CHAPTER THIRTEEN
J UST AFTER LUNCHTIME on Friday, Skylar passed Bernie on her way down the stairs. He noted her bag and the jacket she’d slung over her shoulder and smiled broadly.
‘You’re leaving early?’ he asked.
For the first time ever. She smiled shyly as she nodded. ‘Have a great weekend, Bernie.’
At the airport she drew a breath as Zane introduced her to the liveried crew lined up to greet them in the luxury private lounge. He joked with the pilots, who teased him right back—which made her curious.
‘You travel with this crew often?’ she asked as they boarded the plush ten-seater cabin, though they were the only passengers on board.
‘Whenever I can. They’re good. This private charter airline was a spin-off from a large acquisition I made a few years ago.’ He took the seat opposite hers. ‘They’ve tripled in size since then. Naturally they love me.’
‘So this is your one asset-stripping success story.’
He shot her that smug look. ‘One of many, Skylar.’
‘You really believe in what you do?’
He cocked his head and a serious gleam entered his expression. ‘Yeah, I do. Nothing lasts for ever. Companies come and go—fortune smiles on them one year, then a storm hits. Being able to adapt is a skill not all CEOs have. They don’t see the squall coming, they can’t course-correct quickly enough.’
‘So you lighten their load so they can move faster again?’
‘And be agile, yes.’
As much as it galled, she actually believed him. She’d done what he’d told her to the other day. She’d looked at the numbers. Closely. And he was right. She just hadn’t wanted to see what it really meant. And even now she still hoped that a massive overhaul wouldn’t mean total destruction.
She’d not wanted to think of Zane as a good guy in any way, but that was because of her pride, wasn’t it? She’d let their past cloud her judgment of his business practice. She’d disliked his successes—in every arena. Hell, maybe she was jealous. But he was successful for a reason. Some companies actually welcomed his interest— wanted him to come in and tell them how to streamline and refocus their businesses.
And if she were honest with herself, it wasn’t that galling any more.
She went for an unsubtle subject change. ‘How long is the flight?’
He stretched back in his seat and shot her a come-hither look. ‘Long enough to give you a very in-depth lesson on the pleasures of the Mile High Club.’
‘Does a private jet even count?’ she challenged huskily.
‘Why, Skylar.’ He smirked. ‘Do you want the thrill of the crowds on commercial? Are you a closet exhibitionist?’
Apparently she was many things around him. Mostly, she was free—to say what she really thought and do what she really wanted. Because he didn’t really care what she thought of him, right? He played up to her little sledges of him but underneath he didn’t give a damn. He was purely himself. Although to be fair, she had to admit he was a good listener. She’d talked too much lately but he’d been quietly supportive. And he’d listened to her all those years ago when her mother had left and she’d been sad.
He’d not said anything then either. Just silently offered a few moments of companionship. And a little something sweet as distraction.
He could be kind, in a quiet, understated way. But that silence was also frustrating.
Yet she could ask him for things without worry. He’d tease her about it, but he’d deliver. She knew if she ever asked him to screw her on board a plane alongside hundreds of other passengers, he would. With flair. And yes, that thought had her hot.
There were no ‘set lessons’ in bed with him. No plan. There was just exploration, discovery, and every experience she had with him was different. And delightful.
On paper, this ought to be the perfect ‘benefits’ arrangement. She should just keep on enjoying it. Trouble was, it was a little too perfect. She was enjoying it all a little too much. And he’d made her realise all that she had been missing out on. It was a lot—and she wondered what more there was. But in a matter of weeks, this game would be over. Her skin chilled. She gritted her teeth—halting the discomforting direction of her thoughts. She had to forget the future. She had to make the most of it now.
‘When does the lesson begin, before or after take-off?’ she asked.
‘You know it’s already started.’
Their plane landed an hour before sundown. A waiting car took them to a stunning villa situated right on a beach. Private and spacious, it showcased stunning views of wide blue skies. Skylar gazed in awe at the powdery pale pink beach and the teal water. It was so transparent that she could see shells and fish and singular grains of that gorgeous sand. The air was balmy and evocative.
