Too Close for Comfort Page 12
He shifted her in his arms to key a code into the door panel, then shoved open the front door and carried her through the darkened house.
‘Relax, Iona,’ he said, giving her a soft kiss on the forehead. ‘This place has five bedrooms. I’m not planning on jumping you tonight.’
‘Oh, okay.’ Well, heck, she hadn’t intended to object quite that much.
They passed the door to a vast open-plan kitchen, the low lighters illuminating dark marble surfaces and blonde wood cabinets, then entered a double-height living room that had a glass wall leading onto a wide terraced deck. A lighted pathway led off the terrace and out into the darkness.
‘You live by the sea?’ she said.
‘Yeah, beach’s just down there.’
The place was enormous and a little eerie, until the sound of claws scratching on wood broke the silence and a couple of excited yips were followed by the arrival of a big bundle of dirty-blonde fur that barrelled across the room towards them.
‘Hey, C.D.,’ Zane said by way of introduction as he stood Iona on her feet. ‘Meet Iona—she’s sleeping over.’
The delighted dog’s tail wagged so hard its whole body vibrated. Careering to a stop in front of them, it plunked its butt down on the floor, and panted with delight. With a ragged ear, one squinted eye, and a misshapen head that made it look like an unfortunate cross between a lab and a bulldog, it had to be one of the ugliest mutts Iona had ever seen. But as it continued to vibrate with ecstasy, its tongue hanging out of its mouth in a doggie grin, she found herself completely charmed.
‘Hello, Cookie Dough, it’s nice to meet you,’ she said, kneeling down to stroke the dog’s head. It immediately flopped onto its back, and offered its tummy for a rub, surprising a laugh out of her.
‘Great guard dog you are,’ Zane said ruefully.
‘You’re gorgeous, aren’t you, girl?’ Iona purred, already in love and undeniably touched by the fact that Zane had chosen to rescue a mongrel pup that most other people would have rejected on sight. ‘Pay no attention to him—you’re just being friendly,’ she cooed. The dog answered with a low growl of contentment as its tail thumped rhythmically on the floor.
‘All right, that’s enough, you little suck-up.’ Zane snapped his fingers. The dog rolled back onto its legs, still shaking with excitement. ‘Go on back to bed, Cooks. We’ll see you in the morning.’
Iona gave C.D. one last pat and rub, before the dog sauntered off, back to its bed in the corner of the room.
‘So that’s the infamous Cookie Dough.’ Iona chuckled. ‘Eater of shoes and drinker of toilet water. She seems very polite to me.’
‘Uh-huh, we’ll see how that works for you when she leaps onto your bed at dawn.’ Taking Iona’s hand, he led her across the room, to a wide metal staircase that curved up to the landing above. ‘Let’s find you a room. You and Cookie can get better acquainted tomorrow.’
Iona followed, her hand clasped in his, and tried not to let her disappointment show. If he wasn’t that bothered, neither was she. She struggled to keep that thought front and centre when he pushed open a door on the first landing.
He flicked on the light switch, illuminating acres of thick blue carpeting, a king-size bed made up with luxury linen and the dark deck beyond.
‘There’s a spare toothbrush in the bathroom, which is through there.’ He pointed to a door on the far wall. ‘There should be towels too and anything else you need.’
She stared at the empty bed, the pillows piled high against the headboard, and heat flushed through her. She could smell him, that tantalising scent of spicy aftershave and sea air that was uniquely his—and more than anything she wanted him to climb in with her.
‘Do you need anything else?’ he asked casually.
He leaned against the doorway, his forearm propped against the frame, the cotton of his shirt stretched across that impressive chest. And she got a vision of that beautiful body naked.
Yes, you.
Her mind screamed, making the heat pound into her sex. ‘No, that’s great,’ she heard herself say. ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’
His gaze lingered on her lips for the longest time. ‘C.D. usually wakes me up at dawn to take her for a run, so if I’m not here, I’ll be on the beach.’
The words sounded polite, distant, but the husky tone of his voice reverberated inside her.
