A Not-So-Innocent Seduction

Six


Liam knew in that instant that he was either a masochist or the luckiest bastard in the world. And for the moment, he didn’t give a damn if Zoe had more secrets than the Sphinx. He cleared his throat. “I’d be delighted for you to go first, Zoe. Be my guest.”

She regarded him with big blue eyes, as solemn as a child being offered a treat for good behavior. “I haven’t kissed a man in over a year.”

“Is that a euphemism for something?”

She shook her head. “No. That other thing you’re thinking of is more like a four-year dry spell.”

“I see.” Was she playing him? Could anyone who looked like Zoe and who approached life with such reckless abandon avoid the kind of men who took advantage?

“You don’t believe me.”

The hurt in her eyes made him feel guilty, particularly since her quiet accusation was well-founded. “I want to believe you,” he said. “But have you looked in a mirror? Men notice people like you.”

“You’d be surprised how well I fly under the radar when I want to. But I understand. You don’t know me. And even though you want me, in your gut you think it might be a mistake. You’re torn, because you want to kiss me, and that might lead to something else, but you have a family and a hotel to protect. Have I summed it up?”

“I’d like to point out that you were the one who changed her mind about sex. Not me.”

“Only because I share some of your reservations. Will you take me at my word if I say I have plenty of money to pay my bill? That I’m not a scam artist? Or a criminal of any kind?”

He shifted from one foot to the other, unhappy with the direction the conversation was taking, but reluctant to miss this chance for clarification. “You sleep in the back of your van.”

She flushed from her throat to her hairline. Anger? Guilt? He didn’t know. A maelstrom of emotions flowed across her expressive features. “Wow. Does everybody in town report to you? Are you some kind of king on the hill?” The sarcasm would have been far more cutting if not for the wobble in her voice.

Weighing his words, he spoke carefully. “My buddy, Gary, is a single dad who struggles to make ends meet. He asked my opinion about whether or not I thought you would stiff him for the repair charges.”

Now the color in her cheeks faded, replaced by an aura of despondence. “And what did you tell him?”

Liam shrugged. “I said I’d cover the bill if there was a problem.” He was pretty sure he had killed any chance he had of ever getting Zoe Chamberlain into bed. At the moment she was looking at him like some wretched creature who had crawled out from under a rock.

She straightened her spine. Moments before, she had been leaning against his fridge, temptation personified. Now her posture defied reproach. “I’ll check out in the morning,” she said softly, her expression bleak. “Good night, Liam.”

Before he could blink, she was out of the kitchen and halfway to his front door. “Wait, damn it,” he said, striding after her, his heart pounding. “Don’t be ridiculous. Be mad at Gary, but don’t be mad at me. I would like to point out, however, that he’s a mechanic, not a shrink. It’s not like he divulged personal information.”

Now her eyes shot blue fire. “Where I sleep is personal information. He had no right to tell you that.”

Oh, hell. “He didn’t exactly tell me. He showed me, Zoe. And you certainly don’t have to explain if you don’t want to. I’m guessing that a handful of the world’s richest people do far stranger things. I know personally at least a couple who clip coupons and keep their money in mattresses.”

“So now you’re calling me crazy, too. Unbelievable.”

“You promised to kiss me,” he said, desperation making him reckless. Zoe was wearing a sky-blue blouse that deepened the color of her eyes. Her hair was a cloud of sunshine that warmed his dull apartment. Though she was so angry with him she quivered with it, he had never wanted anyone more. “Give me another chance,” he pleaded, even knowing in his heart that it was for the best if she walked out. “I didn’t set out to violate your privacy, I swear.” Reason and sense had left the building.

His passionate entreaty at least slowed her down. “You’re not the kind of man to beg,” she said. “It doesn’t sit well on you.”

“Then I won’t beg,” he muttered. “I’ll just do this.” Dragging her into his arms, he found her mouth with a shudder that quaked through him like a powerful rift in the earth’s core.

If she had fought him, he would have been honor bound to release her. From early adolescence, Maeve Kavanagh had drilled into her boys the proper ways to treat women with respect. She would have Liam’s hide for a handbag if she thought he had coerced any female, much less a guest at the Silver Beeches.

Fortunately for Liam, Zoe was not the kind to hold a grudge. She sighed and kissed him back.

Her acquiescence fired his hunger. He gripped her more tightly until she struggled. “Easy, big guy,” she said. “I’m not going anywhere. You pled your case persuasively. If this hotel thing doesn’t pan out, you ought to think about becoming a lawyer.”

“Shut up and kiss me,” he cajoled.

Her lips were as soft as the fog that rolled up over the mountain on winter mornings. And she tasted like the best wine in the cellars below. He ran his hands over her back, daring to slide one beneath her shirt. The delineation of her spine was more pronounced than it should have been. Thinking of her so ill bothered him in ways he couldn’t explain.

Though her personality was tough, in his arms she seemed fragile, heartbreakingly vulnerable. “I’m sorry,” he said again, urging her to believe in his sincerity.

