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She was aware of Zac even before he said, ‘Looking fantastic.’
Zac. Those few minutes in the elevator had been torture. Her nostrils had taken in his spicy aftershave, while her body had leaned towards his without any input from her brain. When he’d looked like he’d been about to hug her she’d at least had the good sense to move away, even when internally she’d been crying out to have those strong arms wound around her. Now she stamped a big smile on her face and acknowledged, ‘It is.’ Too bad if the smile didn’t reach her eyes; hopefully Zac wouldn’t notice.
‘You’re not happy about something.’ He locked that formidable gaze onto her. ‘Give.’
Once again she’d got it wrong when it came to second-guessing him. ‘The florist’s running late, the wineglasses haven’t been set out, the band assured me they’d be set up by four and…’ she glanced at her watch ‘…it’s now three twenty-five.’ And you’re distracting me badly. I want you. In my bed. Making out like we used to. Actually, I’d settle for that hug.
‘We can do this. Tell me what you want done first.’ His eyes lightened with amusement, as if he’d read her mind.
He probably had. How well did she know him? Really? They hadn’t been big on swapping notes on family or growing up or the things they were passionate about. Only the bedroom stuff. Shoving her phone at him, she said, ‘Try the band. Their number’s in there. Eziboys.’
‘You’ve got the Eziboys coming to this shindig?’ Admiration gleamed out at her. ‘What did you have to do? Bribe them with free plastic surgery for the rest of their lives?’
With a light punch to his bicep she allowed, ‘One of them went to school with Andy’s younger brother. They want to help the family.’
‘Not your formidable charm, then?’ He grinned a full-blown Zachary Wright grin, one that was famous for dropping women to their knees in a begging position.
Click, click. Her knees locked and she stayed upright. Just. ‘Phone them, please.’ Begging didn’t count if she remained standing. Anyway, she wanted the band at the moment, not sex with this hunk in front of her looking like he’d stepped off the cover of a surfing magazine. Another lie.
Zac was already scrolling through her contact list. ‘Got a dance card? I want the first one with you. And the second, third, and fourth. Oh, I know, I’ll put those in your diary for tonight.’
Dance card, my butt. How out of date could he get? ‘You’ll be inundated with offers.’ Did he really want to dance with her? She’d never survive. What little control she might exercise on her need would sink without trace if he so much as held her in his arms, let alone danced with her. Anyway, he wasn’t making sense. He’d been peed off when she dumped him, so he wouldn’t want to get close to her on the dance floor. Or did he have other plans? Plans that involved payback? Tease and tempt her, then say bye-bye?
As Zac put the phone to his ear he shook his head. ‘If you didn’t want dancing tonight you should’ve gone to the retirement village to find a group of old guys with their tin whistles to play for us.’
‘I enjoy dancing.’ Just don’t intend doing it with you.
‘I didn’t know that. Looking forward to it. Looks like your florist has arrived.’ He nodded in the direction of the doors, then went back to the phone. ‘Jake, is that you, man? How’re you doing?’
Olivia stared at Zac. He knew Jake Hamblin, the band’s lead guitarist? That could be good for getting the band to actually turn up. Zac was full of surprises. Hadn’t he said something about the florist too? Spinning around, she came face-to-face with a neat and tidy woman dressed in black tailored trousers and an angora jersey under her jacket. Nothing flower-like about her. ‘You’re the florist? I’m Olivia Coates-Clark.’
The woman nodded, sent Zac a grin. ‘That’s me. I see the flowers finally turned up. Show me exactly where you want these arrangements and I’ll get on with it.’
Zac was handing the phone back to Olivia. ‘How’s things, Mrs Flower?’ That really was her name. ‘Your hip still working fine?’
‘You were the surgeon. What do you think?’
Zac’s laughter was loud and deep, and sent pangs of want kicking up a storm in Olivia’s stomach. ‘Good answer,’ he said.
So he knew this woman too. Probably used her for sending beautiful flowers to all his women. Ouch. He’d sent her flowers when she’d dumped him. A stunning, colourful bouquet of peonies, not thorns or black roses, as well he might’ve.
‘Do we have a band?’ she asked in her best let’s-get-on-with-things voice.
‘Filling the service elevator with gear as we speak,’ Zac said. ‘What’s next? Want those buckets of flowers moved somewhere?’
The band was on its way; the flowers were about to be fixed. Olivia shook her head in amazement. Two more ticks on her mental list of outstanding things to get finished. Things just happened around Zac. Somehow it had all got easier with him here. ‘We need two long tables up against that far wall for the auction. The hotel liaison officer went to find them an hour ago.’ She needed to display the gifts that’d been donated.
‘Not a problem.’ Did he have to sound so relaxed?
The clock was ticking. That long soak she’d planned on in the big tub in her room upstairs before putting on her new dress, also from the shop where she’d got her coat, might just be a possibility. ‘Easy for you to say,’ she snapped.
Zac took her arm and led her across to where the florist was already wiring irises into clever bunches that were going to look exquisite. ‘You explain where you want everything and try to relax. We’ll get this baby up and running on time. That’s a promise.’
‘I am relaxed.’
‘About as relaxed as a mouse facing down a cat. A big cat.’ He grinned and strolled away before she could come up with a suitable rejoinder.
Very unlike her. She always had an answer to smart-ass comments. Watching Zac’s casual saunter, she noted the way those wide shoulders filled his leather jacket to perfection. Her tongue moistened her lips. No wonder she wasn’t thinking clearly—the distractions were huge and all came in one package. Zachary Wright.
CHAPTER THREE
AN HOUR LATER, Zac handed Olivia a champagne flute filled with bubbly heaven. ‘Here, get that into you. It might help you unwind.’
‘I can’t drink now. I’ve got to finish in here, then get myself ready.’ Her taste buds curled up in annoyance at being deprived of their favourite taste. But she had a big night ahead of her so having a drink before it had even begun was not a good idea.
With the proffered glass Zac nudged her hand—which seemed to have a life of its own as it reached towards him. ‘One small drink will relax you, Olivia.’ He wrapped her fingers around the cool stem. ‘Go on.’ There was a dare in his eyes as he raised his own glass to his lips.
Zac knew she never turned down a dare. But she’d have to. Tonight’s success rested on her being one hundred and ten per cent on her game. Her mother had taught her well—go easy on the alcohol or make a fool of herself. Not going to happen tonight when everyone’s eyes would be on her.
Zac’s throat worked as he tasted the champagne. Appreciation lit up his eyes. His tongue licked his bottom lip.
And Olivia melted; deep inside where she’d stored all her Zac memories there was a pool of hot, simmering need. The glass clinked against her teeth as the divine liquid spilled across her tongue. And while her shoulders lightened, tension of a different kind wound into a ball in her tummy and down to her core. ‘Delicious,’ she whispered. Zac or the wine?
He nodded. ‘Yes, Olivia, it is. Now, take that glass upstairs to your room and have a soak in the hot tub before getting all glammed up. I’ll see to anything else that needs to be done here before I go across to change.’
She went from relaxed to controlled in an instant. ‘No. Thank you. I need to check on those flowers and—’
‘All sorted.’ From the table he handed her an iris that been tidied and then tied with a light blue ribbon. ‘Take this up w
ith you.’
