When Remy made a growling sound in his throat, Zandra put a hand to his rigid chest and smiled sweetly at Colin. “Would you excuse us for a minute?”
“Sure,” he agreed, green eyes glinting with amusement. “I’ll top off your glass while you’re gone.”
“Great. Thanks.”
Clenching a fistful of Remy’s shirt, Zandra led him from the room. As soon as they reached the kitchen, she jabbed a finger into his chest and hissed, “What the hell is your problem?”
He scowled. “I told you I needed to talk to you.”
“And I told you this wasn’t a good time for me.”
“Because of that guy?” he growled, jerking a thumb toward the living room. “He’s not even your type.”
“How the hell do you know what my type is? Besides, it’s none of your damn business!”
Remy’s nostrils flared. “So are you gonna sleep with him?”
Heat rushed to her face. “Like I said—”
“Because if not, you’d better hope he’s not out there slipping something into your damn drink.”
“Are you serious?” Zandra sputtered incredulously. “Do you realize you said practically the same thing to me the night I was leaving for my prom? In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not seventeen anymore.”
“I know that,” he snapped.
“Coulda fooled me. Anyway, Colin doesn’t need to drug me to get me into bed.” She smirked. “You didn’t.”
Remy flinched, clenching his jaw so hard she thought his teeth would break.
“Now if you don’t mind,” she said levelly, “I’d like to get back to my guest. Feel free to see yourself out.”
As she turned and marched from the kitchen, Remy growled, “I’m staying.”
She whirled around. “No, you’re—”
“We need to talk.”
“Like I said before,” Zandra bit out, “we can talk tomorrow. I have company.”
“Then I’ll just wait until he leaves.” He shot her a dark look. “I’m not giving you another chance to blow me off like you did earlier.”
Zandra glared at him. He wanted to be a third wheel? Fine, she’d treat him like one.
As she returned to the living room, Colin glanced up from perusing the glossy pages of a coffee table book. “Is everything all right?”
“Everything’s fine,” she said brightly, rejoining him on the sofa.
He looked unconvinced. “Maybe I should just go. I don’t want to cause any trouble.”
“You’re not causing any trouble,” she assured him. “Remy’s just being his usual overprotective self. Old habits die hard. Anyway, I want you to stay. I was enjoying your company.”
Colin smiled, looking pleased. “And I was enjoying yours.”
“Good.” She picked up her glass. “Now where were we?”
“I believe we were setting up our date for—” He broke off with a frown, watching as Remy sauntered into the living room swigging from a bottle of beer.
When he plopped down in a nearby chair and grabbed the remote control, Colin looked at Zandra and mouthed, Is he staying?
Rolling her eyes in exasperation, she mouthed back, Just ignore him.
Of course this was easier said than done with Remy just a few feet away, pumping more testosterone and aggression into the air than a feral lion staking his territory.
Setting down the coffee table book, Colin remarked offhandedly, “I thought this building had tighter security.”
Zandra sipped her wine. “What do you mean?”
“Isn’t the front desk supposed to call tenants when they have visitors?”
Zandra wished he hadn’t gone there. Instead of heeding her advice to ignore Remy, he seemed determined to needle him. “I’ve never had a problem with the front desk.” She paused. “That said, I think they’re, ah, intimidated by certain visitors. And that’s why they might give those visitors a pass.”
Colin frowned and looked over at Remy, who was sprawled insolently in the chair with his long legs stretched out as he flicked through TV channels.
Trying to redirect Colin’s attention, Zandra said cheerfully, “Since you’re new in town, I’ll choose the restaurant for dinner on Friday night.”
Meeting her gaze, Colin smiled. “Sounds good. I can’t wait.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Zandra could see images flashing rapidly across the LCD screen as Remy clicked faster through channels.
“Speaking of dinner,” Colin said conversationally, “what kind of foods do you like, Zandra?”
She laughed. “Oh, I eat everything.”
He gave her a slow, appreciative once-over. “I find that hard to believe.”
