The Billionaire's Pledge (6 page)

“Red.”

“Then if you’ll excuse me.” He gave a funny abbreviated bow. Savannah found his occasional strange mannerisms very endearing. Even sexy.

As he headed through an archway that she assumed led to the dining room, Savannah looked around. The living room was massive, with a fireplace, built-in shelving crammed with books, and a high ceiling topped with thick crown molding. Every inch of the space had been lovingly restored and was painted in subtle earth tones. The furniture was masculine and very tasteful. How much was his, and how much had come with the place? There was no clutter, and she wondered if that was how it always looked, or whether he’d spent hours tidying up the house in preparation for her arrival.

She passed through the archway into the dining room, then on into the kitchen, where he was pulling two wine glasses from a wooden rack above his head.

“Hey,” he said, smiling. “Just in time.”

He set the glasses on the island next to an unopened bottle of wine. But instead of getting a corkscrew, he reached into his pocket and produced a pocketknife. It was small but beautifully crafted. He flicked it open with one hand, and the two-inch blade flickered in the lights.

“Want to see something?” he asked.

Savannah shrugged. “If it’s worth seeing.” She was sure to give him a look that said she was only teasing, and he acknowledged it with a quick grin.

“It is well worth it, if you ask me,” he said.

He took the bottle and used the blade expertly to remove the gold-colored foil that covered the cork. Next, he tilted the bottle to a 45-degree angle and carefully inserted the blade into the cork. He began to twist and pull. Savannah watched intently. There was no way he could pull a wine cork with a—

Pop!

He held up the knife with the cork on the blade. The cork was completely intact. How on Earth had he done that?

With a little flourish he removed the cork, closed the knife, and dropped it back into his pocket. He half-filled the two glasses and handed her one.

“To new friends,” he said, raising his own glass.

She lifted hers. “New friends. But shouldn’t we let it breathe or something?” She had never been all that into wine, but she assumed he was.

“Nah. That’s a load of snobbish crap,” he said.

She chuckled, they clinked and drank, and Savannah was immediately sure this was the best wine she’d ever tasted. It was almost like an altogether different beverage than what she was used to drinking. The alcohol spread out into her body and she relaxed ever so slightly. She watched Zac as he took off his suit jacket and set it over a chair, then rolled up his sleeves to reveal surprisingly toned forearms and a small black tattoo. The tattoo surprised her: he didn’t seem like the type for any kind of body art. She couldn’t tell what it was.

He started pulling things out of the fridge—vegetables, mostly. She loved the way he moved; there was something about it that made her feel a bit mushy inside. It had been forever since a man had made dinner for her.

“Now then,” Zac said. “I’m going to get some food started, and maybe you can hang out and tell me even more about yourself.”

“Oh, there’s not much to tell, especially compared with your life…”

“Bullshit—everybody has a story. I want to know yours.”

“I don’t know…”

“Seriously!” And then he started throwing questions at her fast and furiously while he washed carrots, broccoli, snow peas, and cabbage. “Where were you born? Do you have brothers and sisters? What do your parents do? How’d you end up in Hood River? What was high school like? When did you have your first kiss? How did you lose your virginity? When did you start your business? What’s your favorite book? Favorite movie? Shall I go on?”

Savannah’s brain had gotten stuck on “
How did you lose your virginity?
” and when he stopped talking she simply stood there holding her glass of wine. She couldn’t see herself but she probably had a dimwitted-looking expression on her face. Images of Bobby Hammond swirled in her head. Freshman year of college. It hadn’t hurt or bled as much as she thought it was supposed to, and afterward he’d told her he really liked her but he thought they should see other people. He had climaxed quickly. She had barely enjoyed it at all.

She stared blankly at the cutting board he’d just gotten out.

“Savannah?”

“Huh?”

“I think I lost you there for a second.”

She shook her head quickly to clear it. “Sorry, I’m fine. But—did you just ask me how I lost my virginity?”

“Did I?” he asked with a smirk as he began chopping veggies with a large knife, moving as quickly as a chef on TV. “I was just spewing out questions left and right, whatever popped into my noggin…”

His noggin?

