Twice Tempted

“I can’t help it.” Her lashes lowered. “You make me think—”



“Naughty thoughts starring us?”



Instead of answering, she reached for the shopping bag and pulled out a peppermint stick. She stuck one end in her mouth and chewed. Then looked at him and took a large bite.



He shook his head and started up the car, taking note of the needle pointing to E. “Don’t worry, love. We’re going to get gas and then be on our way.” But as he parked beside the one gas tank, a harried looking man came running out with the name Fred embroidered on his grease stained coveralls.



Fred motioned for Christian to roll down the window. “We’re out until tomorrow. The truck’s supposed to be here around seven a.m.”



“How far is the nearest station?”



“About two hours that way.” Fred pointed in the direction they’d driven from.



Ominous black clouds rolled in and fat drops of rain began to polka dot the windshield.



“The car won’t make it that far.”



Zoe giggled, unable to stop even as Christian and Fred stared at her with identical expressions of ‘what the hell?’ on their faces.



“Guess we’ll have to stay here for the night,” Christian said, putting the car back into gear.



As they drove in the direction of the town’s only hotel, she finally stopped giggling. “I’m sorry, but this couldn’t be more ridiculous. We’re off the beaten path, out of gas and now a storm. I swear this is something out of a historical romance novel.”



Christian’s eyes stayed on the road as the rain fell in heavy sheets, making it impossible to drive any faster than a crawl. “Does this mean I get to ravish you at the country inn?”



“No, you’ll get struck down by the convenient twenty-four hour cold. It will be my job to nurse you back to health while the Florence Nightingale Syndrome takes effect.”



“The what?”



“You know, when the patient falls in love with the caregiver.”



“You novelists have strange ideas about love.”



“Hollywood doesn’t? What about your last movie? You and Brianna Keene knew each other for less than a day. I mean her character, not her. Even if you were involved with her during and after. I think that’s your MO. You always sleep with your female co-stars…”



Icy blue eyes met hers for a moment, halting her thoughtless words. “I thought we’d come to an understanding, that you believed me.”



He pulled the car into the hotel’s parking lot.



“I did, I mean I do. I’m so sorry, Christian. It’s just that if anyone finds out about us spending the night together—”



“For once in your life, Zoe, stop thinking about the past and future so damned much and try living for today.” He practically threw open his door. “Stay here and I’ll get us a room.”



He sprinted through the rain, yanking the door open to the hotel’s office.



She noshed on another peppermint stick. Maybe he was right, maybe she should make the best of it. Enjoy the time she had with him and when it was over, it would be over. No hard feelings and she could go back to the way things were.



If things last that long. After their argument at the diner, she could barely stand to be with herself. She was exactly the person he described. Making money off of him, without his permission. The sooner she told him the truth, the better.



A few minutes later, he ran back to the car and jumped inside, driving to the building on their left. “They had one room left.”



He parked the car as close to the door as possible, but they still got soaked by the downpour. Unlocking the door, he opened it with a flourish and waited for her to go inside.



Flicking the lights on, she froze. “Please, tell me I’m hallucinating.”



“Maybe Betty put something in our milkshakes.”



The room was dominated by a heart-shaped bed with crimson satin covers and matching pillows. Heart-shaped mirrors adorned the walls while tiny cupids and purple candles dotting every flat surface completed the look.



He surveyed the place with a slight grin. “Guess this is why it was the only one left.”



“It looks like Valentine’s Day threw up in here,” she said.



A rectangular box with a slot in it caught her attention. She read the writing at the top and laughed. The bed actually vibrated. According to the label on the box, one quarter equaled ‘five minutes of a rockin’ good time’.



“What’s so funny?” He moved to stand beside her.



“Do you have any quarters?” she managed to ask between gasps.



He stuck in two quarters and pressed the button. Nothing happened and he pressed it again. He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Maybe we have to sit on it.”



After kicking off her shoes, she jumped on the bed and he joined her. He reached over and pressed the button, but nothing happened. “Shall I call the main office to complain?”



“Don’t you dare.” She tackled him as he made a grab for the phone. “They’ll think we’re in here, well, you know.”



Laughing, he shrugged her off and she tackled him again. He reversed their positions so that she was trapped underneath him, his mouth inches from hers. The delicious weight of his body made her want to sigh in pleasure.



“Making use of the honeymoon suite,” he said with a mischievous gleam in his eyes.



“This wasn’t the only room available, was it?”



“It was the only room available that met my requirements.”



She narrowed her eyes at him. “You didn’t.”



He shot her a wicked smile. “Oh, I did.”



Training her eyes on his lips, she wished he would kiss her already. Instead he helped her to her feet. “You can use the bathroom first. I’ll go get us some snacks from the vending machine for later.”



Pulling at her wet shirt, she frowned. “I don’t have anything to change into.”



He walked over to the wall, flipped on a switch and flames filled the fireplace. He picked up a nearby chair and placed directly in front of the orange flames. “You can dry them here. Robes should be in the closet.”



By the time she and Christian had taken turns using the bathroom, it was almost eleven o’clock, all their snacks, including the fudge, had been eaten and she was barely keeping her eyes open while they watched one of his movies.



“Do we have to watch this?” He made up the sofa with extra blankets and a purple pillow.



“I happen to like this movie,” she said on a yawn.



“It’s horrible. My first major picture and I die at the end.”



“That’s why it’s my favorite,” she said, making him scrunch his forehead, “I mean, not the dying part.”



