A Not-So-Innocent Seduction

Five


Zoe gasped, startled and even frightened until she recognized the man who held her lightly. Liam...his face shadowed in the semidarkness. Although the moon was almost full, they were standing amidst large crepe myrtles that cast patterns on the path.

“You scared me to death,” she said, feeling her heart thundering away in her chest. “I thought you were a ghost or a rapist or an ax murderer.”

“We have so many of those in Silver Glen.”

“You’re mocking me.”

“Maybe. A little.” He released her and backed up a step. “Do you mind if I join you?”

She inhaled sharply. Sexual desire. So common and yet so powerful. She shook her head. “Of course not. I only wanted to get some fresh air. I suppose you should lead the way since I don’t know where I’m going.”

He looked down at her feet. “How are your shoes? Can they handle a bit of rough ground?”

Zoe was wearing the same clothes she’d had on during her excursion into town. The only difference now was that she had omitted the ball cap, and her hair swung free. “I’m good.”

“Excellent.”

For several minutes they walked side by side, close, but not touching. Eventually, the carefully manicured gardens gave way to forested terrain. Here—the moonlight held at bay by the foliage of large maples—the shadows grew deeper. At one spot where roots humped up in the middle of the trail, Liam took her elbow as they climbed up and over.

He was wearing dress clothes. And presumably his shoes were not meant for such circumstances, but he strode along in the dark easily, his gait comfortable. In this setting, she recognized his athleticism, his grace and power. Alone, she would never have dared go this far in unfamiliar territory. But she knew Liam would not allow her to come to any harm.

Gradually she began hearing the muted roar of water. “Where are we going?” she asked, intrigued and curious.

Even in the dark she saw his grin flash. “To the waterfall.”

After that, talking became impractical, because the closer they got to the source, the louder the crash of the torrent.

Finally, Liam took her arm and leaned toward her, his lips brushing her ear. “We won’t go any farther. The ledge drops off abruptly.”

The silvery moonlight caught the spume and turned it into magic. Shoulder to shoulder, they observed the power of nature. When the wind changed direction, the spray floated toward them, misting their exposed skin and sending a chill down Zoe’s bare arms. Liam took off his jacket. Without asking, he tucked it around her shoulders.

The fabric was warm from his body and carried the faint tang of his aftershave. She pulled the lapels closer, wrapped in the majesty of the tumbling water and the simple pleasure of sharing the mystical experience with a man whose company she enjoyed.

At last, when the damp became uncomfortable, Liam took her elbow once again and guided her back into the forest. She tried to return his coat, but he resisted. “Keep it,” he said. “Don’t want you catching a cold.”

When they returned to the more refined landscape of the garden proper, Liam paused, touching her hand briefly. “Would you like to come up to my suite for a drink?”

“And to see your etchings?” she teased.

“Did that line ever work with women, even decades ago? And besides, I would never attempt to seduce a guest with such a corny come-on.”

“And if she were willing to be seduced?” The question tumbled out uncensored. Perhaps she’d meant it to be voiced only in her head. But her subconscious was more direct.

They were standing so close, she felt him go rigid. “That’s not funny, Zoe.”

She leaned into him. “I’m not laughing.”

He moved, or maybe she did. Their mouths met clumsily, the shadows making it hard to gauge what was where. Liam’s lips were a wonder...firm and warm and confident. Zoe melted, letting him take her weight, straining on her tiptoes to accommodate the insanity.

At last she pulled away. “Coffee would be nice,” she said, her breathing ragged. “I’m not much of a drinker.”

He stared down at her, the blue of his eyes invisible. But she fancied she could see the turbulence in his azure irises. “Is that a yes?”

“I believe that it is.” She tucked her arm in the crook of his elbow. “Will we raise eyebrows sneaking in at this hour?”

“It’s hardly late,” he said with a chuckle. “And no...we’ll take the service elevator.” Opening an unmarked side door, he led her down a dimly lit hallway.

She removed his jacket and handed it back to him. “I like the sound of that. Very crime-drama-ish.”

Liam punched the up button and leaned against the wall as they waited for the doors to open. “What is this obsession you have with death and dismemberment?”

“The curse of an overactive imagination,” she muttered. Now, in the light, she felt a fillip of embarrassment that he was dressed like a man of sophistication, while she was definitely disheveled. She wished she had changed into something sexy and alluring before walking in the garden. Her dark slacks and lightweight blouse were respectable, but hardly the clothing to inspire mad passion.

With a quiet ding their clandestine transportation arrived.

The trip was short. But the tension filling the small enclosure multiplied with every second. Unfortunately, this boxy space was not the kind of fancy mirrored affair where a woman could check her reflection.

When they reached Zoe’s floor, and what was also apparently his, Liam guided her away from the direction of her room toward his own quarters. Instead of a magnetized card, he had an actual key. Inserting it in the lock, he opened the door and stood back for her to enter.

