Sunswept, page 9
part #4 of Discovered by Love Series
Andrew smiled as if he knew Zane was tempted. “So you’ll think about it then?”
“I…will consider the possibility.”
Andrew broke into a grin and pumped Zane’s hand with glee. “Fantastic. I knew you wouldn’t be able to ignore the challenge. But you agree—not a word to anyone about this. It’s going to take me six months to a year to make the move, extract myself from Constantine Richards. If my agents get a whiff of this ahead of time, they’ll jump ship like rats fleeing the Titanic. And if I don’t have my share of their commissions, I won’t be able to keep the lights on. I have to be able to offer them an alternative to finding another broker before I go public. And I need to have the framework to entice them.”
Zane’s heart sank as he realized what Andrew was saying. He’d been feeling like he was betraying Bailey with his presence, when really it was much worse. He couldn’t even give her a sneak peek of what was coming. He knew how hurt she’d be if she learned he’d known about Andrew’s plans and hadn’t given her a heads up.
She’ll already be off on her own when this happens, he reasoned. She’d already have her own brokerage, be recruiting her own agents…
And she’d be in direct competition with her ex-boyfriend/ex-boss who was stacking the deck to make sure he caught all of the quality agents in Florida…because Andrew had something only he could provide. Which was something only Zane could provide.
All the way home, a sick feeling churned in Zane’s gut. He felt like the worst sort of sneak. He tried to reason away the feelings—after all, he didn’t owe Bailey anything. They were two strangers who had met by chance. Their “relationship” was merely playacting for their respective exes. When this weekend was over, they would never see each other again.
But even as he thought it, he knew it wasn’t the truth. He liked Bailey, enjoyed her company. He was attracted to her, yes, but he actually appreciated her as a person: the way she wore her thoughts on her face, her sarcasm, how she looked when she was trying to lay down the law…all five foot one of her. Already, he was mentally mapping the distance between Miami and West Palm Beach. And if he were honest, he’d started to consider whether property in West Palm Beach wouldn’t be just as good an investment as Islamorada.
But none of that actually solved his problem. It merely made it more complicated.
He was relieved to find the house empty when he let himself in—he wasn’t sure what might come out of his mouth if Bailey asked him point blank what he’d done today. He had to tell her; it was the only right thing to do. But he had to admit he was intrigued by Andrew’s project. It would be a fun challenge in a year that had been rather short on challenges. And if he did take the job, didn’t that obligate him to some sort of confidentiality?
He wasn’t going to solve that issue in an empty house, so he changed into his swim trunks and went to the storage unit on the ground floor, where he retrieved one of the paddleboards leaning up against the wall. The tide was still low, the water relatively still, and as he climbed onto the board and began to propel himself away from the shore with the long paddle, he mulled the other question that had been nagging him. How did he broach the subject of what happened after they said goodbye on Saturday?
He’d thought Bailey might feel the same level of interest, but she’d been pretty straightforward with him since their kiss the other night. Sure, she’d flirted at the bar, but he knew not to read too much into alcohol-fueled behavior. Some women just got flirty when they drank and didn’t remember a bit of it later. He didn’t consider his ego fragile, but what guy really wanted to put himself out there only to find out the interest had been one-sided?
He’d just have to take that risk, he decided. The alternative was walking away from her tomorrow with no chance of seeing her again, and that was the one outcome that was unacceptable. If she laughed in his face—or more likely, let him down easily—at least he would know. He could move on. And if she responded the way he hoped she would…
He realized he was smiling as he paddled parallel to the shore, absorbing the rock of the waves with his legs. He’d soak in the warmth of the sun and the freshness of the salt breeze for a little longer then he’d go in and get ready so Bailey could have the bathroom.