“It’s true,” Remy lazily confirmed. “She eats like a horse. Always has.”
As Zandra sputtered indignantly, he drawled with wicked satisfaction, “But that’s okay. I don’t mind helping her burn off all those calories.”
Her face flamed at the unmistakable implication.
Colin frowned, glancing from Zandra to Remy. “I thought you two were just friends.”
“Well, see, that’s the interesting thing—”
Zandra abruptly set her glass down on the table and blurted, “You know, it’s getting late, and I have an early appointment tomorrow. So we should probably call it a night.”
Ignoring the flash of triumph in Remy’s eyes, she got up and ushered Colin to the door, thanking him for the wine.
“Are we still on for Friday night?” he asked hopefully.
“Of course. I’m looking forward to it.”
He smiled. “Me, too. Good night.”
“Good night.” Closing the door, Zandra rounded furiously on Remy. “I can’t believe you just did that!”
He bounded to his feet. “And I can’t believe you expected me to sit here and watch you cozy up to that asshole!”
“You wouldn’t have had to ‘watch’ anything if you’d gotten the hell out like I told you to!”
“And leave you alone with loverboy?” Remy gave a harsh snort. “I don’t think so.”
Zandra glared at him, trembling with anger. “You just don’t get it, do you? It’s none of your damn business who I sleep with!”
“The hell it isn’t!”
Where the hell have you been, woman? Who you been screwing?
No one—
Don’t lie to me!
Not in front of Zandra. Please, Landis, not—
WHAP!
Lying whore!
Shaking off the painful memory, Zandra turned and yanked the door open. “Get out.”
Remy didn’t budge. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Get out!”
His eyes blazed. “So this is how it’s gonna be, Zandra? After everything we shared last week?”
She sneered. “We had sex, Remy. You weren’t my first. You won’t be my last.”
He scowled ferociously. “We didn’t just ‘have sex.’ We made love—”
“We fucked,” Zandra spat crudely. “There’s a big difference.”
His face contorted with wounded outrage. “You little liar,” he snarled, advancing dangerously on her. “You know damn well it was more than that!”
Zandra stared at him, her insides quaking at the waves of heat and fury rolling off him. If she’d been in her right mind, she would have thought better of antagonizing someone his size. But her emotions were in turmoil. She was angry and hurting, so like a wounded animal cornered by a savage predator, all she could do was lash out at him and hope to inflict as much damage as possible before he devoured her.
Reaching her, Remy shoved the door shut, then seized her upper arms and hauled her roughly against him.
“Don’t manhandle me,” Zandra warned, trying to wrench herself free.
He tightened his hold. “Look—”
Something snapped inside her, and she roared into his face, “Did you hear what I just said? DON’T. FUCKING. MANHANDLE. ME!”
Taken aback by the force of her ange
r, Remy released her arms and stepped backward.
Chest heaving, nostrils flaring, Zandra glared at him.
After such an outburst, she expected him to leave, to slam out of her apartment without a backward glance.
What he did was something she never would have expected.
Holding her gaze, he slowly dropped to his knees.
Zandra stared, stunned speechless by the sight of this big, brawny, domineering male kneeling before her.
It broke her.
As tears rushed to her eyes, she covered her mouth to smother a choked sob.
Remy looked up at her, his gaze so earnest, so achingly tender and vulnerable, that her own knees nearly buckled.
“You have to know,” he said, husky with emotion. “You have to know I would never hurt you.”
Oh, God, Zandra silently moaned, squeezing her eyes shut as tears spilled down her cheeks.
Remy pulled her into his arms and buried his face in her abdomen, murmuring raggedly, “I don’t wanna fight, Z.”
God, neither did she. She was tired of fighting—him, herself, ghosts from her past. She was exhausted. But fighting was the only way to survive, and one thing she knew was survival.
Still, she didn’t resist as Remy stood and swept her up into his arms and carried her over to the sofa. He sat down and settled her on his lap. Her head found a familiar place on his shoulder as his arms curved around her waist, gathering her close.
