“Zacharias. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Zach gathered her against him.
“I’m talking about a tub big enough for two. A walk-in shower. A bed the size of a football field.” He nuzzled her throat. “And pizza, delivered hot, enjoyed cold because it will be absolutely stone cold by the time I’ve had my wicked way with you, woman.”
“Let me get this straight. You want us to wait until we get to your hotel to eat pizza.”
“I want us to wait until we get there to make love.”
Her expression softened. “Because?”
This time, he could, at the very least, tell her part of the truth.
“Because,” he said softly, “of what you told me about the guy who’s been following you.”
Her face fell.
“Steven. I almost forgot about him.”
“That’s just it, honey. I want you to forget about him. I want him out of your life and out of your head, and one of the best ways to do that is to go someplace where the memories we make will be all about us. Only us. Does that make sense to you?”
Jaimie stared at him. The seconds flew by. Was she going to tell him that he really did sound crazy? He didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until she smiled.
“You’re a wonderful man, Zacharias Castelianos,” she said softly.
“No,” he said quickly, “Really, Jaimie, I’m—”
“Wonderful,” she said, and then she rose on her toes, pressed one last kiss to his lips, and went into the bedroom to pack.
CHAPTER TWELVE
In the end, he didn’t let her pack much.
It was almost as if he didn’t want her to take anything from her dresser or her closet.
“Toothbrush,” he said. “Hairbrush. That’s it.”
“That cannot be it, Zacharias,” she said, sounding more like an old-fashioned schoolteacher than a woman who’d just told him she was in a hurry to get him into bed. “I need clothes.”
“You’re wearing clothes.”
“I need a change of clothes. For a day. Or two.”
“I’ll buy you whatever you need.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “You will not do any such thing. I’ll pack another pair of jeans. A sweater. Panties. Bras.”
“No,” he said, far more sharply than he’d intended, but the image of Young was trapped in his head, Young with his hand in Jaimie’s lingerie drawer. “No,” he said, calmly. “I mean…I mean, every guy has his fantasies, honey.”
Jaimie folded her arms over her chest.
“I’m almost afraid to ask.”
The look on her face made him laugh. Laughter right about now, he figured, was a very good thing.
“You know those movies where a guy takes his woman shopping?”
“Is that what I am?” Her voice was soft. “Your woman?”