If she had grown up in less elite surroundings, she would have been awed by the tasteful display of wealth and comfort. Modern, masculine furnishings were softened by warm textiles and the deep pile of moss-green carpeting underfoot. Her toes curled with the urge to kick off her shoes, but she resisted.

Liam loosened his tie and tossed his keys on a narrow table in the foyer. “Have a seat. Make yourself at home. I’ll put the coffee on.”

“Decaf?”

“If you insist. I’m a night owl, so it doesn’t bother me.”

She followed him into the kitchen, intrigued.

When he saw her on his heels, he shook his head. “You don’t take direction very well, do you?”

“I told you I’m always curious.”

While he busied himself with the coffeepot, she examined the amenities. Granite countertops in amber and chocolate tones graced every surface. Over the central island, copper-bottomed pots and pans hung artfully. The stove and refrigerator were a homemaker’s dream.


Zoe hopped up on one of the stools that flanked the island and rested her chin on her hands. Liam had rolled up his shirtsleeves, and when he bent over to search the fridge for creamer, his expensive pants molded to a very nice bum.

“This is a fabulous kitchen,” she said, seeing herself here, bustling around, making a meal. “Do you like to cook?”

He glanced over his shoulder, grimacing, with his hand on the door of the open fridge. “Actually, I do. But to be honest, it’s quicker and easier to eat downstairs. A bad habit, I know.”

“I could cook for you one night,” she said impulsively. “If you want.”

He set the creamer on the island and leaned against the opposite counter, his hands in his pockets. An expensive gold watch gleamed on his left wrist. His hands were big, the fingers long and masculine. Looking at him gave her a funny feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“That would be nice,” he said, the inflection neutral.

She flushed, realizing that she was making assumptions. A man like Liam Kavanagh could have any one of a number of women. Standing like that, with a sensual gleam in his eye and the shadow of late-day stubble on his chin, he could have stepped right out of a magazine ad for fast cars or diamonds or gambling in Monte Carlo.

He was beautiful. A beautiful, masculine, physically mouthwatering man.

“Never mind,” she said. “You have a five-star chef. I couldn’t compete with that.”

He lifted one wicked eyebrow. “Oh, I think you could.”

Now there was no mistaking his meaning. Liam wanted her.

She swallowed, her voice trapped in her throat. “Is it ready?” she asked, the words squeaky.

“Ready?” He looked blank.

“The coffee.”

“Oh...yes.”

As he fumbled with mugs and accoutrements, she gathered her composure. “No wonder you never take time off if you live here in the hotel. That’s a terrible arrangement.”

He shrugged, bringing a tray to the island and setting it in front of her. Pulling a stool to the adjoining side, he sat to her right. “The staff is fairly considerate. They try not to disturb me.”

“Try being the operative word. Don’t you ever get the urge to cut loose and be irresponsible?” She stirred a dollop of real cream into her coffee, added a tiny bit of sugar and took a sip. This was no discount-store java. Someone must have ground the beans fresh. It was a luxury she shouldn’t get too used to. Her usual M.O. was the drive-through window at McDonald’s.

He drained his cup in short order and went back for seconds. “It is my hotel,” he pointed out as he sat back down. “The buck stops here.”

Suddenly, a wave of empathy swamped her. In his own way, Liam was as much of a loner as she was. Both of them surrounded by people much of the time, and yet still lonely. The difference was, Liam had his family nearby. Perhaps they didn’t live in each other’s pockets, but they were a unit.

Even so, she could see him in her imagination, rattling around in this big, fancy apartment at night with no one to talk to or sleep with. Perhaps he was a workaholic because he had never known anything different.

She had been lost in her thoughts for a long time, because when she finally surfaced, Liam was eyeing her quizzically. “Am I boring you?” he asked, a hint of something in his voice that said her checkout had either unnerved or irritated him.

“Sorry.”

“What were you thinking about?”

She hadn’t expected a direct confrontation, but she should be learning by now that Liam was nothing if not direct. “Oh, this and that,” she said.

Her evasion displeased him. His eyes flashed with irritation. “May I ask you a question, Zoe?”

It wasn’t much of a request. More like a command. “I suppose so.”

“What do you do for a living?”

Her ankles tightened on the rungs of the stool. “I sing,” she said simply. “In nightclubs and bars and coffeehouses. Nursing homes, too, sometimes, but those are freebies.”

The intensity of his stare made her want to escape, but she held her ground. She knew what he really wanted to know. His actual question was, how could she afford a six-week stay at the Silver Beeches Lodge if she was an itinerant musician?

But he wasn’t rude enough to ask it that way, and she didn’t volunteer the information. That was a subject she wasn’t prepared to broach. At least not yet.