He looked slightly mollified at her clarification. “I should hope not. Why, exactly, do you like this movie?”



“It’s the real you. The one I met before you became world famous,” Zoe said, her eyes sliding shut. She’d tell him tomorrow, when she wasn’t so sleepy. On the way back seemed like a great idea.



“Really,” came that sinfully low voice of his.



She peeked through her lashes at him. “We danced the night away.”



“That certainly narrows it down.”



She drifted off to sleep with a smile on her face.



Zoe woke up to a pitch black room and the bed shaking violently. What would make it shake? Her mind began to race. Almost West Coast. Fault lines.



Earthquake.



She shrieked and tumbled to the floor, crawling over to Christian and unsuccessfully pulling him to the carpet with her. Her heart pounded in triple time and her hands shook like crazy as she smacked at him. “Wake up. Dammit, wake up.”



Nothing. What would it take to wake him up?



“Earthquake,” she screeched in his ear.



He shot straight up, the covers falling to his waist. “Son of a bitch.”



She shook him again, trying to convey the urgency she felt. “Please, we have to get under something or in the bathtub. I don’t know where else.”



“I didn’t feel anything. If it was a big one, I would’ve woken up before the banshee made my ears bleed.” He turned away from her. “Go back to bed, Zoe.”



“I don’t want to sleep by myself,” she whimpered. “I’m too scared.”



Sighing, he turned back to her and lifted the blanket in invitation. “Get in.”



Wasting no time, she climbed up on the sofa and pressed herself against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on the top of her head.



Unable to sleep, she searched for his tattoo with her fingers, finding the small rose above his heart.



“Sweetheart, you have got to stop. I can’t take much more of your explorations.” His voice was husky and tinged with desire.



“Are you awake?” Stupid question, but she didn’t know what else to say.



“Unfortunately, yes.”



“Tell me about the woman behind your tattoo.”



“I’d rather not.”



“Please, I’m still scared.” Her body shivered. “Help me calm down.”



Exhaling, he caught her hand and pressed it flat over his heart. “It’s not what the public’s been led to believe.”



“If you tell me, I’ll tell you about the man who broke my heart.”



“When I was…younger, my brother and I played a naughty trick on our father, for the entire summer. The trick backfired on me, mostly because I realized how much Vladimir loved Sebastian and how little he loved me.”



“So you fell in love with a girl, she left after the summer was over and you got a tattoo to remember her by, only she thought you were Sebastian.”



“I am in awe of your writer’s brain right now. And scared shitless that I’ll somehow end up in one of your novels.”



An amoeba on a flea was bigger than she felt at the moment. “Who says you’re not already?”



“I know I’m not.” He ran his free hand down her back. “You wouldn’t do something like that. Stab me, yes. Malign me in print, never.



Swallowing, she tried to laugh when all she wanted to do was cry. “Your tattoo?”



“My father took me and Sebastian to one of his friend’s house in St. Petersburg. Little did I know that Sebastian had ratted us out.” Her heart pounded in her chest. She wanted to hear the rest of the story, but dreaded the ending just as much. “I was held down while this old man with rotten breath inked me. Gave me a fucking rose of all things. It hurt like hell, but I didn’t scream once, didn’t let them know how much it hurt. When he was done, my father looked at me and my brother and said, “Now you’ll never be able to fool me again.””



“He had Sebastian tattooed as well?”



“No.”



“When you said younger, how—”



“Eleven.”



She didn’t think her heart could hurt anymore than it already did for him. “But that’s so wrong. Horrible.” Tears pooled in her eyes. She couldn’t imagine the pain, the confusion he must have felt. It was his father’s job to protect, not torture. “What about your mom?”



“She did whatever Vladimir dictated.” He exhaled. “I’ve never told anyone before, not the real story. Later I had it filled in with pink, just to show Vlad that I didn’t give a shit about what he’d done.”



“I think it’s very sexy and manly.” Moving her hand away, she kissed his tattoo, then took a deep breath. “My turn: When I was younger, I met this guy—”



“You don’t have to tell me.” He rubbed the small of her back.



“I need to tell someone. Not even Gabriel knows—although I think he suspected…afterwards.”



“I promise to keep all your secrets,” he whispered, breaking through the last barriers of her pent up anger and resistance.



“He was very charming and I remember talking to him for hours, about nothing and everything. It wasn’t the first time we’d met or talked, but that night everything seemed right.” His hands continued to stroke her, encouraging her to continue. “I don’t know if it was the champagne or the moonlight, or what, but we sneaked away and he promised to…to”



“But he didn’t.”



She shook her head, tears falling harder than before. “He broke my heart…I’d never done anything like that before.”



“Tell me his name.” His hands slid down to grip her hips. “I’ll find the bastard and hold him still while you stab him, through his heart. Then I’ll pay someone to get rid of the body.”



She laughed.



“I’m not kidding.” The pressure from his grip increased. “How old were you?”



“Old enough to have known better.”



“What about him?”



Apparently, he’d been broken and messed up in ways she couldn’t imagine. Not that she excused his broken promise, but she better understood it. “He doesn’t exist anymore.”



“No more control over you, or your decisions?”



“Nope.” She stretched her body, relishing the feel of his against it. “I’m free to do whatever I want.”



He growled a little. “I think that’s very sexy.”



“Kiss me.” She wanted to be with him in every way possible. The past was just that, the past. Holding on to her anger and pain did nothing for her, only served to punish those who tried to get close.



“No.”



“Why not?”