One Night in Paradise (8 page)

“So let’s go, then,” he said.

“Right,” she said again.

He moved to her and slid his arm around her waist. It was more slender than he’d imagined it might be. “We have to do things like this,” he said, his voice getting rougher as her hips brushed against his.

She nodded, her eyes on his face. On his lips. She would be the death of him.

“Lovely to see you again, Ms. Davis,” Mr. Amudee said, inclining his head. “And with a ring, I see.”

Her heart rate kicked up several notches.

“Oh. Yes. Zack … made it official last night. It’s lovely to see you, too.” She touched the ring on her finger and Zack tightened his hold around her waist. She nearly stopped breathing, her accelerated heart rate lurching to a halt with it. From the moment they’d arrived at Mr. Amudee’s house, he had put his arm around her and kept it there. She’d assumed she would get used to it, to the warm weight of his touch. But she wasn’t getting used to it. If anything, she was getting more jittery, more aroused with each passing second.

The sun was hot on the wide, open veranda that overlooked rows of coffee trees with flat glossy leaves and bright red coffee cherries. But Zack’s touch was the thing that was making her melt.

“I had not met the other woman you intended to marry,
Zack, but I must say that comparing the photos of the first one, to Ms. Davis, I find I prefer Ms. Davis.”

Clara’s heart bumped against her chest. “That’s kind of you to say.” She knew her face had to be beet-red, it was hot, that was for sure. Because it was nice of him to say, but there was no way it could be true.

There was no comparison between her and Hannah. Hannah was … well, sex bomb came to mind yet again.

“Not kind,” Isra said. “Just the truth. I was married, a long time ago, to the most wonderful woman. I have a good judge of character. Unfortunately I was too busy to see just how wonderful she was. Don’t make that mistake.”

Zack cleared his throat. “Clara is also very knowledgable about our product. I know we’ll both enjoy getting a look at the growing process today. And we’re both excited about the tasting.”

Back to business. Zack was good at that. Thank God one of them was.

“I’m excited to share it with you. Come this way.” They followed him down the stairs that led to the lush, green garden filled with fragrant foliage. He moved quickly for a man his age, his movements sharp and precise as he explained where each plant was in the growing stage, and which family was leasing which segment of the farmland, and how the soil and amount of shade would affect the flavor of each type of coffee, even before it was roasted.

The tea was grown in a more remote segment of the farm and required walking up into the rolling hills, where the leaves were in the process of being harvested.

“A lot depends on when you pick them,” Mr. Amudee said, bending and plucking a small, tender-looking cluster of leaves. “Smell. Very delicate.”

He handed the leaves to Zack and he did as instructed. Then he held them out for Clara. She bent and took in the light fragrance.
She looked up and her eyes clashed with Zack’s and her heart beat double time.

“And this will be … what sort of tea will it be?” she asked, anything to get her mind off Zack and his eyes.

“White tea,” Zack said. “Am I right?”

Mr. Amudee inclined his head. “Right. Ready to go and taste?”

Her eyes met Zack’s again, the word tasting bringing to mind something new and different entirely. Something heady and sexual.

She swallowed hard.

“Yes, I think we are,” Zack said slowly, his eyes never leaving hers.

And she wondered if he’d been thinking the exact same thing she was. And if he was thinking the same thing, if he wanted to kiss her again, she wasn’t sure what she would do.

No, that was a lie. She was sure. She would kiss him again. Like nothing else mattered. Like there was no future and no consequences. Because she’d had enough of not getting what she wanted out of life. Quite enough.

She looked at Zack again and she wondered if she’d only imagined that momentary flash of heat. Because his eyes were cool again, his expression neutral.

She tried to convince herself that it was better that way.

Clara spent the next few days carefully avoiding Zack. It was easier than expected, given the cozy living situation. But during the day he had meetings with Mr. Amudee and when she wasn’t needed, she took advantage of all the vacation-type things that were available in the resort.

