One Night in Paradise (10 page)

“I’m going to take a shower real quick.”

He made a noise that might have been a form of consent, but she didn’t ask for confirmation before beating a hasty retreat to the bathroom. She turned the water on and sat on the closed toilet lid, letting the tears fall down her cheeks, hoping the sound of the water hitting the tile would drown out the sound of her sobs.

Zack sat up, a curse on his lips. Last night … last night had been an aberration. A hot, amazing aberration, maybe, but it could never happen again. He had been careless. He’d nearly forgotten to use a condom. And she’d been a virgin.

If he’d thought about it, if he’d thought at all, he would have guessed that. He knew her well enough to have picked up on how nervous she was, to understand what that meant. He also knew her well enough to know she wasn’t really a one-night-stand woman. She was sensitive, emotional. Sweet.

His stomach twisted, nausea overtaking him, spreading through his limbs. She probably wasn’t on birth control, and there was a possibility that in that moment, when he’d been inside of her without protection, that he’d made a very big mistake.

No, he knew he’d made a mistake. He hit his fist on the top of the nightstand and stood, stalking through the room collecting his clothes. Had he learned nothing? Was he as stupid now as he’d been fourteen years ago?

His heart froze for a moment, the events of what sometimes felt like a past life, playing through his head from start to finish. Like a horror film he couldn’t pause.

No. He’d worked way too hard to leave that person behind. That boy, who had been so irresponsible. Who had caused so much damage.

Last night he’d lost control. With Clara, of all people. She shouldn’t have tempted him like that. But she had. She’d made him shake like
he
was the virgin.

It couldn’t happen again. It wouldn’t. He might have lost his control for a moment, but he wouldn’t do it again.

Clara appeared a few moments later, her face scrubbed fresh and pink, her hair wet and wavy. She was dressed, a fitted T-shirt and jeans meaningless now since he’d already seen her naked and his mind was doing a very good job of envisioning her as she’d been last night.

All pale skin and soft curves. Pure perfection. Better than he’d ever imagined.

“Hey,” she said, trying to smile and not quite managing it.

“Are you all right?” he asked. He’d never slept with a virgin before, but that was only part of the foreign, first-time feeling he was dealing with. The other part of that was because it was Clara. And the rest was because of his carelessness.

Carelessness that had to be addressed.

“I’m fine,” she said.

“Are you on birth control?” he asked.

She narrowed her eyes. “No.”

He tried to get a handle on the gnawing panic in his gut. Condoms were reliable. He knew that. But there was the matter of his impatience, of his entering her, even briefly, without protection. He swore. “Why not?”

“What?” She crossed her arms beneath her breasts. “I’m sorry, was I supposed to start taking the pill just in case you invited me on your honeymoon and we hooked up? I was a virgin, you jackass.”

“I know,” he shouted, not sure why he was shouting, only that his blood was pumping too fast through his veins and his
heart was threatening to thunder out of his chest. “I know,” he said again, softer this time.

“You used a condom,” she said, her cheeks flushing pink.

“Yes, I did, eventually. There’s a chance that kind of carelessness could have gotten you pregnant. It’s not a big chance, but there is a chance.”

“I … I seriously doubt that I’m pregnant. Well, obviously I’m not pregnant yet since things take a while to travel and … well, that’s high-school health, you know all that.”

“But there’s a chance. I’m usually more careful.”

“Zack, I think you’re overreacting.”

“Is that what you think, Clara?” he asked, his voice deadly calm. “You think I’m overreacting because you think it can’t happen. But then, you’ve never been pregnant, obviously. And I have gotten a woman pregnant, so I think I might be a bit more in touch with that reality than you are. Do you know what it’s like? To know that everything in your life is going to have to change because for one moment you were so utterly selfish and consumed with one moment of pleasure that you didn’t think about anything else?”

Clara’s heart was in her throat. She felt like she couldn’t breathe. It was like a shield had been torn away from Zack, like his armor had dissolved, crumbled around his feet, leaving nothing but the man he was beneath his facade. A facade she hadn’t realized was there.

This was the man she’d seen glimpses of. The reason for the darkness that she saw in his eyes sometimes. And she was afraid to hear the rest. But she had to.

His chest rose and fell sharply. “I was sixteen. And I was more interested in getting some than thinking about using a condom. Turns out you can get someone pregnant after just one time, regardless of the idiot rumors floating around the high school saying otherwise.”

She didn’t ask him what happened. She didn’t interrupt the break. She just let his silence fill the room, and she felt his
pain. Felt it in her, through her. She didn’t have to know what happened to know that it was bad. Devastating. To know that knowing it was going to change her. The way it had changed Zack.

