One Night: Exotic Fantasies. Maisey Yates

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.