There was a spa down in the hotel, and also some incredible restaurants. Her favorite retreat was up on the roof of the villa that gave her a view of the mountains, and the small town that was only a short walk away, the golden rooftops reflecting the sunlight like fire in the late afternoon. It was the perfect
view for yoga, which kept her mind focused and relaxed at the same time.

She even managed to forget about the kiss. Mostly. As long as she made a concerted effort not to think of it. And as long as she didn’t get into bed before she was ready to fall asleep instantly. Lying awake for any length of time was a recipe for disaster. And for replaying that moment. Over and over again.

Clara took a deep breath and tried to focus on the scenery, on the sky as it lightened. Orange fading into a pale pink, then to purple as the sun rose from behind the sloping hills. She would focus on that. Not Zack. Because that door was clearly closed. He hadn’t touched her again, unless it was absolutely necessary, since the night in the garden. Since the kiss that had scorched her inside and out.

The kiss that didn’t even seem to be a vague memory to him.

“Got plans for today?”

She turned and her heart lodged itself in her throat. Zack strode onto the roof in nothing more than a pair of low-slung jeans, his chest, broad and muscular, sprinkled with the perfect amount of chest hair, was streaked with dirt and glistening with sweat.

She had to remind herself to breathe when he came closer. And she had to remind herself not to stare at his abs, bunching and shifting as he moved.

“Do I.” She blinked and looked up at his face. “What?”

“Do you have plans? You’ve been busy. Remarkably so for someone on vacation.”

“Well, down in the village they have these neat classes for tourists. Weaving and things like that. And one of the restaurants in the hotel has a culinary school.”

“I thought you wanted to relax.”

“Cooking is relaxing for me.” And it had been conducive to avoiding him. “Anyway, now I can make you some killer Pad Thai when we get back home.”

“Well, I support that.”

“What are you doing up so early?”

“Working. Before the sun had a chance to get over the mountains and scorch me. Part of the deal. I need to understand where it all comes from. How important the work is to the families. I’m really pleased we’re going to be part of this process.”

“Me, too,” she said. Although, she wouldn’t be. Not once everything was in place. This was it for her.

“I’m going up to Doi Suthep, to see the temple. I thought you might want to come with me.”

She did. Not just to see the temple, although that was of major interest to her, but to spend some time with him. It was that whole inconvenient paradox of being in love with her best friend again. She wanted to avoid him, because she felt conflicted over the kiss. She wanted to be with him, confide in him, because she felt conflicted, too.

“I …”

“Are you avoiding me?” he asked, hands on his lean hips. “Well, I know you’re avoiding me, but I guess I don’t know why. Does this have to do with you leaving Roasted?”

“No!”

“Then what the hell is your problem?”

Hot, reckless anger flooded her. “My problem? Are you serious? You asked me to come here, and play fiancée, and I have. I don’t have a problem.”

“When you aren’t avoiding me.”

“I have done exactly what you asked me to do,” she said. “I have played the part of charming, simpering fiancée, I’ve worn this ring on my finger, and you can’t, for one second see why that might not be … something I want to do. And then you kiss me. Kiss me like … like you really are on your honeymoon, and you want to know what my problem is?”

He looped his arm around her waist and drew her to him, his eyes blazing. She braced herself against him, her palms flat
on his bare chest. “I think I do know what your problem is. I think you’re avoiding me because of the kiss. Because you’re afraid it will happen again. Or because you want it to happen again.”

She shook her head slightly. “N-no. I haven’t even thought about it again.”

“Liar.” He dipped his head so that his lips hovered just above hers. “You want this.”

She did. She really did. She wanted his lips on hers. His hands on her body. She wanted everything. “You arrogant bastard,” she said, her voice trembling. “How dare you?”

“How dare I what? Say that you want it again? We both know you do.”

His lips were so close to hers and it was tempting, so tempting, to angle her head so that they met. So that she could taste him again. Have a moment of stolen pleasure again.

“You do want it,” he said again, his voice rough, strained.

“So?” she whispered.

“What?”

“So what if I do?” she said, finding strength in her voice. “What then, Zack? We’ll kiss? Sleep together? And then what? Nothing. You and I both know there won’t be anything after that. We’ll just ruin what we do have.”