She said, “Come on, don’t deny it. Isn’t that a little inappropriate for a client to ask their vendor?” She wasn’t sure whether to be offended or flattered, but she felt a little bit of both.

“Is that all you think this is about? Business? Clients and vendors and presentations and payments and all that?”

“I don’t know…” She took another sip of wine. She was torn between feeling intensely attracted to him, and wanting to walk out the door.

He stopped chopping and caught her with his blue eyes. “Savannah, this isn’t about business.” His voice was soft and intimate. He was only standing a few feet away. “I brought you here because I’m interested in
you
. Savannah LaMont. I want to find out what makes you tick. And yes—I do want to know how you lost your virginity. But not because I’m some kind of creepy pervert. Because that’s a part of you, just like everything else that’s happened in your life.” His words melted into her mind. They set her at ease. She sipped her wine.

She felt the urge to reach out and touch him. What would he do? What would happen if she took two steps forward and leaned up and placed her lips against his? Would he kiss her back? And what if she touched his neck, his chest, his thighs? Would he push her away, or draw her close? It had been a long time since she’d made the first move on a man; not since college. She wondered if she could muster the courage to try it.

He was talking again, and again she’d been lost in a daydream.

“…at an unfair advantage, since you seem to know all about me already.”

OK. He wants to get to know me?

She took a deep breath and set her wine down on the counter. “I was born outside Ithaca. My mother was a stay-at-home mom and my dad was a teacher. Middle school. Science and math. I’ve got an older brother. We never had much money while I was growing up, but I wouldn’t say we were poor, either. I never felt like I was missing out on anything…” As she talked, she warmed up to telling her life story, and she found Zac to be a wonderful listener. Most of the time he said nothing, but she could tell he was paying close attention. She hated it when people constantly nodded and said “Yeah” every few seconds. But he didn’t do that. Every once in a while he’d ask an insightful question, but only when she paused. He never tried to redirect the conversation back to himself, which was another pet peeve of hers.

Later in the dining room, partway through eating the veggie stir-fry he’d prepared—which tasted better than any Chinese food she’d ever had in a restaurant—she asked if she was boring him.

“Not at all,” he said. “It’s fascinating. When I’m attracted to a woman, I like to know everything about her.”

WHAT did you just say?! When you’re attracted to a woman?

“Umm…” she managed.

“What?” he asked, popping a piece of broccoli into his mouth and chewing with a satisfied look on his face. She was starting to catch onto his pattern: he would let little things drop and then kind of pretend he hadn’t. It seemed to be a game. She decided to gather up all her courage and play along.

She tilted her head down slightly and gave him a sultry look. “So you’re attracted to me.”

“Did I say that?” he asked, clearly amused.

“In point of fact, you just did.”

“I said
when
I’m attracted to a woman.”

“Then you want to find out all about her. Like you did with me.”

“Then it’s settled,” he said.

“How so?” she asked.

“If point
A
implies point
B
, and you’ve proven
A
, then you’ve proven
B
. I must be attracted to you. You just said so yourself.”

“Then it’s settled.”

He paused and leaned back in his chair a bit, looking her over. She got a funny feeling from his expression. There seemed to be something he wanted to say, but he wasn’t saying it.

She decided to switch topics. It was his turn to do the talking. “So tell me about yourself. Something I don’t already know from all the articles. When did you lose
your
virginity?”

“Savannah! That’s personal, you know.”

She shrugged. “When a woman is attracted to a man…”

He caught her meaning and smiled. “I was a freshman—high school, mind you—she was a senior and a cheerleader. Her parents were out of town one weekend and we did it in their bed.”

“Her parents’ bed? Eww.”

“What? It was hot!”

Again he quieted down and looked pensive. She hoped he might open up with a little push. “Zac, what aren’t you telling me right now? You seem…I don’t know, down. Quiet. Was it something I said?”

He stared at the table for a long time, occasionally glancing at Savannah and then back down.

