by Inara Scott
She had just sat back down when a nurse came in carrying a pile of papers. She smiled when she saw Zoe already dressed. “I guess you’re ready to get home then?”
Zoe nodded. After taking in Connor’s sweatshirt hanging awkwardly over her sling, the nurse showed Zoe how to put on and take off shirts while minimizing movement in her shoulder. Then she reviewed the paperwork the doctor had left and discussed the importance of icing the injured arm, giving her brain time to rest, and symptoms to watch out for that night.
As soon as she was gone, Zoe picked up the cell phone she’d left on the bed.
“Seriously? Did you hear absolutely nothing the doctor and the nurse both told you? Zoe, you’re going home with me and you are going to lie down and rest for the next twenty-four hours. You are definitely not checking your email.”
Zoe dropped her phone into her lap and looked up in shock. “Wait, you weren’t kidding about that?”
“Which part? The email, or coming home with me?”
She gaped at him. “Ah, both?”
At her stunned expression, the corner of his mouth tipped up in a small smile. “Zoe, you were in a serious accident and might have a concussion. The doctor’s orders were very clear. Just put down the phone and come home with me.”
She melted a little at the concern in his eyes. “That’s really sweet of you. And I promise, I won’t check my email. But I can take care of myself at home.”
“Of course you can,” he agreed. “That’s not the point. Is there anyone else you want to call? It doesn’t have to be me, but someone needs to be there for you.”
She started to wave him off, but Connor paid no attention. “I know you, Zoe. You’re going to go home and rest for about twenty minutes. Then you’re going to sneak a look at your phone. Then it will be the computer. Before you know it, you’ll be making some excuse to drop by the office.”
All of which, she had to admit, sounded 100 percent true.
“You honestly want me to stay at your apartment? Overnight?”
“I don’t just want you to,” he said, with that air of quiet confidence. “If you don’t have someone else at home, I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist upon it. After all, I did promise Dr. Checker that you were going home with me. I’ve got a spare bedroom that never gets used and no plans for the night. It’s no trouble at all. Unless you want me to call Tess or Cece? Just to have a woman around?”
She recoiled. While she liked Mason’s fiancée and Tess’s best friend, she didn’t know either of them nearly well enough to ask them to be a twenty-four-hour babysitter. “I don’t think that’s necessary. Anyway, I’m not dying to tell Mason and the guys what happened.”
“I’m pretty sure you can’t hide the sling,” he pointed out. “Or a cast.”
She gave him a sideways glance. “They don’t have to know exactly how it happened, though. I mean, accidents happen all the time, right? Cars go into the bike lane. Drunk people step out into traffic in front of you. Dogs get off their leashes and run into scooters. I’m sure it happens every day.”
He raised a brow. “You’ve been giving this some thought.”
“I can’t very well tell my client I broke my wrist and smashed into a post trying to wave at someone.”
“Or your partners?”
She couldn’t meet his eyes. “I already get enough crap from the guys. I don’t need this, too.”
“So you want me to lie for you?”
“Not lie,” she said hastily. “Just…um…maybe not tell more of the facts than absolutely necessary.”
He tapped his chin. “That’s an interesting suggestion.”
She jerked her head up at his speculative tone. “Wait…what are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking that I’ll promise not to tell everyone how this happened if you let me keep an eye on you tonight.”
Zoe sucked in a breath. “You’re blackmailing me to stay at your house?”
“If not my house, I believe my mother’s also available.” His eyes gleamed with humor. “I’m sure she wouldn’t tell a soul.”
She sighed and leaned back into the hospital bed. “Bossy and manipulative?” And shockingly hot while acting that way…? “Who are you and what did you do with Connor Ashton?”
He sighed and shook his head. “Apparently you bring out the best in me.”
