“Yeah. You’re welcome.”
Zach took the box, shut and locked the door, and carried the pizza into the kitchen. Jaimie was placing a candle in a fat white jug on the small round table. She’d already put out pale pink cloth napkins, white earthenware plates and silver flatware with white enamel handles. Everything looked so normal. So simple.
So right.
“You were supposed to set the table,” she said, as he put the box on the counter. “Honestly, Zacharias…”
“Honestly, Jaimie,” he said, and he pulled her into his arms and kissed her.
“Hey,” she said, laughing, “you have to give me enough room to breathe, Mr. Castelianos.”
He nodded, loosened his grip.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry.” She smiled, stood on her toes and planted a kiss on his lips.
He let it happen and then he thought of Young, of what he’d just seen, and his mind went to a dark place filled with cold vengeance.
The only cure was to gather Jaimie hard against him and deepen the kiss.
“Wow,” she said, on a shaky breath.
“Sorry,” he said again, “I didn’t mean to—”
“I have a confession to make,” she whispered, her hands in his hair, her lips an inch from his.
So did he.
What had distracted him earlier this morning wasn’t the pursuit of mindless pleasure.
It was this. Holding Jaimie in his arms. Seeing her smile. Hearing her voice. But it was more. It was—it was what he felt…
“Hey.”
He blinked. The look she gave him was equal parts Salome and Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm.
“Don’t you want to hear my confession?”
“Absolutely.” He cleared his throat. “What is it?”
She kissed him. Softly. Sweetly. Put her lips to his ear. Her warm breath tickled his flesh
“I’ve always preferred pizza when it’s cold.”
He understood the message. She wanted to make love and, God, so did he.
But not now. Not here. Never here, in that bed Steven Young had defiled. He wanted out of this place. He never wanted to see it again and he sure as hell didn’t want Jaimie to so much as step through the door after today.
“That’s good,” he said, framing her face with his hands, “because here’s my plan. By the time we get to this pizza, it’ll be so cold it’ll make your teeth ache.”
“Promises, promises.”
“Wicked woman,” he growled. “What I mean is, we’re going to take it with us. To my hotel. Better still, we’ll just take it for a ride in the Prius.”
She looked at him as if he were certifiably wacko.
“We’ll find somebody who looks as if he’d enjoy a free pizza. Then we can order up a new one from my place.”