An Impossible Attraction

by Elsa Winckler

  He’d also seen the whole exchange between the two sisters, the waiter and the two men who had just about been slobbering all over them. He’d seen it because he had been watching Zoe for most of the evening. And what he realized now was that if he couldn’t come up with an excuse why he and Darryn had to leave quickly, Dale might just do something extremely foolish.

  “Are you ready to leave?” Darryn asked in a clipped voice, and before anyone could answer, he signaled to the waiter to bring the bill.

  Relieved, Dale stood up. Darryn was clearly also not enjoying his date. “I’ll settle the bill, you get the car,” Dale said and left. Behind him he could hear the two women asking Darryn what was next on the agenda for the evening.

  He turned back to offer an excuse for why he had to go home, but Darryn was already talking to them.

  “Maybe another night, ladies, we have an urgent early morning meeting,” he said.

  Dale settled the bill and went out to find his brother. Usually an evening with Cybil ended in bed, but tonight he couldn’t wait to drop off his date. Just the idea of touching someone else was making him feel ill.

  At least one thing had become quite clear this evening. No other woman would do while Zoe Sutherland occupied his mind, body, and soul.

  *

  Somehow, Zoe wasn’t even surprised when she heard the buzzer of the door downstairs.

  She pressed the button. “Dale?” she asked in as cool a voice as she could.

  “Zoe… how… Yes, it’s me. May I come up?”

  Zoe’s finger hovered for a second before she pressed the button to open the gate downstairs. Then she opened the front door and walked back to the lounge. Hannah had had a quick cup of coffee, but had left a while ago, thank goodness. She didn’t want to think about what her sister would have said.

  She sank down on the couch and combed back her hair. Damn it, she should be in bed, sleeping, but she was so restless and kept thinking about Dale—about the woman on his arm, about why she was upset to see him with someone else, about Peter Walsh working for them, about how and why she got the job in London.

  At least now that Dale was here he could provide answers about Peter Walsh. It was the only reason she was glad he was coming up the stairs to her flat.

  The front door closed.

  “Zoe?” Dale called, and she heard him walking down the corridor.

  “Come in, I’m here,” she said at the same time as he appeared in the doorway.

  Her heart lurched, the way it always did when she saw him. Damn it.

  She attacked, flinging out questions before she said something she’d regret. “Why didn’t you tell me Peter Walsh worked for you? And whose idea was it that I got work in London? And why?”

  Without saying a word, Dale lifted an eyebrow and slowly advanced until he stood in front of her. She had to bend her head backwards to look up at him.

  For long minutes he stared down at her until her neck protested.

  “For heaven’s sake, sit down,” she said, irritated.

  He took the seat next to her on the couch.

  “What are you going on about?” he asked mildly.

  She turned to him, realizing too late that now she was nearly sitting on top of him. “I… what…” she stammered, and he smiled.

  Fed up with him, with herself, and the whole situation, she took a deep breath. “Peter Walsh, does he work for you?” she asked.

  “Yes, he does.”

  Zoe frowned. “Whose idea was it to offer me the job in London?”

  “Mine.”

  Exasperated, Zoe stared at Dale. He didn’t even look worried or ashamed or guilty.

  “Why?” she demanded. “At the time I told you I didn’t want to work with you, why did you get me a job in London?”

  “I didn’t get it for you. You were merely offered the job. You could have turned it down,” he said as if it was the most logical thing in the world.

  “Dale, why didn’t you tell me? Why did you do that? I don’t understand. What—”

  And then he kissed her.

  *

  He hadn’t planned the kiss. But that was the only way he could think of to stop her from asking so many damn questions. Hell, he didn’t know why he did anything when she was around—why he was here, why he’d dropped off a very beautiful and willing woman without even so much as kissing her, why all he could think of was to get here. To be here. With Zoe. Trying to explain something he didn’t understand himself was impossible.

  Her lips opened in a surprise gasp, and he pulled her closer, his tongue seeking entrance to the wet depths of her mouth. He swallowed the groan from deep within her throat and teased her tongue with his.

  “This is such a bad idea,” she murmured against his lips but didn’t pull away.

  “I know,” he agreed huskily and intensified the kiss. Right now, he didn’t want to talk, to think, because what was happening between him and Zoe was way beyond anything that could be discussed, dissected, or understood. It just was.

  The velvety texture of her skin egged him on to explore what he knew to be underneath the tight-fitting dress she wore. Restlessly, his hands molded her body to his while he searched for the zipper at the back of her dress. He slowly began to lower it.

  “Dale.” She gasped and lifted her head.

  His hand on the zipper froze. Passion had darkened the blue of her eyes. She put a hand out and touched his mouth.

  “What is this?” she whispered, frowning. “This… thing between us? I don’t even like you.”

  He combed back her hair, noticed his fingers were unsteady. He tried to smile, but he didn’t think it was working.

  “I… don’t know. All I know is that I want you with a need I don’t understand. There is nothing logical about this—hell, you’re not even my type. You’re too… distracting.” He grimaced, and she lifted an eyebrow and tried to move back. But he held on tightly. “But I want you. That is all I know now.”