Her waist was narrow, and without a belt, her pants rode low on her hips. Raw need blinded him as he imagined unzipping her clothing, dragging her beneath him and entering her hard and fast in hope of slaking the formidable hunger that gripped him.

Zoe’s silence began to worry him. “Say something, damn it.”

She tipped back her head and looked him straight in the eye, her expression rueful. “You don’t know much about sweet-talking a woman, do you?”

“I’ve always preferred action to talk. Words can run in circles.” Nuzzling her nose with his, he kept his hips pressed to hers, letting her feel what she did to him.

Her arms were wrapped around his neck, gratifyingly tight. He grasped her chin with one hand, keeping her lips in kissing distance. His other hand fisted in a hank of her hair. Caught thus, she had no choice but to open to him as he gave in to the urge to claim her mouth again.

“Oh, Liam,” she sighed. “You do this so very well.”

Since he felt like a rank teenager in the grip of angst-laden crush, her words of praise affected him more than they should. “We do this well,” he corrected. “I’m as surprised as you are.” Sliding a hand between their straining bodies, he found a pert nipple and stroked it.

Zoe twined a leg around his thigh. “Don’t stop.”

“I don’t plan to.” Scooping her into his arms, he strode toward the sofa, collapsing onto the butter-soft black leather with Zoe in his lap.

She laid her head on his shoulder. “This is the best hotel ever.”

“Brat.” A wave of tenderness swamped him, for the moment taking the edge off his arousal and allowing his conscience to lobby for maturity and restraint. “You know we probably shouldn’t do this, right?”

She sighed. “I know. We’ve only just been introduced.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to. You are the sexiest, most appealing woman I’ve ever had the good fortune to meet.”

Pulling back to look up at him, she raised her eyebrows. “Ever?”

He grinned, kissing her nose. “Well, I did get introduced to Gwyneth Paltrow once when she was filming a movie here. But movie stars don’t count. And besides, she’s a little too old for me.”

Zoe chuckled, playing with a button on his shirt. “You’re telling me you wouldn’t have carnal relations with Gwyneth Paltrow if you had the chance?”

“Chris Martin might not like it.”

“He’s a musician. You’re a wannabe football player. I think you could take him.”

Fighting his baser instincts, he stood up, setting her on her feet and moving himself out of temptation’s reach. “If you stay here any longer, we both know what’s going to happen. As much as it pains me to point it out, I think the timing is wrong. You said so yourself.”


Folding her arms across her chest, she regarded him with stormy eyes. “If you think I do this with everyone I fancy, you’d be wrong. I was serious about the four-year thing.”

“Then why me?” It was a legitimate question, not false modesty.

Her shoulders lifted and fell. “I don’t really know. Your brother looks a lot like you, but I didn’t get the urge to drag him into bed.”

Liam was torn between relief and irritation. “Dylan says you want to play at his bar.”

“Yes.”

“And again, why?”

“I enjoy music. Is that so hard to understand?”

He knew she was hiding things about herself. And wasn’t trying very hard to pretend otherwise. A sense of foreboding overtook him. Though he claimed to be pragmatic, he did, after all, have several hundred years of Irish blood flowing in his veins. There was no denying the occasional frisson of gut feeling that guided his actions.

“A man was here today,” he said quietly. “Looking for you. Or rather, Zoe Henshaw. Since Zoe is a fairly uncommon name, Pierre and I assumed he meant you.”

She dropped abruptly onto the sofa...as if her legs had simply folded beneath her. Every ounce of color leached from her face. “Who?”

“I don’t know. Pierre dealt with him. The man didn’t identify himself.”

“What did Pierre tell him?” She looked as if the answer might be a knife to her chest.

“That we had no guest by that name. Then the guy left. We take privacy very seriously here, Zoe. You’re safe. For however long you choose to stay at Silver Beeches.” He would have written the vow in blood if it could have removed the look of panic and despair on her face. “Talk to me,” he said softly. “I won’t betray your trust.”

* * *

Zoe read the sincerity in his face, the masculine urge to help. But she dared not let down her guard. “Thank you,” she said quietly, wondering if she was capable of standing up. “But I’m fine.”

Her answer visibly displeased him. “Do you know who it was?”

“No.” God, it horrified her to realize how easy it was to lie. But keeping her own counsel had been her only protection in the last year and a half. “Thank you for telling me.”

She forced herself to rise and move toward the door. It was foolish to think she could afford a relationship with Liam Kavanagh, no matter how tempting he was. The only person she could trust, in the end, was herself. “I enjoyed the waterfall,” she said quietly, her hand on the doorknob.

Liam remained where he was. Clearly, this time he had no plans to stop her. The inscrutable expression on his face probably meant he was relieved to have dodged a bullet. Zoe came with baggage. Most men wanted easy sex with no consequences.

His nod was jerky. “My pleasure.”

