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“Actually, there was something else. You know I owe you?”
“Uh-huh.”
The instant wariness in Lana’s eyes made Zac chuckle.
“How about a tour when we dock in Suva? I’ve got the day off so could show you the sights. What do you think?”
Her eyes lost their cautious edge as her lips curved into a smile, the type of genuinely happy smile that could easily tempt a man to want more, a lot more.
“Sounds good. Know any hot spots?”
Yeah, just below her ear, above her collarbone, and dead-on her soft lips.
“Several.”
His tone must’ve alerted her to his thoughts for her eyes widened and glowed with understanding, until he could distinguish the tiniest green flecks in the molten caramel before the shutters quickly descended.
“The tour sounds great.” She lowered her gaze in record time, her tongue darting out to moisten her top lip, the nervous action doing little to dissipate his growing interest in discovering what really made this enigmatic woman tick.
Considering how much he wanted to get to know her, perhaps he should rethink Suva, especially the part about taking her to his favorite secluded beach. If he could barely keep his hands off her here, what hope did he have in blissful isolation on the most spectacular stretch of pristine sand he’d ever seen?
“Right, it’s a plan.”
He’d almost said date, but dates implied more of that physical stuff he was trying to ignore. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t wipe the vivid fantasy of the two of them splashing in the lagoon, him play-wrestling her, her wrapping her legs around him, wet skin plastered to his, no clothes…
She stood abruptly, the chair almost toppling. “Look, I really appreciate the offer to help but I’ll be fine with these forms. I’ll holler if I need to.”
By her shaky voice, she knew exactly what he was thinking and reacted how she usually did: by erecting verbal barriers or making a run for it.
She scooped up the papers and made a dash for the door in a fluorescent flurry of a floral ankle-length skirt the color of a lifejacket, her hurried departure leaving him shaking his head as she slammed the door.
After she left, he sank into his chair and swiped a hand over his face. It didn’t help. He could still see her wide-eyed guarded expression, the hint of suspicion in those hazel depths, the cynical curve of her lips.
She didn’t trust him, didn’t accept his interest as real. Not that he blamed her. He’d given her no indication to the contrary, playing the flirt, keeping things light-hearted, seeing how far he could push her before she reacted.
Either someone or something had made her into a sceptic and he’d hazard a guess some jerk had done a number on her. It would explain her naivety and lack of artifice when it came to playing coy or flirting. Which meant he should give her a wide berth. Instead, he wanted her with a staggering fierceness, the depth of his need obliterating every common sense reason why he shouldn’t do this.
He didn’t need the distraction. He had a job to do. But if his head kept spinning like a compass needle his concentration would be shot anyway, so maybe he should spend some time getting to know her, the real her, not the cagey woman who hid her mistrust behind lowered eyes and fiddling hands.
Muttering a few curses which wouldn’t make many of his colleagues blush, he picked up the phone and placed his daily call to Jimmy.
The phone rang three times precisely, the same number every day, which proved his uncle waited by the phone despite protests to the contrary that he trusted him and the company was in safe hands.
When Jimmy picked up, Zac said, “Hey Uncle, it’s me.”
“Zachary, my boy. How’s things?”
Where should he start? The part where he still felt like a fraud running the company from behind the scenes until their culprit was caught or the part where he was crazy for a woman who bolted every time he got close?
“Fine. I’m making progress.”
He didn’t need to spell it out. His uncle had been the first to notice their profit margins slipping, the first to see their biggest rival undercutting costs and getting better deals from suppliers.
And though Jimmy would never admit it, the ensuing stress hadn’t helped his battle with the illness that was slowly but surely killing him.
“Good. Because once you sort out the Australian side of things, there’s that Mediterranean problem that needs attention.”
“All under control.”
