One Night in Paradise (6 page)

She wanted to. She wanted to press her lips to the hollow of his throat, lick the water drops that were clinging to his neck.

She wiggled against him and managed to extricate herself from his grasp. Fleeing temptation.

She walked up to the shallow part of the pool, her pink sarong limp and heavy now, clinging to her curves like a second skin. She untied it and looped it over a tree branch. There was no point in it now.

She felt exposed in her black one-piece. It was pretty modest by some suit standards, but anything that tight tended to make her feel a bit exposed.

“Well, that’s one way to get me in the water. Brute force,” she sniffed, walking back to the water and sinking into the depths quickly, desperate for the covering it would provide.

“Brute?” Zack swam to where she was, treading water, his eyes glinting with amusement.

“Uh … yeah. You took advantage of me.”

He paddled closer, his face a whisper from hers. “I didn’t take advantage of you. If I had, you’d have known it, that’s for sure.”

Strangely, with her body half submerged in water, her throat suddenly felt bone-dry. “I feel um … taken advantage … You … picked me up and threw me in and I’m … wet.”

His expression changed, his eyes darkening. “Interesting.”

“Oh,
pffft
.” She dunked her head, letting the cold water envelop her, pull the stinging heat from her cheeks. She paddled
toward the waterfall, away from Zack. Away from certain mortification and temptation.

She surfaced again and looked back at Zack, still treading water where she’d left him.

Nice, Clara. Next time just tell him straight up that you’re hot for him and would like to jump him, if that’s all right with him.

She pulled a face for her own benefit and climbed up one of the mossy rocks that sat beneath the slow flowing falls, water trickling down, mist hovering above the surface of the cool, plant-covered stones.

She pulled her knees to her chest and looked up, squinting at the sunlight pouring through the thick canopy of trees.

“You’re like a jungle fairy.”

She looked down into the water and saw Zack, his hair wet and glistening.

“You’re startling me,” she said. More with his statement than with his presence, but she didn’t intend to elaborate.

He planted his palms flat on the rocks and hoisted himself up, the muscles in his shoulders rolling and shifting with the motion. He sat next to her, the heat from his body a welcome respite from the cold. But that was about all it was a respite from. Because mostly he just made her feel edgy.

And happy. He made her so happy that it hurt. Just being with him made everything seem right. Like a missing part of herself was finally in place. Like some of her insecurities and inadequacies didn’t matter so much.

And that was just stupid. Not to mention scary. Because it was an illusion. He would never be with her in the way she wanted, and watching him marry another woman, give someone else everything she longed for,
that
would turn her happiness into the bitterest pain.

The kind she wasn’t sure she could withstand.

“You’re beautiful,” he said.

She turned sharply to look at him, her heart in her throat. “What?”

“Just stating a fact.”

“It’s not one you typically state. About me, I mean.”

He put his hand out and brushed a water drop from her cheek with his thumb, the motion sending an electric shock through her body, heat pooling in her stomach and radiating from there to her limbs.

“Well, I thought it needed to be said.”

It was so tantalizingly close to what she wanted. But to him it was simply an empty compliment, or maybe he even meant it. But not in the way she would. He didn’t mean she was beautiful in the same way she found him beautiful. The way that made her body warm and her heart flutter.

“Thanks for that. You aren’t so bad, either.” She tried to sound casual. Light. Like a friend. Like she was supposed to sound.

He smiled and lifted his arm, curling his fist in, showing off his very, very impressive biceps.

“You’re shameless,” she said, somehow managing to laugh around her stubborn heart, still lodged firmly in her throat.

“Sorry.”

“About as sorry as you are for dumping me in the water?”

“Yeah. About.” He leaned in, his arm curving around her waist and everything slowed down for a moment. He tightened his hold on her, his face so close.

And then they were falling.

She shrieked just before they hit the water. And surfaced with a loud curse, unreasonable anger mingling with disappointment. “Zack! You jackass!”

She moved to him and planted her hands on his shoulders, attempting to dunk him beneath the water. He put his hands on her waist and held her still in front of him, her movements impotent against his strength.

