A Not-So-Innocent Seduction

Ten


Liam lost all track of time. When a woman like Zoe decided to take a man into her bed, the chosen male had no choice but to get down on his knees and thank the Almighty for the gift of such a fascinating, seductive woman. Only a fool would bypass this opportunity. Liam liked to think he was smarter than most men.

It wasn’t just the sex. Though that was off-the-charts phenomenal. It was the fact that Zoe threw herself into lovemaking with an abandon and a giving nature that made her incredibly vulnerable.

How did she know that Liam wasn’t only using her? Or maybe she didn’t care. Maybe she was using him.

She was asleep now, her relaxed body draped over his like an exquisite throw. Her skin was hot and soft against his harder frame. As he winnowed his fingers through her hair, separating the silky strands, he inhaled the faint scent of her shampoo. In the aftermath of a physical cataclysm, his questions returned. Who was Zoe Chamberlain?

He told himself she had a right to her secrets, but now that he had tasted her essence and had learned the manner in which her body responded to his, he was obsessed with finding out more about her. Was he being taken in by a beautiful and accomplished con artist?

A few moments later when she stirred, he wasn’t prepared for the way she looked at him. He’d expected a sleepy feminine smile, or a teasing suggestion that they start all over again. Instead, her expression was guarded...as if she expected him to do or say something that required armor on her part.

It struck him that she was right. His first impulse had been to ask his pointed questions while her defenses were down. Her startling ability to anticipate his responses so accurately both annoyed and shamed him. Was he that predictable? Disgruntled with himself and with her, he slid out of bed feigning a deliberately bland mood that hopefully disguised his turbulent emotions.

He picked up his boxers and pants. “I have an early conference call in the morning. I’ll let you get your rest.”

She sat up in bed, sheet tucked under her arms, and stared at him as he dressed. “Was it something I said?”

“What do you mean?” It irked him that her big-eyed solemnity made him feel guilty when he had nothing for which to apologize.

She nibbled her bottom lip, perhaps unconsciously. “I thought you might spend the night.”

Pausing for a moment as he pretended to locate a renegade sock, he shook his head. “I have responsibilities. If no one can find me, they’ll be worried.”

“Well, heavens,” she said, unmistakable hurt warring with indignation in her gaze. “What a tragedy that would be.”

She was making fun of him. Again. As if dependability and steadfastness were traits to be mocked. Coming on the heels of what had been an incredible evening, her words stung more than they should have.

He shrugged into his shirt and fastened the buttons. “Not all of us have the luxury of flitting around the country wherever the wind takes us.”

As soon as the words left his lips, he regretted them. “I’m sorry, Zoe,” he said quickly. “That was low.”

Sitting there like a courtesan dismissing an unwanted suitor, she shook her head, her smile bleak. “You’re entitled to your opinion. I’m flighty and unfocused and selfish. God forbid that you should ever get out and have some fun. Is that what this is about? You took an evening off to go somewhere as bourgeois as a bar? You slept with me without analyzing the ramifications? Surely I must be leading you down the rosy path of destruction.”

“Don’t get carried away. I apologized.”

“Yes, you did. But only for saying the words. Not for thinking them. I’d like you to leave now, please.”

He took a step toward the bed, wondering why the hell he was dressed when all he wanted to do was crawl back beneath the covers with her.

Zoe stopped him with an upraised hand. “Go. Before I call the hotel owner and have you evicted. Oh, wait. That’s you.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, he glared at her. “Are you sure you aren’t a natural redhead? That temper of yours is nasty.”

“At least I have feelings,” she said, her eyes shiny with what he hoped to God were not tears. “You stalk around your domain dressed to the nines and expecting everyone to dance to your tune. What a boring life that must be. I feel sorry for you.”

A vein throbbed in his neck. The impulse to drag her to her feet and kiss her senseless was strong. But someone had to be a grown-up. “You’ve made your opinion very clear. Perhaps my brother is more your speed.”

“Perhaps he is.”

They were shouting at each other. Probably in danger of awakening everyone on the floor.

With a curse that came nowhere near expressing his mental state, he turned on his heel, dragged open the door, and despite his instincts to fling it shut with a crash, closed it carefully as he stepped into the hall.

* * *

Zoe cried herself to sleep. The next morning, puffy eyes and a splitting headache added to her general state of misery. Trapped by the breakdown of her automotive companion, she indulged in a much-deserved pity party.

Not that there was anyone around to offer sympathy. By midmorning she had run out of tears and patience. It was a beautiful day, and she was not going to let an uptight, play-by-the-rules jerk make her feel bad about herself. What he had going for him, though, was her memories of the way he had touched her so tenderly and yet with such hunger. As if he’d been starving for her and only her.