Somewhere, his dread over the wedding had shifted to anticipation. He’d do his almost best man duties, stand up with Tony, give the toast. But as far as he was concerned, this night was just an excuse to spend time with Bailey, dance with her, and if he played his cards right, kiss her again. And then he’d bring up the idea of seeing each other when they were back on the mainland. Miami and West Palm Beach weren’t exactly in the same zip code, but he wasn’t going to let something as insignificant as an hour’s drive keep him away from her if she was willing to give him a shot.
For the first time since he’d sold his company, after almost two years of drifting, it felt like things were finally coming together.
The house was empty when Bailey returned, but the clothes that Zane had been wearing this morning were neatly folded over the back of the sofa, so she knew he had to be around somewhere. Fair enough. She wanted to get ready early so they wouldn’t be late—she wasn’t going to give Meredith any reason to dislike her or be critical of Zane. Why she cared so much about Zane’s ex when she was marrying another man, Bailey couldn’t say…but she knew without a doubt she would be on display. Which was why she’d spent so much time and effort tracking down the dress and shoes and jewelry.
But even as she thought it, she knew it was a lie. She’d loved the sharp spark of interest she’d seen in Zane’s eyes when she’d emerged from the bedroom in the skinny black cocktail dress, a sudden vibration of tension like he was barely keeping himself from approaching and putting his hands all over her. She wanted to see that look again. Heck, if it weren’t for her headache this morning, she’d probably have been disappointed they’d wasted the evening instead of picking back up where they’d left off. Now that the annoying throbbing in her head was gone, she was replaying their kiss in her mind. On repeat.
Somewhere, the switch had flipped in her head from the idea that Zane was to be resisted as an unwelcome temptation to a sudden panic that this was coming to an end without anything being decided. Were they really going to part ways tomorrow with a handshake and vague well-wishes? Were they going to ignore the electricity that crackled between them when they touched, write it off as an impulse they could have acted on but chose not to?
Because maybe she was fooling herself—God knew it wouldn’t be the first time—but she thought their connection was more than physical. She’d never found it so easy to talk to a man before, about everything and nothing. He made her feel like she could say anything she thought without judgment. Express her hopes and dreams and get validation instead of discouragement. He talked like an English major sometimes, but he also kind of thought like one. All the disparate parts—the entrepreneur, the analyst, the adventurer, the empath—came together into a whole that Bailey couldn’t deny she really, really liked.
Tonight she would tell him, she decided as she climbed in the shower. Even if it made her look silly. Even if it turned out that he was like this to everyone, that she wasn’t actually special. She could take the disappointment, the embarrassment. What she couldn’t take was the idea of walking away from him and always wondering what might have been if she’d only had the courage to act.
If honesty really was her highest value, then she had no choice but to tell him how she felt.
She was wrapped in a towel, blow-drying her hair when a sharp rap came at the door. “Bailey?” Zane’s voice called. “Are you almost done? It’s after four.”
She glanced at her watch, abandoned on the counter, and grimaced. How had it already gotten so late? “Sorry! Give me two minutes!” She flipped off the blow dryer, then looked around for her clothes. Which were definitely not in the bathroom.
She weighed the pros and cons to actually asking him to retrieve the clothes laid out on the bed, but that would require him retrieving her bra and panties as well. And she was not prancing out there in a bathroom towel that would barely cover her boobs and her nether regions at the same time.
“Okay, I’m coming out, but you have to close your eyes.”
A deep laugh. “Close my eyes?”
“That’s what I said.”
“Okay, okay, they’re closed.”
Bailey clutched her hair dryer, curling iron, and her makeup case to her chest and cracked the door. Sure enough, Zane was standing with his back to her, one hand clapped over his eyes. Shirtless again—and his back was just as nice as his front. She tiptoed past him to the louvered closet.
“Okay, you can go in now.”
Amusement tinged his voice. “Bailey? Are you actually in the closet?”
“I won’t be if you’d just go in the bathroom.”
“Wait…are you naked in the closet?”
“Not quite,” she squeaked. “Will you just go please?”
His laugh rumbled, deep in his chest. “What if I just hang out—”
“Go!” she practically shrieked.