How could he be so calm, so controlled? ‘Right.’
He drummed his fingers against the doorframe, then straightened and let his arm drop.
She stood, unable to relinquish eye contact, her breath catching. Lifting one hand, he skimmed a knuckle down the side of her face. She tilted her head, leaning into his touch. Then his hand clasped the back of her neck and he hauled her against him.
‘Just one more thing.’
She opened her mouth as his lips slanted across hers. Heat and awareness shot through her as his tongue delved. Firm, sure, wet and hot. The hunger built as she kissed him back, her knees shaking as if an aftershock had hit the San Andreas Fault. She flattened her palms against his waist, gripping his shirt.
A low moan issued from her lips as he pulled away.
‘Get a good night’s sleep, Iona,’ he said, the rough demand matching the dark dilated pupils. ‘I intend to keep you real busy tomorrow.’
Then he walked away, leaving her staring at his retreating back, her body battered by the need coursing through every pulse point.
‘You have got to be kidding me?’ she whispered as the sound of his footsteps disappeared down the hallway.
There wasn’t a chance in hell she was going to sleep a wink now.
Zane slammed the bedroom door and leaned against it. He stared out at the night sky, and waited for the blood to stop pounding southwards.
Whose dumb idea was it to bring her here? And then not sleep with her?
Tugging the shirt off over his head, he wadded it up as he marched into the bathroom, and hurled it into the corner of the room.
Oh, yeah, his dumb idea.
Twisting the shower control, he guided the temperature down to frigid.
When was the last time he’d had a woman in his house, and not his bed? Never, that was when. He kicked off his shoes, dropped his pants and stepped under the spray. Then bit off the yelp as the cold water splattered his chest and hit the erection. Bracing his hand against the cubicle wall, he waited for the inferno to subside under the freezing deluge—it took a while, thanks to the succulent taste of her that lingered on his lips, and the soft sob of arousal that still echoed in his ears.
The woman was tying him in knots—tying them both in knots. She could have tonight, damn it. Because he’d promised himself this was going to be casual, and it didn’t feel that casual after the night they’d spent with his family.
But tomorrow all bets were off. He wasn’t holding back a moment longer.
He’d never been a pushy guy. Probably because he’d never had to be. But come tomorrow, that was all gonna change. She wanted him. He wanted her. End of story. She’d got back on the horse, now it was way past time for them both to enjoy the ride.
CHAPTER TEN
THE BLAST OF sunlight made Iona squirm as she opened her eyes and curled into the pillows. Yawning, she eased herself into a sitting position—and took a moment to orientate herself.
The glass wall on one side of the lavish bedroom framed a stunning view of rocks and sand and ocean as the events of the night before came tumbling back in a series of disjointed sights and sounds and scents.
The blank shock on Zane’s face as she confronted him on the dance floor. The hurt in his mother’s eyes as they left. The sense of connection that had made her chest hurt when he’d spoken about his high-school experiences, his knuckles whitening on the steering wheel—and the hot, firm press of his lips that had sent her into a frenzy of longing.
Iona let a slow breath out, and sucked another one in through her teeth. No doubt about it, it had been one heck of a night.
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sp; Flinging back the quilt, she climbed out of the bed and crossed the room. Placing her hand against the sun-warmed glass, she peered out. She could see the manicured lawns of a golf course in The distance, but Zane’s house stood apart—its elegant modernism in direct counterpoint to the wilder, angrier edge of the bay. The sun hovered above the horizon. Seemed she’d managed a bit more than a wink despite the distractions of that goodnight kiss.
Working the kinks out of her shoulders, she made a beeline for the bathroom.
As she treated herself to a scalding hot shower she smiled, thinking of the sunny Sunday morning—and all the hot sex they had to catch up on from the night before.
But once she’d dressed and gone downstairs, she found no sign of him, or his dog, and realised he’d probably gone to take C.D. for a walk. She stepped out onto the deck, dismissing the odd little jump in her belly at the thought of how normal, how comfortable it felt being in his home and looking forward to a lazy Sunday together.