Chapter Four
Connor drove Zoe first to her apartment so she could get a change of clothes and some toiletries. Getting there required driving due west, straight toward the Pacific Ocean, and a low fog bank greeted them about a mile away from the beach. Zoe tried one more time to convince him that she would be fine at her apartment, but he’d known her long enough to know what would happen the moment he left her alone.
She’d be on her computer in about thirty seconds flat.
He didn’t want to be a dick about it. She was obviously fully capable of deciding on her own whether or not to follow doctor’s orders. But he wasn’t going to let her go without a fight. Besides, he had a strong suspicion she was arguing more because of her pride and less because she genuinely wanted to be home alone.
He really didn’t like the idea that she didn’t have anyone to call on when she was hurt. She was so fiercely independent, he shouldn’t be surprised. Yet he was.
Over the years he’d heard her say Luke and Rafe were her closest friends—how would they feel if they knew she would rather risk serious injury than ask one of them for help? If he hadn’t been there when she got hurt, he doubted she would have told any of them what had happened.
There were people he would have guessed would act that way—Nate, of course, was one. He’d rather cut off his own arm than admit he needed someone. But Zoe? She seemed so reasonable. So well-adjusted. Was it possible there was a side of her that none of them knew about?
She seemed genuinely embarrassed to have him come inside her apartment, which she insisted was too messy to be seen by anyone other than herself, so he waited outside while she grabbed her things. The building was small and a little run-down, with peeling paint outside and the faint smell of mildew in the hallway. It was in a safe area and close to Golden Gate Park and Ocean Beach, and given real estate prices today, it probably cost her a small fortune. But it still made him wonder why she couldn’t afford more.
When they got back to his car, she pulled on the seat belt, got it most of the way to the buckle, and stopped and blew out in frustration. “Damn it, this one-armed thing is a huge pain in the ass.”
He reached over and clipped the belt for her. She still wore his sweatshirt over her sling, and the oversize garment made her look…fragile. It wasn’t a word he normally associated with Zoe. She usually bristled with so much energy and passion her size became irrelevant. But right now she looked like he could scoop her into his arms and she’d weigh little more than a breath of air.
“It will be better when the sling’s off. At least you can use your fingers then.”
“Will it stop feeling like someone is jumping up and down on my wrist with steel-toed boots then, too?” she said with a glower, ignoring his attempt at reassurance.
“It is broken,” he said trying not to smile. Something about her reminded him of a grumpy kitten, scratching everything around it.
“Humph.” She rested her head against the seat. “Sorry. And thanks. I shouldn’t take it out on you. It’s just frustrating.”
“No problem. I understand completely. How’s the head feeling?”
“It’s okay. Just feels like a headache. Nothing out of the ordinary.”
“Good.” He pulled into traffic and started back toward his apartment. “I forgot how chilly it can be out here. It’s like fifteen degrees colder than it is at my place.”
“Yeah, but it’s beautiful. And about as peaceful as the city gets.”
Less than a mile toward the Bay, the fog started burning off. As they headed for Nob Hill, Golden Gate Park lay to their left, lining the roadside with eucalyptus trees and Monterey p
ines. “I looked at a place out here years ago,” he said, “when we first moved to town. I just wasn’t sure I could deal with the fog.”
Zoe shrugged. “I don’t mind. I’m hardly here, anyway, between traveling and working. My last three houseplants all died from neglect.”
He caught a hint of wistful desire in her flippant tone. “My mother is a heck of a gardener. I bet she could find a plant you wouldn’t kill.”
“You know, in all these years I’ve known you, I don’t think you’ve ever really mentioned your mother.”
He shrugged. “She’s a bit…eccentric. Doesn’t come into the city much.” Even with his attention on the road, he could feel her gaze on him. His family was not a topic he discussed, so he tried change the subject. “What about you? I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk about your family, either. You grew up in L.A., right? Do you get back to visit very often?”
She turned away and looked out the window. “Not too much.”
Connor was no expert in reading people, but he was fairly sure there was a story there. One she wasn’t dying to tell.
