Secrets of a Playboy

by Janice Maynard

  “Makes sense.” She wanted to ask where he saw himself in five years. But she didn’t. It was too personal a question at this stage in their relationship. They had been close once. In a way. But the years that had passed since their last meeting created a chasm too great to cross in one day.

  Zachary leaned against the door frame, watching her as she examined her surroundings. “Would you like to see my bedroom?” he asked.

  Four

  Zachary took note as a pale pink blush washed over Frannie’s throat and cheeks. Even now, he could fluster her. Perhaps he shouldn’t have enjoyed it so much, but it was fun. She was usually so calm, so self-possessed. He liked bumping her off balance.

  Frannie wrapped her arms around her waist, calling attention to the way her breasts filled out that soft, fuzzy sweater. She didn’t quite meet his gaze. “Sure,” she said.

  They stepped back out into the hallway, and he led her a few steps to his own suite, trying to see it through her eyes. Other than Katie and Ivy—and a lady who came in to clean once a month—no woman had ever set foot in his private domain.

  This was where he came to be alone, to relax, to center himself. The bedroom itself was almost stark. Only a huge king-size bed, two small nightstands, and a single armchair beside the fireplace, plus a state-of-the-art telescope over by the wall of windows. The crimson duvet was the only splash of color. Everything else was charcoal gray and white. All of his clothes and personal belongings were tucked away in the huge master closet.

  “Wow,” Frannie said. “I don’t know what to say. It almost reminds me of a knight’s chamber in a castle. If the knight had unlimited money and really good taste.”

  “Check out the rest,” he said. “The bathroom floor is heated, and the walk-in shower has triple rain heads.”

  He followed her at a distance as she opened doors and explored. Her murmurs of appreciation were gratifying. He realized, suddenly, that he had always courted Frannie Wickersham’s approval. Apparently, old habits were hard to break.

  When they finally returned to the bedroom, he pointed to the wall of glass. “I can open that center section in nice weather. I add a screen in the summertime, so I can listen to the ocean while I sleep.”

  She had been looking out to sea. Now she shot him a glance over her shoulder, her expression dreamy. “It’s perfect, Zach. Like something out of a movie.”

  “Come up on the bed with me,” he said.

  “Excuse me?”

  When her jaw dropped, he rolled his eyes. “Give me some credit, Frannie. If I was going to make a move, you’d know it. Seriously, climb up here and let me show you something.” He patted the pillow. “Stretch out on your back.”

  She actually did as he asked, but her whole body was stiff, as if she expected him to pounce any second. He supposed he deserved that. His reputation was at least fifty percent exaggerated. But the fact that he never bothered to set the record straight meant Frannie had probably heard a salacious tale or two.

  He reached for the remote that was hidden in a drawer in the bedside table. “Watch.” When he pressed the button, a five-foot section of the ceiling and roof slid sideways into a specially modified space. Cold air rushed into the bedroom, but it was a kick to be able to look up into the sky and then watch Frannie’s reaction.

  She put her hands to her cheeks, her gaze awed. “Oh my gosh. That’s incredible. How did you design such a thing?”

  “Not easily,” he said ruefully. “It was ridiculously expensive. And I had to enlist the help of a buddy of mine who’s an engineer. We made it work. Eventually.” He hit the Close button to keep them both from freezing.

  Frannie turned on her side to face him, leaning her head on her hand. “I’m impressed, Zach. Really impressed. Maybe I should get you to build me a house.”

  The way she looked at him made something inside his chest squeeze. “You don’t have a house?”

  “No.” She chewed her bottom lip as if the subject worried her. “I travel almost all the time. So I rent an apartment in Boston. A very nice apartment,” she said quickly. “I suppose I could live anywhere, really. I grew up in Boston. It’s home.”

  “But you’re rarely home...”

  “Exactly.”

  He studied her lips. They were full but not too full. Curved in just the right way. Bare. Not even lip gloss. The pink color was natural. What would they taste like? He blinked, taken aback by his own imagination gone rogue. He definitely should not be worrying about Frannie’s lips. Or how they tasted, or really anything at all.

