It Had To Be You

by Francis Ray

  “No.” The one word, was flat, inflexible.

  She shut her eyes. “Please.”

  “If I let you go, I might never see you again.”

  That was exactly what she wanted. Liar. Already her blood rushed hotly through her veins. She felt his arousal against her back and wanted to press her hips against him, roll over on her back and . . . She groaned.

  “Honey, please listen. Neither one of us expected this to happen. You waited for a reason.” His cheek rested against her hair. “If you have to blame someone, blame me.”

  She shook her head. Honesty dictated she share the responsibility. She had acted as if she knew what she was doing. She vividly recalled pressing against him, attempting to take off his shirt. “I’m responsible for my own actions.”

  His hand tenderly stroked up and down her arm. “It’s no excuse, but I’ve never lost control like that.”

  “Me, either,” she whispered.

  His hand cupped her chin, turned her face toward him. “Last night was unbelievable. Holding you in my arms, hearing you call my name is probably as close to heaven as I’ll ever get.”

  Some of the tension seeped out of her. She finally understood what all the hoopla was about sex. It was explosive and mind blowing. It could take you under its seductive spell from one heartbeat to the next.

  “I’m going to my place, shower, and then come back. Where I’m staying is isolated with a private beachfront. We can spend the day swimming or just doing nothing.”

  She simply shook her head.

  “Yes. You have nothing to be ashamed of. I hope you aren’t sorry,” he said, worry creeping into his voice.

  “It shouldn’t have happened.”

  “Are you sorry?”

  She should be, and that made her even more confused. She glanced away.

  “I won’t press you for an answer, but you aren’t going to beat up on yourself.” Kissing her bare shoulder, he pulled up the sheet to cover her back and rolled away. “I’ll be back in thirty minutes. There’s a small kitchen where I’m staying. On the way over there, we can stop and pick up some food.”

  Laurel said nothing. The moment he left, she was leaving. She’d get a room at a hotel if necessary, until she could get a flight out.

  Zach walked into her line of vision and knelt. He had his pants on, but his shirt was unbuttoned. Laurel averted her eyes. She recalled too vividly kissing his broad chest, running her hands over the muscled warmth. She wanted to again.

  “If you run, I’ll follow you,” he said, his voice unyielding. “Just because it happened quickly doesn’t mean it isn’t right.” He reached out and gently brushed her hair behind her ear. “I’d like nothing better than for us to stay in bed and make love all day. Maybe tomorrow.” Kissing her lightly on the forehead, he came to his feet. “Last night wasn’t a vacation fling. The only way I can prove that to you is if you stay.”

  Laurel heard the front door close. She sat up in bed, drew the sheet over her naked breasts, and put her forehead in the palm of her hand. She should be calling for a taxi to take her to a hotel instead of just sitting there. The reason was simple: She wanted to believe Zach.

  If she left, she’d never learn if he was telling the truth. She didn’t know anything about him. He appeared successful, but that didn’t mean he was. Still, he’d never even hinted that he wanted her to pay for anything.

  What did she know about Zachary Albright? Nothing, except he was the most gorgeous man she’d ever met, kissed like a dream, and made her body crave his touch. He was also attentive, kind, thoughtful.

  She massaged her temples and then glanced at the phone. She hadn’t seen Kyle yesterday and could only hope that, once he’d seen her with Zach, he’d gone about his business. Rio had given her a phone number to call if she had any problems. If she called him, he’d find out about Zach, but Rio might want to know the reason.

  She had absolutely no idea what to do and no one to ask for advice. Ashamed of the way she’d behaved, she couldn’t call Sabra.

  The doorbell made her jump. Zach. She wasn’t ready to see him again. The doorbell rang again, then there was knocking.

  “Delivery for Señorita Raineau,” an accented Spanish voice called.

  Frowning, Laurel put on a thick terry-cloth robe and went to the front door. “Yes?”

  “Delivery for Señorita Raineau.”

  She reached to open the door, then went to the window and looked out. A man stood there with a large bouquet. She opened the door. “I’m Ms. Raineau.”