Well, that was that. She couldn’t in all good conscience sleep with a man who thought so little of her. Her self-respect was important. If Liam didn’t know how delightful it was to stop and smell the roses, then he didn’t deserve her. Life was short. It deserved full participation or nothing at all.

In her travels she had seen the most magnificent natural scenery and the most bleak and disgusting of human situations. She had mingled with the elite of society and at other times shared soup with the down-and-outs who had little strength left to cling to the end of their ropes.

Though she had battled loneliness and fear from time to time, she had never lost her conviction that life was worth living and that the only way to grow and evolve as a human was to stretch your wings. She’d had some rough spots in her life. Everyone had. But she couldn’t complain. Because she had never gone hungry, and she had never known true despair, though she had come close a time or two.

Liam had experienced rough spots as well. And like Zoe, he had adapted without complaining. But while Zoe was content to accept the world as it was, Liam’s personality was more controlling. He was the kind of man who felt it necessary to take care of everyone and everything. He felt it was his duty to make sure the world turned on its axis as it should. Zoe was only interested in seeing the next sunrise. Perhaps she and Liam were simply too different to relate to each other.

When self-reflection and introspection palled, she rolled her eyes at her reflection in the mirror and showered rapidly, closing her mind and heart to images and memories of the last time she’d stood beneath the spray. Such self-indulgent reflections were counterproductive to her resolution to make the most of today.

Dressing in another version of the disguise she had worn into town previously, she made her way surreptitiously to the front of the hotel. Her heart beat rapidly, and her palms were sweaty. She wasn’t sure which would be worse...seeing Liam or not seeing him.

By the time she had requested the loaner car and slid behind the wheel, it was clear that her host was engaged elsewhere in the hotel. Which was, of course, of no consequence to her.

Once again, she enjoyed the drive down the mountain. Springtime in western North Carolina was achingly beautiful. Mighty evergreens poked at the blue sky. Flowers blossomed everywhere. Birds flitted and sang their songs. Even without Liam, Bessie’s choice of stopping places would get an A+ in Zoe’s book. Despite the rocky start to her day, she appreciated the opportunity to continue roaming around the shops and spots of interest that comprised the heart of Silver Glen.

First off, she stopped by the Silver Chassis, only to be informed by an overly flirtatious teenager that the owner of the repair shop had driven to Asheville to pick up some parts, and that there was no progress to report about Bessie. The news didn’t surprise her, but she had to fight an urge to sneak past the kid and take a look for herself.

After wandering for half an hour, she grabbed a soda and a hot dog from a fast food place disguised as a miniature chalet, and sat on a bench in the sun to eat it. The nature of her meal, compared to what she could have enjoyed had she not left the hotel, was amusing.

Food was not that big a deal to her. Which was why she could travel anywhere and everywhere with relatively little trouble. Deliberately choosing to live week to week with little in the way of material possessions was her own personal rebellion. The fact that her truculence might have had its day was an ever-growing source of concern and dismay.

She’d told herself for several years that she enjoyed her transient lifestyle, her gypsy itinerary. But the truth of the matter was, she was afraid to go home. She dreaded going back to the house where she had grown up. To start over again would mean facing her demons. A course of action that seemed not only depressing, but well nigh impossible.

Crumpling the paper sack that held the remains of her meal, she tossed it in a trash receptacle and stood to stretch. Once she returned to the hotel later this afternoon, perhaps she could make sure Liam was nowhere near the workout room, and she would be able to exercise in peace.

As she walked back toward her car, she glanced across the street at the Silver Dollar, its neon signs extinguished midday. The doors wouldn’t open until four, but perhaps Dylan was around. She had a sudden urge to talk to the only other Kavanagh male she knew.

There was no doorbell, so she simply knocked and knocked until a rumpled Dylan answered, covering a yawn with his hand. He scrubbed a hand across his face. “I may have forgotten to mention that I’m not a morning person. If you want to sing here again, you might want to remember that.”

She eased past him without an invitation. “Wow. Another grumpy Kavanagh man. Is it something genetic?”

Dylan wandered over to the bar and waved a hand. “You may as well have a seat since you’re here.” He grabbed a filter, put on a pot of coffee, and yawned again.

Zoe scooted up onto a stool and propped her elbows on the bar. “Rough night after Liam and I left?”

He poured himself a glass of water and downed a couple of aspirin. “Some of the guys stayed after I closed to play poker. It was close to three before they left, so I crashed on the sofa upstairs instead of driving home.”

“Did you win?”

His wicked grin was much like his brother’s. “I always win.” He lifted a container of lemonade. “Want a drink?”

She nodded. “Might as well.” It occurred to her that she might need an ally if she ever hoped to secure Liam’s affections. Not that she was sure such a goal was admirable or even possible. But after last night, she’d probably be willing to give it a shot if the eldest Kavanagh weren’t such a pain in the ass.

