Too Close for Comfort Page 15

  ‘When is the christening?’ Iona asked, knowing she shouldn’t be interfering, but not quite able to stop herself.

  She liked Tess. Had warmed to her instantly, in fact, even when she had believed she might be the mother of Zane’s son. And could totally sympathise with Tess’s frustration—because she’d been on the receiving end of Zane’s stone-walling too.

  But more importantly than that, her heart ached for Zane. Why was he so determined to isolate himself, not just from Nate and his nephew, but also from his mother’s family too?

  Hearing Tess talk about his reaction to Nate’s news had reminded her of the tense, distant way he had handled Maria’s family at the quinceañera. The more people reached out to him, it seemed, the more he tried to pull away. What was it that made it so hard for him to let people get close?

  Iona didn’t think for a second that she had any special insight into the answer. But she knew it wasn’t a good thing. Zane needed that in his life, she knew he did, because during their lovemaking, on those rare occasions when Zane’s guard was down, she got a tiny glimpse of all those needs that he was busy pretending didn’t exist.

  Maybe it was foolish of her, but she wanted to help him in whatever small way she could. Surely that was the least she could do, after the many ways in which he had helped her?

  ‘The christening’s next Thursday, the twenty-fifth,’ Tess said.

  ‘Right,’ Iona replied, trying to think of how she could bring it up with Zane.

  ‘Do you think you could get him to come?’ Tess asked, her eyes lighting with enthusiasm. ‘I know it’s a big ask—and I shouldn’t really involve you in all this—but I’m all out of ideas.’

  ‘I’ll give him the invite.’ She picked the envelope up. ‘And make sure he reads it. I’m afraid that’s all I can promise.’ She didn’t hold out much hope of persuading Zane to do anything, especially as she was only a casual fling. But surely it couldn’t hurt to at least try.

  ‘That’s brilliant, Iona, and so sweet of you.’

  ‘Do you want to give me your phone number, and I’ll let you know if I have any luck?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ Tess whipped out her mobile phone and they exchanged numbers. ‘So now you need to tell me more about you and Zane.’

  ‘Oh, there’s really nothing much to tell. We’re just a casual thing…’ she said, the words oddly leaden on her tongue all of a sudden…‘It’s no serious. Which is why I wouldn’t get your hopes up too high about me being able to persuade Zane to come to the christening.’

  She tried to shrug off the melancholy thought. She needed to keep a good firm grip on the fact that, however much she might want to help Tess, Zane’s family wasn’t her family.

  ‘But that’s…’ Tess’s mouth pursed into a thin line. ‘That’s silly. How can you possibly be a casual thing when you’re living in his house?’

  ‘It’s not really significant,’ Iona said, prevaricating deliberately. Even though she knew Zane and her weren’t serious, had never been serious, she didn’t want to tell Tess exactly how not serious they were.

  ‘But you’re sleeping together? Aren’t you?’

  ‘Aye, but only because…’ God, why did their arrangement suddenly sound a little sordid? ‘Well, it’s fun and convenient.’ And casual…Remember casual.

  Tess blinked. ‘Iona, now this is just me being nosey, and obviously I’ve only just met you. But did Zane ever mention his Golden Rules to you?’

  ‘Golden Rules? No.’

  Tess let Brandon wriggle down off her lap, and watched him crawl over to C.D., before turning her attention back to Iona. ‘Okay, this is second-hand, because Zane told these to Nate and then I managed to shoehorn them out of Nate when I said how odd I thought it was that Zane had never been snared by some lucky woman. You know, because he’s so available and so confident with women and so handsome and so ridiculously sexy—I mean, the man’s practically got a sign on him that says “I can make you come till you pass out.”’

  Iona laughed, while at the same time feeling her cheeks heat.

  Tess pointed. ‘Bloody hell, I knew he would be phenomenal in bed. He is, isn’t he?’

  Iona coughed out a laugh as embarrassment warred with smugness. ‘Well, I’m no a great judge, because my sex life sucked before I met him—but I will say that, for once, the advertising doesn’t lie.’

