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Christian’s smile evaporated and she wanted to cheer, but Gabriel cut her preemptive celebration short.
“I need to get this in the wash before it stains. Nice to see you both. Take care of her.” Gabriel moved to the door. He shut it behind him and a few seconds later his truck rumbled to life, the pulled out of the driveway.
“Alone at last, love.” He crossed the small distance between them. She jumped up, determined to not let him touch her. She would fall apart if he did. Fall apart into pieces so small that they could fit on the head of a pin.
“Don’t call me that.” She backed away from him, occasionally glancing over her shoulder to make sure she didn’t do the ultimate Zoe move and trip over something.
“Sweetheart?”
“Asshat!”
Christian lifted a brow and stopped in his tracks. “Now’s who trying to reminisce?”
“Just go.” Zoe whirled away, but was stopped from leaving the room by his hand on her arm. Looking up at him when he moved to stand in front of her, she steeled her resolve. Steeled herself against the pure unadulterated pleasure of his touch. She remembered those elegant fingers as they touched, explored and satisfied every need.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he warned. “Or I’ll take you against the nearest wall.”
Fury flashed through her body as some of his last words to her echoed in her mind. “I’d rather forget we ever happened.”
He let go of her long enough to rake his hand through his perfectly tousled hair. For some reason it made her even angrier. How dare he show up here? So damn smug and as if he hadn’t been cruel. As if he hadn’t cut her deep with his words and actions.
She ran the length of his body with her eyes. No, Christian shows up looking like he’s about to be photographed for some men’s fashion magazine. All sexy and dressed to kill her.
“Obviously, I lied about wanting to —”
“Obviously.” She tried to put some distance between them, rounding the couch to make her way to the back of her house. An ocean between them was preferable, but the island in her kitchen would have to serve.
“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” Christian stopped short of joining her side of the barrier she put between them.
“How do I know anything?” She pounded her fist against the cold granite countertop. “We barely know each other.”
“I wouldn’t classify what we do know as bare. More like carnal. Intimate knowledge between a man and woman,” he drawled, infuriating her even more, but then he did the unexpected. His posture changed and his eyes seemed to glint with… something? “I’m sorry. I made a mistake and I’m here to right it, to be that man I told you about. The one you deserve. Let’s try to work things out.”
She almost forgave him. Right at that moment she wanted to run to him, wrap her arms around him, stroke his hair and whisper she loved him. That she understood, that she’d been just as much as at fault. It would be entirely easy to give in to him.
But she couldn’t. “There’s nothing you can say to make things better.”
Christian exhaled. He should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy. That he couldn’t waltz into her house, announce that he was home and she’d come running to him. Seeing Zoe with her ex had put him in full blow this-is-my-woman mode. Jealousy, true jealousy at the intimacy she and Gabriel had shared had made him want to plant his fist in the guy’s face. All over them talking. Talking.
“Let me stay the night and show you how sorry I can be.”
“Just one night?” She raised her chin. “Then what—you’ll leave in the morning?”
“If you wish.” There was no way in hell he was going anywhere, but if Zoe calling the shots—or at least thought she was—led to the desired outcome, he’d gladly follow.
Her green eyes looked black in the softly lit room before she narrowed them. “I want you to get back on the plane you flew in on and never return.”
“Not an option.”
“So much for what I wish.” Her lips flattened into a thin line and she marched away, slamming the sliding glass door that led to her back porch behind her.
Ten minutes. He’d give his wife ten minutes before he went after her.
He rolled his head to one side, cracking his neck and relieving the pent-up tension. Well, at least some of it.
Looking around the room, he took note of the coziness. The warmth, the hominess that seemed to seep from the cheery yellow kitchen to the muted green walls of the living room. This was a house that had been lived in, loved and restored by Zoe. Pictures of her family were everywhere. Walls, tables, and bookshelves held their images. He walked over to the mantle of the fireplace. A collection of crystal fairies danced along the length while a framed print of Hale’s The Crimson Rambler held a place of honor above it. Maybe he should buy her the original.
Nodding to himself, he pulled out his phone and texted Sasha, then wandered around. The chair he’d sat in had been large and comfortable. Made for a man or rather a woman who liked to curl up with her e-reader by the fire. He could practically guarantee the sofa was wide enough and long enough for him to stretch out on. With her.
And while his taste ran to ultra modern designs with sleek lines and bold color, he found that he loved Zoe’s feminine style. The whimsy she placed in the oddest of places. An old pair of paint-spattered rain boots held emerging daffodils on the front porch while an open-mouthed frog umbrella stand greeted visitors in the small foyer.
He peeked into what he thought was her bedroom. The bed was all wrong. The style, the size, and the color of the wood used for the headboard. It took up the entire room, overpowering the antique dresser and vanity.
Moving into the room, he felt like an intruder, but he had to see her closet. What he found made him laugh. Actually, it made her all the more charming. Most of her wardrobe made noise or was one of the colors of rainbow sherbet ice cream. Sasha would have a stroke if he ever saw it.
A quick glance at his watch told him his self-imposed time limit was almost out. He jogged up the stairs and then back down to find her office. It could use more shelving and a new desk while the entire second floor with the exception of one guest room needed to be finished. That could be a project for him to do while he was trying to woo back his wife.
Glancing at his watch, he put on his mental armor.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
It had taken Christian a good ten minutes to find her. She sat hunched over a wooden picnic table, seemingly staring at the small waves that lapped at the shore.
