Suddenly, a wave of empathy swamped her. In his own way, Liam was as much of a loner as she was. Both of them surrounded by people much of the time, and yet still lonely. The difference was, Liam had his family nearby. Perhaps they didn’t live in each other’s pockets, but they were a unit.
Even so, she could see him in her imagination, rattling around in this big, fancy apartment at night with no one to talk to or sleep with. Perhaps he was a workaholic because he had never known anything different.
She had been lost in her thoughts for a long time, because when she finally surfaced, Liam was eyeing her quizzically. “Am I boring you?” he asked, a hint of something in his voice that said her checkout had either unnerved or irritated him.
“Sorry.”
“What were you thinking about?”
She hadn’t expected a direct confrontation, but she should be learning by now that Liam was nothing if not direct. “Oh, this and that,” she said.
Her evasion displeased him. His eyes flashed with irritation. “May I ask you a question, Zoe?”
It wasn’t much of a request. More like a command. “I suppose so.”
“What do you do for a living?”
Her ankles tightened on the rungs of the stool. “I sing,” she said simply. “In nightclubs and bars and coffeehouses. Nursing homes, too, sometimes, but those are freebies.”
The intensity of his stare made her want to escape, but she held her ground. She knew what he really wanted to know. His actual question was, how could she afford a six-week stay at the Silver Beeches Lodge if she was an itinerant musician?
But he wasn’t rude enough to ask it that way, and she didn’t volunteer the information. That was a subject she wasn’t prepared to broach. At least not yet.
“I should go,” she said, anxiety rising like a dark cloud in her chest. She liked being an anonymous stranger. Perhaps that was why Liam Kavanagh both attracted and threatened her. She sensed that he could break through her inviolable secrets. Walls and barriers and protective shields. She had them all.
“I’m sorry,” he said stiffly, his cheeks ruddy with color. “I promised myself I wouldn’t pump you for information. It was rude of me.”
“Anyone would ask the same question over drinks or on a blind date. Don’t beat yourself up because I’m an odd duck.”
“Odd, but beautiful.”
His honest compliment warmed her. And judging by the look on his face, he had decided he could live with her eccentricities. “I’m harmless, I swear,” she whispered.
“That remains to be seen.” He smiled to soften the blunt response.
She hopped down from the stool and rubbed her damp palms on her pants. “Thank you for the coffee.”
Liam stood as well. “What’s your rush? You haven’t even seen my etchings yet.”
She cocked her head. “I’m assuming you’re talking about sex and not real pen-and-ink drawings—right?”
His lips twitched. “A woman who speaks without censoring her words. How interesting.”
“Are you calling me a social disaster?”
“On the contrary.” He moved closer. “I believe your species might be as rare as the unicorn.”
“Don’t malign the female sex. Men play games, too.”
“How so?”
“Pretending they feel something for a woman when all they want is a quick hookup in exchange for buying her dinner.”
He looked at her gravely, his expression guarded. “Unless I’m mistaken, I believe you bought your own dinner. And I haven’t been all that interested in quick hookups since I left my grad school days behind.”
She bit her lip, feeling outclassed and outplayed. Or perhaps that was a result of her insecurities kicking in. “What do you want from me, Liam?”
His fingers slid beneath her hair as he curled a hand behind her neck. “What do you want, Zoe?”
Though the room was plenty warm, gooseflesh broke out on her arms. “Answering a question with a question is classic avoidance behavior.”
“But I’m not avoiding you,” he said with perfect truth as he pulled her closer still. “You’re a guest in my hotel and in my home. I want to please you...to gratify your slightest whim.”
It was getting very hard to breathe. The heat from his body melted her synapses, making it impossible to think logically. “I think I read that line from a brochure in my room. Don’t oversell the hospitality thing. Zagat won’t revoke one of your stars.”
He sifted his fingers through her hair. The sensation as his fingertips brushed the skin at her nape was pure pleasure.
“You’re a bit of a smart-ass, aren’t you?”
