He also knew that the fight to win her heart would be a hard, vicious one. But it would be worth it.
* * * * *
“I need a shower and clean clothes.”
Declan’s words washed over Zoe like ice water, harsh and full of reality. Zoe wasn’t sure how to respond. Lying in his arms in the middle of her living room floor naked, close, way too comfortable, she had felt warm and safe. Now, she felt—exposed.
It was crazy, she knew. This was sex. It’s what she’d wanted it to be. So why did she feel so horrible knowing he was about to leave?
Declan nuzzled her neck, and she suppressed a shiver. She didn’t want to respond to him. “Come with me,” he said as he brushed his fingers over her cheek.
She swallowed, feeling her heart in her throat. The correct answer was “no”. She knew this. “I need to shower too. I better just stay here and get cleaned up.”
He eased her to her back and she wanted to fight him, wanted to keep her expression from his view, but she didn’t. To refuse to look at him would give away how vulnerable she felt. “Why don’t we run to my place and I’ll grab some clothes and we can come back here and shower together.” He brushed his lips over hers. “Then, I’ll take you to lunch.”
Why was he doing this? Why? They both knew there could be nothing between them. Yet he seemed to resist saying goodbye as much as she did. “By then it will be almost dinnertime and I have to review a show tonight.”
His hand flattened on her stomach. “We have to eat.”
Narrowing her eyes on him, she tried to figure out what he was thinking. “We have nothing in common.”
“I never said we did.”
“Look,” Zoe said. “We had sex. It was good. Leave it at that.”
He smiled. “I owe you. We missed dinner. Let’s have lunch.”
Zoe started to get up. “You don’t owe me anything.”
Declan shackled her arm. “I want to spend time with you.”
“Why?” she challenged.
“I admit I have an agenda.”
Figured. “Which is?”
“To prove to you all attorneys aren’t jerks.”
She laughed. “That’ll take a whole lot more than lunch.”
He winked. “I’m up for the challenge.”
But she knew he wasn’t different. She’d seen her brothers and even her father make all kinds of promises about putting family above work. It never happened. Still, she found herself, saying, “Fine. Lunch it is. But only because I really am getting hungry.” Then, because she knew she was getting in some deep shit, begging to get her heart broken, she added, “But I’ll shower here and we can meet in the middle.”
“I’d rather you come with me,” he said, narrowing his eyes on her.
“That’s my best offer, counselor. Take it or leave it.”
He stared at her for a long, hard few moments and then sighed in obvious defeat. “I never accept a plea bargain.”
“Never?” she challenged.
He sighed. “You’re a tough cookie.” His lips turned up in a sexy smile. “All right. But you owe me a concession.” With that said, he pushed to his feet, naked, gorgeous, and leaving her to wonder what the hell his comment meant.
Once again, he had control. He was on top and she was…liking it a little too much.
Chapter Ten
Zoe stood in the doorway of the Art’s Café eyeing the rows of red booths and tables with checkered cloths, looking for anyone who resembled Declan. Dressed in tan slacks and a lacy off-white long-sleeve blouse, she could feel the coolness of the September day through the thin material.
“Am I late?”
Declan’s softly spoken words vibrated along her nerve endings like a soft breeze on a hot day, touching her in the most intimate of places. Before Zoe could recover, his hands were on her shoulders, his body close. The masculine scent she was beginning to know as unique to Declan, spicy and a bit woodsy, insinuated into her nostrils and made her draw a breath. As she turned to look at him, her chin tilting upward so she could meet his deep, dark stare, her stomach fluttered. This was crazy. She felt like a schoolgirl with no experience with men.
“You’re not late. I was a bit early,” Zoe said, trying to seem unaffected by his presence. “Hunger had me half running the last block.” About that time a rumbling sound in her stomach sounded. Zoe’s hand went to her middle. “See?” She grinned. “Told you.”
“Well, then,” Declan said with a smile. “We better get you fed.”
He motioned to a waitress and in a snap, they were following her lead to a corner booth. The Fifties-style diner, a popular hangout for all age ranges, was busy but not overpopulated. At two o’clock in the afternoon, most of the lunch crowd had cleared.
When Declan held his hand out for Zoe to take the seat which placed her back to the door, she shook her head in refusal and pointed to the other side. “I’d rather sit in that direction.”