  The man smiled and handed her an armful of fresh yellow roses, daisies, and lilies.

  “Where do I sign?” she asked.

  “No signature, señorita.” Smiling broadly, he went back to a flower cart, looked at his watch, and leaned against the side.

  Laurel closed the door. A piece of paper torn from a small spiral notepad was stuck in the flowers. She pulled it out.

  Please stay. Zach.

  Laurel plopped down on a chair. He wasn’t making this easy for her. Which was probably exactly what he planned. She wasn’t a spontaneous person. She thought things through—which had saved her from being used by Sean. She’d been flattered by his attention, the two dozen roses that arrived almost daily for the two months they’d dated.

  She glanced down at the cut flowers in her hand and treasured them more. Lifting them to her nose, she smelled the sweet fragrance. She’d been attracted to Zach from the first moment she saw him smiling down at her.

  The doorbell rang again. She came to her feet, sure it was Zach this time. She opened the door and saw the same deliveryman with another bouquet of flowers. He handed it to her and started back to his cart. Laurel stood, waiting to see if he left. He didn’t. Closing the door with an unsteady hand, she pulled out another piece of notebook paper and read the note.

  Please stay. Zach.

  “Oh, Zach,” she murmured and started back to her bedroom.

  Zachary quickly showered and dressed, then jumped in the Jeep and drove straight to Laurel’s condo. He could only hope the street vendor had been able to detain her. He didn’t want to give her time to leave. He wanted her to know last night had been important to him.

  He cared about her. It surprised him how much. While watching her sleep in his arms, he’d never felt such contentment or so blessed. If he wasn’t scared of losing her, he would have told her the truth about his identity once they left the nightclub.

  His hands flexed on the steering wheel. He had to show her how much she meant to him. It was the only way out of the mess he’d made. He hadn’t planned on making love to her, but he was caught up in a desire that, once unleashed, was difficult to control.

  His heart thundered when he didn’t see the vendor’s cart. He braked sharply and hurried to the front door. “Laurel! Laurel!” He banged on the door, and when there was no answer, he hurried toward his Jeep. He’d check every hotel in the area if he had to.

  “Zach.”

  He turned. Laurel stood in the doorway. He didn’t stop until she was in his arms, his lips on hers. He felt the fire zip through him, his control slipping again, and pulled back. “I thought you’d left me.” He hadn’t meant the words to come out so desperate, but he couldn’t have cared less.

  Laurel was still here. He hadn’t lost her. Gently guiding her back inside, he closed the front door.

  “I couldn’t.” She bit her lower lip. He hungered to do that for her. “Thank you for the flowers, but don’t you think you overdid it a bit.”

  He pulled her to him again. “I saw him on my way to change. You’re too well mannered not to accept a delivery. I told him to keep delivering flowers every five minutes or so until I got back. I guess I panicked when I didn’t see his cart.”

  “I figured you must have told him something like that, so I asked how many more notes he had. When he told me three, I took them and the three bouquets so I could bathe in peace.”

  “Sorry.”

  He didn’t look sorry.
“I love flowers.”

  “That’s what I was counting on.” He grabbed her hand and took her to the door of her bedroom. “Grab a swimsuit, sundress, sandals. If you get tired of my cooking we can go out to eat. Our first stop is the market. I’m starved and you must be, too.”

  “We might stay that way. I can’t cook,” she said, wrinkling her pretty nose.

  He kissed her. He couldn’t help it. He still had time. “I didn’t expect you to. Today I take care of you.”

  “Please don’t be a lie,” she whispered.

  Zach’s heart clenched painfully in his chest. His arms closed around her, his mouth taking her. There was desperation coupled with hunger as his tongue tangled with hers, lapping at the sweetness, telling her in the only way he could that what he felt for her was genuine. Reluctantly he lifted his head. Trembling hands framed her face. “Believe that. Believe me.”

  Her smile was tremulous, but it was there. “If you can’t cook, you’re going to be in so much trouble.”

