Promoted to Wife? (7 page)

“Yeah.”

“Victor would never go for it.”

Zac had shrugged. “Then you have a problem.”

They'd sat in silence until Cal's phone rang. From the soft dip in his voice to the way his face had relaxed before he turned away, Zac knew exactly who was on the other end of the line. Ava, Cal's fiancée. Which, for some reason, had made him suddenly think of Emily. Curvy, luscious Emily.

With a groan he flipped to his side, punched the pillow and glared at the shadows through the half-open bedroom door.

Emily—now probably asleep—in the room next to his.

Emily, who'd kissed him so sweetly his body got hard just thinking about it.

Did she sleep on the left or the right side of the bed? On her back or front?

What did she wear to bed?

Stop.

Yet his body ignored him, his groin slowly stirring to life as a myriad of pictures flashed behind his eyes: Emily in a skimpy bra and knickers. Emily in high heels and black garters.

Emily in his boxer shorts…

With a growl, he flung the sheets off and swung from the bed. There'd be time to do it right. He'd been patient, he could wait a little longer.

But now, a cold shower couldn't.

T
heir 9 a.m. flight was delayed by an hour. Emily had always laughingly joked about AJ's belief in omens, but right now, seated next to Zac in Virgin Blue's executive lounge in Sydney's departure terminal, she wasn't amused.

More time in his presence, more time to feel awkward and embarrassed.

More time to rethink her decision?

On their drive to the airport Emily had shamelessly used her phone as a buffer. She'd talked with the Valhalla staff about the Point One project, texted ones who couldn't be reached…and yes, faked a few, too.

Tiredness nipped at her heels as she stared at her phone, reading the same e-mail for the fifth time. A night in the most heavenly bed in all the world and still she couldn't sleep. Her brain had teased her with various scenarios of Zac there beside her, touching, kissing, making love to her.

She frowned, reached for her cappuccino and took a sip before glancing over at Zac, who sat directly opposite.

His expression was hidden behind expensive sunglasses, but
she was directly in his sightline, even if he was busy with his text messages.

“Cal stopped by last night,” Zac said suddenly.

Emily looked up. “Really?”

A small pause, then, “I suggested floating the company and bringing in a new CEO. Cal didn't outright refuse.”

“That's good.”

“Only if he can convince Victor.”

“And the wedding? You're free that weekend,” she reminded him.

“Not sure. There's lots of…” He hesitated, as if searching for the right word. “Baggage.”

She nodded. “Sometimes it's better to go forward than to step back.”

“Exactly.” His gaze tripped over her, studying her expression (she'd gone for inscrutable), her mood (professional yet distant), her clothes (hmmm…yeah). Dark gray jacket, long skirt, plain cream shirt, sensible kitten heels.

Gray. Plain. Sensible. That's what he saw, what everyone saw. And before that kiss, she'd accepted it. How could she not, when she'd actively cultivated the facade?

But now…

He'd obviously seen something to warrant his attention.

A small twist of pleasure caught her unawares, but then their flight was announced and the moment was broken.

 

Twenty minutes passed, an excruciatingly long time to be on the edge of her seat. They'd boarded in silence, Zac's normal businesslike wall of confidence marred with underlying tension—tension that melted away as soon as the plane took off.

The sudden pressure drop and stomach-constricting momentum eventually eased. Yet Emily remained tense, completely aware of the man next to her, ostensibly reading the morning paper. Tension that had everything to do with last night's kiss and the dilemma she was now in.

How could she focus on her job when all she wanted to do was have Zac naked?

He turned the page and she jumped, crushing a soft curse under her breath.

He was too close and he knew it. How could he not know it after what they'd done?

She shifted her leg, angling her body toward the aisle, away from him, with casual subtlety.

Business class and still not enough room. She sighed and refolded the complimentary gossip magazine, staring at the sensational headlines without seeing them, before shoving it in the seat pocket.

The flight attendant hovered past, offering coffee, which Zac took with a smile. When he withdrew with the cup, his arm passed way too close to her chest.

She held her breath as her heart began to thump, fingers stiff on the armrest. He placed the glass in the holder between them, his hand brushing hers.

She blinked and slid her gaze sideways.

A small smile stretched his mouth…and what a mouth it was. A mouth made for kissing, with soft lips and strong teeth and—One eyebrow went up and she nearly groaned aloud. Then he leaned in and gently covered her hand with his warm fingers, and she barely managed to muffle her surprise.