‘Want to shower and change, then food?’ he murmured.
‘Yes.’
The bedroom had crisp white linen, an oversize soaking tub and yet more of those stunning views. She stepped into the dress she’d bought specially during the lunch break she’d actually taken two days ago. The floral organza had a deep vee neckline and fitted bodice that then flared into a floor-length skirt, which had a thigh-high split. She didn’t bother with shoes. She was relaxed and hedonistic and living in this moment. Only this moment. Because it was the sexiest of summer nights.
She found Zane down by the water’s edge, trousers rolled up and paddling in the shallows. He watched as she walked across the powdery sand to meet him and she felt a hot pride when she saw the colour run beneath his skin.
‘Nice dress,’ he muttered. ‘Nice earrings.’
‘I made a little effort.’ She hitched her skirt and flashed the tiny silk briefs that were the exact shade of the dress.
His eyes actually glazed over. ‘And I very much appreciate...’
She paused a couple of feet away, watching him with a coy smile. ‘Are you speechless?’
He just lunged for her.
It was another hour before they got to the charcuterie board the discreet staff had left for them. Afterwards, Skylar lay in his arms and listened to the water and let him take her to the stars. Again.
‘Come on, Sleeping Beauty.’
‘What?’ Skylar rolled onto her side with a moan that deepened into a complete groan when she saw he was fully dressed and standing beside the bed with his hands behind his back. ‘ Why are you waking me so early?’
‘Because it’s Saturday morning, and don’t you run three miles every Saturday morning?’
She blinked at him. ‘What?’
‘There’s a group run. Local park. Not far from here.’
Her pulse picked up. ‘But I didn’t bring my gear.’
He pulled a hand from behind his back and showed her a shoe box. Her brand. Her size.
She gaped at him. ‘How did you—’
He whipped out his other hand, dangling a large bag. ‘I’ve got shorts, tee, socks as well.’
‘You saw my size at my apartment?’
He shook both box and bag. ‘Come on, you don’t want to miss it seeing I’ve gone to all this effort .’
He was teasing but this was a big effort.
‘You have a really big brain, don’t you? Big memory.’ She took the purchases from him.
‘Well, I wasn’t sure about underwear.’
‘I can make it work.’ She chuckled and took the shoes from the box. ‘Are you going to run too?’
‘Absolutely not.’ He turned. ‘I’ll go find you some electrolytes for after.’
She smiled as she pulled out the shorts and tank he’d got her. He’d even noticed her passion for neon colours.
She hesitated. ‘Why did you do this?’
‘Because you haven’t missed a run in more than two years and I’m not being the reason for you to break your Saturday-morning streak.’
She stared at him, somewhat taken aback.
‘I don’t want to stand in the way of things that are important to you. Running is important to you.’
Warmth bloomed in her chest. ‘You realise I’m not fast or anything. Like not at all. To be honest I only started running because it was the one way I could get dad to let me out. I took my time—went slow and enjoyed the outdoors.’
His expression turned tender.
‘But I’m still slow,’ she whispered, a little embarrassed. ‘Like, seriously middle to the back of the pack.’
‘Thank goodness.’ He huffed out an exaggerated sigh of relief. ‘It was getting stressful, you being excellent in every bloody thing you do. No way I can compete.’
‘Please.’ She chuckled at that. ‘ You excel at everything.’
He was a natural genius. She’d had to work so hard to get grades half as good as his. But he’d had to work hard too—to overcome his injuries and rebuild his physical strength. So in that they were similar—determined, driven, disciplined.
He winked at her. ‘Why, thank you.’
‘Ugh.’ She gave him a playful shove. ‘You were fishing for compliments.’
‘And you delivered. Beautifully.’ He pressed a quick kiss to her pouting mouth. ‘Get ready.’
Zane couldn’t wipe the smile from his face as he watched Skylar join the throng of people similarly clad in brightly coloured, dry-wicking tops and shorts. Her smile was infectious, all full-dimpled delight. The couple standing near her smiled back. In seconds she was engaged in conversation, her head cocked as she listened and nodded. She might feel awkward but she was interested in others. She was nice. Curious. Kind.