“Okay, fine.” His laughter faded and the bathroom door clicked shut, but she still poked her head out to check that he wasn’t just messing with her. She let out a sigh of relief and went for her underwear and ubiquitous shorts-tee ensemble. But she was smiling.
When he came back out twenty minutes later, he was still shirtless—heaven help her—but at least wearing his dress pants, a towel draped around his neck. “Can I borrow the blow dryer?”
“Uh, yeah. Here.” She handed it over, trying to keep her gaze from lingering on skin, but he paused.
“Looks like we’ve come full circle, haven’t we?” he said with a grin.
She returned the smile. “Hard to believe that was only three days ago, isn’t it?”
“It is. Bailey—”
“Talk later.” Bailey pointed to her watch. “It’s four forty. We have twenty minutes to get out the door, and I haven’t even finished my makeup.”
“Leave it,” he said with a grin. “The bride will be mad if you look better than her.”
She rolled her eyes and waved him away, but in another couple minutes, she thought Meredith might be unhappy anyway, because the ensemble read more than a little bridal. The white dress was beautiful. She’d paired it with a pair of white canvas espadrilles, their satin laces wrapping her ankles like a ballerina’s ribbons, and a delicate silver necklace with tiny paper-thin capiz charms. She was just fussing with the individual waves in her hair when Zane stepped out and whistled.
“Wow. You look…wow.”
“Is that a ‘Wow, you clean up nicely’ or a ‘Wow, is that the best you can do’?” She paraphrased his previous words with a smile.
“It’s a ‘Wow, I can’t believe I’m the lucky man who gets to spend the evening with you.’” Frank appreciation glimmered in his eyes, and he moved toward her, his intentions clear.
“Oh no you don’t,” she teased, though her heart was beating a rapid tattoo in her chest. “I just put on my lipstick.”
“Don’t care.” He caught her around the waist in a possessive grasp she didn’t really resist. But instead of moving in for the kiss, he just pressed his lips, feather-light, against the side of her neck. The touch made her shiver.
He stepped back, and she knew he hadn’t missed her reaction. She couldn’t even pretend—she still felt breathless. If she’d thought there was any question of his interest, the way he was looking at her now left no doubts.
She cleared her throat. “Do you need help with your tie? I assume there’s a tie.”
“Right.” He looked around and landed on his suitcase then retrieved a length of tone-on-tone striped white silk. “This is it.”
Bailey took the tie and looped it around his neck, her fingers brushing against slightly damp skin as she turned up his collar. It reminded her again of those heady moments in the water, wrapped around each other, and she had to take a steadying breath.
“If tying a tie makes you so nervous, I can do it myself,” he teased, and just like that, they were back to their teasing, chummy, slightly flirtatious tone of the past days.
“Funny. Now hold still so I don’t accidentally strangle you.” She carefully avoided his gaze while she tied a full Windsor knot and smoothed the tie flat against his chest. “You look very nice,” she said primly. Then she caught his eye, her lips twitching. “And to think I initially thought you might be homeless!”
“Hey!” he protested, but there wasn’t much heat behind it.
“Okay, now we really have to run.” She gathered the bare minimum she would need that evening—keys, lipstick, driver’s license—and shoved them into the tiny straw clutch she’d purchased earlier that day. She hesitated and removed the keys, dropping them into his hand. “You drive.”
“Okay then. Let’s get this wedding over with so we can have some fun, why don’t we?”
Bailey smiled. “Lead the way.”
Zane was counting down the minutes. Once, he would have done that because he couldn’t wait to get the night over with. Now, he simply wanted to discharge his duty to the bride and groom so he could get on with things. He might have to stand up with Tony and give a toast, but the rest of the night was for him and Bailey.
Who looked absolutely stunning. He repented of his first impression that she was just cute—though to be fair, she had been dressed like a college girl. Now, he thought she was beautiful. Stunning. Likely to steal the spotlight from the bride, which he couldn’t manage to feel bad about. Not when he was the one who got to spend the night in her company.