Despite a cloudless sky and the blaze of mid-morning sunshine, a brisk ocean breeze meant she was grateful for the denim jacket. She headed down the narrow stone steps that traversed a rocky outcropping to arrive at a secluded beach framed by gnarly Monterey Cypresses that separated the lot from the one next door.
Her heart bobbed into her throat as she spotted a tall figure jogging down the beach and the bounding hound next to him. She lifted her hand to wave, took several calming breaths to still the frantic thump of her pulse as they approached.
Zane’s short hair spiked in the wind, the pair of jogging shorts speckled with water from the pounding surf. A gust of wind flattened the sleeveless sweatshirt he wore against his chest.
C.D. raced ahead to deliver an ecstatic greeting that involved launching herself at Iona, planting two huge sandy paws onto her tummy and nearly toppling her backwards onto her butt.
‘Down, Cookie.’ Zane’s succinct command had the dog plopping heavily onto her backside. Iona grinned at the overgrown puppy and its expression of goofy enthusiasm, glad to be distracted from the silly swell of emotion at seeing Zane again.
‘Sorry about that,’ Zane said, picking up a piece of driftwood. ‘We’re still working on polite introductions.’
‘That’s okay. No harm done,’ Iona said, wiping the last of the wet sand off her dress. Was it her imagination or did he sound a little tense too?
Zane lobbed the driftwood towards the tumbling surf. ‘Go fetch, Cooks.’
C.D. gave an excited howl, before racing after the stick, arrowing her body into the shallows.
Iona pushed out a laugh. ‘That’s brave. It must be freezing.’
‘More dumb than brave. Even I’ve got to admit, she’s not the smartest dog in the universe.’
They watched the dog barking manically at the waves as it tried to retrieve the stick. ‘No, maybe not,’ Iona said.
‘You sleep okay?’
Her chest compressed as she met the fierce blue gaze.
‘Like a baby.’ His gaze dipped to her lips and colour fired into her cheeks. ‘I hope Cookie didn’t wake you up too early,’ she added.
‘Early enough.’ A smile lurked around the corners of his mouth. ‘You hungry?’ he said. ‘I figured we could have waffles for breakfast.’
Her stomach contracted, but it wasn’t hunger for food that gripped her. But how exactly did you go about jumping a guy at ten o’clock in the morning on a beach? Was there an etiquette to this sort of thing? Because if there was she had no idea what it was.
The dog came bounding back, pausing to shake out her wet fur and spraying them both with water. Iona leapt back, but this time neither of them laughed.
Zane wrestled the driftwood out of C.D.’s mouth, gave her a hearty rub and then flung the stick back into the surf. He watched as the dog headed out after it. ‘Breakfast it is,’ he murmured.
But neither of them made a move. She shoved her fists into the pockets of the jean jacket, the breeze making her shiver. She studied Zane’s face in profile and felt the pull of connection and the tingle on her lips where he had devoured her the night before.
He swung round and caught her watching him. Then his gaze narrowed, the blue of his irises even more intense than usual. ‘Unless there’s something you’d rather do?’
The words came out on a gruff murmur, so quiet she almost didn’t hear them over the rushing wind and the crashing surf.
Knuckles rough with sand brushed her cheek and then his open palm settled on the heated skin of her nape.
The shudder of awareness bristled down her spine. ‘Well, actually, there might be something…’
It was all the encouragement he needed before his mouth swooped down, cutting off her protest.
He held her cheeks in cool palms and plundered, holding her still for the sure, hot sweep of his tongue, the hungry possession that promised so much more.
She couldn’t resist, couldn’t control the instinctive response, her body quaking with desire.
He lifted his head first, their ragged breaths mingling in the salty air. His pupils had dilated to black, his voice strained. ‘You’re sure about this?’
‘Yes,’ she said, knowing perfectly well there was no point in denying it.
His hands dropped to her waist, hauled her against him and she felt the solid ridge. Her centre melted, the need a wild thing burning inside her. But then he pulled away from her, his expression tense.
