A Little Wild (18 page)

Paul broke in, “Teresa and I used to date occasionally. She’s too busy with work these days. Thought I’d warn you.” He squared his shoulders, suddenly reminding her of a rooster in a henhouse.

Zach ignored Paul’s blatant attempts to goad him. Instead, he gazed calmly at her. “Remember my promise to introduce you to Blake?”

Dumbfounded by Paul’s behavior, she nodded.

“How about now?”

Paul grimaced. “Why not? I know when I’m toast.” He strode toward the nearest waiter carrying a drink tray.

Skin prickling, Tess said, “I’m sorry for Paul’s rudeness. He’s usually so nice.”

Zach chuckled. “You dated that dweeb?”

Now he sounded like Chloe. Despite her unease, Tess smiled. “Not exclusively.”

“Oh really?”

“We’re friends more than anything else.” She paused. “
Were
friends. After that embarrassing display, I’m not sure I want to keep his friendship.”

“Don’t write him off yet—as a friend. Although I’d prefer it if you didn’t date him.”

His easygoing manner relaxed her. “Choosing my dates now?”

“Never. However, I thought I recognized his name when you mentioned Dundleberry. Do you know Carla Stinson? She works there.”

Tess nodded. “Paul was stuck on her a couple of years ago. That’s why he and I started hanging out. He needed a shoulder to lean on when she dumped him.”

“Uh-huh. Why did she dump him?”

“Some rich guy she had the hots for.” She laughed. “That was
you
?”

He was all teeth. “Guilty.”

“Oh, Zach, you really deserve your reputation.” Rather than turning her off, the knowledge reassured her conscience. A good-time sex machine shouldn’t possess any qualms about indulging in a round or two of meaningless bedroom gymnastics.

“I didn’t know they were an item when I met her,” Zach said.

“She didn’t mention Paul?”

“Nope. I guess she was too occupied to talk.” His mischievous gaze implied,
with him
.

Lucky witch.

Now
that
thought could have only originated from the inner nympho. In fact, this entire conversation was so not par for the course for Tess. Discussing her fantasy sex partner’s history in such detail? Yet, with Zach, the discussion didn’t bother her or make her not feel special enough to him.

She didn’t
want
to feel special. She wanted to feel orgasmic.

In multiples.

“When did you learn about Paul?” she asked.

“You really want to hear this?”

“I’m a lawyer. We’re thorough.”

“The next morning, when he called Carla’s place and I answered. I felt bad about it, and I broke it off right away. I told Carla she should work through whatever was happening between her and Paul. I don’t know the outcome, though. This is the first time I’ve met the guy.”

Tess nodded. Now Paul’s strange behavior made sense. He’d loved Carla, and she’d treated him poorly, never contacting him outside of work again.

“All right, but why bring me into it? Paul and I haven’t dated in ages.”

Zach’s gaze traveled over her. “Wearing that slinky dress, you have to ask?”

Okay, red-line territory. “Excuse me?”

“Sometimes men are dense, Tess. Maybe Paul thought you choosing that dress gave him the go-ahead to move beyond the friend stage. Then I show up—the same guy he thinks stole his girlfriend—and you start talking to me.”

Her face warmed…with pleasure that Zach liked what he saw, with annoyance for Paul’s assumption that she’d worn the dress to entice him.

She huffed out a breath. “Why does every last man in the world think how a woman dresses means she either
is
or
isn’t
coming on to him?”

“Every last man in the world doesn’t think that way, Tess. I’m just suggesting that Paul might have.”

“Too bad. Because I didn’t wear the dress for Paul.”

“Who’d you wear it for, then?” Zach’s gaze fixed solely on her. The sights and sounds of the gallery ebbed away, the space between them so charged with sexual energy that she could barely breathe.

She poked her nose in the air. “For myself.”

“Huh.” His eyes glimmered. “Not for me, then?”

This was what she’d missed, not seeing him this week—the potent chemistry, the arousing banter, the delicious sparks.

“How could I wear it for you, when I didn’t know you’d be here?”

“You could have hoped I would be.”

“Dream on, Halliday.” She glanced around the art gallery. “Are you introducing me to Blake, or was that a ploy to convince Paul to leave? This is a business event for me, you know. Sydney’s a client now.”

“Ah, so she retained you. Congratulations.”

She angled him a glance.
“Well?”