“Zac—”

“Emily.”

“You're…” She glanced furtively back over her shoulder. “You're holding my hand.”

“Yes, I am.”

His leg shifted, bumping into hers, and she nearly leaped from her seat. “Now you're—”

“Touching your leg. I know. And you know what else?” He dipped his head conspiratorially, beckoning her with his finger. With a thickness in her throat she bent forward. His warm breath swooped over her cheek and her stomach fluttered. “I think I'll have to kiss you.”

His firm disclosure shocked her immobile, her eyes transfixed on his lips as they inched closer to hers.

“You can't—” she managed to choke out.

“I can.” His mouth curved, the frankly seductive look in his eyes forcing her breath out in excited little puffs. “I will.”

“But—”

Her protest gushed out on a sigh when his lips brushed over her cheek, searing her skin. He feathered his mouth across her cheekbone, the barest of touches, before coming to rest by her earlobe. That warm breath sent flaring heat down through her body, curling around her stomach, her thighs, before ending in her toes.

“Someone could see…” she whispered desperately.

“Yes.” His teeth nibbled on her lobe and she bit her lip to stifle the whimper of pleasure.

“We…” She swallowed. “We can't do this here.”

His lips skimmed the tender point where her ear met her neck. “So name the time and place.”

Oh. Her breath hissed in as she struggled to vocalize what she'd been fantasizing about these last few months. Now, faced with the certainty of Zac's interest, it made her list seem… Cold. Businesslike.

He must have taken her lack of response as hesitancy, because he gently added, “Tonight?”

Tonight? She squeezed her eyes shut as his mouth moved back across her cheek in a sensuous trail of warm breath and soft lips.

“You…have that thing with Josh Kerans tonight.”

He paused, an irritated frown marring his forehead as Emily opened her eyes. Yet his hand still captured hers, sending a trembling anticipation through her bones.

“Right. Client get-together at his beach house. You should be there, too.”

“Why?” She pulled back, the heat in her cheeks beginning to ebb.

“Because he's a client and he invited me. And now I've invited you.”

She shook her head. “This isn't…no.”

“This is work, Emily, not a social outing. Jason, Mitch and June will be there.” He smoothly reeled off some of Valhalla's
key staff. “And your involvement with Point One means people need to see you as more than just my assistant. And I go, you go.” To take the sting from the demand, he gave a small smile. “Networking is a necessity. But I promise—” his lips curved, turned slightly wicked “—I'll make it up to you tomorrow night.”

His husky murmur, full of lustful promise, made her nerves groan. The air crackled dangerously between them, doing something hot and exciting to her insides. It forced Emily to swallow, but still she couldn't look away from his eyes, those dark, sultry depths that said, “I'd like to do things to you and I know you'll enjoy them.”

“This has to stay out of the office,” she finally blurted out. Clearly, from the look on his face, this was not what he'd expected her to say.

His mouth curved. “There goes my sex-on-the-desk fantasy.”

“I mean it, Zac.” At her stern look, his humor fled. “It's not you they'll talk about. You're the boss—you won't be the one labeled.”

His eyes narrowed. “Why does that sound—”

“It doesn't matter what it sounds like. There can't be any secret looks, any off-the-cuff comments, any touching. During the day we're professionals.”

He remained silent for so long that Emily's head began to spin from the breath she held.

Finally, he nodded and said, “I'll pick you up at eight tonight.” And calmly reached for another newspaper, unfolded it and began to read.

Emily stared blindly down the crowded isle as excitement zinged through her blood. How on earth was she going to survive Monday—let alone tonight—without thinking of the coming evening?

 

At least, Zac thought ruefully, her skirt was above the knee—the only concession she'd made to the evening. It was still black.
It was still distorted with a boxy jacket. And she still had on a pair of horrible clunky heels.

He
had
said it was work. So he remained silent on the twenty-minute drive to Kerans's Broadbeach Waters luxury apartment, the only background noise coming from his iPod plugged into the dash.

But when he pulled into the cul-de-sac, cut the engine and saw her studying the partygoers with a frown, he paused.

“Ready?”

She took too long to commit to that nod. Her hesitation told him what she wouldn't—couldn't?—voice.

“It's a warm night. You might want to lose the jacket,” he said casually.