She shouldn’t have felt so safe and protected, like nothing and no one could ever harm her as long as he was holding her. It shouldn’t have felt so good. So damn perfect.
She closed her eyes, savoring his heat, the strength of his chest and arms, the hard muscles of his thighs beneath her bottom.
He brushed the tears from her cheeks, his touch gentle. “Talk to me,” he murmured, his deep voice rumbling against her ear. “What’s going on with you? Hmm?”
Zandra swallowed tightly. She was so tempted to tell him about her father’s visit and the devastating things he’d said. But she wasn’t a child anymore, running to Remy’s house and crying on his shoulder after one of Landis’s violent outbursts. She was an adult now, more than capable of handling her problems on her own.
“It’s been a long day,” she answered without opening her eyes. “I’m still interviewing girls to replace Lena. I’m planning a showing for a new artist that I’m sponsoring. I had a ton of paperwork to catch up on. Like I said...long day.”
“So nothing else is bothering you?” Remy probed.
She shook her head.
She knew, even without seeing his face, that he didn’t believe her. He’d always been able to read her like a book.
She waited, hoping he wouldn’t press the issue.
“Things have changed between us, Zandra,” he said quietly, “and our relationship will never be the same again. But I hope you know that no matter what happens from this day forward, I’ll always be here for you. Do you believe me?”
Zandra hesitated, then nodded. She did believe him.
“Good.” He kissed her forehead.
Snuggling closer to him, Zandra slid her hand up his chest, soothed by the strong, steady thud of his heart beneath her palm. Even after a long day, she could still smell soap on his skin. He smelled clean, warm and masculine. He smelled like Remy.
“Do you remember the first time we met?” he murmured against her temple.
She smiled, opening her eyes to stare at the rugged curve of his jaw. “Of course I remember. Do you even have to ask?”
His lips curved. “Tell me what you remember.”
She sighed. “Hmm, let’s see. I had just moved into your neighborhood at the end of the summer. On the first day of school, I was walking home when some knuckleheads from my class started following me and taunting me just because our teacher had made a big deal about me skipping the second grade.”
Never one to back down from a fight, Zandra had thrown down her backpack and put up her fists, knowing she was outmatched but not caring. Just as the ringleader shoved her, Remy had appeared—materializing out of nowhere, it seemed.
Even then he was tall, towering over her and the other kids. His dark eyes flashed with fire as he stepped between Zandra and her adversary.
“Aw, man, you gonna fight a girl?” he demanded, his raspy voice filled with disgust. “What a punk.”
“I ain’t no punk,” the ringleader protested. His comrades had grown silent, watching the exchange from a safe distance.
“Then fight me,” Remy challenged, leaning down until his nose nearly touched the boy’s. “Whatsa matter? You scared?”
“Nah, man,” the bully insisted, the denial contradicted by the tremor in his voice. “This ain’t none of your business.”
“It is now.”
The boy hesitated, casting a furtive glance to his friends for support.
They shuffled uncomfortably, regarding Remy with wide, fearful eyes. “Come on, man, let’s just go. It’s not worth it. He’s in the fifth grade!”
The ringleader frowned, torn with indecision. He was afraid to look cowardly in front of his friends, but even more afraid of getting beat up by an upperclassman.
Finally he relented, shoving his hands into his pockets and backing away with a mumbled, “She’s just a dumb girl anyway.”
“Who’re you calling dumb?” Zandra demanded, starting after him as he and his friends crossed the street. Halted by Remy’s hand on her arm, she yanked herself away and scowled up at him. “What’d you do that for? You don’t even know me!”
He seemed taken aback by her reaction. While he stood there gaping at her, Zandra snatched her backpack from the ground and stomped off.
He caught up to her. “You’re welcome,” he grumbled irritably.
Zandra whirled on him. “For what? I didn’t need your help.”
“Sure looked like it to me,” he retorted. “That fat kid woulda whipped your butt, little girl.”
“What’s it to you?”
“Nothing, except I didn’t wanna see you get blood on your pretty dress.”
