‘Then we should both rest. Together, if you’ll have me. I’ve missed sleeping with my arms around you.’
She smiled, blinked hard. ‘I’ve missed having them around me,’ she whispered.
Silently Aaron led her to the master bedroom. As they got in bed Zoe hesitated for a moment, frozen in her loneliness and fear, before Aaron’s arms came around her and her body reacted, instinctively knowing what to do. What she needed. She nestled into his embrace, her legs twining with his, her arms coming around his middle, glorying in the feel of him, hard muscle and hot skin.
Once again she was home.
CHAPTER TEN
AARON WOKE UP with Zoe’s hair trailing across his bare chest, his hand cupping the warm fullness of her breast. He went immediately and painfully hard, even as he felt a thrill of both terror and joy.
This was so unbearably unfamiliar, so out of his control, and yet already so necessary and even vital. Nothing he’d said to her last night had been planned or expected. Every word out of his mouth had shocked him as much as he thought it had her: All I ask is that you let me stay here with you…Maybe I’ve changed…I want to try…with you.
He wasn’t sure if he believed any of it, if he could. He’d lived his life in determined solitary independence, had wanted and needed to. The lessons he’d learned from his father went soul-deep: don’t trust anyone. Don’t need anyone. Don’t be weak.
And yet his father had broken all his own rules, rules he’d drilled into his oldest son from the age of five—a realisation which had made Aaron only more determined. He wouldn’t be like that. He’d take his father’s lessons to heart and he’d live them. Perfectly.
Yet now he was breaking every rule spectacularly—and why? Because the few weeks he’d spent with Zoe had been the most awkward, intimate and wonderful of his whole life—and he wanted more. Even if it terrified him.
He felt Zoe stir in his arms and he glanced down at her, saw the fog of sleep in her eyes replaced with a wary smile. She wasn’t sure of this either. Last night had been intense, with the tears, the honesty and the grief, but this was something else entirely. This was a beginning—but of what?
‘Good morning,’ he said, his voice a morning rasp.
‘Good morning.’
‘Sleep well?’
‘Actually, yes.’ She stretched and then curled back into him, sending a kick of lust ricocheting through him. He knew, what with the complications of the ectopic pregnancy, sex was out for at least a few weeks. His body, however, didn’t seem to have received that memo. ‘Did you?’
‘Yes,’ he admitted, because honestly he’d never expected to like sharing his bed, for it to feel so good. So right.
‘And now?’ Zoe asked softly, and he saw all the uncertainty in her eyes. Uncertainty about him.
‘I thought you might be tired of kicking around the resort,’ he said.
‘Okay…’
‘So we could go sailing.’
A smile tugged at her mouth. ‘You have a boat?’
‘Yep.’
‘That sounds wonderful,’ she said, and Aaron’s heart swelled with an emotion he could not name.
An hour later they were on the water, the sea placid and shimmering with a brilliant morning sun. Zoe sat on the cushioned seat in the stern of the boat, her legs tucked up to her chest, her face tilted to the sun. She’d pulled her hair back into a ponytail but tendrils and wisps had escaped, turned wild and curly by the sea air.
Aaron loved looking at her, loved seeing her relaxed and happy. He felt his heart swell again, and this time he knew it was with hope. She must have felt him gazing at her, for she lowered her head, raising one hand to shield her eyes from the glare of the sun, and turned to him with a smile.
‘Do you know, I’ve actually never been on a sailing boat before?’
‘Never?’ They were in for a good run and so Aaron took the opportunity to join Zoe in the stern. ‘How come?’
She shrugged. ‘I was never a very sporty girl. Books and art were more my thing. But I have to admit, this is pretty amazing.’ She glanced at him, curiosity flaring silver in her eyes. ‘Did you Bryant boys all learn to sail at around the age of two?’
‘More like six.’ He sat down next to her, his thigh nudging her hip and sending a painful flare of awareness through him. It was going to be a tough day for his libido. ‘We had a house out in the Hamptons, right on the Sound.’
‘Had?’
This was somewhat dangerous territory, he realised. He didn’t like talking about his childhood, the mistakes his father had made. ‘It was sold when my father died.’
