One Night: Exotic Fantasies. Maisey Yates

feet. To move on with life. She’d gone from her parents to Zack, and while she didn’t feel familial about Zack in any way, he represented comfort and safety. And other stuff that wasn’t comforting or safe. But being with him, like she was, wasn’t pushing her to move forward.

      So she was pushing herself. It was uncomfortable, but that was the way it worked. She hoped it would work.

      He opened the door to the town car for her and she slid inside, and he came in just behind her. “So, do you and your boyfriends have fights?”

      He must know she never had boyfriends. The odd disastrous date that never went past the front door. Emphasis on the odd, since half the men picked her up while she happened to be in the flagship store. And, in her experience, men who picked you up at ten in the morning in coffeehouses were a bit strange.

      “How many long-term relationships have I had, Zack?”

      “Well, Pete was around a lot until he moved for work.”

      “Pete? He was a friend from high school. And I was not his type, if you catch my drift.”

      “You weren’t blonde?”

      “Or male.”

      “Oh.”

      “Point being, I haven’t done a lot of long-term.” Any, but whatever. “And if I’m ever going to … move on, go into that phase of life then I need to be less consumed with work.”

      A muscled in his jaw ticked. “But you won’t make this kind of money running your own bakery.”

      “I know. But I have a decent amount of money. How much do I need? How much do you need?”

      There was a pause. Zack’s hand curled into a fist on the leather seat, then relaxed. “More. Just … a bit more.”

      “And then you’re never done.”

      “But if not for that then what am I working for?”

      She swallowed. “A good question. Good and scary. Though I suppose adding a wife will add … something. When you find a new prospect, that is. Did Hannah have an equally efficient and driven sister, by chance?”

      “Not that I’m aware of.”

      She snapped her fingers. “Darn.”

      “Don’t lose sleep over it.”

      “I won’t be sleeping tonight, anyway. Because you didn’t wake me up on the plane.” She couldn’t resist the jab.

      “Because you sleep like a rock and snore like a walrus.”

      “Might be why my relationships aren’t long-term,” she said drily. Not that any man had ever heard her snore but she was so not admitting to that.

      “I doubt that.”

      “Do you?”

      His eyes locked with hers and something changed in the air. It seemed to crackle. Like a spark on dry leaves. It was strange. It was breathtaking, and electrifying, and she never wanted it to end.

      “Why?” she asked, pressing. Desperate to hear more. A little bit afraid of hearing more, too.

      “Because a little bit of snoring wouldn’t deter a man who’d had the pleasure of sharing your bed.”

      She sucked in a sharp breath and looked out the window, and into the inky-black jungle. She felt dizzy. She felt … hot.

      “Well, thanks,” she said.

      He chuckled, low and rich like the best chocolate ganache. Just as bad for her to indulge in as the naughty treat, too. “You seem uncomfortable with the compliment.”

      “You and I don’t talk about things like that.”

      “Only because it hadn’t come up.”

      “Do you snore?” she asked.

      “Not that I’m aware of.”

      “Then your lack of long-term relationships doesn’t really make sense at all.”

      He arched one dark brow. “Was that a compliment?”

      “More a commentary on the transient nature of your love life.”

      “I’m wounded.”

      She winced. “Well, maybe in light of all that happened today it wasn’t the best thing to say.”

      “You’ve never pulled punches before, don’t start now.”

      “I don’t know any other way to be.”

      “Now that may account for your own short-term relationships.”

      She whipped around to face him and her heart stalled. He was looking at her like she was a particularly interesting treat. One he might like to taste.

      The car stopped and she nearly breathed a prayer of thanks out loud. She needed distance. She needed it desperately.

      “Well,” Zack said, opening the door. “Time to go and have a look at our honeymoon suite.”

       CHAPTER FOUR

      THE honeymoon villa was the epitome of romance. The anterior wall of the courtyard was surrounded by dense, green trees, clinging vines and flowers covering most of the stone wall, adding color, a sense that nature ruled here, not man. There was a keypad on the gate and Zack entered a code in; a reminder that the man very much had his fingerprints all over the property.

      “Nice,” she said, as the gates swung open and revealed an open courtyard area. The villa itself was white and clean. Intricate spires, carved from wood and capped in gold, adorned the roof of the house, rising up to meet the thick canopy of teak trees.

      “Mr. Amudee had planned on giving Hannah and I a few days of wedded bliss prior to meeting with me, so he made sure I had the code, and that everything in the home would be stocked and ready.”

      Clara tried not to think about Zack and Hannah, using the love nest for its intended purpose. More than that, she tried not to think of her and Zack using it for its intended purpose.

      She really did try. There was no point in allowing those fantasies. Those fantasies had led to nothing more than dateless Friday nights and lack of sleep.

      “Well, that was … thoughtful of him.”

      “It was. I believe he has some activities planned for us, too.”

      Oh, great. She was going to be trapped in happy-couple-honeymoon-activity hell.

      She followed Zack through the vast courtyard and to the wide, ornately carved double doors at the front of the villa. She touched one of the flower blossoms etched into the hard surface. “These are gorgeous. I wonder if I could mimic the design with frosting.”

      “I will happily be a part of that experiment.” He pushed open the doors and stood, waiting for her to go in before him.

      “You do seem to hang around a lot more when I’m practicing my baking skills.”

      “I don’t know how.”

      “I could teach you,” she said. “Maybe sometimes after I can teach you how to use a food processor.”

      “I think I’ll pass. Anyway, I’m a bachelor. Have pity on me. I wasn’t supposed to be a bachelor after today, but I am, and now I still need my best friend to cook for me.”

      “And probably do your laundry.”

      “I wouldn’t mind.”

      Basically he wanted her to be his wife with none of the perks. She nearly said so, but that would sound too much like she wanted the perks, and even if a part of her did, she’d rather parade naked through