  Why had he brought her up here on his bed? Was it because he wanted to brag about his fancy skylight? Or maybe he was trying this arrangement on for size.

  Having Frannie on his bed, if not in his bed was...disturbing.

  He cleared his throat. “It’s almost one. You must be starving.”

  She nodded slowly. “Getting there. One more question, though. You really use that telescope over there, don’t you?”

  “Of course,” he said, mildly affronted that she thought it might be for show.

  “Tell me the specs.”

  Was this a test? “It’s an eleven-inch Schmidt-Cassegrain reflector. I bought it in California straight from the manufacturer.”

  Frannie laughed softly. “Size doesn’t matter, Stoner. Haven’t you heard? Too bad it’s cloudy this weekend.”

  He needed to kiss her. Needed it beyond all reason.

  “I suppose we’ll have to find other ways to entertain ourselves,” he said hoarsely.

  She blinked. More of that luscious pinky-rose color tinted her cheeks. Her skin was smooth and unblemished. He wanted to touch her cheek, stroke the line of her throat all the way down to her—

  “I’m hungry,” she said.

  Zachary was hungry, too. What would she do if he leaned over and pressed his mouth to hers? Smack him, probably. Quit the job before she started. Leave him to explain to his brothers why their highly recommended hacker had bailed on them.

  He nodded, reluctant to give up on the movie reel playing in his head. “I’ve got tons of good stuff in the freezer. I’ll feed you.”

  Frannie slid off the bed and straightened her hair self-consciously. “Then let’s get to it. Those doughnuts ran out a long time ago.”

  * * *

  Forty-five minutes later, Frannie took a seat at Zachary’s dining room table and waited as he served two plates of steaming lemon piccata chicken along with wild rice and broccoli. There were even yeast rolls. Zachary had refused to let her help. While he played chef, she explored his kitchen with interest, noting the contents of his cabinets and marveling at his well-stocked refrigerator.

  For a globe-trotting bachelor, he was surprisingly prepared for any eventuality.

  Once they finally began eating, she teased him about it. “So, you could hunker down here for at least a month if you had to...right?”

  He nodded, not at all perturbed by her amazement. “Maybe two,” he said laconically. “I have a huge generator. We have to be pretty self-sufficient when we come up here. But I don’t mind.”

  “You like it, don’t you?” she said.

  He gave her a narrow stare. “I do. I don’t claim to have pioneering genes, but I think a man ought to be able to survive in the woods.”

  “But not solely with a pack of matches and a bow and arrow.”

  His masculine shrug was a thing of beauty. “I like my creature comforts. I cut my own firewood, but at night, I want to sleep like a king.”

  “Duly noted.”

  She believed him about the firewood. As they drove up to the house earlier, she had noticed several neatly stacked piles of logs. Zachary’s broad chest and muscular arms said he didn’t spend all his time at the roulette table or cruising in his yacht, if he had one. Zachary Stone was a man in his prime.

  He was tough and strong and alpha
to the core. In fact, thinking about his physical prowess made her quiver with an entirely understandable wave of feminine appreciation. She lifted a forkful of chicken. “This is very good, Zach. Did you make it?”

  “Yes. There isn’t a restaurant for miles around. Did I mention that I like to eat? Whenever I’m here, I usually whip up a couple of things and freeze the leftovers.”

  “I like a man who plans.” Was there a nuance of flirtation in her own voice? She was self-conscious about being alone with her teenage crush. The boy she remembered had matured into a fascinating man.

  Did he feel it, too? This odd awareness?

  The latter part of the meal dissolved into silence. Perhaps they had exhausted the limits of their impromptu high school reunion.

  Or maybe they were both beginning to realize that it was a very long time until tomorrow night, when they would return to the city.

  Eventually, the meal was over. Frannie offered to tidy the kitchen while Zachary brought in their luggage and carried it upstairs. She liked Zach’s house. Despite its definite air of luxury, it felt like a home. And it bore the stamp of its owner.