“I didn’t want a baby, but we were having one. She wanted it. I didn’t want him,” he said. “But I got a job so that I could pay for the doctor bills. So I could help her raise him. Because at least I knew that I should do the right thing.” A muscle in his jaw jerked. “He came too early. And by the time I realized how badly I did want him, it was too late. By the time I realized that a baby can very quickly mean everything in the world to you, he was gone.”

She tried to hold back the sob that was rising inside her. His face was blank now, void of emotion, flat. Like he was reading a story in a newspaper, not telling her about his life.

“Another reason Hannah was so perfect for me,” he said. “She didn’t want kids.”

“You don’t. You don’t want kids?”

“I had one, Clara. I would never … I will never put myself through something like that again. I nearly died with him. I don’t make the same mistakes twice. I’m always careful now.”

Except last night, he wasn’t as careful as he usually was, obviously. And she wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Or what it might mean. And right now, she wished they had never slept together. Because she wanted to comfort him as a friend. To tell him how much her heart ached for him. But she wasn’t sure if it was her place now. She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do. What he expected. What he would allow.

Because now she saw just how much he had always hidden from her. She saw a stranger. She wondered if it was even possible that this man, hard and angry, was the same man she’d seen every day for the past seven years.

“How did you … how did you cope with it?”

“I don’t need to talk about it, Clara. I don’t talk about it, ever. This isn’t an invitation for you to psychoanalyze me. But now
you know why I insist on being careful. That’s the important part of the story. And you’ll tell me, if you’re pregnant.”

“I’ll let you know,” she said. “But I’m sure everything will be fine.”

He turned away from her and shrugged his shirt on.

“Everything will be fine,” she repeated. That assurance was just for her. And she wasn’t certain she believed it.

T
HE
plane ride back to San Francisco was a study in torture. Zack was hardly speaking to her and she felt battered from the inside out. Her body was a little bit sore from her first time, and her heart felt like it had been wrung out and left to dry.

Zack was acting overly composed. His focus on work, not on her. Not on the revelation that had passed between them, both in bed and out.

She didn’t feel like the same person. She felt changed. She wasn’t sure if Zack was the same person, either. Or maybe he was; maybe it was just that she saw him better now.

“I think I’ll probably take a couple days off,” she said, looking over at Zack who was engrossed in his laptop screen. “Recover. From the jet lag.”

“Fine.”

The chill in his response made her shiver. “And I’m thinking of buying a pony.”

“You don’t have anywhere to keep one,” he said drily, still not looking up.

“Just a small one. For the rooftop garden.”

He did look up this time. “Your neighbors would complain.”

“I don’t like my neighbors.” That earned her a slight smile. “So, what’s the plan when we get back to civilization?”

“With any luck, things can go back to normal.”

Two questions flitted through her mind. Luck for who? And, what’s normal? She didn’t voice either of them. “Okay.”

“I still need you there, at Roasted, until Amudee signs off on the deal.”

“Right.” She looked down at her hand. The ring was still there. “You’ll want this back, I assume.” She pulled the ring off and got up, walking over to his seat and depositing it on the desk in front of him. “Since we won’t need it.”

A relief. Wearing another woman’s ring made her feel weighted down.

“No. We won’t.” His eyes met hers and held. She felt heat prickle down her arms, her nipples tightening as a flash of arousal hit her.

“Great. I’ll um … I’m going to try to sleep.”

As she drifted off in the plane’s bedroom, she tried not to be disappointed that Zack didn’t join her.

“Amudee is coming here.”

Clara looked up and saw Zack. For the first time since they’d landed in San Francisco three days earlier. She’d taken a couple of days to get over her jet lag, and had sneaked around the office yesterday like a cat burglar, trying to get work done without encountering him.

Because ultimately, avoiding him was simply easier than trying to juggle all the emotions she felt when she saw him. Cowardly? Yes, yes, it was. But she felt a bit yellow-bellied after all that had happened between them, and she was wallowing in it.

“What?”

“He’s coming here to see how we run our operation. He wants to talk to employees, to see where we work. If we truly do conduct business in an ethical manner.”

Zack reached into his pocket and took out an overly familiar velvet box. He set it on the edge of her desk, his expression
grim. “And now it continues. And every single person working in the this office has to believe it, too.”

“Zack this can’t. It has to end.”

“It will. After. And you can take as much money as you need for a start-up. You can have my blessing, hell, you can have free Roasted coffee for the first five years. But I want this deal to go through.”

“Ironic that you’re trying to convince him of your business ethics by using a lie,” she said, annoyance spiking inside her.

“Odd that it’s necessary, too, don’t you think?”

