

"Oh, for God's sake." I turned to glare at Zane, even as the window slid back up. Through gritted teeth, I said, "Give me my suitcases. Please."

He shrugged. "All right."

I felt my gaze narrow. Knowing Zane, there had to be a catch, because nothing with him was this easy. I crossed my arms and waited.

He flicked his head toward the limo. "Get in."

"What do you mean?"

"Get in the car," he said, "and I'll give you the suitcases."

"When?"

"When we get there."

"Where?"

"My place. Like I said."

And there it was. The catch.

I couldn’t help but sigh. "I'm not staying with you." I stared up at him, silently begging him to understand. "I can't."

But the look on Zane's face suggested otherwise. In a tight voice, he said, "I've got a guest room."

Stupidly, the statement didn't make me feel any better. In fact, I was pretty sure it made me feel worse. Talk about messed up.

I shoved a nervous hand through my hair. "You've probably got ten guest rooms, but that's hardly the point."

"Then what is?"

"Do I really need to explain?"

He made a forwarding motion with his hand. "Go ahead."

Desperately, I searched for the words. "Well, we had, I dunno, a fling I guess, and now it's over. Don't you think it would be a little awkward if I stayed at your place now?"

His jaw tightened. "A fling."

I gave a hopeless shrug. "I just don’t know what else to call it." I offered up a weak smile. "I'm not very good at this, am I?"

He didn't even try to smile back. "No. You're not."

Well, at least we agreed on something. Unfortunately, it wasn't anything that made me happy.

From the look on Zane's face, he wasn't feeling so cheerful himself.

Under his hard gaze, I started to wilt like soggy lettuce. Over the last day, I'd barely slept and hadn't eaten in hours. Plus, my house was squashed, and no one had bothered to let me know.

If this wasn't a crappy morning, I didn't know what was.

Just like too many other times today, I almost wanted to cry. In truth, it was kind of surprising that I wasn't crying already.

I looked away and tried to think. But my thoughts were a cloudy, distorted mess, and the whole effort seemed like a giant waste of time.

From beside me, Zane's voice cut through the clutter. "All right."

I turned to face him. "Great." It was a lie, of course, because nothing about this was good, much less great.

Zane glanced toward the limo. "You don't wanna stay at my place? Fine. I've got somewhere else. Stay there instead."

Where? In one of his hotels? Oh sure, like that would end well.

Summoning my last bit of resolve, I declined his offer and pulled out my cell phone. Again, I tried to reach Charlotte, and then my parents. As I made the calls, one after another, Zane watched in stony silence.

Obviously, he wasn't thrilled with my decision. Neither was I, especially when nobody answered or called me back.

In the end, what else could I do? I let Zane guide me back into the limo – not because I thought the idea was so terrific, but rather, because I was too worn out to argue.

Turns out, that was a big mistake, because the moment we pulled up to the place he had in mind, I knew I couldn’t stay there, not if I wanted to keep my sanity.