He’d not considered that watching her run would be arousing. But she was beautiful with her ponytail streaming out behind her, colour in her cheeks and a wide smile on her face as she pushed for a sprint finish alongside some random septuagenarian—totally in her happy place. Zane gripped her water bottle. His chest felt tight, as if he were the one who’d been running—a marathon or more.
She crossed the line smack bang in the middle of the pack—tying with the old guy—just as she’d predicted, but he couldn’t help clapping and cheering as if she’d just won Boston. She waved bye to the couple she’d chatted with at the start line, then wove her way through the milling crowd to him. He scooped her into his arms and kissed her.
‘I’m all sweaty.’ She wriggled in embarrassment but he didn’t release her.
‘Yeah.’ He didn’t care. But he stepped back and pulled a couple wrapped pieces of candy from his pocket and offered them to her. ‘Raspberry or lemon?’
She looked at the candy in his palm and then up into his eyes. He knew she was remembering that moment in the stairwell so long ago. He was too. And he thought he knew which she’d pick.
‘Raspberry.’
Right. The real favourite. Satisfaction and sweet, steamy memory swept over him. ‘We’d barely spoken before that afternoon and you just melted in my arms,’ he muttered. He’d never forgotten it.
Skylar rocked onto her toes in her new trainers. She’d not expected him to mention that. Certainly not now. But she wanted to hear what he had to say about it.
‘You were so beautiful,’ he added. ‘So hot.’
‘So were you.’ But then she remembered how badly that moment had ended. She ought to say something now. Apologise for not saying anything then. Her father had been so awful. But before she could say more, he slung his arm around her waist and squeezed.
‘Let’s go back to the hotel and I’ll give you a rub down.’
‘Now, there’s an offer,’ she breathed, both aroused and disappointed.
She wanted to talk about that moment with him. She wanted to work it through. But now he had that charmingly wicked smile on his face and she put that raspberry candy into her mouth. Because he didn’t open up—that was how he rolled.
‘There’ll be pancakes, strawberries and cream too,’ he drawled. ‘And coffee.’
‘Stop it.’ She pouted at him. ‘Or I’ll end up falling in like with you.’
He laughed. ‘An arrogant prat like me? Impossible.’
But Skylar almost choked on the last of her candy. Because she did like him. She actually, truly did. She wasn’t supposed to. The fact that she didn’t like him was what was meant to have protected her. Because this only about sex. About getting him out of her system for good so she could move forward and be more...normal. Maybe meet another man. But now that prospect was horrifying. She didn’t want anyone else. She never had.
But this was nothing more than a game to Zane. He didn’t want a relationship. He indulged only in fun physical intimacy—he’d been with a heap of women in the past. And she knew it was never emotional. Because he didn’t open up. Sure, he’d listened to her prattle on about her past some, offered the smallest of responses. But then he redirected. Hell, he hadn’t even mentioned the total bawling out her father had given them both that day just now. Which bothered her so much but she didn’t know what to do about it.
Flustered by her inner chaos, she opted for redirection herself. ‘What I really like is the beach.’
‘Then let’s go.’
‘You want to go on the water?’ he called as she walked over the beautiful sand in a scarlet bikini more than an hour later. ‘I’ll paddle. You’ll be tired from your run. You can spot the fish.’
He’d prepped a two-seater ocean kayak with snorkels, masks and flippers on board, plus a stash of water and snacks. As excited as a kid on her first-ever outdoor experience, she scrambled into the front seat and eagerly pointed out all the pretty fish and coral she spotted.
‘You didn’t do this much even though we grew up near one of the best beaches in the country, did you?’ he teased.
‘You didn’t either,’ she pointed out—pausing to see if he’d talk more about back then.
But he just pointed out a turtle she’d missed.
An hour passed as he paddled them along the reef and from cove to cove. Warmed by the sun and tempted by the sea, she precariously clambered upright and dived into the water to cool off. Getting back on board wasn’t quite as easy for her to manage. He watched, laughing at her, until in the end he hauled her back with one strong pull. Then he turned the kayak back towards their beach. She saw the sun had passed its zenith. Time was slipping by too quickly. She carried the snorkels and watched him haul the kayak beyond the waterline ahead of her.
