Double the Heat (40 page)

Authors: Lori Foster,Deirdre Martin,Elizabeth Bevarly,Christie Ridgway

Tags: #Erotic Stories; American, #Man-Woman Relationships, #Mate Selection, #Contemporary, #Fiction, #Romance, #General, #Short Stories

BOOK: Double the Heat

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Her heart jumped. He looked like Mr. Business in a suit and tie, and for a moment it was hard to reconcile him with the naked lover who could lick his lips and make her limp with desire. Last night he’d held her over him and tasted her like a treat, and she didn’t think she’d recovered yet.

Her pulse was dashing about like a happy puppy, and just looking at him made her mouth dry. “John Henry,” she croaked, and she rushed toward him, calling it out louder. “John Henry!”

He started, and what looked almost like guilt crossed his features. “Zin! That was a long interview. I thought you’d already be gone—”

She stopped the rest of his words with a quick but exuberant kiss, then darted a cautious look at the office building. “You’re so sweet to have worried about me and come looking. It’s good news! They offered me the job, and I accepted . . .”

Her words trailed off as he dragged her to his car. “Let me take you out for a celebratory drink, then,” he said. “It’s almost five.”

“Um, okay,” she answered, as he stuffed her into the passenger seat. With a little frown, she watched him run around to the other side. “Are we in a hurry?” she asked, as he slid in and started the engine.

“Yes. No.” There was a knock on the driver’s window, and he glanced over. Grimaced. “Too late,” he muttered, and pressed the switch to lower the glass.

It was the guard from the reception area. “I saw you through the windows,” the man said to John Henry. “Is anything wrong, Mr. Hudson?”

“I’ll let you know later,” John Henry replied, and with a salute to the man, put the car into reverse.

As the sedan pulled out of the spot, Zin noticed that it was a reserved space and marked with a discreet sign like the one that designated the place where she’d parked. But while hers had read Visitor, this one said J. H. Hudson, President.

Her breath evaporated in her lungs and she went hot, even though she could feel the cold blast from the air-conditioning against her skin. J. H. Hudson, President. Could this be true?

The man beside her had kissed her good-bye that morning as she left his suite and wished her good luck, all the time knowing that her most fervent wish was to get a position at River Pharmaceuticals. The company that called him “President.”

She felt foolish. Played. Angry and confused.

Desperate to get away from him.

What should she do now?

She glanced around, realizing they were already nearing the quaint downtown area that served both locals and tourists. A block away was the bakery where she worked. Her bank was on the corner. Across the street was the highly rated restaurant where she often dropped off visitors when she drove the limousine. Her town. Her town she’d wanted to prove something to—and now her best opportunity to do that was gone.

“I want out of the car,” she said.

He glanced over. “We’re going for a drink.”

“I don’t want to drink with you,
Mr. President
.”

“Zin . . .” He sighed. “We need to talk.”

“I feel too stupid to talk.”

“You’re not stupid.” With a grimace, he pulled into a tree-shaded spot in front of Edenville Hardware. When her hand went to the door handle, she heard the snap of the door locks. “And you’re not going anywhere until we have a conversation.”

She folded her arms over her chest and sent him a steely glare. Her skin still felt hot, and her words burned her throat. “We could have had this conversation last night. I had no idea you’re the president of River Pharmaceuticals.”

“I realize that.” He forked his hand through his shor thair. “We can blame my father for choosing to call it River instead of Hudson.”

Names had been the bane of her life. She transferred her gaze out the windshield, not wanting to look at John Henry’s handsome face. Focusing on the front of the hardware store, she asked the obvious: “So why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because . . .” He hesitated.

“Did I—” The question stuck in her throat. “Did I get the job because I’ve been sleeping with you?”

“No! Damn it, Zin, that’s exactly why I didn’t say anything. I didn’t want you to think that we . . .” His hand went through his hair again. “I wanted you to go in and have your interview without us influencing your attitude or your decision.”

She didn’t know whether or not to believe him. She tried to remember if the two women she’d interviewed with had looked at her with anything beyond sincere interest. “Do Marilyn and Holly know there is an ‘us’?”

“No.” He sighed. “The thing is, Zin, I didn’t know what the hell to do when you told me about the job last night. I couldn’t decide if I should put in a good word or not say anything at all.”

The door to the hardware store opened, and two people emerged onto the sidewalk. Zin stiffened. There was her father, wearing his beat-up jeans, a Grateful Dead T-shirt, and a safari-style hat that appeared to have been stomped on by an elephant. Her mother was next to him, in her floating Stevie Nicks wear, her curly silver hair reaching her elbows. They’d met as teenagers at Woodstock, and it looked as if they’d never changed clothes since 1969. A pair of passing tourists did a double take, then shared a smile.

Zin could imagine what the well-dressed couple was whispering to each other:
Hippies. Weirdos. Oddballs.

Flakes.

The Flaky Fridays.

“But now I can tell you I’m so pleased you’ll be working for us,” John Henry went on. “When you called it the perfect job for you, I really hoped that would be true.”

She didn’t respond. Her attention was focused on her parents, because another person came out of the hardware store to talk with them on the sidewalk. It was one of the elderly twins who owned the place—either Ed or Jed, in a uniform of lightweight khaki coveralls. Zin tried to read his lips, wondering what business he would have with Bobby and June Friday that caused an expression of concern on his face.

“Who’s that?” John Henry asked. “Why are you staring at them?”

“My parents,” she said, watching as Ed or Jed pulled out a slender roll of bills held together with a rubber band. Shame snaked down her spine as the store owner peeled a few free. The Fridays were chronically short of cash. They’d asked Alan not long ago for grocery money . . . Were they now moving on to the two old men who ran Edenville Hardware?