She gave him a look that told him she knew what he was up to, but still she unbuttoned her jacket, then slipped it off her shoulders.

Her silky short-sleeved purple shirt shimmered beneath the streetlights, revealing tanned arms as she pulled the door open and got out.

When he'd rounded the bonnet, she was nervously smoothing down her skirt, a skirt that now hugged her hips, emphasizing her generous curves and indented waist.

Behind the glasses, irritation brimmed in those blue eyes. But there was also a little fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear of being judged.

He knew what that was like, even if it'd been years since he'd allowed himself to feel that emotion.

He glanced around: they were alone with only the streetlights above as witnesses. Unable to resist, his hand went to her face, but paused when she quickly rocked back. Her brow creased.

“Emily.”

With great reluctance she met his eyes, her expression shuttered.

Then a car door slammed and the moment was gone. She stepped back. “We should go in.”

He wanted to say more, but what? That for the first time in
his life he wanted to ditch work and instead spend the evening kissing her all over?
That
would not go over well.

Slow it down, mate. You don't want to scare her off.

He nodded, trying to ignore the growing desire warming his blood.

“Let's go.”

 

The opulent dozen-bedroom, two-story apartment was a Valhalla triumph. Zac's signature—huge windows with intricate personalized frames and sconces that showcased the view—presented the expansive Broadbeach Waters in all its glory. Beyond the buzz of conversation, the sharply dressed and expensive-smelling people, the subtle ceiling lights and the strains of a Mozart concerto, the stunning sunset streaking across the sky commanded Emily's attention.

Red sky at night, sailor's delight.

She frowned at the childhood rhyme before glancing curiously at the assembled crowd.

Men and women greeted each other, drank champagne and chatted animatedly. Here were the über-rich in serious socializing mode. Yet how could they not notice the glorious blue-red-navy spectacle of a Surfers sunset?

She watched small waves lap up against Kerans's luxury yacht tethered at the boat ramp, studying the cerulean water before she sensed someone approaching. Zac. Only he had the power to send her body tingling on high alert.

She turned to him. “This is amazing, Zac. Another great job.”

“Thank you. Champagne?” He offered the cold stemmed glass. She took it with a smile, then sipped to cover her nervousness at his direct scrutiny.

“It's—”

“Zac! You're here!
Hur mår du?
”

Delicious.
The word died along with a tentative smile as a silky voice cut through the surrounding chatter. A tall, dark-haired woman stalked through the crowd, her black, sleeveless catsuit flaunting an extremely fit physique. Around her neck
hung two silver chains, the handful of fashionable dangly charms chiming melodiously below a pair of impressive breasts, their curves revealed by a half-lowered zipper.

Haylee Kerans, the client's daughter. And—Emily's grip tightened imperceptibly on her glass—one of Zac's many ex-girlfriends who didn't accept the words
break up
lightly.

As Zac turned to greet Haylee, Emily stood there awkwardly, listening to them converse in melodious, singsong Swedish.

Then Haylee linked her arm through his and swung her gaze to Emily.

“Kan du talar Svenska?”

At Emily's blank look, her smile seemed to take on a condescending smirk. “You can't speak Swedish? Oh, you should. Such a
musikal
language—but then, Zac's half Swede, so I'm biased.” Her striking face creased with deliberate thought. “I shall have to teach you…Emma, right?”

“Emily,” Zac interjected. Emily didn't miss the way he'd firmly extricated himself from Haylee's grip.

“Oh.” Haylee's eyes suddenly narrowed. “Zac's gatekeeper. You field all his calls.”

Emily blinked in surprise. What, it was
her
fault Zac was an expert on moving on? Irritation bubbled up but she quickly got a handle on it.

“I'm Zac's assistant,” she said calmly. “He directs, I do.”

One of Haylee's eyebrows went up as her gaze swept Emily from head to toe, a silent, insulting inspection that had her flushing. But before she could formulate any kind of comeback, Zac intervened.

“Any idea where your father is?”

The younger woman's expression quickly transformed as she looked back to Zac, a perfect smile that looked a tad too bright to Emily's thinking.

“Where he normally is.” Haylee nodded into the crowd. “Over near the bar, surrounded by his mates and talking business. Zac.” Haylee ran a teasing hand up his arm. “You should call me. We could go for a drive in that
smaskig
car of yours.”