Dirty Little Lies: A Men of Summer Novel (3 page)

Her pulse was racing, her skin felt overly warm, and even the ache in her leg where Rich’s blade had sliced across it paled in comparison to the ache that bloomed under her skin whenever Zack was around.

She didn’t need this.

Not right now, not while she felt about as unattractive as possible or while facing a side of Zack she’d never imagined.

“I do mind.” The belligerence caused her eyes to narrow on the normally polite, sometimes teasing man she’d set her heart on in the past several years.

She might consider changing her mind on that one if he kept this behavior up. “Well, isn’t that just too bad.” She sliced her narrowed gaze toward her cousin. “
My
bedroom. Both of you can leave.”

Cord’s arms went across his chest as a frown lowered his dark blond brows. Her attention was quickly pulled from him when Zack just sat beside her on the bed.

Her bed.

As though it belonged to him.

“Get out of my bedroom—”

“Let me see your leg first.” The attitude of command and the pure arrogance in his expression nearly had her jaw dropping.

“Not happening.” She held on to the blankets with a death grip now, the sheer irony of the situation nearly laughable. “Guess you should have shown a little interest before now, right? What the hell are you doing here, anyway?”

Not once since she’d found herself bleeding, cradling the whimpering form of her dog, and screaming for her family as rain began pouring down on them in the backyard did Grace imagine Zack would even give a damn. Let alone show up or pretend to care.

Not that he was pretending to care. He acted as though it were his right, as though her leg belonged to him. Asshole attitude, and she didn’t like being taken unaware by it.

Surprise flickered in his gray eyes. “I’m here because you were hurt, dammit—”

“So?” she enunciated with precise disdain. “It’s not like you showed up when that horse threw me last year, or when I broke my ankle the year before that. So why now?”

She could actually have dealt with this side of him then. She might even have played up the injuries just a tad to evoke a little compassion and maybe even that first kiss from him that she dreamed of. That was before the past eight weeks. Before he’d looked at her like she was a traitor’s daughter and refused to speak to her at the funeral of the woman who gave birth to her.

He’d ignored her, turned his back on her, and he was here now for what reason, exactly?

“Tell her I checked up on her every time, Cord—” he began ordering her cousin.

“Doesn’t count if I don’t see you,” Grace assured him with false sweetness. “Now, leave. I’m tired.”

And any chance she’d had of even a one-night stand with Zack, let alone a future romance, was gone. Her mother had made certain of it. And now, Richard James had guaranteed it.

“Told you she wasn’t in the mood for company,” Cord seemed to remind him when Zack flicked him a hard glance. “Especially from you. She’s been put out with you of late.”

Cord had told him? Exactly what else had her cousin been blabbing about?

“Why don’t you play I-told-you-so with Zack downstairs, Cord?” she gritted out between clenched teeth. “Away from me.”

Cord lifted his gaze to the ceiling as though praying for patience.

“Because he knows better than to try,” Zack snorted at the question. “He’s just here to make sure I don’t get frisky with the pretty little invalid.”

Get frisky?

Her stomach clenched at the very thought even as anger slapped at her pride. That kind of teasing was just wrong. She’d waited years for him to try to “get frisky,” as he called it. She’d given up weeks before, and wasn’t about to put herself there again. No thank you. Wasn’t happening.

Now, if she could convince her girl parts of that, then she might get through this little meeting without humiliating herself in the worst possible way.

“I’m sure getting frisky is the last thing on your mind,” she stated with mocking sweetness. “God forbid quiet, staid Zack Richards should lust after a traitor’s daughter.” She flicked her cousin a hard look. “My virtue is perfectly safe.”

For a second, Cord’s expression went perfectly blank before incredulity gleamed in his eyes and he gave a slow, disbelieving shake of his head.

“Cord. Leave.” Zack’s brook-no-refusal tone of voice actually had her thighs tightening.

“I don’t know, Zack.” Rubbing at the back of his neck, Cord looked between them before a grin tugged at his lips. “She might shoot you with that gun she has hid under her pillow. And she does know how to use it. Maybe you two need a referee.”

They needed more than a referee right now.

