A Little Wild (14 page)

However, considering the woman fled whenever he saw her, his fantasy stood zero chances of coming true. And if he continued with the arousing daydream, he’d have to kiss the grass all day—because he wouldn’t be able to turn over.

Damn it, he couldn’t even find stress relief lazing in the summer sun! His mind refused to shut off. And the back of his neck prickled as if somebody watched him. He’d experienced the same sensation earlier this week in Whole Latte Lovin’.

He slit open one eye. Millimeters from his nose, the empty water bottle on the grass partially obscured his view of a woman several meters away holding a dark green bike. He glimpsed chin-length, dark brown hair escaping her blue helmet.

The brunette. Looking at him.

Or, if the direction of her gaze were to be trusted, staring at his ass.

Lifting his head, he waved. “Hi.”

Her hands sprang free of the bike, eyes widening as her transportation crashed to the ground. Ethan pushed off the grass.

“I’ll help you.” He tugged on his shirt.

“It’s okay.” She grabbed the bike and slung one toned leg over the frame.

“Wait!” He grabbed his water. “I want to talk to—”

She wheeled off as if the stench of his exercise-generated sweat had reached out and physically choked her.

“Hey!”

“Sorry, I’m late!” She cycled toward the seawall faster than his tired legs could run.

What the fuck?

Ignoring the gawking teenagers, Ethan stomped to the visitor center and stuffed the empty bottle into a recycling barrel. What sort of woman stared at a guy until he made eye contact and then she took off?

The same type of woman who’s avoided you for weeks.

Shit. The smart-aleck comments and quick smile he’d admired since first meeting her had disappeared beneath this bewildering behavior.

Clearly, she was a head case.

And he didn’t need more aggravation in his life.

Well, she wouldn’t have to worry about avoiding him any longer.

Because he wouldn’t drop into Whole Latte Lovin’ again.

Zach glanced around the comfortably furnished living room. This was where prissy Teresa Sheridan transformed into sexy Tess S., huh? The overstuffed chesterfield set and age-mellowed hardwood floors suited her more than he would have guessed. As did the botanical prints and standing birdcage, a blue budgie ensconced within. Lunch for Lump.

The fancy coffee tables and contemporary dining table didn’t fit with her other furniture, though. Both reminded him of her uptight-lawyer façade.

Her place was a contradiction—like her. Part who she was and part a reflection of who she thought she should be.

He was all too familiar with the latter experience, courtesy of his well-intentioned father.

She gestured toward the big couch. “We can work here or at the kitchen table.”

“The living room is fine.” Battered briefcase in hand, Zach trailed her to the sofa. Her gray sweatpants accentuated the sweet contours of her ass. She wore a ribbed tank top tucked into the drawstring pants and tan moccasins on bare feet.

She probably thought the lazy-day getup appeared disheveled and unattractive, but she looked incredibly soft and alluring, unpretentiously sexy and desirable.

He’d never seen her hair unrestricted by pins or elastics before, and the strawberry-blonde waves framing her face added to the effect.

Whether she realized it or not, Tess was a woman made for sun-streaked mornings and rumpled sheets, for leisurely, seductive loving. He’d start from her toes and work his way up, lavishing attention on every inch of her body.

Tough job, but someone had to do it. The thought of any other man bringing her to orgasm when he was so willing didn’t seem right.

Sexual need pushed through him, beginning an inevitable hardening of his cock. He fixated on an unappealing visual of high snowdrifts packed with ice shards before sitting beside her on the couch, a half-cushion space between them.

Ignoring the twinge of discomfort in his jeans, he placed the briefcase on the coffee table. The budgie in the cage chirped.

“Did you have a nice visit with your mother?” he asked as he popped open the briefcase. Benign conversation would deflate his partial erection.

“It went okay. My mother isn’t in a happy place right now. She needs a lot of attention.”

“It’s wonderful you’re so supportive. Mothers are special.” His own mother had never failed to encourage him to follow his dreams. Sixteen years after her death, he still missed her. And continued to feel her influence. Succeeding their father at Halliday Enterprises might be Ethan’s dream, but it wasn’t Zach’s. His mother had died at forty-one. Turning thirty last November had kicked Zach into realizing he needed to stop biding his time. That if he died young, too, he’d have nothing of his own to leave behind.

