One Night in Paradise

She walked the opposite direction of Zack, through one of the fabric-covered doorways and stopped. It was the bedroom. The bed was up on a raised platform, a duvet in deep red spread over it. Cream colored fabric with delicate gold vines woven throughout hung from the ceiling, shielding the bed. It was obvious that it wasn’t a bed made for one, or for sleeping.

She swallowed heavily, her eyes glued to the center of the room.

She heard footsteps behind her and turned. “I found food.”

“Good,” she said, trying to ignore the fast-paced beating of her heart. Zack and the bed in one room was enough to make her feel like her head might explode. “There is. I mean, this isn’t the only bedroom is it?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Oh,” she said.

“I set dinner out on the balcony, if you want to join me.”

“Don’t you want to go to bed?” she asked, then immediately regretted the way the words had come out. Heat flooded her face, and she was certain there was a very blatant blush staining her cheeks. “I mean … well, you know what I mean. That wasn’t. I meant you. By yourself. Because I slept and I know you didn’t.”

“At least let me buy you dinner first, Clara,” he said, his mouth curved in amusement, his eyes glittering with the same heat she’d noticed earlier. It made her uncomfortable. And jittery. And a little bit excited.

She laughed, a kind of nervous, fake sound. “Of course.”

Zack ignored the jolt of arousal that shot through his veins. For a moment at least, he and Clara had both been thinking the same thing. And it had involved that bed. That bed that was far too tempting, even for a man who prided himself on having absolute control at all times.

Things with Clara had always been easy. No, he’d never been blind to her beauty, but their relationship had never been marked by moments of heavy sexual tension. Not until today.

And knowing that, even for a moment, she’d shared in the temptation, well, that made it all worse. Or better. No, definitely worse, because in his life, he valued boundaries. Everything and everyone had a place and a purpose. Clara had a place. It was not in his bed.

Or this bed.

It was important that his life stay focused like that. Controlled. That nothing crossed over. He’d been rigid in that, uncompromising, for the past fourteen years.

“This way, beautiful,” he said, clenching his hand into a fist to keep from putting it on Clara’s lower back. He would have done it before. But suddenly it seemed like far too risky of a maneuver.

Clara shot him a look that was pure Clara, his friend, and it made the knot in his chest ease slightly. Though it didn’t do much for the heat coursing through his veins.

He was questioning why he’d thought bringing her was a good idea. And he never questioned his decisions. Not anymore. Because he thought everything through before he acted. Not thinking, letting anything go before reason, was a recipe for disaster.

And bringing Clara had been the logical choice. At least until thirty seconds ago.

He moved in front of her, under the guise of leading her to the deck, but really just so he wouldn’t let himself look at her butt while she walked. Occasionally he allowed himself the indulgence of looking at her curves. Harmless enough. He was human, a man, and she was a beautiful woman. But it seemed less harmless after a moment like that.

“This is really nice,” she said when they were outside.

Her words were true, banal and safe. He’d set the table and turned on the string of lanterns that were hung above the table. A moderate effort, but he had wanted it to be nice. Now it felt strangely intimate.

He couldn’t remember the last time a dinner date had seemed intimate. He couldn’t even remember the last time that word had seemed applicable to something in his life. Very often, sex didn’t even seem all that intimate to him.

Of course, it had been so long since he’d had sex maybe that wasn’t true. That was likely half of his problem now.

Clara wandered to the railing and leaned over the edge, tossing her glossy copper curls over her shoulder and sniffing the air. Or maybe the sex wasn’t the problem. Because being alone with Hannah hadn’t made him feel this way. And there were days when the scent of Clara’s perfume hitting him when she walked past made his stomach tighten.

But he ignored that. He was good at ignoring it.

“What are you doing?”

“It smells amazing out here. Like when you bake bread and the air is heavy with it. Only it’s flowers instead of flour.” She turned to him and smiled, the familiar glitter back in her eyes.

The knot inside him eased even more.

“I would never have thought of it that way.” He pulled her chair out and nodded toward it and she walked over to the table and took her seat.

He sat across from her, ladling reheated Tom Yum Ka into her bowl and then into his. She smiled at him, the slight dimple in her rounded cheeks deepening as she did.

Things seemed to have stabilized, even if her sweet grin did have an impact on his stomach.

“So, tell me more about this deal with Mr. Amudee.”

He put his forearm on the table and leaned forward. “I think we covered most of it. Although, another reason it’s nice to have you here is your palate. I’d like you to taste the different roasts and come up with pairings for them. It would be particularly nice to have in our boutique locations.”

“Pairings!” Her eyes glittered. “I love it.”

“Good coffee or tea really is just as complex as good wine. There are just as many flavor variations.”

“I know, Zack,” she said.

“Of course you do. You appreciate good coffee. It’s one reason we get along so well.”

Clara took another bite of her soup and let the ginger sit on her tongue, enjoying the zip of spice that hurt just enough to take her mind off the weird reaction she was having to Zack. Yes, being attracted to him was nothing new.

But this was different. The attraction she felt at home was like a sleeper agent. It attacked her when she least expected it. In dreams. When she was looking at other men and contemplating accepting a date. It wasn’t usually this shaky, limb-weakening thing that made her feel tongue-tied and exposed in his presence. Maybe it was the feeling of utter seclusion. Or maybe it was because she knew just what that big bed was here for, what he’d been planning on doing with it.

“That and I bake you cupcakes,” she said, swallowing the tart and spicy soup.

“There is that.” Zack looked toward the railing of the deck, off into trees, the look in his eyes distant, cold suddenly. “Tell me about your bakery.”

“The one I hope to have?”

“Yes. And the life you’re going to put with it.”

Her chest constricted. “It will be small. I’ll have regular menu items and daily specials. I’ll have more time to make fancy little treats with a lot of decorations. I’ll have a hand in everything instead of just conceptualizing and farming the instructions out to hordes of employees.”

“And that’s important to you?”

“It’s how we started. Me in the flagship store, you going back and forth between your—What did you have when I met you? Fifteen stores up and down the West Coast? It was fun.”

“Yes, but now we have money.”

She nodded. “We do. And it’s great. You’ve done this incredible thing, Zack. The growth has been … amazing. Way beyond what I imagined.”

“Not beyond what I imagined.”