“Both of you go—”

“Now, Cord.” Zack’s tone deepened; it actually rumbled with the demand.

Giving a mocking snort, Cord shrugged in his it’s-on-your-head way before giving her a knowing little smile and turning on his heel.

The door closed behind him seconds later, leaving her in her bedroom with no panties or bra beneath the short little gown she wore, alone with Zack.

And she hadn’t even brushed her hair.

*   *   *

If his cock got any harder, it was going to bust through the front of his jeans.

Zack stared down at the delicate, far-too-helpless form of the young woman he’d forced himself to stay away from, and felt the knowledge of what was coming cement in his soul.

God knew he’d never wanted to hurt her, never wanted her to see the man he was, but hiding it from her now would be impossible.

What quirk of impishness had made fate decree that the one woman he couldn’t seem to stop lusting after was exactly the type of woman he could never keep? He needed a woman who was less delicate, harder, better able to handle whatever danger might erupt in their lives and help him protect whatever family they might have together. A woman as helpless, sweet-natured, and defenseless as Grace wasn’t a woman who could do that.

Though, he had to admit, she was showing a little more gumption now than he’d suspected she possessed.

“Can I see your leg now?” he asked, injecting what he hoped was gentleness in his tone.

“You can kiss my ass and get the hell out of my bedroom.” She lifted her head from her pillows just enough to emphasize the feminine fury brightening her emerald green eyes. “Right now.”

Zack blinked down at her and almost grinned.

That thought of baring that pretty, curvy little butt was a hell of a temptation.

Dark blond hair curled becomingly around her face and bare shoulders from where she sat propped against her lacy pillows, dressed in that virginal little white nightgown, in her girly little bedroom while fire filled those green eyes.

She looked almost put out.

“Now, Grace, settle down.” Once more, he had to control a grin. “Let me see how bad you were hurt, then we’ll talk.”

The color of her eyes deepened, going from emeralds to jade in the space of a heartbeat as her little jaw clenched and her pouty lips thinned in displeasure.

Damn, she’d been cute as hell before—now, hell, he might be mesmerized. For a minute, anyway.

“We are not talking, Zackary Richards—”

He was tired of being nice about it. Catching her off guard, he jerked the blanket back, pushed her gown up again, then froze.

The breath rushed from his lungs, his balls went tight, and Zack could have sworn every drop of blood in his body went straight to his dick.

Sweet, sweet heaven.

Silk-soft flesh touched his fingers, bare, so bare there and warm that it took every ounce of strength he possessed not to push her back against those pillows and spread her pretty thighs farther.

Grace was just as still, and as he stared at the soft flesh he’d revealed, a hint of feminine dampness began to gleam against the bare folds.

“How pretty,” he whispered instead of pulling back, aware of her stillness and the sense of anticipation growing between them. “I always knew you’d be so sweet and pretty there.”

And so small. Her mound was just as small and delicate as she was.

She was hurt!
another part of his mind was screaming at him. The bandage covering the knife wound was just inches below his fingers, a swath of blinding white against satiny, sun-darkened flesh. She’d just been attacked, nearly killed, and all he could do was imagine pressing his lips right there, where that gleam of dampness was gathering on the slowly swelling folds.

What would it be like to take her? he wondered. To watch that sweet flesh stretch around him, taking him inside her—

To keep from mounting her in a haze of lust, he jerked his gaze from the temptation to meet her eyes and nearly groaned at the arousal he saw there.

She wanted him, but he’d always known that, hadn’t he? At any time in the past few years, he could have had her in his bed, could have lived out every fantasy he had of touching her, taking her.

“This wasn’t what I intended, Grace,” he breathed out, knowing he was lying to her.

He’d known the second he saw that file on Alex’s desk what he was going to do. There was only one way to protect her while proving her innocence, and that was by taking her to his bed. Alex Brigham knew the hell he’d pay if he dared to strike against her then.

“Of course it isn’t,” she murmured, realization flashing in the jade green of her eyes. “Sucks knowing a traitor’s daughter is aroused by you, doesn’t it? Must just sicken you inside.”

She slapped his hand away and jerked the blankets up again as he fought to process the accusation.