  The vise around his chest eased. “I’ll let you be the judge. Go get your things so we can get out of here.”

  Sliding her arms from around his neck, Laurel went to her bedroom. Zach shoved his hand through his hair. Somehow he’d make things right. He had to. Just the thought of her not being in his life made his gut twist painfully.

  “Ready.” She returned wearing a sexy strapless sundress that stopped just above the incredible knees he fondly recalled kissing. In her hand she carried a large tote, a wide-brimmed straw hat, and a purse. On her feet were barely there, three-inch high-heeled sandals. She looked fantastic.

  “Then let’s get out of here.” Zach ushered her out of the house, locking the door after them.

  Laurel was amazed by Zach’s knowledge of foods and his ability to haggle with the vendors. He seemed to enjoy it as much as they did. In less than thirty minutes they had several bags and were back in the Jeep, heading to his cottage. Around the third or fourth bouquet of flowers she’d decided to trust her heart, trust Zach.

  “We’re almost there.” The Jeep broke through a clearing.

  Ahead was a dazzling white two-story home. Several towering palm trees were in the yard. On the veranda, huge baskets of ferns mixed with trailing red flowers twirled in the morning breeze. The house looked cool and inviting against the dense green foliage on either side and behind it. “A friend of my sister owns the home. My cottage is in back.”

  “It’s beautiful here,” she said as Zach pulled to a stop. Getting out, she grabbed a plastic bag in each hand.

  He grabbed the other bags and stopped in front of her. “I suppose you’re going to be stubborn again and not let me carry those.”

  “It’s the least I can do since I can’t cook. Stop stalling. I’m starving here.”

  He kissed her on the cheek. “Come on then. It’s a short distance away.”

  Laurel started after Zach on the stone path around the side of the house, noting again the dense native trees and shrubs. Then she found something much more interesting to look at: Zach’s butt. She bit her lips to keep from laughing. The man was built with defined muscles and an easy strength that still made her breath catch when she thought about it.

  “What do you think?”

  Her gaze jerked up. It took her a few moments to realize he was talking about the cottage. It was white with a vine-covered pergola that formed a room-like courtyard. Whoever the owner was, he had created a restful retreat. “It’s charming.”

  “I usually like a lot of space, but the place has grown on me. Come on.” Bounding up the three steps, he opened the door.

  Laurel frowned and followed. “You didn’t lock it?”

  A strange expression crossed his face. “The owner has security on site while he’s away, so it’s safe.”

  She stepped inside and was immediately captivated. Soft hues of blue and yellow dominated the airy front room. The floors were opaquely stained ash hardwood. The furnishings were simple antiques and down-filled upholstery furniture, giving the area a soothing open feeling. “I see what you mean. It’s wonderful.”

  “The kitchen is this way.” He went to an adjoining room off the living room. “I’ll have your breakfast in no time. Omelet and fried potatoes with onions all right?”

  “I’m from Nashville, so it couldn’t be better.” She placed her bags on the stainless-steel counter and began removing items, hoping Zach would want to share a little of his background as well.

  He took a large bowl from beneath the cabinet. “I grew up in Atlanta. I guess you could say we were privileged, but my mother was always down-to-earth, just like her parents.”

  Laurel placed the eggs and vegetables on the counter. “Did your mother teach you how to cook?”

  He smiled, then washed and peeled the potatoes. “She said she didn’t want me starving when I went away to college. Besides, when I got married, I could help out my wife.” His gaze caught the question in her eyes. “Never married. I was serious only once, a lifetime ago.”

  Did she have the right to ask what happened? After last night she did. “What happened?”

  “I wasn’t what she wanted.” He shrugged and reached for a skillet.

  Laurel wished she was intuitive enough to know if there was regret in his voice. “What can I do to help?”

  “Nothing. Have a seat.” He reached for the carton of eggs.

  “I should be doing something,” she protested. Unrelated to business, no one besides her family had ever taken care of her.

  “You are.” He turned to whisk the eggs.

  “What?”

  He tossed a look over his shoulder that melted her heart and heated her blood. “Making every breath I take that much sweeter.”