“You can touch bottom here, can’t you?” she asked, her feet
hovering above the sandy floor of the pool while Zack seemed firmly rooted.

“Maybe.”

His hands slipped down, resting on her hips, the heat from his touch cutting through the icy chill in the water. He kept one hand there, the other sliding around to her back, his fingers drifting upward, skimming the line of her spine.

She shivered, but she wasn’t cold. And he didn’t let go.

His eyes were locked with hers, the head there matching the heat he was spreading over her skin. Her hands were still on his shoulders. And since he’d just moved his hands, it seemed … somehow it seemed right to move hers.

Her heart thundered in her chest as she slid her hands down, palms skimming his chest hair, the firm muscles beneath, as she rested them against his chest. She could hardly breathe. Her chest, her stomach, every last muscle, was too tightly wound.

His fingers flexed, the blunt tips digging into her flesh. His hands were rough, strong, everything she’d ever imagined and so much more.

Zack loosened his hold, a muscle in his jaw jerking. She pulled away from him, the water freezing where his hands had been.

“We should go,” Zack said, his words abrupt.

“I … We haven’t been here very long.” She felt muddled, as though the mist from the waterfall had wrapped itself around her, making everything seem fuzzy.

And she was glad. Because she had a feeling that when the reality of what had just happened, of how stupid she’d been, hit, it was going to hit hard.

“Yes, but I have some things to take care of before tonight. We have dinner reservations at the restaurant down in the main part of the resort.”

He reversed direction and swam to shore, walking out of the pool, his muscular legs fighting against the water pressure, his swim trunks conforming to his body. A hard pang hit her in
the stomach when she looked and saw the outline of his erection. Had she really gotten him hot? Was that about her?

He turned away from her and pulled his shirt on.

And was the arousal why they were leaving now?

So he felt something. Even if he was running from it. Something that was at least physical.

Her hart hammered, echoing in her head, making her temples pulse.

Maybe she did matter to him, like that, at least a little bit? Maybe. Yes, she knew men were excited by women but this had to be personal. It had to be about her, at least a little bit. Did he think she was sexy?

She followed him to shore, scrambling onto the sandy ground, her feet picking up grains of dirt, clinging to her toes. She shook her foot out, grateful to have something else to concentrate on for a moment.

She looked back up and saw Zack, his eyes on her, his jaw locked tight.

She swallowed hard and grabbed her sarong. “So we’re having dinner out tonight?”

“Yes,” he bit out. “I have to go and pick up a package down in town and then I’ll meet you back up at the villa. The car will be by around seven.”

“Okay.” She wished she could come up with something better than the bland, one-word answer, but she just couldn’t.

Something had changed. The air around them seemed tight, the way Zack looked at her new and strange. And for the first time, she felt power in her beauty, in her body.

And she wondered if maybe he could want her. If she could be the sort of woman he wanted.

Maybe tonight she would actually try.

It was criminal. The dress that Clara was wearing should be illegal. She certainly shouldn’t be allowed out in public. It was tight, like that black, second-skin swimsuit, accentuating
curves that, until this afternoon, he hadn’t realized were quite so … lush.

Breasts that were round and perfect, firm looking. They would overflow in his hands. And her hips were incredible, nothing like the androgynous, straight up-and-down supermodels that were so in style. Not even like Hannah, whose image he was having trouble conjuring up.

Today, at the river, with her body pressed against his, wet and slick, soft and feminine, he’d had a reaction he really hadn’t counted on. He hadn’t counted on touching her like he had, either. Exploring the elegant line of her back. Holding her to him. It had been a big mistake.

Getting out of the water, in front of his best friend, sporting an erection inspired by her, hadn’t really been his idea of a good time.

He put his hand in his pocket, let his fingers close around the velvet box that was nestled there. The one that Hannah had had rush delivered to the resort. Because it was the right thing to do, or so she’d said. He hadn’t really cared whether he got the engagement ring back or not. But he could use it.

