One Night in Paradise (2 page)

She had to concede that the scenario was almost plausible. Hannah was all icy cool composure, and generally nice and polite, until someone crossed her in the corporate world. Clara had overheard the other woman’s phone conversations become seriously cutthroat in tense business situations. Threats of removal of tender body parts had crossed her lips without hesitation.

She admired her for it. For the the intense way she went after what she wanted. She’d done it with Zack. It had been sort of awe inspiring to watch. Mostly it had been awe-inspiringly depressing. Because Clara wasn’t cutthroat, or intense. And she hadn’t been brave enough to pursue what she really wanted. She’d never been brave enough to pursue Zack.

“I doubt that’s what happened,” Clara said, even though she couldn’t be certain.

“There was a reason I asked how the designer-cupcake thing was going.”

“Oh.” Back to business.

“I was trying to make sure you didn’t feel swamped by the amount of work you have to do.”

“No. Creating recipes is the best part of my job. I’ve been having fun with this one. I’ve actually done most of the experimental baking and tasting with our panel, and I have a few standout favorites, plus some that need to be improved. And then I’ll have to narrow down the selection, because it just won’t be feasible to have too many different kinds on the menu at once.”

“So that was the long, detailed version of you telling me you aren’t too busy at the moment?”

She shot him a deadly look. Jilted or not, he didn’t need to be a jerk. “No, I’m not too busy.”

“Good, because everything was set for me to head to Chiang Mai tonight.”

“And you need me to make sure everything is running smoothly at corporate?” That wasn’t usually the role she fulfilled. She wasn’t an administrator, not even close.

“No, I want you to get packed, because you’re coming with me.”

Her stomach honestly felt like it plummeted, squeezing as it made its way down into her toes. “You’re not serious. You’re not actually asking me to come on your honeymoon with you?”

“The trip is booked. I have appointments made. I’m not canceling the honeymoon just because my bride neglected to show up.” He looked at her, like he had thousands of times, but this time felt … It felt different. The inspection seemed closer somehow, his gray eyes more assessing, more intimate. She swallowed hard and tried to ignore the fact that her heart seemed to be trying to claw its way out of her chest. “I think you’ll make a more than fitting replacement.”

I
F
he had physically hit her he couldn’t have possibly hurt her worse. A replacement? The consolation prize. The stand-in for tall, lean, angular Hannah who possessed the cheekbones of a goddess. Not that Clara had noticed, or compared.

Well, she had. And in some ways, on some days, the fact they were so different made it easier because there was no question of what the other woman had that she didn’t.

But she had never, never put herself in the position of trying to vie for Zack’s attention, not in that way. Because she’d known that she would be the consolation prize if he ever did decide to look in her direction. And she’d decided that was one thing she couldn’t do to herself. The one thing worse than watching the man who meant the world to her tie himself to another woman. Being the one he’d settled for.

And now Zack was shoving her into that position. It made her want to gag.

“I’m not a replacement for anyone, Zack. And if you’re suggesting I am, then I think we’ve become a little bit too comfortable with each other.”

She turned and walked out of the reception hall. She left the cake. She didn’t care about the cake. The staff of the hotel could have it for an early, sugary breakfast when they came in tomorrow morning.

She breezed through the hall and out the front doors, into
the damp, salty air. It had been a cool day, but now, with the sun dipping down below the horizon, the air coming in off of the bay was downright chilly. Which was good, because now, if anyone saw her lip tremble a little bit, she could blame the cold.

She didn’t want to be emotional, not over something that wasn’t even intentional, and with Zack, she knew it wasn’t. Zack wasn’t mean, more than that; he simply wasn’t all that emotional, so he never assumed that anyone else was.

Everything was so surface to Zack. Nothing seemed to get under his skin. Nothing seemed to throw him off, even for a moment. Not even a canceled wedding.

Anyway, she’d had enough intentional digs taken at her in her life to know that things could get far too dramatic if she didn’t make people have to work at hurting her feelings.

But since her feelings for Zack were a constant jumble, her reactions to anything involving him were always strong. Most of the time, though, she managed to keep that fact hidden from Zack. A lot of the time, she kept the extent of her feelings hidden from herself.

“Clara.”

She turned and saw him standing just behind her. She didn’t say anything. She crossed her arms beneath her breasts and fixed him with her best glare.

“You’re the second woman to abandon me today.”

Her face flooded with prickly heat. “See, that comparison is not very flattering, considering you’ve already used the word replacement in regards to me.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?”

“That I need someone to come with me, and actually, under the circumstances you’re a better fit than my ex-fiancée.”

