“What should I know?” the patriarch finally asked, reading him like no one else, other than his brother, could do. “Who is this woman?”
There was a moment of pause as Zachary pondered the question. “It’s not important,” he finally said as he shook his head. “It’s not important at all. Just tell her not today. But I promise you, I’ll talk to her tomorrow. Please!”
The two men sat staring at each other, Zachary’s gaze pleading, and then Gamon nodded his agreement. He exited the car without uttering another word, leaving Zachary to stew alone.
Zachary swiped a large hand over his face. He wished he could have answered the question Gamon threw at him, but revealing what he thought he knew about Kenzie Monroe would only have opened a whole host of problems that he wasn’t ready to deal with. Tomorrow he would talk with her, answer her questions, and pray that when they were done, she’d be gone from Phuket as quickly as she’d come. He blew out a heavy sigh. And then he prayed that he wouldn’t miss having her around.
* * *
Kenzie had slept longer than she planned. After Zachary had canceled their scheduled interview, not even bothering to speak to her himself, she had come back to her room to sulk. Then the rain had come, and there had been nothing left to do but nap. Her planned thirty-minute power siesta had lasted for almost four hours. It was now dark and dank, the entire afternoon having passed her by.
She blew out a soft sigh as she pondered her next move. She had already transcribed the notes from her interviews with Zachary’s family and the staff at Revolution, and the outline of her article was well under way. What she’d initially written had taken a turn, the original direction she’d proposed no longer feeling right. There was still much work that she needed to do before it would be finished, and getting Zachary to answer some questions was just the beginning.
She moved toward the sliding glass door to peer outside. Lights from the larger house behind her flickered, the rear yard lit up like it was Christmas. Kenzie knew that Zachary lived in that bungalow, just steps away from the small patio that bordered the rear wall where she was staying.
Music echoed over the gated wall. It was soft and seductive, the ambience reminding her of a smoky jazz club. She stood listening, her eyes closed, her body swaying gently to the beat. It seemed like a good idea when she slipped her feet into a pair of flip-flops and headed in the direction of the music. And then she was standing at the back gate of Zachary’s patio and pool, knowing she should turn around and run. Instead, she approached in stealth mode, crouching low and tiptoeing closer to see without being seen.
Zachary lay in his soaking pool, his torso reclined back, his legs extended outward. His eyes were closed, and he looked relaxed, not an ounce of concern creasing his brow. Kenzie’s eyes danced over his face, across his torso, flitting past his rippled abs to where the water line shadowed his trunks. She imagined his muscles were as hard and tight as they looked. She clenched both fists at the thought of what he might feel like against her fingertips.
Something, or someone, inside the home drew his attention, his eyes flying open as he turned his head in that direction. He suddenly stood up, and Kenzie’s eyes widened. Naked, Zachary stood in full glory, exceptionally endowed, his male prowess moving her to actually salivate. He had the body of an Adonis—brick hard, marble slick, and too pretty for words. He was as perfect as any man she had ever romanticized about, and there had been plenty she’d fantasized about. She gasped, loudly, slapping her hand over her mouth as he suddenly looked in her direction. She dropped down lower behind the fence, the plants and bushes shadowing her frame, her heart racing as she prayed that he didn’t come her way to inspect. His eyes skated across the landscape for a quick minute before he grabbed his towel, wrapped it around his waist, and headed inside the house.
Kenzie blew out a sigh of relief as she tiptoed back down the path that had brought her there and into her bungalow. Clutching the front of her T-shirt as she calmed her nerves, she giggled. And Kenzie was not a giggler. She suddenly felt foolish, as though she was a teenager who’d seen a naked man for the first time. Invading Zachary’s privacy had not been her intent. Seeing him butt-ass-naked had been unexpected, a pleasant surprise that still had her panting. And now she suddenly didn’t have a clue what to do with herself.
Before she could formulate a plan in her mind, a to-do list that would turn her thoughts from him to something else, there was a knock on her door, the harsh rap meant to get her attention. She moved to answer it and was stunned to see Zachary standing on the other side. He was still bare-chested, but he’d pulled on a pair of sweatpants that sagged low against his hips.
“Did you need something?” he asked, his low tone too seductive to be any good for anyone.
Kenzie stammered. “I . . . what . . . it . . .”
Zachary grinned, his look telling. He shook his head. “I have some time right now if you want to talk.”
Kenzie was still struggling to find her voice. “Talk?”
“Ask questions. Start your interview. Unless you have other plans. I guess I should have asked if you were busy, but I figured since you were peeking over my fence, you needed something to do with your time.”
She pretended to be shocked. “Me? Peeking? I didn’t . . .”
He held up his hand, his index finger pointed to stall her comment. “I looked at the security tape. I have cameras all over the property, and you tripped the alarm. Besides, not even that bush could hide that backside of yours.”
Kenzie’s eyes widened, astonishment melting into embarrassment at being caught red-handed. She blushed profusely, her cheeks heating with color. “It’s not what it looked like,” she said as she crossed her arms over her chest. “I was just out walking and . . .”
“And you tripped at my gate?”