“He’s a nice man.”

“And a romantic, it seems. He loves you. He wants to make sure he sees us together as a couple again while he’s here.”

“Tangled web,” she snapped, putting her pencil down on the desk.

“Isn’t it?”

The air between them seemed to crackle, everything slowing for a moment, the silence so tense and brittle she was certain she could splinter it into tiny pieces if she spoke.

“Put it on,” he said, looking at the ring.

“I gave it back,” she said tightly.

“Clara, I need you to do this for me.”

She fought the urge to make a rude gesture with a different finger than the one meant for a ring and grabbed the box, opened the lid and slid the ring on. “There.”

“Come on.”

“What?”

“We have to make an announcement.”

“Zack …”

“We’re going to see this through, right? Then you can leave. Whatever you need to do, you can go do it, but finish this with me.”

“Fine.” She stood up and rounded the desk, he wrapped his arm around her waist and drew her to him. Heat exploded in
her, stronger than she remembered, more arousing than anything had a right to be.

Instantly she was assaulted by images of their night together. His mouth, his hands, the way it had felt when he was over her, in her. It was torture. She clenched her hands into fists and the heavy ring band bit into her fingers.

There was a small group of employees who worked on her floor, their desks clustered in the center of the room. Roasted’s office had a social atmosphere, which Zack had always believed made for optimum creativity. Because Zack was a great boss, the kind who made everyone feel appreciated, all the time.

And he never, ever showed the dark, tortured side of himself she’d seen in Chiang Mai. He never showed the intense, sexual side of himself, either. But she’d seen it. She’d felt it.

“Clara and I have an announcement to make.”

Ten heads instantly popped up, eyes trained on her and Zack. Her heart started pounding, her palms sweating. It was one thing to lie to a man she’d never met before. A thing she hated. But it was really quite another to lie to people she worked with every day. People who she considered her friends.

“We’re getting married,” he said.

“Pay up.” Cynthia, a woman with gray hair and pronounced smile lines turned to Jess, a twenty-something computer whiz who did their online marketing.

Jess swore and took his wallet out.

“What is this?” Clara asked.

“Congratulations,” Cynthia said, beaming. “We had bets placed on this. I bet you would get married. Most everyone changed sides when Mr. Parsons got engaged to someone else. But I held out. And now I’m collecting.”

“Unbelievable,” Clara muttered. She wasn’t sure how she felt about this revelation, either. A little bit flattered that people believed it was possible.

“Clearly I’m not giving people enough work to do,” Zack said.

“Kiss her!” This from Jess, who undoubtedly considered it a consolation prize.

Everything inside Clara seized up, her muscles locking tight. Zack looked down at her, his fingers brushing her jaw. He dipped his head and kissed her. A perfectly appropriate kiss to give her in front of his employees. Nothing scandalous or overly sexual. But it grabbed hold of her world and shook it completely. Shook her.

When he lifted his head there was a smattering of applause. “Feel free to spread the news,” Zack said, lacing his fingers through hers and leading her toward his office.

He closed the door tightly behind him, taking long strides to the far window that overlooked the bay, his back turned to her.

“Good show,” she said icily.

He looked over his shoulder. “You could have been a little less stiff,” he said.

“You.” She strode across the room, embracing the anger, unrest and desire that was rioting through her. “You.” She grabbed the lapels of his jacket and stretched up onto her toes, kissing him with every last ounce of passion and frustration that she felt.

He locked his arm around her waist and drew her up tight against his body, his erection hard and hot against her. He spun them around and backed her against the wall, pressing her against the hard surface, his lips hungry as he tasted her, feasted on her.

She wrapped her arms around him, sifted her fingers through his thick brown hair, holding him to her as she returned each stroke and thrust of his tongue. The days of not touching him, thinking of him and denying herself the pleasure of even seeing in him, crashed in on her, fueled her desperation.

She growled in frustration, needing more, faster. Now. She pushed his jacket down his arms and onto the floor, grabbing
the knot on his tie and tugging it down as he put his hands on her thighs and pushed the hem of her skirt up. She wrapped one leg around his calf and arched against him.

He tore his mouth away from hers and put his palm flat on the wall behind them, a short, sharp curse punctuated by heavy breaths escaped his lips.

The full horror of what she’d done hit her all at once, like getting a bucket of freezing water dumped in her face. She echoed his choice of swear word and ducked beneath his arm, leaning forward and bracing herself on his desk.

“That shouldn’t have happened,” she said.

“For more than one reason.”

“Why don’t you list them?” she said sharply.

“Fine. I’ll list them. We said one night. And that kind of kiss doesn’t stop at just a kiss. The second reason is that you mean more to me than this,” he said.

