Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Zara
T he restaurant on the top level of La Coeur is beautiful.
It’s decorated in airy shades of white and blue, with soft velvet chairs pulled up to wooden tables, casual yet stylish.
But what really makes it special is the spectacular view.
One side of the restaurant is floor-to-ceiling glass, so all you see is the sea and sky.
And now, with the sun starting to set, the clouds changing colour, it’s utterly mesmerising.
And it gives me something to look at, other than Myles.
The restaurant is fairly busy, but it feels as though it’s just the two of us in this space.
Something flutters in my chest. I stamp on it.
I don’t know what’s happening here, or why I even agreed to have dinner with him.
I suppose I couldn’t bear the thought of him eating alone again. It can’t be anything else.
Still, I’d dressed with care tonight. Eloise’s black skirt with a lacy camisole top in cream, one of my new scarves draped around my shoulders.
I’d tied my hair back, but more loosely than usual, and tried to make myself look as presentable as possible.
Because I’m an idiot, I guess. Myles is dating one of the most beautiful women in the world.
I’ve just been ditched by my boyfriend. And this isn’t a date.
“What do you think?” he says.
“I think it’s beautiful,” I murmur, still gazing out to sea. Heat comes to my face as I remember him pulling me from the waves, holding me against him.
“Zara.” There’s something in his voice that makes me look at him. “Don’t worry about today.”
“I didn’t even thank you.”
“Thank me?”
“For… for saving me.” I look down. “I didn’t realise how strong the currents were. I don’t know what would have happened if you weren’t there.”
“You don’t need to thank me. Although maybe you’ll let me buy you a new swimsuit?”
“Oh God.” I cover my face with my hands, peeping at him between my fingers. “I swear I didn’t mean to flash you. Can you forgive me?”
“There’s nothing to forgive,” he says. “I know you didn’t do it on purpose.” He picks up his menu, scanning it. “They’ve got great food here, especially the chicken. Order whatever you like. I do recommend the breast.” He winks at me.
My hands drop, my mouth falling open in outrage.
Then I see the funny side and start to giggle.
I think of Eloise and laugh even harder.
He chuckles, his grey gaze softening, his stern expression transformed.
And for a moment it’s really comfortable, as though we’ve known each other for ever.
Our eyes meet, and he holds my gaze as my giggles die out, replaced by something deeper, a warmth inside me.
I feel as though I’m stepping off a cliff again, the way I did in his office when I agreed to come here.
“I didn’t think it would be like this.” The words come out before I can stop them. I wish I could bite out my tongue.
“You didn’t think what would be like this?” He’s utterly serious now, and there’s tension in him, as though my answer is important.
“Uh, Morocco,” I say, looking away. I know, I’m a coward, but I’m also way out of my depth. “It’s beautiful. Look at this view.”
The sky outside is changing colour, pink and gold and blue, reflected in the waves rippling into shore. I glance back at Myles. He’s still looking at me.
“Hello and good evening. What can I get you to drink, madame?”
A waiter has come to the table, thank heaven. But I’m so flustered I don’t know what to order. “Um, champagne?” I say, my voice getting higher at the end of the sentence, like it’s a question. But champagne feels like the easiest choice. I don’t really like it, but at least it will calm my nerves.
“And for you, sir?”
“Mineral water, please.” Myles nods at the waiter. “We need a moment more with the menus, though.”
“Of course.” The waiter rushes off.
I stare down at the table, at the frayed edges of the blue placemat, the metallic sheen of the cutlery. I don’t know why, but I feel as though I’ve done the wrong thing.
“Everything all right?”
I look up. Myles is leaning back, casual, one arm outstretched along the back of the bench seat, his shirt pulled tight against his impressive chest. Despite his relaxed posture his gaze on me is intense, his eyes slightly narrowed, a smile hovering around his lips.
I want to kiss them, I realise, with a shock.
God, I hope the waiter returns with my champagne soon.
Or maybe I should have coffee. Or just run out of here, screaming.
I’m so far out of my depth I can’t even see the shore.
I realise he’s still waiting for an answer, and I blurt out the first thing that comes to me. “Don’t you like champagne?”
He just smiles. “I don’t drink alcohol,” he says. “But don’t let me stop you.”
Oh God. I wish the floor would open up and swallow me.
Or this nice restaurant somehow slide into the ocean, burying me so deep no one will ever find me again.
I stare out at the shimmering ocean, wishing for a tidal wave or a meteor or something.
Of course I know he doesn’t drink. He’d specifically asked for no alcohol in all of his accommodation on the trip.
But my brain seems to have gone AWOL and I’ve forgotten everything I should be remembering.
“It’s fine.” His hand covers mine where it rests on the table, just for a moment. I flinch, unable to help my reaction to the heat of his skin. “It’s just something I don’t do anymore.”
“Anymore?” My God. My mouth just won’t stop saying things I don’t want it to. But there’s an inflection in the way he says the word, something that intrigues me. Still… “Sorry, that’s none of my business.”
The waiter returns with my champagne and Myles’s mineral water, placing them on the table. Myles and I stare at each other, something building in the air between us.
“Are you ready to order?” The waiter, bless his heart, is starting to look worried. Myles breaks the stare first, picking up his menu.
“Do you know what you want?”