  When he rejoined her in the kitchen, his cheeks were ruddy with color and his hair was mussed. “I was hoping we could go for a hike,” he said. “But it’s pretty cold, and the wind is rising.”

  “It won’t be so bad in the forest, will it?”

  He smiled lazily. “Is that a yes?”

  “I don’t remember hearing a question,” she said, giving him an impish grin. “But to be clear, I’m tough. I’ve hiked the Pyrenees in February. So, bring it on.”

  “Okay, then. Your bags are in your room. Let’s meet back here in thirty minutes.”

  She tapped his chest with a finger. His hard, oh-so-yummy chest. “Twenty,” she said, fluttering her eyelashes like the kind of woman he liked. “Don’t make me wait on you.”

  * * *

  In the privacy of her bedroom, she groaned aloud. What was she doing? She knew better than to flirt with a confirmed bachelor. There was nothing for her with Zachary Stone, not unless she was prepared to be disposable and sexually available.

  She knew she shouldn’t get involved with any man under those conditions. So why was she feeling conflicted? She had a job to do for the Stone brothers. A job at which she was exceedingly good. If she were really as smart as her IQ suggested, she wouldn’t let herself be tempted by the delicious hunk of masculinity that was Zachary Stone.

  Competition had been the cornerstone of their teenage years. Today, Frannie made it back to the kitchen in nineteen minutes and ten seconds. Zachary was already there, leaning against the counter, looking smug. “Did you have trouble taking the tags off the new clothes? Did that slow you down?”

  She gave him the evil eye. “Not at all. I answered a few work emails while I was up there. And did part of the New York Times crossword puzzle.”

  He chuckled. “Touché, Bug.” He hefted a lightweight backpack. “I’ve got water and a few snacks. Let’s head for the woods. The clouds are getting heavier by the minute.”

  She followed him outside, shivering as the cold air smacked her in the face. After the warmth of Zachary’s house, the weather seemed even more unfriendly. “Where are we going?” she asked. “Anywhere in particular? Or just stretching our legs?”

  “There’s a big hill about a mile away. On the far side is a pretty waterfall. Not huge, but photogenic. I thought you’d like to see it.”

  “Then lead on.”

  She’d been expecting Zachary to set a brisk pace, and he didn’t disappoint. Back in high school, he had played every intramural sport available. Frannie had avoided physical activity whenever possible. She’d been self-conscious about her white legs and her gangly body. Not to mention her bent toward clumsiness. In recent years, though, she had found exercise she liked. Yoga. Spin class. Jogging. She could keep up with Zach. Maybe.

  Half an hour later, they stopped at the foot of the hill. Frannie tried to catch her breath. “I’d call this a small mountain, not a big hill,” she said, peering up at the top where clouds hid the summit.

  “That’s probably because you’re a city girl.” He smirked.

  She started up the path. “Don’t kid yourself.” She tossed the words over her shoulder. “I can whip your butt any day of the week.”

  Zachary wasted no time chasing her. He had longer legs, but she’d taken him by surprise and had a head start.

  Her lungs burned. The muscles in her thighs cramped. Sweat beaded her forehead, despite the air temperature. She was determined to beat him to the top. The trail was narrow, not much room for passing. But when she finally had to stop and bend at the waist, gasping for air, her hands on her knees, Zach strode past her with an annoying masculine grin. “Meet you up there,” he said.

  This was dumb. She didn’t have anything to prove. But unfortunately, Zachary Stone pushed all her buttons. She was not going to let him win.

  In the end, it was a tie. She wasn’t sure if he slowed down at the last minute or if her spurt of energy in the homestretch made the difference, but they burst into the clearing shoulder to shoulder.

  Huffing and panting, they each leaned on trees and caught their breath. Frannie shed her parka, feeling stifled.