“Tell me,” she said as she sipped her drink and studied the rather large painting of a nude reclining woman that hung over the bar. “Is it just me, or is your big brother an opinionated, judgmental, arrogant, overbearing pig?”

Dylan winced as he rubbed the spot between his eyebrows. “You should cut him some slack, Zoe.”

“Why? I really want to know.”

“Well, for one thing, he’s a damned nice guy.”

“Couldn’t prove it by me.”

“I guess he didn’t take my advice.”

“What advice?”

“Never mind,” Dylan said quickly. “Let’s get back to Liam. It’s not really his fault he’s so serious. When most sixteen-year-old kids were playing video games and going out for sports, my brother was taking a crash course in becoming the head of a big, loud, complicated family and running the business with Mom. All the rest of us had the luxury of doing whatever we wanted to with our lives. But Liam got stuck with the hotel.”

“He claims he enjoys it.”

“And he does, I’m sure. To a point. But he gave up a lot for us. So, if he occasionally has the annoying habit of thinking he’s always right, it’s probably because he is.”

“I might have known you’d take his side. All you men stick together.”

Dylan drained his first cup of black coffee and poured a second. Standing behind the bar, he looked as natural in his element as Liam did in his. “It might not be a bad idea, though, for you to coax him out of his office while you’re here. Tell him you want to hike.”

“Do I?”

“There are dozens of trails up and down and over the mountain. Several waterfalls, too.”

Zoe felt her face flame and couldn’t do a thing to stop it.

Dylan lifted an eyebrow. “I’m guessing he’s already led you down the garden path?”

“Is that a euphemism?”

He gave her an innocent smile. “Not at all. The Silver Beeches gardens are legendary.”

“I’ll just bet they are,” she muttered. Glancing at her watch, she grimaced. “I’d better get back. I want to work out in the gym before I eat another one of those calorie-laden dinners.”

Dylan rinsed his cup and set it in the sink. Raking both hands through his hair, he shook his head. “You know that no one holds a gun to your head and makes you eat that crème br?lée.”

Her stomach growled, no longer appeased by the hot dog. “I’m well aware of that. But I wouldn’t want to hurt the chef’s feelings.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” He came out from behind the bar and paused to kiss her cheek before grabbing a broom. “You were a hit last night. Several of the guys were none too happy to see you going home with Liam.”

“You’re being kind.”

He made her lift her feet, sweeping peanut shells into a pile. “Not at all. Anytime you want to do an encore performance, just ask. But in the meantime, try to forgive my brother for whatever dumb-ass thing he did. We men are clueless sometimes.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“And take my suggestion to heart. I’ll bet you a hundred dollars that all you have to do is invite him to take you exploring and he’ll shed that suit.”

The image made her smile. “Is that what he is to you? Superman?”

“Damn straight. But I’ll deny it to my grave if you tell him I said that. We like to keep him humble.”

She hopped down from the stool and avoided the peanuts. “Thanks for the advice. What do I owe you for that and the lemonade?”


Dylan shook his head and yawned again, leaning against his broom. “It’s on the house.”

* * *

Returning to the Silver Beeches, Zoe was torn about whether or not she wanted to seek out her host or to avoid him entirely. As she swung around the final curve and slowed down to ease onto the flagstone apron in front of the hotel, the matter was settled for her. Liam stood on the top step, decked out in what looked to be an expensive hand-tailored suit and a crisp white shirt. It never failed to impress her that he managed to look so impeccably groomed every damn minute of the day.

Of course, there had been a few moments last night when she’d managed to rumple his sartorial perfection. The memories made her neck heat. For one second, she contemplated making a U-turn and beating a hasty retreat back down the mountain. But the venue was much too public for such a humiliating escape.

Instead, she put the car in Park, took a deep breath, and reminded herself that she was a woman of the world. Liam Kavanagh could not rattle her if she kept her cool. She wouldn’t allow it.

His eyes narrowed as he watched her step out of the car. “I didn’t see you in the dining room at lunch.”

She handed the keys to the valet, shouldered her purse, and picked up the package she’d purchased after her talk with Dylan. “I’ve been out,” she said airily.

As she climbed the shallow steps, Liam stared at her, his gaze intense. “Where?”

She stopped in front of him, one step down. He towered over her like a judge as he awaited her answer. “Does it matter?” she asked, trying not to notice how wonderful he smelled.

Guests milled around them, and the valet was still in earshot. “Of course not,” Liam said, his voice stiff. “I was merely wondering if your day had been pleasant.”

“Aren’t you concerned about my nights, as well?”

Shock flared briefly in his eyes before his lids lowered and his jaw clenched. “Your nights are not my affair.”

She brushed past him, running her free hand along his forearm as she walked by. “I’m hurt that you’ve abandoned me so easily,” she whispered in his ear. “If you’d like to chat about it and regroup, I’ll be in the parlor for high tea at four. Why don’t you join me?”