He could relate.
“So how does this work?” she asked a moment later. “I just sit in bed all day and read magazines or something? Catch up on my Netflix?”
“Unfortunately, no. No screens or books. Best thing to do is actually just hang out and do nothing.”
“Do nothing.” She nodded slowly, as if trying to make sense of the phrase. “Okay, but nothing doesn’t mean nothing, right? Like, I can listen to a podcast or something? Maybe start on one of those soothing coloring books?”
“I’m afraid not.” He had to smile at her look of dread. “Consider it a time of reflection.”
“Twenty-four hours of reflection?”
“Maybe catch up on some sleep?”
“You’re insane, you know that? You really think I’m going to sit in a quiet room and stare at the ceiling for twenty-four hours?”
He laughed out loud. “How about this—assuming you don’t develop any other symptoms, how about you spend ten minutes on your phone every four hours? And I’ll let you get up at dinner?”
“What are we having?” she asked suspiciously.
“Anything you want,” Connor said. “And to be clear, I’m a hell of a cook.”
She sighed. “Fine. But I reserve the right to renegotiate this deal.”
“I would expect nothing less.”
…
Connor’s condo was in Nob Hill, one of San Francisco’s oldest—and swankiest—neighborhoods. With gorgeous views of the Bay and historic homes and the clang of trolleys moving up and down the steep streets, it hummed with charm.
If Zoe had made millions as a venture capitalist, she’d have bought up here, too.
As they took the elevator up to the fifteenth floor of his building, and the air seemed to run out in the small space, Zoe started second-guessing her decision to spend the night. She kept wondering about that moment in the hospital room, when she had slipped into some kind of coma-like state and imagined he was about to kiss her. And the way it seemed his hands had lingered, just for a moment, around her waist. Had it really all been in her head?
Regardless, she had no business even entertaining inappropriate thoughts about Connor.
“How long have you lived here?” she finally asked, desperate to regain a sense of normalcy.
He thought about it for a moment. “Let’s see…it will be two years this December. I bought the place in February, but it took a while to remodel, and I didn’t want to move in until I could figure out which apartment I liked best.”
“What do you mean?” The elevator doors opened, and they walked out into the carpeted hallway. “You remodeled more than one apartment?”
“Yeah, I’m planning to do the whole thing. This building hasn’t been updated for decades. Lots of shag carpet and olive-green counters. But I have to wait until the apartments turn over and I have a vacancy before I can get in there and remodel.”
“Oh right. You own the building.” Meanwhile, she was still paying off her enormous student loans, while Connor was buying entire buildings.
He shrugged and looked down at his keys. “It was a good investment. Nate found the opportunity. I just followed his advice.”
Zoe felt bad then, because could tell she’d embarrassed him. She laughed and touched his arm. “Hey, if I had bunch of money lying around and was lucky enough to have Nate giving me real estate tips, I’d totally buy an apartment building.”
He glanced at her hand, and then into her eyes, and Zoe’s stomach fluttered.
Damn it.
She moved her hand, but the intimate feeling lingered.
They stopped at the end of the hall, and Connor unlocked the door, which opened into a great room with living area to one side and kitchen to the other. The apartment was filled with large windows on two sides. The city swooped out in front of them, followed by a silver swath of the Bay that sparkled in the distance.
“Wow,” Zoe breathed, walking in with her mouth open. “This view is amazing.”
The apartment, as he’d suggested, looked freshly remodeled. It wasn’t huge but had plenty of room for a fully loaded kitchen with two ovens and a six-burner stove. A row of stools sat in front of a kitchen island with a marble countertop, and on the far end was a gleaming copper bar cart with a collection of whiskey bottles, two crystal decanters, and a variety of glass tumblers. Zoe wondered absently how much those bottles of whiskey cost.
“You think?” He was trying to shrug it off.