She rolled her eyes skyward. Zachary laughed, a deep chortle that had her laughing with him.
He swiped at the tear that had spilled past his lashes, his amusement gut deep. “You’re welcome to come over if you want. There’s some food they brought up earlier, and I have beer.”
Kenzie smiled, her expression wary. “I appreciate that, but why are you being nice to me?”
A smug smirk pulled at his full lips. “I can be mean if you want!”
“Don’t do anything different on my account,” she said facetiously.
There was a moment of pause as they stood staring at each other, each reflecting on how the tide had changed. She broke the silence. “I just need to change first.”
Zachary eyed her, his gaze noting the grass stains at her knees and the mud splattered on her bare feet. He shook his head one last time. “I’ll leave the front door open,” he said as he turned and headed off in the opposite direction.
* * *
Kenzie was freshly showered and perfumed when she knocked on Zachary’s front door before pushing it open to let herself inside. She called out his name once, and then again. He answered from the rear patio just as she was starting to get nervous.
Moving through the space, she was surprised by how stark and sparse the home was, the décor as minimalistic as one could get. There was little about his home that spoke to his personality or gave any insight to his spirit. None of his trophies or awards were displayed, and his title belt was nowhere to be seen.
A punching bag hung from the ceiling in the corner of the modest living room. Leather boxing gloves rested in a chair that sat off to the side. There was a small sofa in an unassuming shade of gray and a black wooden coffee table in the center of the room. One magazine rested on the table. Kenzie realized it was the issue of Sports Illustrated International that carried her first cover story, a feature on American gymnast Simone Biles, the teenage sensation who had taken the summer Olympics by storm.
There was a wall of bookcases filled corner-to-corner with books, the only thing that was outstanding in the room. Kenzie paused for a quick moment to read some of the titles, continuing on only when Zachary called to ask if she
was okay. She followed his voice, and when she stepped through the glass doors to the outside, Zachary was reclining on a lounge chair, a hardcover novel resting in his lap.
“You clean up nice,” he said as he gestured for her to join him.
She had changed into a simple denim shift dress. Her legs were bare, and beaded sandals adorned her feet. She’d pulled her hair into a high topknot, ringlets framing her face. Mascara, eyeliner, and lip gloss defined her delicate features. She was stunning in a fresh-faced, girl-next-door kind of way, he thought.
Kenzie moved to take the seat beside him, taking the bottled brew he offered from his hand. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Are you hungry?” he asked. “There’s some chicken pad Thai in the wok on the stove and a kale and blood orange salad in the refrigerator.”
Kenzie shook her head. “Not really, but thank you for the offer.”
An awkward silence suddenly filled the space between them. Kenzie’s eyes skated back and forth, trying to take it all in. She broke the uncomfortable quiet with a question.
“Do you have another home? Because this place doesn’t feel like you.” She shifted her eyes to his.
“No,” Zachary answered. He looked around and shrugged. “How can you say this doesn’t feel like me?”
“It’s not what I expected. It . . . well . . . the inside is too bland and stark. It’s more business-like than personal. It doesn’t feel very homey.”
He paused for a moment as he pondered her comment. “How does homey feel?”
“Like an extension of your personality and the things you love most. You don’t have anything with color, no pictures, and where are all your trophies? Where’s your belt?”
He hesitated for a brief moment as if he were searching for an answer. When he finally responded, there was something in his tone that sounded like he wasn’t being wholeheartedly straightforward. “It’s all in storage.”
“You keep your fight memorabilia in storage? Even the title belt that you just won is already put away?”
Zachary shrugged, suddenly uncomfortable with her questions. Despite Sarai’s admonishments, he hadn’t thought about decorating the space since his ex-wife had left. She had taken everything—the pretty pictures, colorful throws, and all else that had given this home some personality. All she had left him was his books, and since then he hadn’t worried about what his house looked like, since he rarely spent time in any of the rooms besides his bedroom.
“So, are you planning to write about my skills as an interior designer or what I’ve accomplished in the fight ring?”
“You don’t have any design skills, so there is definitely no story there.” She lifted her legs onto the lounge chair and adjusted the back until she was comfortable. She took a swig from the bottle in her hand. “So, what are you reading?” she asked.
He gestured toward his book. “James Baldwin.”
“Classic.”
“I think so.”
“I was impressed by your book collection. It’s diverse, sometimes intellectual, some classics, first books, just a very wide range of titles. I was intrigued.”
“Thank you. Are you a reader?”
She nodded. “I tend to lose myself in mysteries and suspense thrillers. Maybe the occasional romance novel.”
“I’ve never read a romance novel.”
“Why not?”
I don’t believe in it,” he said matter-of-factly “Romance, that is. Happily-ever-after is for story books.” For a split second he thought about his brother and Sarai, honestly believing they might be the exception. He didn’t bother to say so.
Kenzie nodded in agreement. “I hate to say it, but I actually agree with you. I read them every now and again because I need one when I get hopeful, so I can remember that it’s all just a fairy tale.”
He smiled. “Who broke your heart?”
Kenzie took another swig of her drink. “I haven’t met him yet. I’ve never let anyone get that close.”