I shake my head. I don’t even think I can read the menu. I am beyond flustered. I try to think of a word that is beyond flustered. Chaotic? Unconscious? Flusterfuck?
“I’ll order for us both, then. Is that all right?”
I nod. My mouth, which couldn’t stop saying stupid things a moment before, now seems to have lost the power to answer reasonable questions.
Myles orders, then hands both our menus to the waiter. One corner of his mouth keeps tugging up as though a smile is fighting to get out, like the sun peeping from behind a cloud. Oh God. He’s laughing at me.
I pick up my champagne, then put it down again.
“Go ahead,” he says, still with that teasing grin.
“I should have ordered mineral water,” I mutter.
He laughs, then pours some from his bottle into my water glass. “We can share,” he says. “But I honestly don’t mind if you drink.”
I look at him then and I know he can see the question in my eyes, the one I’d asked so rudely a moment before.
“I don’t drink,” he says, leaning forwards, resting his forearms on the table, “because I lost a friend just over a year ago. Drink driving.”
Myles
I can’t stop looking at Zara.
The smooth curve of her shoulder, the hollows at her collarbone just begging to be kissed, the swell of her breasts under the soft lace of her camisole top.
She has a scarf around her shoulders but it keeps sliding down, distracting me.
I can feel myself getting hard under the table and I need to control myself, somehow.
And then she blushes, looking down, her lashes like fans resting on her smooth cheekbones. Christ, I want her. She bites her lip, worrying the soft pink flesh between her teeth and it’s all I can do not to take her hand and pull her out of here with me, take her back to my room.
I do touch her hand, just for a moment. She flinches, and I realise I need to calm down.
So I tell her about Blake.
“Oh no,” she says, her hand coming to her mouth. Her brown eyes crease with concern. “Myles, I’m so sorry. I wouldn’t have?—”
“You didn’t know. Hardly anyone does, really. And it was his fault.”
“It was?” Her brows come together.
I nod. “I love surfing. It’s why I am where I am, why we’re sitting here together in this glorious place.
” She’s leaning towards me, the vee between her breasts distracting.
I realise I’m doing the same. It’s as though she’s pulling me towards her, strong as the current that nearly took her out to sea.
“But it can have a bit of a drinking culture around it. And Blake was part of that. A wicked surfer, but a hothead. Aussie guy, and a good friend. But he decided to drive home drunk from the pub one night, and ended up going off a cliff into the ocean.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah. And he took another car with him, a middle-aged couple. Killed them both. They had a teenage daughter.”
“Oh, Myles, that’s so awful.”
“It was awful. There was an insurance payout, but I made sure the daughter was taken care of as well.” I shrug. It had seemed like the least I could do for her. “Since then, I stopped drinking. I never really went too hard, but now I don’t want to be part of it at all.”
Zara blinks, her eyes bright and soft. Her throat moves before she speaks again. “I understand,” she says. “I’m sorry I ordered the champagne.”
“Why? You didn’t know.” I realise how close our heads are to each other.
“I don’t really drink either,” she says, pink in her cheeks again. “I just thought… I don’t know.”
I want to reach for her, tell her it’s okay. The waiter arrives with perfect timing. Zara and I both spring apart, leaning back against the cushions. I stare out at the view, feeling warm all over despite the cool evening breeze coming through the open doors.
I need to remember what I’m doing. She’s my employee, we’re here on business and it’s just a meal to talk about… Idon’t even know what we’re going to talk about. The effect Zara has on me is overwhelming.
I don’t tell anyone that story. Not really.
My lawyer knows, and Blake’s family, of course.
It was news for a little while, then it went away.
I don’t discuss it, ever. Yet something about Zara’s wide brown eyes and the softness of her voice makes me want to open up to her, to share every part of myself with her.
And that terrifies and excites me at the same time.
I flash back to the dream I had, how real it had seemed, her soft curves open to my gaze, her long legs parting, the heat and wetness, the way she’d moaned my name.
Then the way she’d clung to me on the beach, how I’d wanted to protect her, to keep her safe.
And now this. I feel as though I could talk to her all night, tell her everything about me.
Though there are other things I want to do to her all night, as well.
But this is still a long game, no matter how I blur the lines, and I need to play it carefully.
Still, as she eats her meal and gradually relaxes, telling me stories about her life in London, laughing and shrugging her slender shoulders, I find myself wishing the game didn’t have to be so long, after all.
The waiter clears our dishes, then brings dessert. I watch her eat the crème br?lée, her eyes closing in pleasure, the way her lips fold around the spoon. She knows I’m watching her, I can see by the way her gaze flicks to me.
Yet there’s defiance in her, and fire. Other women would have played it coy and turned away, or been overly bold, playing a part to try and impress me. But she is just Zara. She holds her own against me, meeting me halfway. Nogames. Just her. It’s the most exciting dinner I’ve had in a long time.
So, at the end, when the waiter clears our plates, I decide to take another risk. I know the lines are blurring, but it hits me again that I’m her boss, and she’s my employee. This could go really wrong.
“Come out with me tomorrow. I’ll pick you up after breakfast.”
“For… work?”
“For pleasure.”
Her eyes widen slightly, and I have to keep a tight hold on myself. Then one corner of her mouth lifts, her gaze sparkling in the soft light.
“All right.”