Zandra instantly melted. Because even though she’d resented her mother for making her wear a dress to school, and even though she had a reputation as a tomboy to protect, she secretly enjoyed girly things. The frillier, the better.
“You think it’s pretty?”
“Sure.” Remy shrugged, as if it were of no consequence to him. “So are you.”
Watching the poignant childhood memory unfold across Zandra’s face, Remy drawled wryly, “Twenty-five years later, and you’re still an ingrate.”
Zandra stuck her tongue out at him, and he laughed.
Kissing her forehead, he tightened his arms around her and rested his chin on top of her head. “Just think. If I’d stayed after school with Roderick to help our teacher clean the classroom, I wouldn’t have been there to rescue you from those little punks.”
Zandra smiled. “Yeah, yeah, yeah.”
Remy chuckled softly. “Ingrate, like I said.”
“Whatever.” She rubbed her cheek against his chest and sighed, enveloped in the cocoon of serenity he’d spun around them. “Have you had dinner yet?”
“Nah.” His voice was as lazy as she felt. “You?”
She yawned and shook her head. “Cora left something warming on the stove,” she murmured, referring to her personal chef.
“Are you inviting me to stay for dinner?”
“Mmm.” Zandra closed her eyes, her words slowing. “Just to prove...I’m not an ingrate.”
She felt Remy’s lips curve against her temple. “In that case...I’ll stay.”
“Mmmkay.” She shifted in his arms, burrowing closer as he leaned his head back against the sofa and let his eyes drift shut.
Within minutes, they were both asleep.
Chapter Seven
It was the heat of Remy’s touch that awakened her.
Slowly opening her eyes, Zandra stared down at his large hand resting on her thigh, w
here the hem of her dress had risen sometime during their nap. The warmth of his skin had penetrated the fabric to set off a tingling ache between her legs.
Drawing a shaky breath, she carefully tugged down her dress and squeezed her thighs together. Then she stared at Remy’s face, marveling at how sleep softened his hard, masculine features and made him boyishly beautiful.
As if sensing her gaze, he suddenly stirred. She watched as his black lashes fluttered and swept upward to reveal hazy dark eyes. He stared at Zandra for a moment, then smiled a lazy smile.
“Hey, pretty girl.” His sleep-roughened voice made her shiver.
“Hey.” She smiled almost shyly. “Guess we both needed a power nap.”
“Mmm. Guess so.” He stretched his back, thick muscles taxing the seams of his fine broadcloth shirt.
Zandra swallowed hard and looked around the lamplit living room. “I wonder what time it is.”
Remy glanced down at the black TAG Heuer watch adorning his thick wrist. “Almost nine.”
“Goodness,” she murmured. “We should eat dinner before it gets any later.”
“Probably,” he agreed.
But neither moved.
As they stared at each other, Remy took Zandra’s chin between his thumb and forefinger and lowered his head. She felt his breath across her face, and then he kissed her. His lips were incredibly soft and warm, sliding slowly and sensually over hers. She shivered, keeping her eyes open so that she could see herself in his as they kissed.
As his hot tongue flicked out to tease the seam of her lips, her nipples tightened. She opened her mouth, and his tongue stole inside to stroke hers. She moaned with pleasure, need pulsing between her thighs.
She wrapped her arms around his back and pulled him closer. He groaned softly against her mouth, his thick shaft hardening beneath her bottom. Even through their clothes, the heat of his body was enough to scorch her.
Cradling her head between his hands, he deepened the kiss, his lips devouring hers with a searing intensity that left her breathless and intoxicated. The man could kiss like no other.
Closing her eyes, she managed to whisper, “Are you ready to eat?”
“Yeah.” He sucked her tongue. “But not food.”
Her breath escaped her in a shaky rush as he lifted her from his lap and set her down on her feet. Holding her gaze, he reached beneath her dress, making her shiver as his callused palms caressed her thighs and buttocks. Gripping her silk panties, he dragged them down her legs. When she stepped out of them, he stood and picked her up, carrying her to one of the upholstered chairs.
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