‘When did your father die?’
‘Ages ago, when I was twenty-one.’ Just old enough to take the reins of Bryant Enterprises and realise how tightly he’d have to hold on to them.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said quietly. ‘It must be hard, not to have either of your parents alive.’
He shrugged. ‘It’s been a long time.’
‘A long time on your own. Why aren’t you close to your brothers?’
Another shrug; he really didn’t like talking about this. Was this what relationships were, all this honesty and intimacy, like peeling back your skin? No wonder he’d avoided them for so long.
‘Aaron.’ She laid a hand on his arm. ‘I’m not trying to pry, you know. I promise I won’t psychoanalyse. I just want to get to know you. And I want you to get to know me.’ He could think of ways of getting to know her that did not involve such messy questions or any conversation at all.
With a sigh, he nodded. ‘I know. I’m just not used to…talking about things.’
‘I realise.’ She gave him the glimmer of a smile. ‘You can ask me some questions, if you want.’
‘What made you go into art therapy?’
‘The practical answer is that I knew I would never make it as an artist professionally, but I still wanted to do something related to art. The emotional one is that I like helping people, and being useful.’ She gave a little laugh that sounded to Aaron like it had a bitter edge. ‘Funny, really.’
‘Why is that funny?’
Now she was the one shrugging, her gaze sliding away from his. ‘I don’t know. I suppose I’m not considered to have lived a very productive life.’
He frowned. ‘Says who?’
‘Put me next to Millie, with her super-important career and her completely together life, and I look pretty—useless.’ She let out another quick laugh then shook her head, the movement almost frantic. ‘Which is a terrible comparison to make, I know, because Millie’s been through a lot and I can hardly discount—’ She stopped suddenly, pressing her lips together. ‘Oh, it doesn’t matter anyway.’
Aaron stretched his legs out. ‘Obviously it does.’
‘Obviously?’ she repeated, arching an eyebrow. ‘Are you going to play psychologist on me, Aaron? Because that so does not seem your style.’
‘You’re the therapist,’ he answered with a smile.
‘Right. Maybe I should draw myself a picture.’
‘Now you sound as cynical as me.’
She laughed, the sound ending on a sigh. ‘No. I suppose I’ve always had a bit of an inferiority complex when it comes to my sister. Millie doesn’t make me feel that way—not for a minute. It’s more my parents. And myself.’ She lapsed into silence, frowning as she gazed into the distance.
Aaron knew he should get up and tack but he was reluctant to abandon this conversation. Zoe was sharing more with him than he’d expected, and to his own surprise he found he wanted to know. ‘So your parents wanted you to be a hedge-fund manager?’
‘Didn’t yours?’ she flashed back, and he tensed. So they were back to him. He should have known he couldn’t avoid personal questions for ever, or even for ten minutes.
‘They certainly did.’
‘Were you always meant to take over Bryant Enterprises?’
‘Always.’ He did not have a memory in which that expectation had not weighed heavily on him; it had nearly crippled him.
‘What about your brothers?’
‘They were meant to have responsibilities, as well. Luke was in charge of the retail division until a few months ago.’ He still felt a frisson of shock that Luke had just given it all up, walked away from Bryant Enterprises and all that it meant. He was free. ‘And Chase was disinherited by my father when he was nineteen.’
‘Ouch. Why?’
‘He screwed up one too many times. He was a bit of a wild kid.’
‘And you?’ Zoe asked softly. ‘You were meant to be in charge of it all?’
‘That’s about it.’ He tried to speak lightly but somehow his throat became constricted and he felt a welling of emotion in him that he didn’t understand. Why did this woman wrest emotions from him, like drawing out poison? He felt it seep out of him, infecting everything, leaving him weak.
Zoe laid a hand on his arm; her skin was soft and warm from the sun. ‘You don’t like your job, do you?’ she asked quietly.
‘I hate it.’ The words slipped out before he could stop them, and the vehemence with which he spoke surprised them both. It shocked him, really, and he felt a scorching rush of shame that he could have been so weak to admit such a thing, or even to feel it. That he could have betrayed his father, his family, so easily—and to a woman. Hadn’t he learned anything from his father’s mistakes?