One Night: Exotic Fantasies: One Night in Paradise / Pirate Tycoon, Forbidden Baby / Prince Nadir's Secret Heir

“We weren’t sleeping together.”

Clara felt her stomach free fall down into her toes. “What?” That didn’t even make sense. Hannah was a goddess. A sex bomb that had been detonated in the middle of her life, making her feel inadequate and inexperienced.

And he hadn’t slept with her? She’d assumed—imagined even, in sadly graphic detail—that half of the meetings in his office had been rousing desk-sex sessions. And … they hadn’t been? So much angst. So much stomach curling angst exerted over … nothing, it turned out.

“Why?” she asked, her voice several notches higher than usual.

“Hannah’s kind of traditional. Because we weren’t in love … well, she needed love or marriage. We were going to have marriage.”

“Hmm. Well, then maybe texting is appropriate. I don’t understand how you were going to marry this woman.”

“Marriage is a business agreement, like anything else, Clara. You decide if you can fulfill the obligations and if they’ll be advantageous to you. Then you sign or you don’t.”

“Cynical.”

“True.”

“Then why bother to get married? I don’t understand.”

He shrugged. “Because it’s the thing to do. Marriage offers stability, companionship. It’s logical.”

“Good grief, Spock. Logical. That’s not why people get married.” She snorted again. “Did your parents have a horrible divorce or something?”

Zack shook his head. “No.”

“You never talk about your family.”

He looked down at his soup. “Not on accident.”

“Well, I figured. That’s why I never ask.”

“This isn’t never asking.”

She looked at him, at the side of his head. He wouldn’t look at her. “We’ve known each other for seven years, Zack.”

“And I’m sure I don’t know everything about you, either. But I know what counts. I know that you lick the mixer. Even if it’s got batter with raw eggs on it.”

She laughed. “Tell anyone that and I’ll ruin you.”

“I have no doubt. I also know that you like stupid comedies.”

“And I know that you put on football games and never end up watching them. You’re just in it for the snacks.”

He smiled, his gray eyes meeting hers. “See? You know the real truth.”

Except there was something in the way he said it, a strange undertone, that told her she didn’t. She wasn’t sure how she’d missed it before. But she had. Now it seemed blatant, obvious. Zack had a way of presenting such a calm, easy front. In business, she knew it was to disarm, that no matter how easygoing he appeared, he was the man in charge. No question.

Now she wondered how much of the easy act in his personal life was just that. An act.

His eyes lingered on her face for a moment, and she suddenly became acutely conscious of her lips. And how dry they were. She stuck out the tip of her tongue and moistened them, the action taking an undertone she hadn’t intended when she’d begun.

This week was going to kill her. Eventually the tension would get too heavy and she would be crushed beneath the weight of it. There was no possible way she could endure any more.

“I’m really tired,” she said, the lie so blatant and obvious it was embarrassing.

To Zack’s credit, he didn’t call her on it. “The inner sanctum is all yours. I’ll make do with the couch.”

She wasn’t going to feel bad about that for a second. “All right, I’ll see you in the morning.”

Maybe by morning some of the surrealism of the whole day would have worn off. Maybe by morning she wouldn’t feel choked by the attraction she felt to Zack.

Maybe, but not likely.

CHAPTER FIVE (#ufa22a093-1b61-546b-916a-4447fc20ce0e)

“MR. Amudee has extended an invitation for you and me to have a private tour of the forest land.”

Zack strode into the kitchen area and Clara sucked coffee down into her lungs. He was wearing jeans, only jeans, low on his lean hips, his chest bare and muscular and far too tempting. She could lean right in and.

“Coffee for me?” he asked.

“Oh, yes. Sure.” She picked up the carafe and poured some coffee into a bright blue mug. “It’s the shade-grown Chiang Mai Morning Blend. Really good. Strong but bright, a bit of citrus.”

“I love it when you talk coffee to me,” he said, lifting the mug to his lips, a wicked grin curving his mouth.

There was something borderline domestic about the scene. Although, nothing truly domestic could have such a dangerous, arousing edge to it, she was certain. And Zack, shirtless, had all of those things.

“All right, tell me about the tour,” she said, looking very hard into her coffee mug.

“Very romantic. For the newly engaged.”

Her stomach tightened. “Great.”

“I hope you brought a swimsuit.”

Oh, good. Zack in a swimsuit. With her in a swimsuit. That was going to help things get back on comfortable footing. She looked at Zack, at the easy expression on his handsome face. The ridiculous thing was, the footing was perfectly comfortable for him. Her little hell of sexual frustration was one hundred percent private. All her own. Zack wasn’t remotely ruffled.

Typical.

“Yes, I brought a swimsuit.”

“Good. I’ll meet you back here in twenty minutes.”

“Right.” Unfortunately it would take longer than twenty minutes to plot an escape. So that meant Zack and swimsuits.

She tried to ignore the small, eternally optimistic part of her that whispered it might be a good thing.

Clara tugged at her brilliant pink sarong and made sure the knot was secure at her breasts before stepping out into the courtyard, where Zack was standing already.