He didn’t appear to mind. If anything her puny resistance had stiffened his resolve. The terrible double entendre, though thank God she didn’t say it out loud, sent hysterical laughter bubbling up in her throat. She couldn’t quite say when he had managed to pin her body between his big, masculine frame and the refrigerator. Her resistance was crumbling like day-old bread.
“I booked a six-week reservation,” she pointed out, panting as he nipped the side of her neck with sharp teeth. “Perhaps we should weigh our options.”
Now, his tongue teased the corner of her lips. His breath was warm on her cheek. “How many of our options include my taking you to bed?”
Her knees wobbled. She had started this madness with her flirty question in the garden. And if she were willing to be seduced? Liam couldn’t be blamed for thinking she was willing and eager to get naked. And she was...sort of....
But in the moonlit dark, with fragrance all around and romance in the air, a woman could understandably rush a few fences. Now she was having second thoughts. And third and fourth.
Caution and common sense came uninvited to the party. If she let this go any farther, Liam would eventually expect to know things about her. Things she wasn’t prepared to share. She sighed, arching her neck to give him access to the erogenous zone behind her ear. “Will you think me horribly gauche if I tell you I’ve changed my mind?” The man had not even kissed her yet, and her stomach was cavorting like a carnival goer on the Tilt-a-Whirl.
She both heard and felt his incredulous groan.
“Not gauche,” he grumbled. “Merely frustrating.”
Cupping his cheeks in her hands, she petted him like a baby. “Don’t be mad, Liam. You should take it as a compliment that you made me lose my senses. I’m rarely so susceptible to blatant romance.”
He released her and backed up twelve inches. Bits of his hair stood on end where she had raked his scalp with her fingers. His cheeks were flushed and his pupils dilated. She wasn’t even going to acknowledge the way his trousers tented.
Pressing the heels of his hands against his temples, he squeezed his eyes shut. “No sex. I get it.”
“No sex, now,” she clarified pedantically, not wanting to block the way for future opportunity.
His lashes flew open, his expression fierce as he jammed his hands in his pockets, no doubt to keep from throttling her. “Is kissing on the table? Really long, hot, make-us-both-so-crazy-we’ll-never-sleep kisses?”
Licking her lips, she tucked her hands behind her back, her fingertips resting against the cool flat surface of the appliance that was currently holding her upright. What could it hurt? “Of course,” she said, as if his question was the most ordinary thing in the world. “Shall I go first?”
Six
Liam knew in that instant that he was either a masochist or the luckiest bastard in the world. And for the moment, he didn’t give a damn if Zoe had more secrets than the Sphinx. He cleared his throat. “I’d be delighted for you to go first, Zoe. Be my guest.”
She regarded him with big blue eyes, as solemn as a child being offered a treat for good behavior. “I haven’t kissed a man in over a year.”
“Is that a euphemism for something?”
She shook her head. “No. That other thing you’re thinking of is more like a four-year dry spell.”
“I see.”
Was she playing him? Could anyone who looked like Zoe and who approached life with such reckless abandon avoid the kind of men who took advantage?
“You don’t believe me.”
The hurt in her eyes made him feel guilty, particularly since her quiet accusation was well-founded. “I want to believe you,” he said. “But have you looked in a mirror? Men notice people like you.”
“You’d be surprised how well I fly under the radar when I want to. But I understand. You don’t know me. And even though you want me, in your gut you think it might be a mistake. You’re torn, because you want to kiss me, and that might lead to something else, but you have a family and a hotel to protect. Have I summed it up?”
“I’d like to point out that you were the one who changed her mind about sex. Not me.”
“Only because I share some of your reservations. Will you take me at my word if I say I have plenty of money to pay my bill? That I’m not a scam artist? Or a criminal of any kind?”
He shifted from one foot to the other, unhappy with the direction the conversation was taking, but reluctant to miss this chance for clarification. “You sleep in the back of your van.”
She flushed from her throat to her hairline. Anger? Guilt? He didn’t know. A maelstrom of emotions flowed across her expressive features. “Wow. Does everybody in town report to you? Are you some kind of king on the hill?” The sarcasm would have been far more cutting if not for the wobble in her voice.