‘You’re bleeding.’ She dropped the gear and grabbed his hand.
‘It’s nothing.’ He tried to curl his hand into a fist. ‘Just a blister. Go ahead and tease me about having soft hands not used to real hard work.’
But Skylar held his hand in both of hers and forensically inspected it. It wasn’t a blister but a deep cut on the inside of his thumb.
‘Why didn’t you say something?’ She fetched a towel and pressed it against the wound. ‘You’re really hurt.’ She lifted the towel but the gash immediately refilled with blood. ‘You should have told me. I would have helped.’
‘I didn’t need your help. Besides, you were enjoying yourself—’
‘At your expense—’
‘It’s not that bad.’ He laughed. ‘Just a scratch.’
‘It’s not a scratch, you’re bleeding .’ She applied more pressure on the wound and glared as he winced. ‘You know I would have helped if you’d asked. You didn’t have to suffer in silence.’
His smile faded. ‘Are you seriously mad with me about this?’
‘You hold back. Everything .’
‘What?’ His eyebrows shot up. ‘You cannot accuse me of holding back in bed.’
‘I mean your feelings.’
He stiffened. ‘I don’t—’
‘Have feelings? Right. You’re a robot. Who bleeds. You could talk to me, you know. About anything. I wouldn’t mind. But you won’t. You can’t even express a little literal pain to me, let alone anything actually—’ She broke off as she registered his shuttered expression.
She’d gone off. And now she was mortified. She stalked up the beach to the villa, fossicked for a sticking plaster in the small first-aid kit she always had in her pack, then turned back to find him right behind her. She handed the plaster to him.
‘I won’t offer to put it on for you,’ she said. ‘Heaven forbid you let someone tend to your wounds.’
He took the plaster meekly. ‘Thank you.’
She watched him ruin one plaster. Handed him another. Watched him ruin that one too. Which gave her time to think. To realise her mistake. He didn’t talk to her about anything deeply private because he didn’t want to. Because, as she well knew, this wasn’t a relationship. It was an arrangement. And while she might’ve spoken to him about stuff, that didn’t mean he then had to do the same. Talking had been her choice. Not talking was his. She had to respect that.
‘You do it,’ he said gruffly when she tried to hand him a fourth plaster. ‘It’s too awkward a position for me to manage.’
He sat on the edge of the bed and she knelt to wrap the plaster around his thumb with quick, matter-of-fact ease.
He cleared his throat. ‘You think I’m...’
‘I think you’re okay,’ she said softly. Biggest understatement ever. ‘I think you’re kind. And I think...’ She trailed off and shook her head. ‘It doesn’t really matter what I think.’
Zane gazed down at her. Speechless. Because what she thought did matter to him. And that realisation made him motionless as well as speechless. It shouldn’t matter. Until this second, he would’ve argued it didn’t...but it really did. This wasn’t like their flirt-tipped verbal swordplay. Or a caustic analysis of their differing views on Helberg. This challenge went deeper.
She was bothered by his silence. And that bothered him.
That first night in his orchard, he hadn’t much cared at all—he’d thought it had been his chance to assuage their out-of-control chemistry. And that chance had been extended. He still didn’t really care though, right? But he was concerned .
Surely not saying anything about a stupid small cut that he’d barely noticed was a problem? He’d wanted her to have a good time out there on the reef. Hell, he’d been having a good time. Even with that little bit of pain—it was a little price to pay for the pleasure of seeing her entranced by the sea life.
But now that nothing of a wound throbbed like his thumb had been sliced off completely. Worse, an ache pressed inside him and he couldn’t pinpoint the source. He’d put up with physical pain in his leg for years but this was different. He needed to soothe it. Soothe them both. Silence them both.
Because talking was pointless. It was action that mattered. Always.
He cupped her face and held her so she couldn’t slip away from him and kissed her gently. Then a little less gently, and he leaned back so he could watch that smoky surrender enter her eyes. Then he kissed her everywhere.
And said nothing.