"Please, even on vacation I get up early." He winked.
"Marshmallows." I swiped my keys from the counter. "Then home. No detours. No sudden hankering for late-night taffy or ice cream."
Zane's face fell. "But what if the ice cream store's open? And the only way to save the world…" He stalked toward me, his face serious. "… is to go inside…" He licked his lips slowly. "… order ice cream… and…" His face tilted down toward mine. "… lick."
My heart slammed against my chest. I ignored it. Because he wasn't Lincoln, no matter how attractive or deadly that smile was. "Keep giving me that look, and I'm going to lick every marshmallow before stuffing them back into the bag, resealing it, and telling you they're fresh."
"Wouldn't be so bad." He shrugged.
"Correction. I'll drop them in the toilet then re-seal."
"Alright then." Zane backed away, holding his hands up in surrender. "But for the record, I just like messing with you. I've never actually had a girl not fall for it."
"Good to know I'm immune to your charm just like Lincoln's immune to mine," I said in a bitter voice.
"Whoa there." Zane grabbed me by the wrist and tugged me backward. "Friends don't let friends say stupid shit. Trust me, he's not immune. You should have seen his face when he nearly took down the door and came in here guns blazing."
"Huh? Guns blazing?"
"Oh, right." Zane snapped his fingers. "You were sleeping. Lincoln barged in with Demetri, Alec, and Jay. He may have assumed I seduced you, based on my state of dress, and the fact that he clearly has the worst timing in the world, and it looked like I'd just tumbled you into the weekend."
"Nice." I groaned into my hands, keys jamming me in the cheek.
"Hey, hey." He pulled my hands back. "Not so bad. Like I said, the look on his face was pure murder, and it wasn't the whole get your hands off my sister look either. It was the touch her and I cut off your hand for even thinking about it look, along with a healthy dose of longing. I imagine once he gets his head out of his ass, it'll be any day now."
"Any day?"
"That he gives you the kiss."
"The kiss?"
"You gonna repeat everything I say or marshmallow me?" Zane sidestepped and opened the front door.
As I walked through, he whispered, "The kiss every girl secretly wants but never asks for."
I paused then turned. "Huh?"
Without any sort of warning, Zane grabbed me by the shoulders, slammed my body against the door, and kissed me with such ferocity that I couldn't breathe or think. My legs ceased to work as he lifted me into the air, his tongue twisting with mine, his breathing hot and heavy as he deepened the kiss, almost like he was challenging me to stop him. But I was too shocked to do anything.
He released my body, and I slumped down the wall, my butt colliding with the hardwood floor as I looked up at him with blurry vision. "What just happened?"
Zane smirked then leaned down, offering me his massive hand. "Demonstration. You want him to kiss you like that. You're welcome. Also, next time a guy tries to kiss you who isn't Lincoln, you slap him."
"But it was you. I hardly know you." I took his hand and stood on wobbly feet.
"My point exactly. Geez, don't they teach you self-defense in high school anymore?"
"Something's wrong with you."
"Marshmallows," he grumbled. "They'll fix a lifetime of wrong."
"Alright, but no more kissing." I frowned. "I may like Linc, but a kiss like that could get a girl knocked-up, and I have no intention of being on MTV's Teen Mom, okay?"
"Message received." He winked. "Oh, and also, when that lands on social media tomorrow, which it will, remember to look really guilty when Linc corners you."
I didn't have time to digest what he'd just said, because he was already sprinting toward my car and waiting on the passenger side.
Something wasn't quite right about Zane, but he was also really… real, and kind of… entertaining in a pet-puppy type of way.
You know, if your puppy had a six-pack.
Or looked liked a walking commercial for sex.
Yeah, he definitely needed to not kiss me ever again.
Wait. I froze mid-step. Social media? I glanced around, frantic to locate whoever might have seen us, but there was no one else in the distance, just a good-looking musician leaning over my Jeep and yawning. "Are you coming?"
"Uh, yeah." I frowned. "Coming."
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Lincoln
DINNER WITH MY PUBLICIST WENT LIKE expected. She asked why I was screwing my new assistant, who also happened to be underage, and according to Twitter, a charity case.
I told her why, and that I'd broken things off…
She heaved a sigh. "Well, that was stupid. Think of what it could do for your image. Hollywood heartthrob obsessed with mute girl? Damn, don't be stupid. Marry the girl."
Offended, I'd only been able to eat a few bites of my pulled pork taco before I was ready to toss my beer in her direction and pray it blinded her enough for me to run out of the restaurant.
"What?" She'd shrugged her waif-like body. "It's good PR."
"So is giving money to the homeless."
She let out a loud snort. "Hardly. That shit never goes viral. But this? This is social-media gold. If I were you, I'd go back and play nice, at least until we hear back about your last audition with Spielberg. Hey, maybe they'll even make you an ambassador for the blind." Her icy-blue eyes twinkled with excitement, as I was sure her brain was making plans for my future presidency.