The thing with Amudee, his assumption, had been unexpected. But Zack was good at reading people and the older man’s delight at the thought had been so obvious, there had been no way he would disappoint him. Not with so much riding on things going well this week.

His other plans had all gone to hell. He wasn’t sending this one there with the rest of them.

“What exactly is that?” he asked. They were in the car, being driven up to the main area of the resort, and being closed in with her when she looked like that and smelled, well, she smelled sweet enough to taste, was a bit of torture.

“What?” she asked.

“What you’re wearing.”

Her cheeks colored. “A dress.”

“But do you … call it something?”

“A dress,” she said again, her voice low now, dangerous.

“It’s a nice dress.”

She looked straight ahead. “Thank you.”

The car stopped in front of an open, wooden building that had all the lights on despite the late hour. There were people sitting at a bar, musicians set down in the center of the seating area, and dancers out on the grass, candles balanced on their hands as they moved in time with the music.

He opened his door and Clara just sat, her posture stiff. “What?”

“Now I’m not sure if I should go back and change.”

“I don’t even want to understand women,” he said.

“Why?”

“You just changed into that dress, so clearly you thought it was a good choice, and now you want to change back?”

“Because there must be something wrong with what I’m wearing. Although, you didn’t seem to have a problem with my bathing suit, and it showed a lot more than this.” She put a hand on her stomach. “It’s too tight.”

His body hardened. “Trust me, it’s not. Every man in the bar is going to give himself whiplash when you walk by.”

She frowned. “Really?”

She looked … mystified. Doubtful.

“Did you not look at yourself in the mirror?” he asked, completely incredulous that she somehow didn’t see what he did. That she didn’t realize how appealing a dress that was basically a second skin was to a man. It showed every bit of her shape, while still concealing the details. Made him feel desperate to see everything, the tease nearly unbearable.

She looked away from him. “That’s the trouble, I did, and I chose to wear it anyway.”

“What makes you think it doesn’t look good?”

“You reacted … funny.”

“Because I’m not used to seeing so much of you. But what I can see is certainly good.”

“Really?”

He took a lock of her silky hair between his thumb and forefinger. A mistake. It was so soft. Like he imagined the rest of her would be. “Didn’t I tell you any man would put up with your snoring for the pleasure of having you sleep with him?”

His eyes dropped to her mouth and he felt an uncomfortable shock of sensation when, for the second time in the past hour, she stuck her pink tongue out and slicked it across her lips, leaving them looking glossy and oddly kissable.

Clara felt like there was someone sitting on her chest, keeping her from breathing. The knot of insecurity that had tied up her stomach was changing into something else, something dangerous. A strand of hope she had no business feeling. A kind of feminine pride that didn’t make sense.

Zack was a charmer. He could charm the white gloves off a spinster, and what he was saying to her was no different. Empty charm that had no real weight behind it. It was easy to say that some other man would like to share her bed. It didn’t mean he did. Or that anyone he even knew would.

All right, in reality, she knew how men were about sex. If she was willing to put out they wouldn’t care if she had a pinch of extra flesh around her middle, but that wasn’t really the issue. She didn’t want to be a second choice. Second best.

She was even second-guessing the physical reaction Zack had had to her down at the river. Because that could simply be a man overdue for sex. Nothing more. She’d made it personal because she’d been desperate for it. But in reality, he was supposed to be here, with his wife, having lots and lots of sex, and he wasn’t. But she doubted he’d forgotten.

She was tired of being in the shadow of someone else. Even tonight, she was the consolation prize for Zack. Rather than spending the night with Hannah, he was with her, watching traditional dancing instead of having hot, sweaty, wedding night sex. Ah, yes, all fine and good for him to say those things to her, but he wasn’t really backing it up.

She forced a smile. “You did. All right, let’s go … drink or something.”

He chuckled. “Sounds like a good idea to me.”

They both got out of the car and walked over to an alcove, shrouded in misty fabric, like everything in the whole resort property. It was designed for people to take advantage of the perceived privacy. It was an invitation to some sort of heady, fantastic sin. Traditional values her fanny.