For a full second she could only think of one thing his statement could possibly mean. Images clicked through her mind like close-up still-shots. Tan hands on a pale, bare hip.
Masculine lips on a feminine throat. Blood roared through her body, into her cheeks, making her face burn. She was sure they were the color of ripe strawberries, broadcasting her thoughts to anyone who looked at her.

“What?” she asked.

“Hannah’s smart, don’t get me wrong, but she doesn’t know this market quite like you do. Prices on stocks, maybe, but it will be nice to have you on hand to offer an opinion about marketing and flavor.”

Business. He was talking about business. And somehow, to Zack, business was more important than romance and making love on his honeymoon?

At least he was pretending it was. There was something different about his expression, a dark light behind his gray eyes. She’d seen Zack nearly every day for the past seven years. She knew his moods, his expressions as well as she knew her own.

And this was a different Zack. Well, she thought it was. For some reason, the hardness, the intensity, seemed more true than what she thought she knew of him.

Strange. But then, the whole day had been strange. Starting with the interminably long silence after the strains of the Bridal March had faded from the air and the aisle remained vacant.

All right, he’d made her mad. It wasn’t the first time. He was bullheaded and a general pain in the butt sometimes. He was also the smartest man she knew, with a cutting wit that always kept her amused. He was one of the few people who’d never doubted that her ideas were good.

If she didn’t go with him, she would spend her evenings hanging out by herself, reading and experimenting with cupcake recipes and licking the batter off the spatula. Fun, sure, but not the kind of fun she could have in Thailand.

Again, those images, erotic and explicit, assaulted her. No, that wasn’t the kind of fun she would be having in Thailand.
Zack had never looked twice at her in that way and for the most part, she was fine with that. She’d had a crush on him at first, but even then she hadn’t expected anything to come of it.

And, yes, Hannah had come in and stirred up some strange feelings. Because as long as Zack had simply been there, at work every day, and available for dinner meetings and a lot of other things, it had been comfortable. Zack was in every space in her life, at work and home.

But then along came Hannah, and she took up his time, and, Clara had assumed, that he loved her. And having to share Zack’s emotion with someone else had felt. It had felt awful. And it had made her jealous, which didn’t make sense because she’d never even tried to cross the boundaries of friendship with Zack. So it wasn’t like Hannah had been encroaching on her territory or anything. But she’d been so jealous looking at Zack and Hannah she’d felt like her stomach was turning inside out, and she knew, that even if she could never have Zack, she didn’t want anyone else to have him, either.

Which was just stupid and childish. About as stupid as going with a man on his honeymoon, platonically, in place of his bride, to conduct business with him. Platonically.

She needed her head checked. She needed some sanity. Maybe the problem was that Zack did take up all the spaces in her life. Maybe it would have to change.

Just the thought of that, of pushing him away, sent a sharp dose of pain through her system. She was addicted to him.

“All right. I’ll go. Because I would rather have a paid vacation in Thailand than spend the week hanging out in the office and orchestrating the return of all your wedding presents.”

“I’m not returning my wedding presents.”

“You can’t keep them, Zack.”

“Of course I can. I might need a food processor someday. What does a food processor do?”

“I’ll teach you sometime. Anyway, yes, I’ll go with you.”

The corner of his lip curved up into a wicked smile that
made her stomach tighten in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. “Excellent. Looks like I won’t be spending my wedding night alone, after all.”

It probably wasn’t nice of him to tease Clara. But he liked the way her cheeks turned pink when he slipped an innuendo into the conversation. And frankly, he was in need of amusement after the day he’d had.

But amusement hadn’t been his primary goal when he’d given her the wedding-night line out in front of the hotel. He’d been trying to atone for his ill-spoken remark about her being a replacement. In truth, he had more fun with Clara than he did with Hannah. It wasn’t as though he disliked Hannah; quite the opposite. But he hadn’t been marrying Hannah for the company.

She’d needed a husband to help her climb the corporate ladder, a little testosterone to help her out in a male-dominated field. And a wife … well, a wife like her was a convenience for a lot of reasons.

But Clara was not his wife. In a lot of ways, she was better. And he hadn’t intended to hurt her feelings. She’d been quiet on the ride from the hotel back to her town house by the bay, and once they’d gotten inside to her place she’d dashed into her bedroom to pack a few things “real quick” which, in his experience with women meant … not quick at all.

He sat in her white leather chair, the one that faced her tiny television. Not state of the art at all, nothing like his place. The home theater had been one of his first major purchases when Roasted had become solvent. Clara’s had been an industrial-grade mixer for her kitchen. That was where all
her
high-tech gear was. She had a stove with more settings than his stereo system.

“Ready.” He looked up and his stomach clenched.