  ‘Stop right there, before I have to slap you.’ Tess held up her hand in mock indignation. ‘Do you have any idea how much a toddler mucks up your sex life? These days me and Nate have to make an appointment to have an orgasm. And foreplay? Forget it.’

  Iona laughed. ‘So what are Zane’s Golden Rules?’ This should be interesting.

  ‘Okay, let me see if I can remember these correctly. First off, he never sleeps with anyone on a first date, because he doesn’t like to appear too pushy.’

  ‘Oh.’ Iona felt her colour rising again.

  ‘Ah-ha, I’m getting the impression from that lovely shade of pink that he broke that rule.’

  ‘Well, I…’

  ‘How about this one, then? Another of Zane’s Golden Rules is that he always gives his dates The Speech.’ Tess did air quotes. ‘Before he sleeps with them.’

  ‘What Speech?’

  ‘You haven’t even had The Speech? About how this is strictly short-term and lightweight and not to get too attached.’

  ‘Ah, well, yes, he did sort of give me that.’ Hadn’t he said something along those lines the first morning they’d spent here?

  ‘Only sort of?’ Tess gave a considering hum. ‘That still sounds like a fairly significant departure from Zane Montoya’s Golden Rules of Non-Engagement.’ She did a quick check on Brandon, who was busy tugging on the ever-patient C.D.’s one good ear. ‘Especially as we already know the last two are already toast.’

  ‘What are they?’

  Tess lifted her fingers to count them off. ‘He doesn’t let dates meet his family—and you went to his cousin’s party, right? He even invited you specially.’

  ‘But I think he only did that under duress,’ Iona qualified, starting to feel very uneasy.

  ‘Fine, but it’s still breaking the rules, and, most important of all, he never lets women move in with him. Period.’

  ‘What? Never?’

  Tess shook her head. ‘I think he had some live-in girlfriends back when he was a cop and he told Nate they would freak out when he did overtime or nightshifts and didn’t mention it. In other words, they had the audacity to make demands on him like any normal person would. So these days anything beyond the occasional sleepover is too heavy for Zane. And yet here you are, living in his house.’ Tess sniffed the air. ‘Cooking him delicious dinners. Working on your art. Bonding with his beloved dog.’ Tess’s grin widened. ‘You may think this is casual, but all the evidence suggests it’s anything but for Zane.’

  Iona felt the pit of her stomach swoop down to her toes.

  ‘Which brings me to my next question.’ Tess leaned forward, skewering Iona with a determined frown. ‘What exactly makes you think this isn’t a serious relationship, with serious potential?’

  Iona opened her mouth, to say all the platitudes that had come so easily a month ago. Because her real life was in Scotland and she was buying a ticket home, soon. Because her arrangement with Zane was never meant to be anything but temporary. Because they’d always agreed that this was casual—and not serious.

  But not one of them would come out of her mouth, because not one of them sounded true. Or at least not the whole truth. Not any more.

  ‘Th-there are a lot of reasons,’ Iona stammered, and heard how lame that sounded.

  Tess’s eyebrow arched. ‘I’m sure there are, but aren’t there also some reasons to think this might be a lot more than the casual relationship you say it is? Like Zane’s a fascinating, complex, intriguing and gorgeous guy—and you seem to be the only woman who’s ever got under his guard?’ Tess rocked back on the stool. ‘Of course, if one of those reasons
is you’re not enjoying being with him—’

  ‘But I am,’ Iona interrupted, only to realise she’d given herself away big time when Tess’s smile became a little conniving.

  There was a heavy clatter and both women turned to see Brandon sitting on his butt on the marble floor, his face screwed up in a horrified grimace.

  Tess jumped off the stool and scooped him up before the wail let loose. ‘Bran, baby, it didn’t hurt that much.’ She settled the baby on her hip, apparently unfazed by the decibel level as her son howled as if he’d been stabbed in the eye with a hot poker.