Weighing his words, he spoke carefully. “My buddy, Gary, is a single dad who struggles to make ends meet. He asked my opinion about whether or not I thought you would stiff him for the repair charges.”
Now the color in her cheeks faded, replaced by an aura of despondence. “And what did you tell him?”
Liam shrugged. “I said I’d cover the bill if there was a problem.” He was pretty sure he had killed any chance he had of ever getting Zoe Chamberlain into bed. At the moment she was looking at him like some wretched creature who had crawled out from under a rock.
She straightened her spine. Moments before, she had been leaning against his fridge, temptation personified. Now her posture defied reproach. “I’ll check out in the morning,” she said softly, her expression bleak. “Good night, Liam.”
Before he could blink, she was out of the kitchen and halfway to his front door. “Wait, damn it,” he said, striding after her, his heart pounding. “Don’t be ridiculous. Be mad at Gary, but don’t be mad at me. I would like to point out, however, that he’s a mechanic, not a shrink. It’s not like he divulged personal information.”
Now her eyes shot blue fire. “Where I sleep is personal information. He had no right to tell you that.”
Oh, hell. “He didn’t exactly tell me. He showed me, Zoe. And you certainly don’t have to explain if you don’t want to. I’m guessing that a handful of the world’s richest people do far stranger things. I know personally at least a couple who clip coupons and keep their money in mattresses.”
“So now you’re calling me crazy, too. Unbelievable.”
“You promised to kiss me,” he said, desperation making him reckless. Zoe was wearing a sky-blue blouse that deepened the color of her eyes. Her hair was a cloud of sunshine that warmed his dull apartment. Though she was so angry with him she quivered with it, he had never wanted anyone more. “Give me another chance,” he pleaded, even knowing in his heart that it was for the best if she walked out. “I didn’t set out to violate your privacy, I swear.” Reason and sense had left the building.
His passionate entreaty at least slowed her down. “You’re not the kind of man to beg,” she said. “It doesn’t sit well on you.”
“Then I won’t beg,” he muttered. “I’ll just do this.” Dragging her into his arms, he found her mouth with a shudder that quaked through him like a powerful rift in the earth’s core.
If she had fought him, he would have been honor bound to release her. From early adolescence, Maeve Kavanagh had drilled into her boys the proper ways to treat women with respect. She would have Liam’s hide for a handbag if she thought he had coerced any female, much less a guest at the Silver Beeches.
Fortunately for Liam, Zoe was not the kind to hold a grudge. She sighed and kissed him back.
Her acquiescence fired his hunger. He gripped her more tightly until she struggled. “Easy, big guy,” she said. “I’m not going anywhere. You pled your case persuasively. If this hotel thing doesn’t pan out, you ought to think about becoming a lawyer.”
“Shut up and kiss me,” he cajoled.
Her lips were as soft as the fog that rolled up over the mountain on winter mornings. And she tasted like the best wine in the cellars below. He ran his hands over her back, daring to slide one beneath her shirt. The delineation of her spine was more pronounced than it should have been. Thinking of her so ill bothered him in ways he couldn’t explain.
Though her personality was tough, in his arms she seemed fragile, heartbreakingly vulnerable. “I’m sorry,” he said again, urging her to believe in his sincerity.
Her waist was narrow, and without a belt, her pants rode low on her hips. Raw need blinded him as he imagined unzipping her clothing, dragging her beneath him and entering her hard and fast in hope of slaking the formidable hunger that gripped him.
Zoe’s silence began to worry him. “Say something, damn it.”
She tipped back her head and looked him straight in the eye, her expression rueful. “You don’t know much about sweet-talking a woman, do you?”
“I’ve always preferred action to talk. Words can run in circles.” Nuzzling her nose with his, he kept his hips pressed to hers, letting her feel what she did to him.
