A fucking fake. Where the hell was the original?
When the news had sunk in that he had stolen the wrong one, he’d come up with the idea of getting the insurance company to pay them off. Dropping a little hint had been easy. Or so he’d thought. Again. He’d quickly learned that Jeri actually had a conscience, and insurance fraud wasn’t on his list of priorities.
Damn shame, too. It would’ve been something, at least.
Jeri’s voice brought him from his thoughts.
“We’re meeting them for dinner tomorrow night.”
The others at the table seemed to be happy about that. Why, he had no fucking clue.
“It’ll be good to spend time with some of your friends,” someone said politely. “Any ideas on where you’ll go?”
“I’ll make the reservations,” Jeri said politely. “I don’t want anyone to have to worry about anything. There’s too much going on right now.”
“Are you still planning to replace the painting?” he asked Jeri directly, ignoring the glances from the others.
“Of course,” Jeri said, looking up and meeting his gaze.
There were times—like now—that he got the impression Jeri was on to him.
“I wouldn’t let the gallery down,” Jeri added. “But I won’t have it transported until the day of. And this time, I’m hiring security to guard the painting while it’s on display at the gallery.”
“That makes perfect sense,” another of the pretentious assholes said.
No, it didn’t. If Jeri put security in place, that would only make his job harder.
Jeri smiled sadly. “It’s not that I don’t trust—”
“We get it,” one of the old guys said, interrupting.
“It makes sense,” he added, inserting a significant amount of sympathy in the words, watching Jeri and the others closely. “We let you down.”
Sure, he was laying it on thick, but he wanted to believe that in the past two months since he’d started this bullshit attempt to acquire one of the most valuable pieces of art he’d come in contact with, he had learned what buttons to push to get his way.
But just when he expected to receive the reaction he was after, Jeri surprised him.
Instead of placating him and telling him that everything would be all right or possibly sharing the details of where the painting was currently located, Jeri simply nodded. Then he pushed back his chair, stood, and left all of them staring after him.
Shit.
That wasn’t the way it was supposed to go.
SIXTEEN
Z HAD SPENT THE LAST hour sitting out on the deck watching the water as the sun descended behind the house. After dinner, he’d taken a phone call, retreated to his room for a shower, then returned to sit outside and watch the evening sky turn dark.
The view wasn’t as intriguing as when the sun came up over the water, but it was nice, nonetheless. Now that it was dark, he found himself debating whether or not he should go to bed. He wasn’t tired, but tomorrow would be a long day, so if he were smart, he’d take advantage of the downtime.
Finally resigning himself to turning in, Z got to his feet, grabbed the empty bottle of water from the table, and went inside. After locking the door and turning off the lights downstairs, Z ventured up to the second floor. As he passed RT’s room, he stopped suddenly, drawn to the sight before him. There, sitting on the edge of the bed, was RT, staring out the window. His blond hair was still damp from his shower, and Z could see small droplets of water on RT’s naked back.
Z had the sudden urge to lick the water off RT very, very slowly.
When RT didn’t move after several long minutes, Z stepped into the room, clearing his throat to announce his presence. “You okay?”
RT’s head snapped around as he jumped to his feet.
“What were you thinkin’ about?” Z inquired.
Rather than answer, RT shook his head, his eyes never leaving Z’s.
Whether it was an outside force that propelled him forward or his own stupidity, Z found himself moving closer, eliminating the distance between them. And when RT didn’t back up or attempt to get away from Z, he couldn’t resist the urge to touch him.
Ever so slowly, Z placed his hands on RT’s towel-covered hips, sliding them upward, grazing the hard planes of RT’s stomach. His skin was warm and smooth, causing Z to continue trailing his hands over him. He wasn’t thinking about what he was doing; his body had a mind of its own.
“We can’t,” RT breathed roughly, his eyes locked with Z’s.
Z had known that would be RT’s answer, but there wasn’t any conviction behind the words, which was why he didn’t pull away. Dragging his fingers lightly over RT’s skin, Z took another step closer until their bodies touched, from knee to chest.
“We can do whatever we want,” Z told him softly. “There’s no one here to stop us.”
Z allowed his lips to hover over RT’s, trying to hold back but desperate to kiss him, to taste him again. For two weeks, he’d thought of that night, of the way RT had driven Z to madness by fucking him like a man possessed. Z had made himself crazy, desperately hoping for more, all while knowing RT would do his damnedest to keep that from happening.
Except RT wasn’t pushing him away now.
“Z…”
Rather than listen to RT’s excuses, Z covered RT’s mouth with his. He didn’t press for more, simply made RT aware of what he wanted. RT’s breath shuddered in his chest, but still he didn’t pull away. Allowing his hands to slide up RT’s arms, Z cupped the back of RT’s neck and pulled him closer, their lips pressed together.
“I want you,” Z whispered. “More than I’ve wanted anything in a very long time.”
“You had me,” RT muttered.
“No,” Z clarified. “You had me. There’s a big difference.”
RT pulled back, his eyes widening as he stared up at Z. There was no way to discern what the man was thinking, but Z didn’t budge, waiting to hear what RT’s excuse would be.
“It was one night, Z. It was a fucking mistake.” RT’s tone was harder than before. “And don’t try and tell me you weren’t as into it as I was.”
Z was confused. “Of course I was.”
RT didn’t respond to that.
“But it wasn’t a mistake. Not for me, anyway. It was a long time coming.”
RT took a step back and Z released him.
“It should’ve never happened.”
“Maybe,” Z agreed. “Not the way that it did, anyway. But it was inevitable.”
“I was drunk,” RT countered.
“The hell you were.” Now Z was getting angry. They hadn’t talked about that night, but now that they were, Z wanted to clear the air between them. “You were as present in that fucking hotel room as I was. I watched your face.”
“It was sex, Z!” RT exclaimed. “One fucking night. You of all people should be familiar with that.”
Z felt as though RT had sucker-punched him. He wanted to argue, to tell RT he was wrong, but he couldn’t find the words.
“What makes me different from any of the others, Z? Why can’t you just walk away?”
Taking a deep breath, Z found his voice. “Because I never fucking walk away! That’s not who I am, but you wouldn’t know that because you won’t give me a fucking chance.”
“A chance? I’m your boss. Or did you conveniently forget that?”
No, he hadn’t. RT was always there to remind him of that fact. Maybe not in so many words, but when things got too difficult for RT, he hid behind his job, used it like a suit of armor.
RT’s eyes glittered with heat. Z wasn’t sure if it was lust or anger, but he wasn’t going to walk away until he knew for sure.
“This is something better left alone, Z. Now, if you don’t mind…” RT started to move around Z, heading for the door.