He's No Prince Charming (Charming 2)

Her hands resting on her cup, she seemed to assess him a moment. “Your honesty. If you had told me you didn’t ever take a case for money or fame, I’d have known you were lying. Not telling you my last name felt like a dirty little secret I didn’t want to carry.”

Crap. He had to tell her. He opened his mouth to speak just as Zoe slid from her seat with her purse in hand. “Bathroom. Be right back.”

He watched her walk away, the sweet sway of her backside bringing back memories of having her naked and in his arms. Damn… How the hell had he gotten himself into such a mess? Zoe was the first woman he remembered ever wanting this much and he was about to lose her over someone else’s crimes unless he could find a way to make this all go away. Maybe…he could. His mind raced. Maybe he could look at the case file and see if he could influence a quick closure for everyone involved. Over and over, he replayed the idea in his head. Yes. That was what he’d do. He’d make this go away so Zoe could stop worrying. Or he’d at least try. And then there would be no conflict of interest.

He drew a breath. But he couldn’t see Zoe again until it was over.

Chapter Eleven

Confused and upset, Zoe had darted away from the lunch table and into the tiny restaurant bathroom barely big enough to hold a toilet and sink. Not the best place to hide out, especially when feeling trapped.

Zoe’s hand shook as she tried to apply lipstick in the mirror. Worse, the deep pink shade seemed to emphasize her too-pale skin. She hadn’t slept well in days and it was showing. Her mind raced with thoughts about Declan, her life, and this situation with her father. The way Declan had reacted to her confession over her family name had taken her off guard.

In the past, the money Marks represented had been a reason people, men, in particular, wanted to get close to her. When she’d told Declan about her father, she’d prepared herself to see dollar signs in his eyes. Sure, he had money, but most people never thought they had enough. Instead of interest, she saw something different in Declan. She’d seen dread. Or perhaps disgust? She wasn’t sure. All her life her last name had impacted how people perceived her. This time the name brought a negative reaction rather than a positive one. The only other person who’d ever done that was her best friend Lucy. But the money Zoe grew up around had intimidated Lucy. She’d thought she wasn’t good enough to hang out with Zoe. Declan had been bothered by who her family was too, but why, she didn’t know. Maybe because her father was being accused of stealing? That word “stealing” sent Zoe’s stomach into a lurch. Her mother must be rolling over in her grave over this.

Straightening, Zoe patted at her hair and exhaled. She didn’t know why this thing with Declan bothered her so much. He wasn’t her type anyway. A damn good bed partner but nothing more. It was time to end this thing. It had gone too far anyway. She’d make up a nice excuse and leave. Then, she’d go home and…feel sorry for herself.

What the hell was wrong with her?

* * * * *

By the time Zoe returned to the table, Declan had begun to wonder if she had left. Her arrival, however, only made her determination to leave clear. She tossed money down, near his hand. “I have to run. I forgot about something I have to do.”

She seemed upset. Now he was too. He grabbed the cash and handed it to her, not believing she’d just given it to him. “I told you I’d buy you lunch.” His brows dipped. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Did I do something to upset you?”

“No,” she said, cutting her eyes to the floor. “I just have to go.”

He’d done something. That was for damn sure. Her unwillingness to look him in the eye when she’d replied was a telltale sigh. Sliding along the seat, he gently shackled her wrist and urged her to join him. “Sit with me,” he urged.

She hesitated. “Declan—”

“Please,” he said, a low plea in his voice.

She blinked at him several times and sighed. “Only for a minute. I need to go.” Once she was beside him, he kept her hand in his, feeling a strange need to ensure

she didn’t bolt. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Zoe said shortly, eyes going to his chest.

Nothing meant something. His finger went to her chin, urging her to look at him. “Talk to me.”

“No. I don’t want to talk. I shouldn’t have brought up my father. We are just—” “Just what?”

“A fling,” she said, a bite to the words that made him inwardly flinch. He didn’t want to be just a fling. He knew that with certainty. She inhaled and exhaled and continued. “We were a one-night stand. I don’t know why we are even here today. You didn’t have to know. I don’t know why I tortured myself by telling you.”