“Take me back to my car,” she said urgently. She couldn’t witness any more of this, but short of leaping from John Henry’s sedan to cause a scene on the sidewalk—and wouldn’t that just improve the Friday rep?—she didn’t know how to put a stop to it.

“Zin ...”

“John Henry, please.”

With another sigh, he started the ignition. “Fine. But tell me you understand why I didn’t say anything about owning River Pharmaceuticals. I wanted you to know you got the job fair and square.”

“It doesn’t matter now,” she said, her tone flat. River Pharmaceuticals had looked like her way out, but she’d messed that up by messing around with John Henry. You’d think she’d remember that there was more to life than love . . . but of course she didn’t love John Henry! She just loved the way he made her feel in bed.

He pulled into the company parking lot. “Follow me back to the resort, Zin. We’ll have champagne and caviar at the restaurant.”

“I can’t be seen with a guest,” she reminded him.

C’mon. You’re going to give them notice, right?”

“Can’t. Still have those student loans.” Without looking at him, she reached for the briefcase at her feet.

“Zin . . .” There was a warning in his voice, then a dawning knowledge. “No, Zin.”

“I’m not taking the job at your company, John Henry. Shall I call HR, or is telling you good enough?”

He groaned. “Why? It’s the perfect job, you said.”

“I’m sleeping with the company’s owner!”

“That’s our business—”

“Do you think anyone will respect me once it gets out?” The town of Edenville would surely dismiss her accomplishment, and her, with
Oh, there’s that Flaky Friday who’s messing around with her boss.

“Zinnia, let’s think here. We can figure out a way to make you happy with this.”

He sounded unhappy and impatient. She glanced over, and saw that he
looked
unhappy and impatient, as well as sexy and rumpled, with his hair sticking up everywhere. It had looked like that last night in bed, and she’d smoothed it with her palms until he’d drawn down her hands and kissed her fingers.

Her heart had turned in her chest then. It turned again now. John Henry: steady, sexy, successful. Everything she couldn’t have. Somewhere in the past few days she’d not only forgotten that there were more important things in life than love; she’d forgotten other ramifications of being a Flaky Friday. She might get into John Henry Hudson’s bed, but a man like him wouldn’t want a woman like her in his life for long. So now she came to her senses and made a new decision.

He must have seen something of it on her face, because his eyes narrowed. “Damn it, I’m
not
letting you give up the job at River Pharmaceuticals,” he said.

“Okay, I won’t.”

He blinked.

She didn’t have to give up the job. “Because, John Henry, I’m giving up you instead.”

John
Henry sat behind his desk in his new office at River Pharmaceuticals and stared out the window at the distant view of rolling vineyards, replaying the stubborn expression on Zin’s face and the sting of her words.
I’m giving up you.
They still hurt like hell.

In the past, John Henry could have lost himself in work. By diving into a financial report or a product analysis, he could wrap himself in enough data and numbers to nullify negative feelings or troubling events. He’d been able to do it with a vengeance after his father died.

Of course, then John Henry had almost followed his dad down that dark path by working himself into a hospital bed.

He didn’t want to do that again. And anyway, it seemed impossible to put anything between himself and thoughts of Zin.
Sweet Zinnia,
he thought with a sigh.
Who knew you could be so obstinate?

After yesterday’s pronouncement—
I’m giving up you
—he’d lost his breath and nearly lost his mind trying to reason with her. Finally, frustrated and red in the face, he’d driven off.

He was still frustrated.
But what’s the big deal, man?
he asked himself. Following through on Mark’s prescription, he’d gotten laid. Drunk, too: drunk on the scent of Zin. On her taste . . . So he should be ready to get back to work now, and if it was female company he was missing, well, there were other women out there.

Starting with his secretary, Pamela. He looked at her as he passed her desk. She was a lanky, lovely brunette who’d worked with him for two years and who . . . didn’t do a thing for him. Which was fine, because workplace romances obviously were not in his cards.

“I’m going for a walk,” he told her.

She stared at him. “What?”

“A walk.”

“You never take a walk during business hours,” Pamela said, looking dumbfounded.

“Yeah? Well I need to make a change. Get up from my desk once in a while to get some exercise and clear my head. I’ll be back in a while.”

He felt her concerned gaze on his back as he walked away, and then pushed through the front door of the building and into the warm sunshine. The sauna heat had subsided, but it was still warm enough for shirtsleeves. He’d left his jacket back in his office, and now he unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled them up.

A car pulled into the parking lot.

John Henry watched Zinnia step onto the blacktop. Dressed in a fitted blue blouse, pencil-slim black skirt, and needle-nosed black high heels, she was businesslike perfection. Just another uniform. Armor, maybe.

But underneath all that, he knew she was funny and warm and sweet.

She should be his.

He couldn’t shake the certainty as he approached her. She watched him with wary eyes, holding her sleek briefcase against her chest. When he was within speaking distance, she swallowed, then said in a quiet voice, “I’m here for the new employee orientation.”

“You have an appointment?”

She shook her head, her blond hair floating over her shoulders. “HR said to come in anytime today.”

“So we can talk for a few minutes.”

Her eyes darted toward the office building. “John Henry, please.”

“Please what?”

“Please pretend you don’t know me.”

The words went deep, like a knife to the chest. “Jesus, Zin.” It felt like those days in the hospital, when every breath hurt like hell.

“Is that what you’re going to do?” he asked, his voice harsh. “Pretend you don’t know me? Pretend you’ve never been in my bed?”