Clara was standing at the end of the hallway, large, pink leather bag draped over her shoulder, dark jeans conforming
to the curve of her hips, and a black knit top outlining the contours of her very generous breasts. He hadn’t gotten married today, so he was going to allow himself a longer look than he ever did. He’d noticed her body before, but he’d never allowed himself to really look at her as a man looked at a woman. He didn’t know why he was letting himself do it now. A treat in exchange for the day, maybe. Or exhaustion making him sloppy with his rules.

Clara was an employee. Clara was a friend. Clara was not a possible lover, and normally that meant no looking at her like she could be.

But tonight wasn’t normal. Not by a long stretch.

“Good.” He stood up and tried to keep his interest in her body sublimated. But he was just a man. A man who had been celibate for a very long time. A man who had been expecting a reprieve on that and had been sadly disappointed.

“Are we taking the company jet?” She smiled, her perfectly shaped brow raised.

She really was beautiful, and not just her curves. He didn’t stop to notice her looks very often. She was like … not furniture, but a fixture for sure. Someone who was always there, every day, no matter what. And when someone was always there, you didn’t stop and look at them very often.

But he was looking at her now. Her face was a little bit round, her skin pale and soft. Her eyes, dark brown and wide, were fringed with dark lashes, surprising given her auburn hair color. And her lips … full and soft looking, a very delicate shade of pink.

Looking at her features was a nice distraction, especially since he was about to make her very, very angry. Normally he didn’t care for other people’s feelings. Not enough to lose any sleep over. He was in command of his world, and he didn’t question his decisions.

But Clara was different. She’d always been different.

“There’s something I didn’t tell you yet.” And it might have
been wise to save it until she was safely on the plane. And had had a glass or two of champagne.

“What’s that?” she asked, eyes narrowing.

“I was supposed to get married today.”

Her eyes became glittering, deadly slits. “Right.”

“I was meant to be going on my honeymoon with my wife. And now, here I find myself jilted. No bride. Barely any pride to speak of.”

She arched her brow, her mouth twisted into a sour expression. “What, Zack?”

“I need you to come with me. As more than my friend. Not really more than my friend, but more as far as Amudee is concerned.”

She shook her head and let her pink bag slip off of her shoulder and onto the hardwood floor. “That’s … that’s insane! Who would believe you’d hooked up with someone else already?”

“Everyone, Clara. I’m a man who, as far as the public is concerned, is in the throes of heartbreak. Everyone knows about our business relationship. About our friendship. Is it so insane to think that, after suffering heartbreak, I looked to my closest friend and found so much more?”

Oh, it was sick. It really was. To hear him saying something that was … that was so close to her real-life fantasies it was painful to listen to the words fall from his lips. “No. No, I am not playing this game. That’s ridiculous, Zack. Go on your own.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Look, my pride will survive. But if I show up alone, and without my wife, looking the part of lonely loser who couldn’t hold on to his woman … well, who wants to cut a business deal with that guy?”

“So offer him more money,” she hissed.

“That’s the thing with Amudee. Money isn’t the main objective. If I could throw a bigger check at him, I would. But it’s not only about that. It’s about people, the kind of people he
wants to do business with, and for the most part, I am that man. I care deeply about fair trade, about the work he has going on there in Thailand. I have to look like I call the shots in my own life, and I will not let an inconsequential hiccup like Hannah’s cold feet affect that.”

She shook her head. “No. Zack just …”

“If I lose the deal because of this …”

“I’m fired? I doubt it. And I can’t imagine him passing this up just because you aren’t getting married now.”

“This growing project is a huge thing for him, his life’s work. He’s poured his entire fortune into this. He has high principles, and, yes, a lot of it does have to do with bringing money into Northern Thailand, for the people that live there, but he won’t go into something if he doesn’t feel one hundred percent about it. I can’t afford to let it slip to ninety-nine percent. And if you tip the deal over, then I need you.”

“So buy your beans from someone else,” she said. “Someone who doesn’t care what your personal life looks like.”

“There is no one else. Not with a product like this. He understands the foundation I’ve built Roasted on. That it’s always been my goal to find small, family run farms to support. He’s a philanthropist and what he’s done is give different families in the north of Thailand their own plots to cultivate their own crops. Tea and coffee is being grown there, of the highest quality. And I want the best—I don’t want to settle for second.”

Clara bent and picked her bag up from the floor. She really hated what Zack was proposing. Not just because she didn’t exactly relish the idea of lying to someone for a week; there was that, but also because the idea of playing the part of his lover for a week made her feel sick.

She’d done a good job, a damn good job, of pretending that all she felt for Zack was friendship, with a very successful working relationship thrown into the mix. She’d pretended, not just for him, but for herself.