He released his hold on her and took a step back, letting his hands fall to his sides. “Sorry.”

“You’ve been apologizing to me a lot lately,” she said, her voice trembling. “You don’t need to do that.”

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

“Not going to the temple?”

He smiled ruefully. “Still am. And you can come if you want. Provided you’ve worked the tantrum out of your system.”

“That was your tantrum, Parsons, not mine.”

“Maybe.” He tightened his jaw, his hands curling into fists. “Just tense I suppose. Coming with me or not?”

She hesitated. Because she did want to go, but things
weren’t … easy with him at the moment. And the scariest thing was she wasn’t sure she wanted them to be easy again. She was sort of liking this new, scary dynamic between them. The one that made him touch her like she did something to him. Like he was losing control.

“I’ll be good. I promise,” he added.

She laughed, a fake, tremulous sound. “I wasn’t worried.”

Zack wasn’t the one who worried her. She hesitated because she wasn’t sure she trusted
herself
to behave.

“I was,” he said, turning away from her and walking back into the house. She watched him the whole way, the muscles on his back, the dent just above the waistline of his jeans, and his perfect, tight butt.

She let out a slow, shaky breath. Yeah, it was definitely herself she didn’t trust.

The temple at Doi Suthep was crowded with tourists, spiritual pilgrims and locals. Clara and Zack walked up the redbrick staircase, the handrails fashioned into guardian dragons with slithering bodies and fierce faces.

They were silent for the three-hundred-step trek up to the temple, Clara keeping a safe distance between them, in spite of the crush of people all around them. She was mad at him.

And fair enough, he’d been a jerk earlier. That was sexual frustration. Sexual frustration combined with the desire to give in to the need to kiss her again. To do more than kiss her.

Damn.

He could still remember the first time he’d seen Clara. She was working behind the counter at a bakery, flour on her cheeks. She was cute. Not the kind of woman he was normally attracted to. But she’d fascinated him. Utterly and completely. It had turned out she’d made great cupcakes, too. And that she was smart and funny. That it felt good to be with her.

The emotional connection to her, when he’d been lacking a connection with anyone for years, had been shocking, instant,
and had immediately found him shoving his attraction to her away.

A friendship with her was fine. Anything else … he didn’t have room for it. Anything else would go beyond the boundaries he’d set for himself. And he needed his boundaries. His control. He valued it above everything else.

Just another reason he’d intended to marry Hannah. Marriage brought stability, a sort of controlled existence that attracted him. One woman in his bed, in his life.

And now that that had gone to hell, it seemed his feelings for Clara were headed in the same direction. He’d done with her, for seven years now, what he did with everything in his life. She had a place. She was his friend. She didn’t move out of that place in his mind.

His body was suddenly thinking differently. He’d made a mistake. He’d allowed himself too much freedom. He’d indulged his desire to look at her body. To touch her soft skin when they’d gone swimming. And that night, he’d given in to the temptation to allow her to feature in his fantasies. To find release with her image in his mind.

He’d allowed himself to cross the line in his mind, and that was where control started. He knew better. Yet it was hard to regret. Because wanting her was such a tantalizing experience. Just feeling desire for her was a pleasure on its own.

Her sweet, short, sundress was not helping matters. Though, thankfully she’d had to purchase a pair of silk pants to wear beneath it before they could head up toward the temple.

Still, even with her legs covered, there was that bright, gorgeous smile that had been plastered on her face since they’d arrived. She was all breathy sighs and sounds of pleasure over the sights and sounds. It was the sweetest torture.

“Incredible,” she breathed, her voice soft, sensual in a way. Enough to make his body ache.

“Yes,” he agreed. Mostly, he was looking at her, and not the immense, gold-laden temple.

He forced himself to look away from Clara. To keep his focus on the gilded statues, the bright, fragrant offerings of flowers, fresh fruit and cakes left in front of the different alters that were placed throughout the courtyard. A large, dome-shaped building covered entirely in gold reflected the sun, the air bright, thick with smoke from burning incense.