She rolled her eyes. “Enough with the reluctant millionaire bullshit. Next time we go out for drinks, you’re buying.”
He chuckled, and the momentary tension dissolved. “That’s fair.”
While the location and remodel were definitely upscale, the space was surprisingly low-key. There was no fancy art or expensive leather furniture, just a comfortable-looking couch under the window and…she blinked. “You have three matching La-Z-Boy chairs?”
“Mason and Nate tend to hang out here. Something about the food. I was tired of them trying to take my chair, so I got them each one of their own.”
In front of the recliners, on either side of a large, wall-mounted television were built-in shelves filled with books and a small collection of framed pictures. Zoe was unsurprised to see most of them were of the three men.
She smiled. “So they take your chair and expect you to cook for them? Some friends.”
“The best, actually.”
He said it with such sincerity, her heart actually lurched. Once, she’d thought her friends from her old neighborhood would be like that. With her forever. But that was a long time ago. A lifetime, actually.
“You guys are really lucky.”
Connor spoke from behind the counter. “I always figured you and Luke and Rafe were pretty close, too.”
She shrugged. “We are. But it’s not the same. Luke and Rafe had already worked together before they started the firm. They brought me in because I knew patents, and they’d heard I was as hungry for work as they were.”
“Hmm.” He scrutinized her for another minute before turning back to the stove. “So why were you riding that scooter, anyway?”
She wandered back over and sat at the island, watching Connor’s efficient movements around the kitchen as he set out cream and sugar. “Hurricane was one of my first clients. I helped them with a bunch of patents, but I’d never actually ridden one of their scooters. The CEO has been giving me a hard time about it. I figured I better give it a try before he gets his feelings hurt. And honestly, I don’t have many clients of my own, so I have to keep the ones I do have happy.”
“You’ll always have us, you know,” Connor said, handing her a steaming mug of coffee. “I hear the Livend Capital group is doing fine.”
She rolled her eyes. “Modest, much?”
“Just stating a fact,” he said mildly.
“Well, I appreciate that, but you’re Luke’s client.
We all get paid when we work for you, but he gets the lion’s share of the revenue. I need my own clients. Start-ups, entrepreneurs, people with things to patent.”
He gave a noncommittal grunt and turned back to the stove to cook the eggs. Zoe poured a dab of cream into her coffee as she watched him put a slice of what looked like homemade bread into the toaster, then took a grateful sip. “Oh man, this coffee is amazing. What’s your secret?”
“Measurement,” he replied. When the toast popped, he added a thick slab of butter, then served the eggs and handed her the plate.
“You know, I think snarky Connor is the best Connor.” She took a bite of her eggs and moaned in shocked appreciation. “First the coffee and now this? I didn’t think eggs could taste this good. I suppose you’re going to tell me the secret is mixing or something?”
“Nope.” He quirked a smile. “Butter. Now eat up. You’ve got ten minutes till your sentence begins.”
Chapter Five
After getting Zoe squared away in his guest room, Connor baked a batch of scones to bring over to his mother’s house, then spent several hours working—and trying his best not to think about Zoe. He called her out a little after noon for lunch, then banished her back to the guest room while he drove to Sausalito.
As he made his way up the front walk, he paused for a moment to examine the three-foot-high collection of empty cardboard boxes stacked next to the garage, sighing as he spied a bright-yellow “flammable” label and imagined what the contents of that particular box had been.
Shaking his head, he continued to the bright-purple front door. On one side of the entryway sat a wooden bench, littered with a tangle of mud-caked garden clogs, rubber boots, and sneakers that had definitely seen better days. Garden pots filled with dirt and tiny plants, pulled weeds, and a pair of leather gloves cluttered the seat. On the other side of the front door sat a weather-beaten crate filled with small glass bottles and heaped with plastic tubing. Unidentifiable machines covered with knobs and levers that looked like they might have been manufactured in the 1950s were stacked next to the crate, topped with an ancient computer monitor.