“Than what?”

“Than an angry make out session against a wall. Than you sneaking around, avoiding me, because we slept together. You mean more to me than sex.”

That cut. And maybe it shouldn’t have, but she couldn’t separate having sex with Zack from the emotions she felt for him. She loved him; sex had been an expression of that. Being joined to him, intimate with him, it had been everything.

But not to him. To him, the sex was separate from the feeling.

“Great. But I apparently don’t mean so much to you that you won’t use me as a pretend fiancée.” Her argument was thin, because frankly, if her feelings for him were platonic, the engagement thing would be nothing big at all.

But her feelings weren’t platonic. Not even close.

“Then leave, Clara. If you don’t want to do it, don’t do it. I’m not holding you hostage. But understand this. I will likely lose the deal with Amudee, and then I won’t be able to get the product I need to start the boutique stores. And my search for
an acceptable product will continue. It will cost everyone time and money, lots of it. That’s just stating a fact—it’s not emotional blackmail or anything else you might be tempted to accuse me of.”

Clara looked at his face, at the familiar planes and angles. The mouth she’d seen smile so many times, the lips she’d kissed just now. She knew him differently now than she had a week ago. She knew his body, she knew his loss. And as hard as it would have been for her to walk away then, it was impossible now. Impossible to leave him when she’d promised she would see this through.

“I’ll do it. I’ll play the part, I’ll keep playing the part, I mean. But I didn’t expect for it to go this far.”

“I know. But we had a deal.” He probably thought she meant the farce, but she was thinking of the sex. Or maybe he knew what she was really talking about and he was content to leave it ambiguous, just like she was.

“When the ink is dry on the agreement, it can be finished. You gave me your word,” he said.

“That’s low, Zack,” she said, sucking in a deep breath, trying to make her lungs expand.

“It’s true. I’ve been there for you when you needed me. I held your hair while you …”

“I know. Food poisoning. Please don’t bring that up.” It was right up there with her high-school humiliation. Zack watching her vomit. But he had taken care of her. There hadn’t been anyone else. Truly, they were the key players in each other’s lives. They were there for each other, at work and at home.

“My point is, I’ve helped you. Help me. I’m asking you as a friend, not your boss. Your friend.”

She gritted her teeth, raw emotion, so intense she couldn’t identify it, flooded her. She swung her arms back and forth, trying to ease the nervous energy surging through her limbs. “So when does Mr. Amudee get here?”

“Soon. He’ll be in the office tomorrow morning, so it would be good if we came in together.”

If they spent the night with each other, it would be even easier for them to commute to Roasted together, but she didn’t say that. And she wouldn’t. One night, that was all it was supposed to be and that was all it would be. Make-out sessions against the wall would be immediately stricken from record and forgotten. Completely.

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“We should probably leave together, too,” he said.

“Probably.” That would mean an evening waiting around for him to leave. “I’m going to go down to the kitchens and fiddle around with some recipes.”

“I’ll see you down there.”

“See you then.” Hopefully a little baking therapy would clear her mind. Because if not, they were both in trouble.

By the time Zack made it down to the kitchen he didn’t have a handle on his libido or his temper. He’d figured a couple of hours separation for him and Clara would be a good idea, but it hadn’t accomplished anything on his end.

No, he wouldn’t feel satisfied until he was in bed with her again. Or just against the wall. That was why he had stopped kissing her, though. He didn’t have a condom.

As an adult he hadn’t had all that many lovers, mostly because he believed in taking things slowly, and making sure everything was completely safe. He liked for the woman to be on the pill, and he still used condoms, every time.

Already with Clara he’d been lax, skipping steps he hadn’t since high school, and then he’d been ready to forgo any sort of protection in his office so that he could be with her again. In her. Because the truth of the matter was, he hadn’t stopped thinking about how amazing that night had been since they’d arrived back in California. Not even close.

He’d dreamed of it, or rather, fantasized about it since sleep
had eluded him. And when he hadn’t been thinking about making love with her, he’d been replaying the moment he’d told her about his son. Over and over again.

He never talked about Jake. Ever. Not since he’d died, still in the hospital he’d never had a chance to leave, only a couple of days old. Sarah had never wanted to talk about it, and they hadn’t had a romantic relationship at that point, anyway.

His parents … they had been horrified that their star football-playing son was going to give it all up to raise a child. If anything, they’d been relieved.

That day had changed everything. He’d been nothing more than a spoiled brat. An only child, destined to skate through college on a football scholarship. He’d taken everything, the adoration of the girls at his school, the free passes the teachers had given him, as his due.