Her arms were wrapped around his neck, gratifyingly tight. He grasped her chin with one hand, keeping her lips in kissing distance. His other hand fisted in a hank of her hair. Caught thus, she had no choice but to open to him as he gave in to the urge to claim her mouth again.
“Oh, Liam,” she sighed. “You do this so very well.”
Since he felt like a rank teenager in the grip of angst-laden crush, her words of praise affected him more than they should. “We do this well,” he corrected. “I’m as surprised as you are.” Sliding a hand between their straining bodies, he found a pert nipple and stroked it.
Zoe twined a leg around his thigh. “Don’t stop.”
“I don’t plan to.” Scooping her into his arms, he strode toward the sofa, collapsing onto the butter-soft black leather with Zoe in his lap.
She laid her head on his shoulder. “This is the best hotel ever.”
“Brat.” A wave of tenderness swamped him, for the moment taking the edge off his arousal and allowing his conscience to lobby for maturity and restraint. “You know we probably shouldn’t do this, right?”
She sighed. “I know. We’ve only just been introduced.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to. You are the sexiest, most appealing woman I’ve ever had the good fortune to meet.”
Pulling back to look up at him, she raised her eyebrows. “Ever?”
He grinned, kissing her nose. “Well, I did get introduced to Gwyneth Paltrow once when she was filming a movie here. But movie stars don’t count. And besides, she’s a little too old for me.”
Zoe chuckled, playing with a button on his shirt. “You’re telling me you wouldn’t have carnal relations with Gwyneth Paltrow if you had the chance?”
“Chris Martin might not like it.”
“He’s a musician. You’re a wannabe football player. I think you could take him.”
Fighting his baser instincts, he stood up, setting her on her feet and moving himself out of temptation’s reach. “If you stay here any longer, we both know what’s going to happen. As much as it pains me to point it out, I think the timing is wrong. You said so yourself.”
Folding her arms across her chest, she regarded him with stormy eyes. “If you think I do this with everyone I fancy, you’d be wrong. I was serious about the four-year thing.”
&
nbsp; “Then why me?” It was a legitimate question, not false modesty.
Her shoulders lifted and fell. “I don’t really know. Your brother looks a lot like you, but I didn’t get the urge to drag him into bed.”
Liam was torn between relief and irritation. “Dylan says you want to play at his bar.”
“Yes.”
“And again, why?”
“I enjoy music. Is that so hard to understand?”
He knew she was hiding things about herself. And wasn’t trying very hard to pretend otherwise. A sense of foreboding overtook him. Though he claimed to be pragmatic, he did, after all, have several hundred years of Irish blood flowing in his veins. There was no denying the occasional frisson of gut feeling that guided his actions.
“A man was here today,” he said quietly. “Looking for you. Or rather, Zoe Henshaw. Since Zoe is a fairly uncommon name, Pierre and I assumed he meant you.”
She dropped abruptly onto the sofa...as if her legs had simply folded beneath her. Every ounce of color leached from her face. “Who?”
“I don’t know. Pierre dealt with him. The man didn’t identify himself.”
“What did Pierre tell him?” She looked as if the answer might be a knife to her chest.
“That we had no guest by that name. Then the guy left. We take privacy very seriously here, Zoe. You’re safe. For however long you choose to stay at Silver Beeches.” He would have written the vow in blood if it could have removed the look of panic and despair on her face. “Talk to me,” he said softly. “I won’t betray your trust.”
* * *
Zoe read the sincerity in his face, the masculine urge to help. But she dared not let down her guard. “Thank you,” she said quietly, wondering if she was capable of standing up. “But I’m fine.”
Her answer visibly displeased him. “Do you know who it was?”
“No.” God, it horrified her to realize how easy it was to lie. But keeping her own counsel had been her only protection in the last year and a half. “Thank you for telling me.”
She forced herself to rise and move toward the door. It was foolish to think she could afford a relationship with Liam Kavanagh, no matter how tempting he was. The only person she could trust, in the end, was herself. “I enjoyed the waterfall,” she said quietly, her hand on the doorknob.
A Not-So-Innocent Seduction Page 6