“Good night.” Out in the hall, she leaned her head against the wall, her heart beating wildly. The urge to flee was strong. But she had no vehicle. Taking the little Sentra was not really an option. Even if she left behind the money to pay for it, she would not have the title. Through the years she had done a couple of things she was not proud of, but she drew the line at stealing a man’s car. Even if it was a clunker.

Being alone in the world had its drawbacks. She envied Liam his close-knit family. She’d never had that kind of support growing up, and as long as she forced herself to keep running, she would never have a shot at the kind of roots and permanence she saw in Liam.

Wiping her damp eyes with the back of her hand, she sought out her peaceful room. With the door locked behind her, she took a deep breath. Tomorrow she would make a plan.

* * *

Liam paced his roomy apartment for an hour after Zoe left. Not only was he experiencing the aftereffects of their aborted intimacy, he was also worried. Deeply worried. Zoe was in trouble of some kind. Big trouble.

It wasn’t Liam’s problem. He kept telling himself that, even as his brain wrestled with the question of how to get her to trust him. On the surface, her personality was open and sunny. But dig a little deeper and you found a woman who resembled a house of mirrors. Just when he thought he had a clear idea of who she was, he ran into a dead end.

Glancing at the clock, he decided it would be okay to call his night-owl brother.

Dylan answered on the second ring. His voice was louder than usual, obviously struggling to be heard above the noise in the bar. “What’s up? Didn’t I just have dinner with you a few hours ago?”

“I’ve changed my mind.”

“About what?”

“I wasn’t sure before, but now I want you to invite Zoe Chamberlain to sing at the Silver Dollar. The sooner the better.”

“What’s the emergency?”

Liam laughed roughly, digging the heel of his free hand into his eyes one at a time. “I wish I knew. Our beautiful guest is in some kind of trouble. I don’t know more than that. But I want to hear her sing. Is that a problem?”

“Of course not. I’ll call in the morning and tell her we’ll put together a set for tomorrow night. Will that do?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Dylan.”

His brother’s voice was wry. “You picked up the pieces when I was a mess. The least I can do is lend a hand with your new girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Liam said automatically. He wasn’t sure how to categorize what he felt for Zoe, but he was pretty damned sure their situation was nothing as simple as that.

“Well, whatever she is, I hope she can sing. My regulars have been known to harass the few duds I’ve had.”

“If she says she can sing, I believe her. I plan to bring her down to the saloon and stay with her. What time are you going to tell her to be there?”

“We’ll need a few minutes to talk about songs. Do you want to grab a burger while you’re here, or is that too plebeian for your refined palate?”

“You’re such an ass. And yes. A burger sounds great.”

“Seven o’clock, then. After we eat, I’ll take her in the back for a few minutes and work on the set list.”

Liam cleared his throat. “I think dinner will be just Zoe and me. No offense.”

A second of silence stretched to two and then three. Dylan’s response, when it finally came, was hushed. “Ho-lee shee...it. Has my mighty brother fallen for a tourist?”

“Mind your own damn business. And just for the record, I’ll be joining you in the back.”

“Message received. But you don’t really think I’d poach on your territory, do you bro?”

“Do you remember Pamela Fletcher back in middle school?”

Dylan chuckled. “Point taken. But I’ve matured since then.”

“Says who?”

“Ask anybody. I’m an upstanding businessman.”

“An upstanding businessman with an eye for the ladies.”

“I’ve reformed, I swear.”

“In all seriousness, Dylan, help me keep an eye on Zoe. Some guy was here at the hotel today asking about her. Pierre told him flat out that no such person had checked in.”

“Go, Pierre. He takes his job seriously.”

“We all do. And apparently this unwanted visitor gave off enough of a bad vibe for Pierre to be suspicious.”

“Does Zoe know about the visitor?’

“Yes.”

“Be careful, Liam. You can’t always save the world.”

Liam winced, feeling something a lot like hurt. “Am I really such an insufferable prig?”

Dylan’s voice lowered to a more normal level. Presumably he had stepped into his office, because the background noise disappeared. “That’s not what I said, or what I meant. You’ve sacrificed for all of us, and we’re damned grateful. But sometimes you take on too much responsibility. You need to lighten up and live a little. If this Zoe gal is too complicated, find somebody else. But get laid and quit worrying.”

“I can’t believe I’m taking relationship advice from my baby brother.”

“You could do worse. I’ve survived the pitfalls. I’m a cautionary tale.”

“I don’t think anything is going to happen with Zoe.”

“But you want it to.”

“Maybe.” That was as honest as Liam was willing to be.

“I’ll help you watch out for your little chick, I promise. But Liam...”

“Yeah?”

“Be careful. Just because she looks like an angel doesn’t mean she is one.”

Dylan had been deceived once upon a time by a woman with a pretty face and a cold heart. The experience hit him hard, and at no point since had he allowed any woman to get close to him. He was understandably cynical when it came to the opposite sex.

“I don’t want to believe Zoe is a threat. I’m more concerned about a potential threat to her.”

“Then we’ll both be on the lookout. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

“Thanks. I owe you one.”