“Is that how you think I see you?” He moved closer, the hunger hardening him further as she glared at him, resentment and anger darkening her eyes. “Do you think I blame you for Lucia’s actions? That anyone does?”

“Well, someone does,” she snapped back. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been attacked, and Magnus wouldn’t be so hurt that he’s not here to bite your damned ass for pissing me off.”

The large Rottweiler had been no more than an overgrown lapdog until the farmhand attacked her. Zack was more than a little surprised when he’d heard how savage the animal became and how well he defended Grace without having had any specific training.

“The fact remains, Magnus is not here,” Zack pointed out, the flaring shades of green in her eyes almost mesmerizing. “And I am.” He leaned closer, causing her to press herself farther into the pillows. “And trust me, sweetheart, that lust goes both ways.”

She exhaled a delicate little snort. “In your dreams.”

The breathless response assured him it wasn’t just in his dreams, Zack knew.

The pout on her lips fascinated him, drawing his gaze from the brilliant green of her eyes to the sweet, tempting curves. In that second, a single thought came to him: In all the years he’d been teasing her, lusting for her, there was one thing he’d never done.

“I’ve never kissed you, have I, sweetheart?”

*   *   *

He had never kissed her. He’d never touched her. All the fantasies she’d ever had of them being together had never been realized. And now … now she couldn’t have any of them.

“If I know Cord, he’s waiting right outside my door,” she warned him, dismay nearly strangling her. “Don’t make me call for him.”

Something dark and far too hungry lit his gaze for just a moment, just long enough for her to glimpse it, for her heart to shatter with the knowledge that it could never belong to her.

Her? Not just a traitor’s daughter but also someone accused by that very traitor, her own mother, of being part of the conspiracy. She didn’t have a chance with a man like Zack Richards. If he’d stayed away for eight weeks because of Lucia’s crimes, how much worse would it be when he found out Lucia had accused her of having the very information everyone was seeking—and of waiting for the right time to sell it? No, she didn’t have a chance.

“Grace, sweetheart, are you threatening me with your cousin?” Amusement flickered in his gray eyes now. “I had to have heard you wrong. You wouldn’t do that, now, would you?”

Since when had nice, polite Zack Richards turned into a smart-ass, anyway? And hell yes, she would.…

Maybe.

God, she was so weak. She was hurt, and so cold inside, she didn’t know how to combat it. And she’d wanted Zack for so long, so much so that no other man had compared to him.

“I want you to leave, Zack.” She had to force the words past her lips. “Go home, go wherever you’ve been for the past eight weeks, and stop playing games with me, because I can’t afford how very bad you’ll hurt me.”

He didn’t move. With one arm braced over her legs, his gaze locked on hers once again, he just stared back at her, intent.

Calculating?

“Scared of me, Grace?” he asked her, his voice gentle—too gentle. The sound of it caused her breathing to tighten in trepidation.

Not in fear, but in feminine caution and a whole lot of suspicion.

“I’m not scared of you, Zack,” she assured him, wondering if that was true. “But neither am I interested in what you’re offering.”

She could feel the yawning fires of hell licking at her heels for that particular lie.

She was interested in whatever he might have in mind at the moment, or any other moment; she just couldn’t allow herself to accept it. There was too much danger involved. Zack wasn’t a gutter fighter like Cord, or even like his foster brothers, Jazz and Slade. He was an accountant, completely nonviolent but entirely too sexy.

“You are a liar, darlin’.” A grin tugged at his lips, just at the corner, while his gray eyes gleamed with amusement. “And we both know it.”

Because he’d seen her response to him.

Grace leaned forward carefully. “Just because you can make me respond physically doesn’t mean I want you involved in whatever the hell is going on right now. And we both know you don’t really want to be involved.”

His gaze seemed to darken then, to chill until his eyes were like cold, hard slate.

“Afraid for me, are you?” A hint of mockery filled his tone. “Think I can’t protect you, little girl?”

At any other time, he might have been amused, Zack told himself.

“You’re an accountant, not a soldier. And I don’t want anyone else hurt.” Pain darkened her eyes. “Especially you.”