His only regret was that leaving Halliday would hurt and disappoint his father.

“How about you?” Tess asked. “Did you work on the revisions yesterday?”

“Not until late.” He pulled papers and pencils from the briefcase then set the business plan on his lap, which had calmed down. “I went climbing near Squamish with Blake.” He’d thought the physical activity would prevent him from obsessing about Tess. It hadn’t worked very well. Since meeting her, nothing had worked. He didn’t even care to look at another woman right now.

That was totally unlike him.

She bestowed a businesslike smile. “Let’s get down to it, then.” She glanced at his lap. “How long is it?”

“How long is what?”

A blush singed her freckles. “The business plan!”

He laughed. “Twenty pages.” He handed her the executive summary and fact sheet. “I’d like the incorporation filed this week and the lease finalized as quickly as possible. With so many climbing walls to construct, there’s a lot of renovation work to do.”

“You’re certain you want to incorporate?” she asked, perusing the summary.

“Yes.” Her perfume drifted to him, the lightest hint of violets. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

She picked up a mechanical pencil and rubbed her thumb over the slim barrel. What he wouldn’t give to be that pencil. But thicker. Definitely thicker. A
lot
thicker.

While he was at it, longer, too.

“Incorporation isn’t your only option,” Tess replied in her soft, angel-vixen voice. “A sole proprietorship is inexpensive to set up and easier to terminate.”

“I don’t care about wham-bam termination. I’m committed to Climbing The Walls.” Especially in the middle of the night, when he damn near went crazy from wanting her.

“But if the business isn’t as successful as you hope—”

“It will be.”

Nodding, she rubbed the pencil again. The woman had no clue what the simple mannerism communicated.

“You’re sure, and that’s great,” she said. “Incorporation has several benefits, especially if the business grows quickly. Legally, a corporation is regarded as a person, so it can own property, there’s limited liability and opportunities for tax deferrals. Once the center has a track record, it’ll be easier to arrange financing than it would with a proprietorship.”

“Incorporation is the way I want to go, then.” Thanks to his commerce degree and his background with his father’s company, he realized the pros and cons of both choices. However, he appreciated her thorough approach. “To my way of thinking, incorporation cements a business in a way a proprietorship doesn’t. It’s like living together compared to getting married.” A quickie versus long, slow, hot sex.

Christ, could he think of nothing else?

He wished she’d put down the damn pencil.

Her thumb stopped moving. However, when she positioned the pencil between her fingers, the eraser tip pointed to her parted lips. If she nibbled the tip, he’d explode.

“Good analogy.” She reached for a photography book on the coffee table. Using the volume as a surface, she jotted notes on the back of the summary. “Taking it one step further, if incorporating is like getting married, the grand opening is the reception—”

“And the tax advantages are the presents.”

“Exactly.” She smiled. “The development of the business after the opening is similar to nurturing a baby, like you said Monday. You’re very creative, you know that?”

Like how. In ways she’d never imagine.

Or maybe she would. Maybe, like him, she wore her poker face and at this moment envisioned how perfect they’d be together.

After all, Tess S. couldn’t only fantasize about sex in the bathtub.

On the other hand, Teresa Sheridan was on a lawyerly roll.

“Knowing how you feel about incorporating, you might want to rethink the lease,” she said.

“Why? Do you anticipate a problem with the zoning?”

“No. There are several commercial enterprises sprouting up in that area. I’m sure the zoning is fine. You could lease for the time being, to lighten the financial burden and in case the business doesn’t pan out. However, have you considered approaching the owner about taking out an option to buy? Many investors believe that particular neighborhood is ripe for speculation. You could make a killing in a year or two.”

“I’m not interested in speculating, Tess. I’ll be there for the long haul.”

“Never say never. With the option, you’d have a choice.”

“True. But if we return to the marriage analogy, taking out an option to buy implies a deeper commitment to the business and community.”

“I see what you’re getting at. Your good will and determination will trickle down to your employees. If they respect you, they’ll work harder, and Climbing The Walls will succeed.”