  The promised waterfall was delightful. It bubbled up from an underground spring and rippled over moss-covered rocks on the way back down the hill. When she could breathe again, she pulled out her phone and snapped a few pictures. The scene was idyllic. She could imagine fairies and woodland sprites congregating beneath the moon.

  The peace and purity were almost tangible.

  Zach still leaned against the tree, watching her. “You surprised me, Frannie. I had to work to stay ahead of you.”

  She grinned. “You’re remembering the old me. At some point in my twenties, I realized I wanted to get in shape and stay in shape. My work is more cerebral than physical. So, I learned to like exercise.”

  “I see that. Your endeavors have definitely paid off.” He stared unashamedly, taking a visual inventory.

  Frannie stood her ground. She knew she looked good. The activewear pants and top were flattering. Zachary’s compliments flustered her, though.

  Was she working for him or flirting with him? Could she do both?

  They each downed half a bottle of water and ate a granola bar, not speaking...just enjoying the moment. Now that she was still, and her heart rate had returned to normal, Frannie began to feel the cold. She reached for her coat. “I think we should go back, please. It gets dark early in the forest. I don’t want to be dinner for bears or wolves.”

  Zachary returned the water bottles to his pack, chuckling. “No wolves in Maine. And black bears aren’t typically aggressive. I’ll protect you.”

  She flipped her hair from beneath the collar of her coat. “Maybe I’ll protect you, Zach. Girls can do stuff, too.”

  When she turned around, he gave her a suspicious smile. “Game on, F. Wickersham.” Then he bolted.

  His sudden challenge startled her so much, it was a full ten seconds before she got her feet to cooperate.

  Going downhill was easier on the lungs, but harder in other ways. The path was more treacherous in this direction. “Wait up,” she cried, fully intending to pass him if he stopped. But Zachary was a man with a mission.

  He was agile and fast. She pushed harder, determined to catch him. She hadn’t realized on the way up how many twists and turns the trail took. As soon as she had him in her sights, he would disappear around the next bend.

  They were almost at the bottom when she heard a yelp and then what sounded like an animal thrashing through underbrush. Alarmed, she sped up. “Zach? Are you okay?”

  She rounded the curve and nearly plowed into him. He was on the ground, trying to sit up. His face was pale. One of his legs was stretched out in front of him.

 
“What happened?” She knelt at his side, reaching out to wipe away a trickle of blood on his face. Something—a stick maybe—had cut his cheek when he fell.

  He grimaced. “Caught my toe on a root. Went down hard. I think I’ve jacked up my ankle.”

  The terse explanation came via clenched teeth and choppy breaths.

  She crouched over his foot and gently pulled up his pant leg. Already, the ankle was swollen and turning purple. Looking back at him, she winced in sympathy. “Do you think it’s broken?”

  He shrugged. “Don’t know. Maybe just a bad sprain.”

  Frannie knew immediately that they were in trouble. They were a mile from the house and exponentially more than that from any kind of substantive help. She couldn’t leave him in the forest while she went for the car. He might be in shock, and either way, sitting still as the daylight disappeared and the temperatures dropped courted hypothermia.

  “We don’t have a choice,” she said, keeping her voice even.

  “I know.” His expression was resigned.

  “Once we get you up, you’ll have to lean on me, and we’ll walk back. It won’t be fast, but we’ll make it.”

  He slammed his fist on the ground. “It was damned stupid of me. Racing on rough ground. I know better.”

  “This wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t joined in. Let’s just admit that we’re two adults who made a bad choice.”

  His smile was a ghost of its usual wattage. “I can think of other bad choices that would be a lot more fun.”

  “Go ahead,” she said. “Try to embarrass me. If it keeps your mind off your foot, I’m all for it.”

  “I’m sorry, Frannie.” He looked miserable.

  “No time for pity parties,” she said firmly. “The sooner we start, the sooner we’ll get back to the house.”

  She rolled to her feet and searched for a stick or anything that might help the situation. The ground was damp. Any fallen vegetation was either too short or too flimsy to work.

  There was only one way to do this, and it involved a lot of physical contact.