  Her gaze roamed over his face and he groaned. “You’re not helping if you look at me like that.” He growled and kissed her.

  He lifted his head a fraction. “At this point I can still walk away, but I don’t know about five seconds from now.”

  *

  Zoe tried to rationalize the situation, but her usually neat and orderly brain had stopped working altogether. He wanted her, and for once in her life, she was not going to overthink a situation.

  She went with her instincts. “I don’t want you to go,” she said and got up.

  She bent her hand backwards and slowly pulled down the zipper of her dress. Dale’s eyes never left hers.

  “Let me,” he said, his eyes glowing, and he got up. His warm hands folded over her shoulders and he turned her around. It was becoming increasingly difficult to breathe. He lifted her hair, and his lips warmed against her neck while his other hand pulled the zipper all the way down.

  Slowly he pushed her straps over her shoulders until her dress dropped to the ground. All she was left wearing was a matching set of bra and panties in red lace and her boots.

  Groaning, he turned her around, his eyes dark pools of molten liquid. Without taking his eyes from hers, he stroked his hands up and down her sides. “Beautiful,” he whispered. “Just beautiful.”

  His words banished the last of her doubts and she took his hand. Even if she could be with him for only this one night, she didn’t want any regrets. “The bedroom is this way.” She smiled and led him down the short corridor to her bed.

  *

  As if in a trance, Dale followed Zoe all the way to her room, his eyes fixed on her very sexy bottom in the red, lacy panties and on the black high-heeled boots she was wearing. He remembered the black silk number he’d taken from her bathroom, the cause of his X-rated dreams since then. After tonight, he’d probably never be able to fall asleep again. By the time she turned around, he was hard and throbbing with need for her.

  She lay down on the bed propped up on her elbows and lifted one
leg. Dale feasted his eyes on her body while he slowly pulled down the zipper of her boot. His hand trailed behind, discovering every contour, every toned muscle of her long legs. Her breath caught in her throat, but she swallowed and lifted her other leg.

  When he was done, his hands stroked the silkiness of her long limbs almost reverently, and with every touch, he teetered closer and closer to the edge of an unknown abyss. He was burning up. Swearing under his breath, he quickly got rid of his clothes. Just before he threw his pants down, he remembered to grab a packet out of his wallet. She smiled until her eyes dropped down to see the very obvious sign of his need for her.

  The smile wavered and with big eyes she looked up at him.

  This time he smiled. “Like what you see?” he teased and knelt down beside her.

  “Oh, yeah.” She breathed and invited him closer with her arms.

  “Relax,” he whispered. “This is for you.”

  He pinned her hands above her head and took his time looking over every centimetre of her body.

  Bending down, his mouth began an exploration of her skin.

  *

  Zoe couldn’t stay still. She wiggled her arms free and brought her hands down so she could touch him. Her body moved closer to his, begging for his touch, wanting to experience more intensely what his mouth was doing to her. Sensation after sensation raced through her body, leaving her quivering and out of breath. Her senses were totally focused on the man touching her—his scent, the nonsense he was whispering against her skin, the steel of his muscles under her fingers.

  His fingers followed his mouth and lace and satin disappeared in between their sighs.

  “You are so beautiful.” he crooned again, and at that moment she felt treasured, loved, special.

  Going with her instincts, she lifted herself and nudged him over so he was lying down and she could glide over every hard muscle of his firm body.

  “I believe in taking turns,” she whispered.

  He grunted, but she ignored him. She bent down and while her hands explored his muscled torso, her lips began their own discovery and tasted and savored his hot flesh. His unique scent weaved around her and pulled her further into a vortex of feelings and emotions she hadn’t known was possible up till now.

  Her hand moved lower; his breath became labored. When her hand found him, he groaned.

  “You like that?”

  “Oh, yeah,” he whispered as her fingers caressed him.

  *

  Intense waves of desires threatened to choke him. Cussing, he pulled her up.

  “Don’t.” he growled, and before she could blink, she was lying on her back.

  “I’m so hard for you, if you keep touching me like that, this will be over way too soon,” he whispered and slid his hands over her body.

  Dale was struggling to form a coherent word, let alone speak a complete sentence. There was a roaring in his ears making it difficult to think of anything else. The only thing that mattered at the moment was pleasing this woman.

  He found her core—she was wet and ready for him. A tenderness he hadn’t experienced before washed over him. He wasn’t quite sure what was happening to him, but for the first time his own needs weren’t that important.

  “You’re ready for me,” he whispered and trailed his damp fingers over her body.

  “Please, I…” she pleaded until his fingers found her again.

  “What?” he teased and kissed her. “Is this what you want?” He found her nub again.

  “Dale!” His name fell from her lips, her body bowed towards his and he couldn’t wait another second to make her his.

  He quickly sheathed himself and moved over her. “Look at me,” he urged and wonder spread over her face as he entered her.

  *

  Zoe tried to keep her eyes open, tried to watch Dale’s face as they became one, but powerful emotions were sending her into a spin and she gave up the struggle and closed her eyes. Sensation after sensation gushed through her being and left her stunned. Surely no one person could experience something so intense and survive?