  Laurel sank into a chair. “Zach.”

  His dark eyes narrowed, then he went back to whisking eggs. “Breakfast and then I want to show you something.”

  “What is it?”

  “Something that we’re both going to enjoy.”

  “A hammock?”

  Zach grinned and gave the hammock tied between two large palm trees a slight push. “I saw it when we were shopping this morning.”

  Laurel’s gaze moved from him to the blue-and-white-striped hammock. “Will it hold us?”

  “I tested it while I had you wait in the house.” He gave it another playful shove. “We can see the sea from here and just relax. You game?”

  She looked at the knots securing the hammock to the towering palms, then back to him. “You can cook, but . . .”

  “I was an Eagle Scout, plus my roommate in college had a home in the Hamptons. We spent a lot of time on his sailboat. These knots won’t give.” To demonstrate, he lay down, then wiggled, laughing as her eyes widened in alarm, reaching out to catch him in case he started to fall.

  Chuckling, she shook her head. “You’re like a kid.”

  He held his arms out to her. “Come on, let me hold you.” He wanted that more than anything.

  She took a tentative step toward him, slipped out of her heels, eased down on the hammock, and lay back. Her body immediately rolled halfway on top of his. “Sorry.”

  “I’m not.” His arms closed around her. He kissed the top of her head. “I’m still taking care of you.”

  She sighed, rubbed her cheek against his chest, and snuggled closer. “This is nice.”

  He set the hammock in motion. “Go to sleep. When you wake up we’ll decide what to do—if anything.”

  She sighed again. “Thank you, Zach.”

  He kissed the top of her head again and said nothing. With those words, she cut deeply into his heart and left a bitter taste in his mouth. She was thanking the person she thought he was.

  He hadn’t wanted Laurel hurt, but it was too late now. Even as he held her, he had a feeling that this was going to blow up in his face, and when it did Laurel would be lost to him forever.

  Laurel woke up in Zach’s arms. This time she knew exactly where she was. Beneath her cheek, his heartbe
at accelerated. She lifted her head and stared into his dark eyes swirling with desire. She didn’t think. She kissed him, the hammock swaying.

  She threw her leg over him, climbing on top to leisurely taste his mouth. His large hands slid up and down her back, finally settling on her hips, holding her against his erection.

  Heat, fire, and need churned through her. She was in control and enjoyed every passionate moment. She broke the kiss and stared down at him.

  His hand tunneled through her hair, massaged her scalp. “You sleep all right?”

  “Yes.” She traced his sensual lower lip with her fingertip. “You?”

  “I’d rather hold you than sleep.”

  Her forehead touched his chest. “Zach, you do have a way with words.”

  His hand lifted her head until her warm breath fluttered across his face. “It’s you. You make me want to be better.”

  She frowned. “You’re one of the sweetest, most caring men I’ve ever met.”

  His smile wistful, he glanced at his watch. “You have twenty minutes to make it to your appointment at the Tree Spa for the works.”

  She jerked up, causing the hammock to lurch. “The Tree Spa. I called and they were booked.”

  He curved his arms around her waist and beneath her knees and stood. Still carrying her in his arms, he started for the house. “I guess they had a cancellation.”

  “You did more than watch me sleep.”

  “I never want you to look back on the time we spent together with regret.” He went up the steps. Opening the door, he went inside the house.

  “You do so much for me,” she said, shaking her head as he set her on her feet. “I do nothing for you.”

  He stared down at her, then lightly kissed her. “Just by being you, you give me more than I thought possible, more than I deserve. Now get your tote or you’ll be late.”

  “I’m going, but I’ll surprise you tomorrow.” Laurel went to get her bag, planning her surprise for Zach.

  The Tree Spa was as wonderful and as posh as she’d heard, and the technicians were skilled. Laurel loved the indulgence of being pampered. She felt rejuvenated, her skin dewy fresh. She smiled to herself on leaving. She couldn’t wait for her bare skin to touch Zach’s. It amazed her how his hard, muscular body felt so good against her. They fit.