His sudden impulse to rapturous devotion was perhaps his first inclination he was done for.
He’d keep that to himself, however. Because despite her involuntary reaction to his brief kiss, she still hadn’t given him any indication she thought of him as anything more than a convenient date.
He drove them to the resort, and they both fell quiet, though it was a companionable sort of silence. Comfortable. Unfortunately, that gave him time to think about Andrew’s proposal and what his obligations to Bailey were. Maybe he was overthinking it. She was a businesswoman: she would understand that you didn’t need to like or respect your clients. Surely she’d negotiated houses for people she wouldn’t put on her Christmas card list. But he also remembered her slightly forlorn, wholly vulnerable look when she’d wondered why he had cut her loose. That seemed to say her feelings about the man were beyond reason.
Later, he told himself. First, he’d see how she reacted to the idea of them seeing each other back on the mainland. If she was as enthusiastic about the idea as he hoped she’d be, he’d tell her everything. He didn’t believe in starting a relationship with secrets. But if she wanted to part tomorrow as acquaintances, then he had no obligation to tell her. She’d be out on her own long before Andrew was ready to launch anyway. It would be him having to compete with her. If she wanted to hire Zane to do something similar, then she could.
It was too bad that it all felt like a bunch of justifications to ease his conscience.
They pulled up to the valet in her car, Zane smiling slightly at the recollection of handing over his bicycle the previous day. He met Bailey at the curb and offered his arm. She took it with a weak smile. Was she nervous? What did she have to be nervous about?
Too late he caught sight of Tony zipping across the lobby, wearing a harried expression, and remembered he was supposed to have arrived early.
“Where have you been? We’ve been waiting on you for pictures for half an hour!” Tony finally noticed Bailey, his whole demeanor changing. “Hello, you must be Bailey. Pleasure to meet you.” He smiled and shook her hand briefly. “I’m afraid I have to borrow him for a bit. The bar is over there, though, if you want to grab a drink…”
Zane could swear that, for a moment, she turned an unhealthy shade of green. He grinned as he leaned close on the pretense of kissing her cheek and then whispered, “If you can devise a way to smuggle one in for me, I’ll be your slave.”
Bailey’s eyes flashed amusement. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Zane reluctantly left her in the lobby, practically dragged away by Tony. Once they were out of earshot, Tony said, “I heard that.” Before he could apologize, Tony reached into his suit jacket and withdrew a leather and silver flask. “Gift from Mer’s dad.”
Zane barked out a laugh then felt guilty about his amusement. Meredith wasn’t that bad…she was just easily stressed. And what could be more stressful than a wedding? He waved off Tony’s flask and tried to look contrite. “Sorry I’m late. I forgot about the pictures.” He wasn’t sure he’d actually been told what time to get there, but better he take the blame for it regardless.
The photographer was waiting for them on the beach near where the chairs and the gazebo for the ceremony were located, the broad expanse of blue behind them the perfect backdrop. Meanwhile, guests began to meander over to the chairs, most of them with drinks in hand. Zane chuckled to himself. That wouldn’t fly in a church yet somehow felt perfectly appropriate in Islamorada. He tried to focus on the photographer’s directions to Tony and the cluster of groomsmen, but then Bailey appeared, drawing attention like a beacon. He saw the eyes of the male guests follow her as she walked down the center aisle and chose a seat somewhere in the middle. It wasn’t just him, then. He was surprised by the sudden surge of protectiveness. Or was it possessiveness?
“Zane,” the photographer said, his voice holding a tinge of exasperation.
He managed to stay focused for the rest of the photos then followed Tony to the front of the assemblage to take their places while the cellist warmed up, preparing for the processional. Zane leaned around the best man to whisper to Tony, “You ready for all this?”
He half-expected Tony to make a flippant reply, but instead he just smiled calmly. “I’ve been ready for this my whole life.”