“I should go,” she said, anxiety rising like a dark cloud in her chest. She liked being an anonymous stranger. Perhaps that was why Liam Kavanagh both attracted and threatened her. She sensed that he could break through her inviolable secrets. Walls and barriers and protective shields. She had them all.

“I’m sorry,” he said stiffly, his cheeks ruddy with color. “I promised myself I wouldn’t pump you for information. It was rude of me.”

“Anyone would ask the same question over drinks or on a blind date. Don’t beat yourself up because I’m an odd duck.”

“Odd, but beautiful.”

His honest compliment warmed her. And judging by the look on his face, he had decided he could live with her eccentricities. “I’m harmless, I swear,” she whispered.

“That remains to be seen.” He smiled to soften the blunt response.

She hopped down from the stool and rubbed her damp palms on her pants. “Thank you for the coffee.”

Liam stood as well. “What’s your rush? You haven’t even seen my etchings yet.”

She cocked her head. “I’m assuming you’re talking about sex and not real pen-and-ink drawings—right?”

His lips twitched. “A woman who speaks without censoring her words. How interesting.”

“Are you calling me a social disaster?”

“On the contrary.” He moved closer. “I believe your species might be as rare as the unicorn.”

“Don’t malign the female sex. Men play games, too.”

“How so?”

“Pretending they feel something for a woman when all they want is a quick hookup in exchange for buying her dinner.”

He looked at her gravely, his expression guarded. “Unless I’m mistaken, I believe you bought your own dinner. And I haven’t been all that interested in quick hookups since I left my grad school days behind.”

She bit her lip, feeling outclassed and outplayed. Or perhaps that was a result of her insecurities kicking in. “What do you want from me, Liam?”

His fingers slid beneath her hair as he curled a hand behind her neck. “What do you want, Zoe?”

Though the room was plenty warm, gooseflesh broke out on her arms. “Answering a question with a question is classic avoidance behavior.”

“But I’m not avoiding you,” he said with perfect truth as he pulled her closer still. “You’re a guest in my hotel and in my home. I want to please you...to gratify your slightest whim.”

It was getting very hard to breathe. The heat from his body melted her synapses, making it impossible to think logically. “I think I read that line from a brochure in my room. Don’t oversell the hospitality thing. Zagat won’t revoke one of your stars.”

He sifted his fingers through her hair. The sensation as his fingertips brushed the skin at her nape was pure pleasure.

“You’re a bit of a smart-ass, aren’t you?”

He didn’t appear to mind. If anything her puny resistance had stiffened his resolve. The terrible double entendre, though thank God she didn’t say it out loud, sent hysterical laughter bubbling up in her throat. She couldn’t quite say when he had managed to pin her body between his big, masculine frame and the refrigerator. Her resistance was crumbling like day-old bread.

“I booked a six-week reservation,” she pointed out, panting as he nipped the side of her neck with sharp teeth. “Perhaps we should weigh our options.”

Now, his tongue teased the corner of her lips. His breath was warm on her cheek. “How many of our options include my taking you to bed?”

Her knees wobbled. She had started this madness with her flirty question in the garden. And if she were willing to be seduced? Liam couldn’t be blamed for thinking she was willing and eager to get naked. And she was...sort of....

But in the moonlit dark, with fragrance all around and romance in the air, a woman could understandably rush a few fences. Now she was having second thoughts. And third and fourth.

Caution and common sense came uninvited to the party. If she let this go any farther, Liam would eventually expect to know things about her. Things she wasn’t prepared to share. She sighed, arching her neck to give him access to the erogenous zone behind her ear. “Will you think me horribly gauche if I tell you I’ve changed my mind?” The man had not even kissed her yet, and her stomach was cavorting like a carnival goer on the Tilt-a-Whirl.

She both heard and felt his incredulous groan.

“Not gauche,” he grumbled. “Merely frustrating.”

Cupping his cheeks in her hands, she petted him like a baby. “Don’t be mad, Liam. You should take it as a compliment that you made me lose my senses. I’m rarely so susceptible to blatant romance.”

He released her and backed up twelve inches. Bits of his hair stood on end where she had raked his scalp with her fingers. His cheeks were flushed and his pupils dilated. She wasn’t even going to acknowledge the way his trousers tented.


Pressing the heels of his hands against his temples, he squeezed his eyes shut. “No sex. I get it.”

“No sex, now,” she clarified pedantically, not wanting to block the way for future opportunity.

His lashes flew open, his expression fierce as he jammed his hands in his pockets, no doubt to keep from throttling her. “Is kissing on the table? Really long, hot, make-us-both-so-crazy-we’ll-never-sleep kisses?”

Licking her lips, she tucked her hands behind her back, her fingertips resting against the cool flat surface of the appliance that was currently holding her upright. What could it hurt? “Of course,” she said, as if his question was the most ordinary thing in the world. “Shall I go first?”