  ‘I better go,’ she said, cooing at him. ‘He only had a twenty-minute nap this afternoon so this is merely the start of the meltdown.’ Gathering up her purse from the countertop, Tess leaned in to give Iona a kiss on the cheek. ‘It was wonderful to meet you, Iona. And I really, really hope this isn’t the last time I see you.’

  ‘I’ll do my best to get Zane to Brandon’s christening,’ she said as Tess’s long-legged stride took her down the hallway ahead of her.

  Tess paused on the doorstep, Brandon’s howls subsiding to choking sobs. ‘If you can at least get him to consider coming, I’d be eternally grateful.’ She took Iona’s hand in hers and gave it a quick reassuring squeeze. ‘But could you do me an even bigger favour?’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Don’t run off back to Scotland too soon. Zane’s an amazing guy for all his pig-headedness, and I think he deserves someone special who can shake up his life—and get past all that industrial-strength charm to the man beneath.’

  The shot of adrenaline returned, accompanied by the kick of panic.

  ‘But how do you know I’m that someone?’ Iona asked, the panic starting to choke her.

  Tess shrugged. ‘I don’t, but then neither do you. And if you leave without giving this relationship a sporting chance, you never will.’ She bounced the baby on her hip, her voice sobering. ‘I guess it boils down to whether you want to find out for sure?’

  With those disturbing parting words, Tess headed off down the driveway. After loading the now hiccoughing Brandon into his car seat, she sent Iona a jaunty wave goodbye.

  Iona stood on the doorstep, watching the shiny Beemer turn into Seventeen Mile Drive and disappear from view. Her heart galloped into her throat.

  She pressed her hand to her shaky tummy…feeling a little nauseous.

  She checked her watch. Zane would be back soon. And for once she wished he’d take his time. What if Tess were right? She already knew this wasn’t as casual for her as it should be, or she would have bought her ticket home by now. But what if it wasn’t casual for Zane either? And did she have the guts to find out for sure? To risk having him reject her?

  And how the heck was she going to eat the lasagne she’d spent an hour preparing earlier, when her tummy was doing cartwheels?

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  ‘THAT’S GREAT. LET’S schedule a conference call tomorrow with your contact in Ocean Beach, then we can turn over the evidence to the San Diego PD.’ Zane pushed a hand through his hair and ended the call to his detective.

  They were within days of catching the scammer who’d been selling non-existent luxury cars on an Internet auction site, but the sweet rush that usually accompanied closing any big investigation was conspicuous by its absence. Probably because his mind had been less and less on work lately and more and more on what he was missing while he spent the long hours his business demanded away from Iona.

  Iona. With her bright, teasing smile, her warm golden-brown eyes, her funny, forthright conversation and that lush full mouth that could drive him wild and scare the hell out of him at one and the same time.

  In the last week, ever since she’d moved in with him, it had become a major struggle to leave her every morning, and harder still to stay tied to his desk until he could return each evening. And he knew why. Because every moment he was away from her he could feel the time they had left together slipping through his fingers. The last month had shot past in a haze of spectacular sex and scintillating conversation and easy companionship and he could already see the day when she would get on a plane and return home to Scotland racing towards them at breakneck speed.

  Rising from his desk, he opened his briefcase to stuff in the papers he was supposed to be reviewing this evening, but knew he was unlikely even to look at.

  It was plain dumb and illogical to be worrying about her leaving so much, when that had always been the plan. But the more time he spent with Iona, the more dumb and illogical he seemed to get.

  He grabbed his suit jacket from the hook behind the door and headed down the corridor.

  He’d had spectacular sex before and scintillating conversation, but it was the quiet times when he knew he didn’t have to talk, didn’t have to charm, didn’t have to make her feel good because she was already there that he had become really addicted to.

  This urgency, this need to have her, would eventually pass. But when? They were a month in and it was showing no signs of waning, yet. He rolled his shoulders, the muscles contracting at the thought of the fifteen-minute drive home before he could see her.