‘You do understand, Iona, this isn’t going to lead to anything else, right?’
She braced her palms against his chest, puzzled by the concern in his voice. Hadn’t they already established this? ‘Yes, of course I do.’
Emotion clutched at her chest, making her feel a lot less bold. Had he tired of her already? Was that why he’d left her in the guest room last night—because he was already bored? It should have annoyed her. The arrogance of the man. But somehow all it did was make her feel desperately insecure.
The dog returned and flopped onto her tummy, exhausted after all her sea-wrestling activities. Zane crouched down to greet her, and picked up the driftwood she’d dropped obediently at his feet. C.D.’s tail wagged like a metronome; the dog clearly oblivious to the tension that crackled in the air between them.
He took his time, rubbing the dog’s head, praising her prowess, but his body language remained stiff and unyielding.
Iona’s heart began to beat in double time when he stood to face her.
‘If you’re not interested any more, Zane, all you have to do is say so.’
She turned to go, but he grasped her arm. ‘Hey, don’t…’ He tugged an impatient hand through his hair. ‘It’s not that at all. I just didn’t want to be putting pressure on you. Giving you the wrong idea about what this is.’
His eyes remained fixed on hers, his hand absently stroking the dog’s neck. He looked more frustrated than contrite, but the admission had her pulse rate slowing.
‘I’m absolutely fine with it, as I’ve already told you, so what’s the problem?’
‘The problem is I shouldn’t have kissed you last night, because I’ve been up half the night with a hard-on the size of Guadalajara, and it’s made me cranky.’
She giggled, his frustrated response washing away her insecurity. ‘Guadalajara, eh? That sounds impressive?’
‘More painful than impressive.’ His lips quirked in response. ‘Especially when a two-ton hound leaps on top of you at dawn.’
She covered her mouth with one hand. The giddy rush of relief making it hard to suppress another giggle.
‘Oh, you think that’s funny, huh?’
Catching her round the waist, he bent over and hoisted her onto his shoulder.
‘What the heck!’ She rode the solid shelf, kicking and struggling, as he hefted her back towards the house. ‘Put me down!’
‘No way. We’ve got unfinished business.’
‘And whose fault is that?’ she yelped, trying to wriggle free as he hefted her up the steps and across the deck.
Iona bucked trying to escape. But not trying very hard. Stepping through the sliding glass door into the living room, Zane shut the dancing dog out on the deck and dumped her unceremoniously onto her feet. She tried to dart off, but he caught her round the waist, then trapped her against the wall, his hands above her head, his body pressed into hers.
His lips covered hers, capturing the gasp of surprise. Their tongues tangled, and the relief was replaced by the hot shot of passion. His hands skimmed under the denim jacket, then pushed it off her shoulders, trapping her arms behind her back and drawing her close.
She moaned, her head dropping back, as his lips fastened on the pulse point in her neck.
‘You taste so damn good, Iona,’ he murmured, his breath hot against the sensitive skin.
She drew a much-needed breath, opened her eyes to find him watching her.
‘I aim to please.’
‘That’s good.’ The supremely confident grin coaxed another laugh to the surface—along with the rush of something she didn’t quite want to identify. Zane Montoya made her feel good, he made her feel needed, but only in a purely physical sense. ‘Because after the night I’ve had,’ he added, ‘you owe me one.’
‘I don’t see why,’ she said, faking indignation. ‘That goodnight kiss was your idea.’
Warm palms snuck up her sides. ‘I don’t remember you objecting.’
‘Well…’ She drew out the word, stretching into the caress as his thumbs brushed the underside of her breasts. ‘I guess if you put it that way…’ she lifted her arms, draped them round his neck and arched against him ‘…I might consider some payback fair.’ He nuzzled her neck, sending the shot of arousal shooting down her abdomen. ‘But purely as an act of mercy, you understand.’
It was all the encouragement he needed to grab her hand and head down the corridor.
Zane grabbed the bottle of maple syrup he’d left on the breakfast bar for the waffles as he dragged Iona through the kitchen towards the back staircase.