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“Not bad. Been a few months since I’ve had time to swim in anything other than a hotel pool.” He grinned. “Salt water is way better than chlorine.”
That smile. Pure delight. She remembered it. Had seen him grin like that when surfing. And when doing other things. Naked things. There was a sudden throb between her legs as she remembered.
Oh, God. Her girl parts were dumb. So very very dumb.
She reached for the wine to refill her glass. Zach lifted an eyebrow.
“What?” she said. “Some of us have been working all day, not surfing.”
He held up his hands. “No judgment.”
“Who’s not judging who?” Faith said, appearing at the top of the stairs. She started down. “Zach, are you annoying Leah?”
Leah avoided wincing. Focus on the wine. Act normal. Faith did not need to know anything about Leah’s unfortunate weakness for Zach. Leah had kept it a secret for a long time now and she didn’t intend to change that any time soon.
“Not on purpose,” Zach said. “I’m just drinking beer.”
“Trust me, you can annoy people accidentally,” Faith said, but she smiled at her brother. “Go find Caleb. Talk boy stuff. Leah’s going to play me some stuff from Nessa’s session today while I cook.”
Zach tilted his head. “Nessa’s stuff? Can I listen?”
“No. Because I haven’t asked her if that would be okay with her,” Faith said. She flapped a dishtowel at him. “Shoo. Boy things. Go. Do. Soon to be brother-in-law bonding and all that stuff.”
“But—” Zach started to say, but shut up when Faith just pointed at the kitchen door. He picked up his beer, then stopped and grabbed another out of the fridge, before he retreated toward the living room.
As the door closed behind him, Leah felt relief for about five seconds. Until she realized that she actually wished he was still here in the same room with her.
Good grief. She really was stupid when it came to Zach. And there was probably not enough wine in the universe to cure her.
Chapter Six
Leah didn’t stay long after dinner was done, and Zach took her departure as an excuse to head out as well.
She’d seemed a little nervous around him, but maybe she was just still getting over him turning her down.
Hopefully. He didn’t want things to be weird. Which was why he’d spent most of dinner pretending not to notice how good she looked in the red tank top and jeans she wore.
Because there was one sure way to fuck things up while he was home and that would be to tangle with Leah in a whole different way.
The evening air had turned cooler, clearing his head as he walked the short path through the garden to the guesthouse.
In another few weeks it would be warm late into the evening, making evening swims and cold beers the order of the day. He needed to check that the air-conditioning in Grey’s studio was working or else he’d sweat himself to death trying to make this album.
He added that to his mental to-do list as he opened his front door and headed to the kitchen to open the French doors—smaller versions of the ones that graced Faith’s kitchen—to let the air in.
The breeze ruffled the stack of messages he’d pinned down on the table under a bottle of whiskey he’d found in the pantry.
Salt Devil whiskey. Will’s distillery. Mina had told him they were releasing their first batch soon. Maybe this was an advance sample. Not that he was in the mood for whiskey. Or the messages beneath the bottle.
But ignoring them wasn’t going to make them go away and he had just enough of a buzz on from the three beers he’d had with dinner to make reading them bearable. Maybe.
He set the whiskey to one side and picked up the stack of papers. Press. Press. Press. Jay. One of the execs from Fringe Dweller’s label. Press. Press. Press.
Nothing of any interest until the very last piece, which read only CHEN followed by CHECK YOUR E-MAIL.
Holy mother of—Chen Li was one of the two producers he was chasing.
He wondered where he’d left his laptop because there was no way he was turning his phone back on yet.