  The last couple of evenings, he’d had to put in a titanic effort not to fall on her like a starving man as soon as he got home. He rubbed the back of his neck as he strode through the building. Hell, yesterday evening, when they’d been on the beach, C.D. barking at the surf, she’d laughed and the husky, smoky sound had arrowed right through him—and all of a sudden, he’d been hard as an iron spike.

  He gave Jim an absent wave as he passed his office. His mind already focused on putting a stranglehold on the growing warmth in his crotch. How many times in the last few weeks had he driven home with a hard-on? It was a damn miracle he hadn’t totalled the mustang on Highway One.

  As he walked into the parking lot, the buzz of his cell phone cut the evening quiet. Pulling it out, he spotted his mother’s name on the display. Unlocking the mustang, he dumped his briefcase on the passenger seat, and tossed the cell on top, ignoring the prickle of guilt as he waited for the call to go to voicemail.

  He’d hardly spoken to his mother since the quinceañera a month ago, because when he had it hadn’t gone well. For years his mother had tried to get him to talk about his father. And for years he’d never had too much of a problem deflecting her.

  But in the last week, ever since he’d turned down his friend Nate’s request to become his son Bran’s godfather, he’d found it harder and harder to deal with his mother.

  Zane’s shoulders cramped as the cell stopped ringing. He’d have to call her soon, he knew that, but not tonight. Not when his addiction to Iona was already tying his brain in knots.

  Avoidance was the answer and it always had been when it came to the question of his relationship with his father, and Nate, and his son Bran, because the alternative was unthinkable. And he couldn’t risk going there again.

  He flexed his fingers, his knuckles throbbing at the sudden memory of that morning when he’d been fourteen years old and he’d hit his best friend and kept on hitting him. Connecting with bone, feeling Nate’s flesh tear, seeing the sticky blood splatter Nate’s favourite Spiderman T-shirt, hearing the startled whimpers of pain, the thud of the blows as they landed—and feeling nothing, not even the smarting skin on his knuckles, until his mother’s screams had cut through the rage.

  The jolt of shame hit harder as he recalled the look on Nate’s face last week when his friend had asked him to be Bran’s godfather, and he’d come up with some lie about not being all that into kids.

  Nate had been shocked and saddened but had remained silent. And Zane hadn’t had the guts to tell him the real reason he couldn’t be Bran’s godfather.

  He was into kids, especially Nate’s kid; Bran fascinated him. He could still recall the staggering feeling, tinged with awe, when he’d arrived at the maternity hospital last April and this tiny perfect bundle of humanity had been cradled in Nate’s arms. But as Bran had grown, seeing him had
brought back echoes of the quiet all-consuming rage that had dogged his every step as a teenager and been kept so carefully contained as an adult.

  Brandon was another child with Harrison Graystone’s eyes. And that meant Zane couldn’t bear to spend too much time with the boy.

  He straightened, his shoulders screaming with tension. The sun beating down on him through the car window did nothing to melt the fury and disgust settling in his gut like a block of ice.

  His mother didn’t know, would never know, how much he already knew about his father, Harrison Graystone. And he would never let her know, because she’d already suffered enough. So until he found a better strategy for avoiding the conversation she seemed determined to have with him about Nate, and Bran and his father, he was forced to avoid her calls instead.

  He turned on the transmission and cranked up the AC. But as the clammy sweat dried on his brow he pressed his foot on the gas, speeding back to his house on the bay. Because he knew only one thing would chase away the chill.

  Iona.

  Sinking into her hot, wet flesh, hearing her broken sobs as she fisted around him would make it all go away—for another day.

  C.D.’s sudden barks from the hallway had Iona juggling the lasagne. Her heart rate jumped as she heard the low murmur of Zane’s voice and the front door slamming.

  And then her heart stopped completely as he walked into the kitchen. How could she not have noticed how seeing his face still took her breath away even now? But then she noticed the creases at the corners of his eyes as he slung his briefcase onto the countertop and the deep grooves around his mouth. He looked shattered.