  But there was more. Dale drove into her once again, and she was lifted even higher. With his name on her lips, she hovered for long minutes above a steep cliff before she tumbled down, down, and down until finally spent, she could float in calmer waters.

  Chapter Twelve

  When Dale opened his eyes, she wasn’t there. The change in the air around him when she was near had gone. His first reaction was one of relief. He had no idea what to say to Zoe this morning.

  He’d never experienced anything so all-consuming as their lovemaking the previous night. He felt confused, wrung out, mangled, exhilarated, and completely freaked-out. What she could do to him with just a touch of her hand scared the hell out of him.

  He got out of bed and glanced back at the tangled sheets. And became hard again just thinking about the warm, willing woman he’d had in this very bed throughout the night. They probably hadn’t slept for more than an hour. Every time she’d turned, he’d woken up, hard for her. And every time she’d been ready and eager for him.

  Pulling on his pants, he walked towards the kitchen. The smell of freshly made coffee hung in the air. On the counter he found a tray with a mug, milk, sugar, and a fresh croissant. The rest of the place was neat as a pin. There was a note on the tray.

  For minutes he stared at the tray, trying to put a name to what he was feeling. Up till now the only woman who’d ever made coffee for him in the morning was his mother. He never stayed around during the morning-afters with women; he was always the one to leave. This time the woman had walked out on him, though. But had made him coffee. And had left him something to eat.

  He poured coffee into the mug, took the note, and walked towards the big windows facing the ocean. The sky was overcast and the sea looked grey and gloomy.

  He looked down at the note in his hand and skimmed through the few words…

  Dear Dale. Like we’ve agreed—this was a bad idea. I’m flying out to Mahé today. I’ve spoken to your secretary, she’s organizing everything. I’ll contact you when I’m back. Zoe. P.S. The door will lock automatically when you close it.

  Swearing, he walked back to the couch, sat down, read through the note again. He leaned back, finished his coffee while staring out over the sea. Well, hell. The last sentence of the message got stuck in his mind. The door will lock automatically when you close it.

  Was that true for everything else as well? Or did it just work with her front door?

  A strange pain lodged itself inside of him and he rubbed over his chest, trying to ease it.

  This was actually a good thing. He should be pleased. He thought he’d have to do his usual explanation of hey-remember-no-strings-this-was-just-a-casual thing, yada-yada-yada. But now, no excuse was necessary. It would seem the lady had the same idea. What felt like a hole opened up inside of him.

  So this was it. He stood up, washed the mug, cleaned the coffee machine, walked back to the room, stripped the bed, put the bedding in the washing machine, had a shower, dressed himself and left her flat, closing the door behind him as she’d instructed. By then, the hole inside of him was as big as the wide-open spaces of the Karoo. He tried not to think about the fact this would probably be the last time he’d be in Zoe’s flat.

  As he waited for the door to lock behind him, the lift doors opened. For a second his pulse quickened, but it was Hannah who stepped out. Her eyebrows rose when she saw him.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked coolly. “Where is Zoe?”

  “I’ve spent the night,” he said deliberately. “And according to a note your sister left me, she’s on her way to Mahé.”

  Hannah’s eyes narrowed. “What did you do to her?”

  *

  For the first time since opening his eyes, he smiled. “A gentleman never tells.”

  For a moment, he thought she was going to take a swing at him. But she got back into the lift, muttering furiously under her breath.<
br />
  “I’ve warned her about you Cavallo men, I told her you will hurt her. But would she listen? Oh, no, she—”

  The lift doors closed on a fuming Hannah. Dale stared at the door. What had Zoe told Hannah about him that had led her to warn Zoe he’d hurt her? Or had Hannah’s warning more to do with Darryn than with him? The two of them always seemed to be at odds with one another.

  Not bothering to wait for the lift, he walked slowly down the stairs while he tried to process his thoughts. He tried to be honest with himself.

  He’d come here last night because he didn’t like the fact that another man had touched her. He’d come here because he’d wanted her. And they had sex. Sex? Was that all it had been? Damn it, he didn’t want to think about it!

  And why had she made coffee for him, left him something to eat, if being with him had been such a bad idea?

  Hurt and irritated with himself, he left the building and walked across the parking area to his car. Damn it, the woman had left. They’d spent a night together. That was it. Which meant she was now out of his system, like he’d wanted. There was no reason for him to follow her to Mahé. If he was honest, the only reason he wanted her to go with him in the first place was because he wanted her back in that exotic location to take up where they’d stopped the last time they’d been there. When Don and Caitlin had gotten married. He’d wanted her in bed.

  *

  But now that he’d had her, he could carry on with his life. He’d see Zoe when she got back, would leave her to finish the job and that would be that.

  There was no need to spend another minute thinking about the woman.

  He drove away from Zoe’s flat, images from their lovemaking last night replaying in his mind’s eye over and over again. Swearing loudly and furiously, he stepped on the pedal.

  How the hell was he going to forget about her?

  *

  Hannah phoned as Zoe boarded the plane.

  “What happened between you and Dale Cavallo?” Hannah hissed before Zoe could even say hello. “I told you not to get involved with him.”