Zachary nodded. “Hopefully you never will. You don’t deserve to have your heart broken,” he said softly.
She let that sink in for a moment before she spoke again. “Do you think you’ll ever get over your ex-wife?” Kenzie suddenly questioned. She cut an eye in his direction.
The harsh look he shot back was chilling. He didn’t respond. Instead, he guzzled his own drink, finishing it off. Rising, he moved back into the house, returning a minute later with two more bottles of beer. He passed one bottle to Kenzie as he sat back down.
“So, do you have some questions to ask me?” he asked.
She persisted. “You didn’t answer my last one.”
He shot her another look. “So, maybe, you should move onto something else,” he said.
Kenzie gave him a slight nod. “Fair enough. Are you involved with anyone? Do you have a girlfriend?”
“Why are you so hung up on my personal life?”
“Inquiring minds want to know. Besides, you’re one of only a few professional athletes who isn’t hugged up with some beautiful woman in all of his photos. I just wondered why.”
Zachary took a deep breath. He stole a line from Kenzie’s playbook. “I guess I haven’t met her yet!”
Kenzie smiled. “So what do you want me to tell readers about you, Zachary Barrett?”
He paused for a moment, then he shrugged. “Does it matter? Most of it’s just smoke and mirrors. More readers than not are going to think it’s just a load of crap anyway. No one’s going to believe half of it.”
Kenzie folded her hands in her lap. “People are going to believe all of it. I hope to show them a side of you they’ve never seen before. If I’m good at what I do, I’ll paint a very honest assessment of the man you are. People will know you. Men will see you as their best friend or the guy they’d give anything to hang out with. For women, you’ll be the lover they hope to have—the man they want to father their children.”
“Except you really don’t know me. I may not be any of those things.”
He and Kenzie exchanged a look, Zachary eyeing her intently. She nodded. “I know enough to know that I’m on the right track. And I hope to discover more,” she finally said softly. “I hope that you’ll trust me enough to let me know you.”
Zachary nodded, shrugging his shoulders ever so slightly. He changed the subject. “So, can I ask you a question?”
Kenzie smiled. “Sure, ask me anything!”
“How long have you been a peeping Tom?”
Kenzie laughed, the wealth of it rising from her core and spreading outward like a growing vine. It was thick and rich, and it made him smile.
“I am not a peeping Tom,” she said, her singsong tone like a breath of fresh air. “Not by a long shot!”
“I couldn’t tell with the way you were crouched down in those bushes,” he replied, a smirk across his face. “Trying to be all stealth-like!” He chucked heartily.
“You didn’t see me in the bushes!”
“No, not until I played back the security tape. And trust me when I tell you the camera caught you at the perfect angle!” The memory of her ample backside on the screen had him grinning from ear to ear.
Kenzie’s face was flush with color, her cheeks warm with embarrassment. “You have me on video?”
He nodded his head as he took a sip of his beer. “I do. In fact, I’ve already made a few copies to share with family and friends. Would you like one?”
She sat forward in her seat. “That really isn’t funny!”
He laughed heartily. “Oh, it’s actually quite hilarious!”
Kenzie smiled, her head waving from side to side. The light danced across his chiseled features. He was a beautiful man, almost too pretty, with his dimpled cheeks and full lips. She found herself staring at his mouth, wondering what it might feel like pressed to hers. Imagining herself tasting him suddenly had her heated, perspiration rising with a vengeance to trickle into her creases. They suddenly locked eyes, studying each other intent
ly, and then she snatched her gaze away, fearing that he might read her mind.
She gulped her own drink to shake the thoughts from her head, and then she changed the subject. “So tell me your most embarrassing moment.” She sat back in her seat.
There was a quiet pause as he pondered her question. “Before I answer that, was hiding in my bushes your most embarrassing moment?”
Kenzie giggled. “No. A few years ago I had an interview with a national publication. I’d gotten to the third round of interviews, and I was feeling pretty confident that I’d gotten the job. I bought new shoes to wear to the interview. The cutest pair of stilettos. As I’m walking into the room to meet the publisher and his executive staff, my feet slipped out from under me and I landed on my ass. Hard. To add insult to injury, when I went to stand up my slacks split and I didn’t have on any underwear. It was not one of my finest moments.”
“No underpants?” he grinned.
She rolled her eyes skyward. “It was that kind of day.”
“So you like to go commando?” he said, amusement seeping from his eyes as he imagined what might be missing beneath the dress she was wearing.
As if she were reading his mind, she pulled at the hem of her garment and crossed her ankles tightly. They locked gazes a second time.
Zachary’s eyebrows were raised curiously, his expression wanting an answer to his question.
“Do you?”
She licked her lips slowly as she leaned forward in her seat. Her look was sultry and teasing. “Panties are so overrated, don’t you think?”
* * *
Zachary didn’t know how long they’d talked. He only knew that he thoroughly enjoyed the conversation. Kenzie was funny, quick with the one-liners, and she had him thinking about things he’d never considered before. They had talked sports, politics, books, and food. He discovered her penchant for exotic islands, large dogs, and Greek pastries. She had talked, and he enjoyed listening.
Perfect Pleasures Page 4