“Maybe I’ll even impress the old man. As long as he doesn’t offer to buy the place as a result, that wouldn’t be so bad.” He nodded. “It’s a good idea. I like it. Yeah, let’s approach the owner about an option.”

She scribbled another note on the summary. As he passed her the bulk of the business plan, the phone on a side table rang. The budgie chirped shrilly.

“Buddy, it’s okay,” Tess cooed to the bird. She explained to Zach, “It’s a new phone. He doesn’t like the ring.”

“A new phone?” Since before or after they’d verbally bonded?

Her gaze met his, a light blush dusting her cheeks. The phone rang again.

“I should get it.” She put down the book and summary. “It’s probably my mom or one of my sisters. We’re planning a family dinner this week.”

“Feel free.” Zach retrieved the papers and concealed his lap. Like Pavlov’s dog, his body had responded the instant the phone rang.

Only he wasn’t salivating.

Tess picked up the receiver and checked the caller ID. “It is my mother,” she whispered in the moment before she clicked Talk. “Hi, Mom.”

“I’ll go to the can,” Zach whispered back. Her anxious look relayed she preferred privacy while speaking with her mother. And he could use the solitude to talk sense into his sex drive.

A woman hadn’t affected him to this extent since he was sixteen.

Tess covered the mouthpiece. “Thanks.”

She indicated a door, and he escaped into the bathroom. The light walls and chrome fixtures were similar to what he’d imagined, apart from the pale yellow towels. Those he’d pictured sex-siren red.

He parted the shower curtain.
The legendary bathtub.
His cock bucked.

Images of an aroused Tess relaxing in hot water swarmed his mind, her nipples peaked, her pussy glistening with desire for his voice on the other end of the phone.

His erection throbbed. He could unzip, jerk one off into the sink. Rinse away the evidence and return to the living room prepared to focus on business.

And he might if he were some horny university kid. But he was thirty—he had self-control. Not to mention that Tess was on the phone with her mother.

Get a grip, Halliday.

Wrong choice of words. Images of Tess gripping him, sucking him, saturated his lust-hazed brain. Groaning, he dropped the shower curtain.

Not even visualizing the iceberg that had sunk the Titanic could help him now.

Chapter Nine

“I think we’ve covered all the bases, Zach. Is there anything else that concerns you?” Setting her pencil on the edited business plan, Tess reached for a final slice of Thai chicken pizza. After working in the living room for two hours, they’d both developed kinks in their necks and rumbling bellies, so had ordered an early supper and moved to the dining table.

In the time it had taken her to eat two pizza slices, Zach had consumed five thick wedges of his Meat-Eater Special. Where did he put it all? Judging by the snug fit of the sage-green T-shirt hugging his muscular torso, the man possessed zero body fat.

His tanned throat worked as he swallowed a mouthful of his sixth slice. “Nope, we’re done.” He indicated the open Marco’s Pizza boxes. “Great stuff. How’d you find this place?”

Tess plucked a bean sprout off her plate. A soft-rock radio station played quietly from the living room. She’d tuned in the music, hoping the mellow notes would deflect the potent male energy emanating from Zach—a failed experiment. Twenty minutes ago, she’d donned a cardigan to prevent her nipples from puckering beneath her white tank top every time his arm brushed hers or their knees bumped while they worked.

She nibbled the bean sprout. “Chloe dated the owner for a couple of months last year. Marco was having problems with a supplier, but he couldn’t afford to litigate, so I represented him pro bono. Then his business took off, and he decided to expand—and pay me.”

“It doesn’t bother Chloe that Marco’s still your client?”

“No. She’s not petty. It wasn’t a bad split-up, and they remained friends.”

Zach nodded. “Do you do a lot of pro bono work?” He chose a stray bean sprout from her pizza box and placed it on Buddy’s saucer. She’d let the budgie out of his cage earlier, and the little bird perched on a tall play platform to Zach’s left.

“Not as much as I’d like.” She smiled as Buddy pecked the sprout. “Lawrence doesn’t mind the freebies, but pro bono clients don’t impress him the way paying clients do. Especially the clients who can afford to pay a lot.”

“Like Teddy Wallis.”

“Yes.” The van Hoyt art galleries would put a feather in her cap, but securing Teddy’s proposed land development venture could earn her an entire headdress.