Finally, he said, “All right. I may as well tell you. I didn’t come to Hood River to do these real-estate deals. That’s all just a cover. I mean, I’m doing the deals and everything, but they’re not the reason I’m here. I’m here because I had to get away from that lifestyle. The women, the sex, the parties, the cars, the drugs, blah, blah, blah, yada, yada, yada. It was crazy. That wasn’t me. I dropped a few million on all that stuff, and I was getting more and more depressed by the day.” 

He took a sip of wine. “There were times I was fucking some woman—sorry—and the whole time just thinking, ‘What am I doing? Who is this person?’ Then the next night it would be somebody else. Sex lost its meaning for me. It started taking more and more kinky stuff to get me…you know. Pain. Bondage. Fetish stuff. Tying them up, being tied up. Younger women, two at a time, three, four, whatever. Eventually I had to take a pill just to do what I always used to be able to. I hated myself.”

He paused again, this time watching Savannah’s reaction carefully. She made sure she looked interested and encouraging without betraying the fact that she was inwardly freaking out. His revelations were so intimate, it was almost terrifying. Apparently satisfied, he went on, “So I made a pledge. A year without—uh, away from San Francisco and temptation. Get back to my roots, my childhood. Find out who I was again. Be Zen. Do some outdoorsy stuff. Learn something new. So I did a lot of research and came up with Hood River. I’ve been clean and sober for two months now. I haven’t done any cocaine, nothing like that. Just a little wine now and then, as you noticed. But I also—never mind…” He trailed off, as if he’d been about to say something and then changed his mind. She’d caught him doing it at least once before, too. 

He’s hiding something.

“What? Why are you telling me all this?”

“Because so far it’s been pretty easy. But then I met you, and…” He took a deep breath and sighed it out. “Oh, God. I don’t think I can do it.”

“Do what?”

He pushed his chair back violently and stood up.

“Damn it! I want you, Savannah. I’ve wanted you from the moment I walked into your office. But—
damn it
, I’m sorry.”

He grabbed his empty plate and disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Savannah stunned and silent at the table. 

CHAPTER 9

She had no idea what to do. Go to him? Stay here? Leave the house? There was absolutely something he wasn’t telling her. Something in his past, something he was afraid of. Had he committed some crime? He’d been so open, and then he’d just clammed up and left the room. She took stock of the situation. Zac was emotional, even volatile. He could go from happy and flirty to upset in a heartbeat. Was this the kind of man she wanted to spend time with?

She was torn. She needed his money, his project, so desperately. But she wasn’t willing to start up a personal relationship just to get it. That would make her no better than the women he’d been running away from. A money-grubber, a gold-digger. She decided she would not intentionally jeopardize the project, but that if he wasn’t emotionally stable enough to spend time with, then she might have to end things before they had even begun.

Her mind returned to what it might have been that he was hiding. She racked her brain thinking about all the articles she’d read about him. Had he gotten caught with drugs? Overdosed on heroin and ended up in the hospital? Had sex with a minor? No, too creepy. Raped a woman in a drugged-out fit of lust and rage? Ugh! Absolutely not, don’t even go there.

Whatever it was he might be hiding, she was totally turned on by him. A warm, flowing sensation swirled around her core, down into her pelvis, between her legs. She wanted more of that sensation.

She heard dishes banging around and water running. She could at least help him clean up.

She took her plate into the kitchen. Zac stood at the sink, his back to her, scrubbing the wok. She set her plate on the counter and it made a little
clink
against the granite and the silverware rattled on top. He stopped scrubbing for a moment, took a breath, then started up again. She watched his back, his arms, his neck. Again she felt the urge to touch him. Her eyes strayed down to his butt, finding it muscular and round underneath perfectly tailored black wool.

She fought against her fantasies, but they started anyway…She would come up slowly behind him and touch his shoulder gently with a few fingers. He would moan as she started working the tension from him. Her hands would move down his back, feeling the strength there, as her mouth got closer and closer to the bare skin of his neck. Then she would kiss him there as her hands reached his waist and continued going down. He would keep washing dishes, pretending he didn’t know what was happening, resisting her advances because of whatever was holding him back, fighting the urge to ravish her. But all the while he would be wanting it more than anything.