A Not-So-Innocent Seduction

“I’m not sure that counts as a compliment.”

“Merely trying to avoid social conventions.”

Finally, he coaxed a smile from her. “Touché.”

Their drinks arrived. Zoe sipped hers delicately, like a small child savoring an unaccustomed treat. He wanted to ask her flat out if she could afford a six-week stay at Silver Beeches, but of course, he couldn’t. Attending Vassar indicated a certain level of financial ease. Then again, she could have gone on a scholarship. The fact that he was so obsessed with her background gave him pause. Was his interest related to the hotel, or something more?

A man could want a woman without knowing anything at all about her other than the way she walked and the scent of her perfume. Simple lust he understood. But this fixation on ferreting out Zoe’s secrets alarmed him. Whether she was an eccentric heiress or a working girl with only months to live or European royalty hiding out from the press, her story was hers to tell.

Perhaps if he were patient, Zoe would open up to him. Two decades ago he had allowed infatuation to blind him to the truth about a woman. It had been a salutary lesson, and one he wouldn’t repeat. The fact that he was already so intrigued by Zoe meant he had to be very careful not to let his hormones overrule his common sense.

* * *

Zoe was having the most marvelous time. Dressed up for a change. Chatting with a suave, worldly, handsome man. Feeling like a desirable woman. All in all, quite an exceptional evening.

Liam was fascinating. On the outside, the epitome of a sophisticated gentleman. But in his conversation and in his eyes, she caught glimpses of another man, another less polished persona.

What did it say about her that she wanted to see more of the second?

She savored the last bit of her drink, feeling the pleasant buzz in her limbs as the alcohol worked its way through her bloodstream. She was not much of a drinker and had little tolerance for strong spirits. The daiquiri had just enough of a punch to leave her relaxed and happy.

Liam seemed in no hurry to end their encounter, so she lingered as well, even as the bar emptied slowly. It was fun to pick out the honeymooners, the anniversary couples. A few duos exhibited the marks of enjoying a clandestine affair.

Watching people was a hobby of Zoe’s. She knew how to fade into the background, especially with her guitar around her neck.

Over the years, her people skills had carried her far and had kept her out of harm’s way. A single woman on the road had to be smart and well prepared. Despite her current slenderness, she knew how to fell an assailant and how to disable an aggressor.

Tonight, however, such skills would not be needed. Liam was not the kind of man who had to force himself on a woman. The intensity of his eyes made her shiver. They were technically the same color as hers. But in Liam’s case, the blue was the searing shade found in the heart of a flame.

He had unbuttoned the top button of his shirt and loosened his tie. At the end of a long day, his jaw was shadowed. She imagined for a moment what he would look like in bed, ready for sleep after making love to a woman.

Her thighs tightened and her belly quivered. Perhaps Bessie had been wrong. Perhaps Silver Glen, North Carolina, presented danger rather than a safe haven. Zoe rarely had difficulty guarding her heart. Her transient lifestyle kept relationships at bay.

But then again, she had never met a man like Liam who appealed to her so immediately and so viscerally. Contentment ruled her days for the most part, even if loneliness had to be acknowledged and embraced.

For Liam Kavanagh she was willing to change all that. She knew it in an instant. Perhaps she was even willing to blindly follow the demands of her body and give in to the sweet rush of arousal. Throwing herself into an impulsive affair was completely out of character. But her illness during the late winter had shaken her.

Lying in a strange hospital in Albuquerque, New Mexico, near death at one point, she had hit rock bottom. No one knew where she was. There were no friends nearby to bring flowers and pop in for a visit. If she had slipped away into the great beyond, her passing would have sparked little more interest than a search for next of kin.

Shame and distress made her tremble. She had been on the run for so long that she no longer knew how to relax and enjoy life. She told herself that her needs were few. That traveling light was a virtue. But at the end of the day, what did she have to show for her twenty-seven years on this earth?

Contemplating change was difficult. And terrifying.

Liam reached across the table and took one of her hands in his. “Are you okay, Zoe? You’ve gone pale as milk. And you’re shaking. It’s late. If you’ve been ill, perhaps you need to be in bed.”

Was it her imagination, or did his fingers tighten on hers involuntarily when he said the word bed?

She managed a smile. “I’m fine. Maybe a ghost walked over my grave.”

“Are you superstitious?”

“No more than the next person, I suppose. But the Irish are, I’m told. Though you don’t strike me as the type of man who leans toward whimsy or flights of fancy.”

He released her. The color of his eyes darkened to midnight. His jaw set. “I’ve seen firsthand the pain caused by people who can’t hold on to reality. So, no. I’m not superstitious.”

The turn in the conversation had upset him. But she couldn’t let it drop. “And I’ve seen the damage done by soulless individuals who can’t see the magic in everyday life. So maybe the truth lies somewhere in between.”

They stared at each other. A pleasant evening of flirtation had segued into something far more serious.

He shook his head, his expression rueful. “I think we’ve strayed into territory best left unexplored for the moment. I was supposed to be telling you about things to see and do while you’re here.”

“True.” She glanced at his watch. “But it’s late. We can finish this tomorrow. I need to get some sleep.”

He stood when she did. “I’ll walk you to your room.”

“It’s not necessary.”

His gaze was teasing. “Merely one of our amenities.”

They exited the bar and headed for the duo of elevators in the lobby. Someone had lowered the lights. A sleepy desk clerk sketched a halfhearted wave as they passed by. The intimacy of the hour shrouded everything in a hushed silence.

In the elevator, Zoe leaned against one mirrored wall, Liam the other. His gaze was trained on the carpet at his feet, as though he were lost in thought. The ride was short. A quiet ding, and suddenly they were at Zoe’s floor.

“Good night,” she said, thinking he would remain in the elevator.

Instead, he accompanied her down the hallway. “Perhaps I should check for monsters under your bed,” he whispered, obviously not wanting to disturb his other guests.

She shot him a look, wondering if he expected to come in. “I’m sure a hotel like the Silver Beeches Lodge has a ghostbuster on retainer. But thanks for the offer.”

At her door, she reached in her small bag and withdrew her key card. “I enjoyed our visit,” she said primly. “Thanks for your time.”

They were not touching. Liam stood a good three feet away. But the look in his eyes scorched her. Beneath the thin fabric of her dress, her nipples beaded.

Liam noticed, and took a step backward. “It was my pleasure,” he said. The words were prosaic, but the intonation was not.

Desire shimmered between them, invisible but real. She didn’t really imagine that her vehicle talked to her. That was a game she played. But if she believed in fate, and perhaps she did, then this moment in time was preordained. Something had brought her to a small, private getaway in the mountains where the man of her dreams awaited her.

It was entirely possible she was being naive. Perhaps Liam entertained a number of female guests who walked into his hotel.

Even so, she chose to keep the fiction alive.

She looked at him wistfully, wishing she had the guts to kiss him. “Good night, Liam.”

He nodded tersely, his beautiful eyes turbulent. “Good night, Zoe.”

Three

Liam didn’t sleep worth a damn. His sex was stiff and aching off and on for most of the night. The few hours he did manage to close his eyes and doze, he dreamed of Zoe. When the alarm went off at seven, he groaned and slapped the snooze button. Normally a morning person, today he knew it was going to take more than a cup of coffee—or two or four—to keep him on track.