Page 51 of Zane

"And in the meantime, what do you want from me? I have to tell you right now, I'm not into playing games."

"We could meet like this for the time being," she murmured, her back to him.

His expression hardened as cold reality surfaced. She did not want to be seen with him.

"I see." He had to fight the anger that was taking over. "So, it's just sex then. Tell me. When this 'experiment' is over, are you going to go back to him?"

She whirled then, her eyes flashing. "How can you ask me a question like that?"

"I don't know what the hell is going on, Kara. One minute, you wanted nothing to do with me, and then the next, you invited me here and handed me your innocence on a silver platter. I asked you out on a date and you refused. Yet you had no qualms about going to the biker's retreat with me, no cameras, no reporters to capture our images. I'm the guy with the tattoos and the lack of direction. Wasn't that how your mother termed it? I have no ambition and I hang around losers."

His eyes were like chips of ice and had her taking a step back. Her reaction sent a spear of disgust throughout his body, and he could not believe he could feel even angrier. "What? Afraid I'm going to whip out a knife and slit your throat?"

"Don't be ridiculous," she muttered, hugging her elbows.

"I want you to go out with me." He knew he was pushing it, pushing her, but he had to know if he was right, if all she was doing was trying to get back at her mother. "Tonight. I can call the restaurant and have them set up a table. There's a lovely terrace garden with arches overlooking the harbor, and we can see for miles. We dress up and go out and have a delicious meal. You only have to say yes."

She knew what he was doing. He was forcing her hand. Kara wished she were brave enough to go out in public with him. He made her feel so special. He had comforted her when she felt despair.

And in bed, he made her feel like a queen. He made her feel more alive than she had ever felt in her life. But years of being under her parents' thumbs and then under William's had left their marks. Her mother's words, every one of them, were drumming inside her brain like spikes.

"I can't," she whispered hoarsely. "I- I just need time."

"Well." He straightened, the cold despair making him feel old and weary. He had been minding his own business when she came along. He should have turned his back and gone on about his business. "Take all the time you need."

"Where are you going?"

"Home. To my comfortable trailer where I belong." He flicked her a glance and felt his heart taking a dive. She looked so vulnerable, it made him feel as if he just wanted to bundle her up, shake some sense into her, and demand that she see him, that she see that he wanted to be in her life for everything. But pride would not allow him to say any of it. He was also thinking that this was a bad idea after all.

They had nothing in common, and her first impression of him was stuck in his brain. She hadn't liked his tattoos, and he got why she wouldn't. She was sheltered. As much as she had changed her appearance and bought new clothes, underneath, she was still the same person.

"Zane, I'm sorry."

His mouth twisted bitterly. He had been hoping that she would change her mind. The fact that she hadn't twisted the knife deeper inside him. Crossing over to her, he stood there gazing at her face, the high forehead, the lock of hair, now a dazzling array of orange and gold, falling over her brow, the slanted cheekbones, the small, flared nose, and lips that had the power to drive him out of his mind.

Tucking his hand under her chin, he lifted it so he could brush his lips on hers. He wanted her taste inside him. "See you around, Counselor." With that, he was gone, leaving her hugging herself and trying to ward off the sudden chill.

Chapter 13

He got disgustingly and debilitatingly drunk. He had been tempted to turn around several times while on his way to his place. Just for the hell of it, he had wanted to turn around, storm her door, and demand his right to be seen with her.

The urging had been so strong that he had actually stopped the motorcycle and pulled off to the side of the road, the motor idling. But then pride and common sense had kicked in. No matter his feelings, he had never forced his way into a woman's life before, and he was damned if he was going to start now.

So he went straight home, grabbed the bottle of aged scotch, and tried to drown himself in it. He had not done something so stupid since he was in college and had gotten drunk on a dare. Like back then when he was younger, he was paying for it in spades.

He had fallen into bed with his clothes on and still wearing his boots, and woke up with the sun spearing straight through his skull, the pain so intense it had him whimpering. And someone or something was ramming a log through his front door. Or was it gunshots? His bleary eyes shot open and had him wincing at the pain.

The nausea was churning in his stomach, and he felt as weak as a newborn baby.

Groping for the edge of the bed and praying for a quick and painless death, he managed to swing his legs carefully, with concise movements, off the bed, just as the door to his bedroom burst open.

"I've been knocking-" His sister skidded to a halt and stared at him. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"You're making enough noise to wake the dead." He clamped his hands on his head, not sure he was grateful to find out it was still attached to his neck.

"Wait! Are you drunk?"

"Stop shouting, would you?" His voice came out as a croak. "And do me an enormous favor and get the coffee going."