He chuckled. “No ploy. I spoke to Blake a few minutes ago.” His large hand settled on her elbow. “Over this way.”

As he escorted her toward the
hors d’œuvre
table, his low voice drifted to her ears. “I have to warn you, though, there’s an excellent reason I came here tonight. It has nothing to do with business and everything to do with you.”

Nothing to do with business and everything to do with you.

For the hundredth time that evening, Tess tried to concentrate on the person speaking—in this case, Blake Ashton, only the most sought-after young criminal lawyer in the city—but Zach’s softly spoken words reverberated through her mind and body, keeping her aroused and spilling over with nervous energy

The man had verbal foreplay down to an art form. He wasn’t even touching her, yet the sexual tension arcing between them almost glowed it was so palpable.

Palpable to
them
, that was. She needed to ensure their attraction wasn’t evident to those around them. Yes, they’d shared a pre-existing relationship before she’d agreed to represent him, but flaunting her physical feelings for Zach Halliday was out of the question.

“I take it you agree, Teresa?” Blake asked.

“About what?”

Zach’s friend delivered a dazzling smile. Blake Ashton was quite simply gorgeous, if one liked their men in a young-Mel-Gibson-during-the-
Lethal-Weapon
-era sort of way.

Given how Charlotte hung onto Blake’s arm, the curvy blonde liked him just fine. However, Tess preferred her men in a decidedly Zach Halliday fashion. Unique. Incomparable. Relentlessly persistent.

And still gorgeous.

“The paintings,” Blake said. “Interesting, eh?”

“Oh yes. Sydney’s done a fantastic job.” Truth be told, Tess hadn’t scrutinized the paintings yet. Paul had glommed onto her as soon as she’d arrived. Even then, her thoughts had centered on Zach.

Beside her, Zach remarked, “You haven’t listened to a word we’ve said.”

“Of course I have,” she fibbed. Were the paintings awful? None hung near the
hors d’œuvre
table to check. “But art is subjective, right?”

Blake chuckled. “Nice. No wonder Sydney hired you.”

Charlotte touched Blake’s arm. “I need to visit the ladies’. Would you search out more champagne while I’m gone?”

“No problem. I’ll head that way with you. Teresa, good to meet you.” Blake shook her hand. “Zach, I’ll see you tomorrow. Nine a.m. I’ll drive.”

Tess murmured her goodbyes. As Blake and Charlotte turned toward the washrooms, she tapped her pinky finger against her champagne glass. For the first time since they’d hooked up on her couch, she and Zach were alone—albeit in a crowded art gallery.

And she felt as nervous as a butterfly in October.

“So.” She looked at him.

His eyebrows lifted. “So.”

Always teasing. Good thing she’d decided to pursue their attraction, because a girl could wear herself out resisting his easy charm.

“You said you came here for a reason,” she murmured.

“That’s right.” His gaze caught hers. “You and me.”

She couldn’t wait. But first they needed to settle a few things. “Zach, last Sunday you said—”

“That the next move was yours. I know. What can I say? I’m not a patient guy.”

“That’s okay. I came here for a reason, too, and it wasn’t just to support Sydney. We need to talk.”

“Damn. I confess I had my heart set on more than talking.”

He never let up. “The talking comes first.”

“I don’t know. It could always come at the same time. Do you like to…talk, Teresa?”

Sensual undertones laced his voice. Did he mean talking during sex? Or coming at the same time? Sunday afternoon on her couch topped her naughty chitchat experiences.

“I’ve never talked at the same time,” she admitted. During sex.

“Are we talking
talking
while otherwise occupied or simultaneous ‘talking’?”

She laughed quietly. Zach’s self-assurance delighted her to no end. To anyone around them, they could be discussing the weather.

“I’ve never
talked
while otherwise occupied.” She’d never simultaneously “talked”, either, but she couldn’t give away all her secrets.

“We’ll have to rectify that.”

“Zach—”

“I know. The real talking.” He glanced to her left. “Sydney’s on her way. Listen, two or three rooms branch off this one. Once Sydney’s done her bit, let’s find a less crowded room. We can look at the paintings and…talk.”

“I’d like that.”

In the next instant, Sydney fell upon them. “Teresa, there you are! Teddy wants to introduce you to a business associate. Very possibly his soon-to-be partner!” She wiggled with excitement, her bracelets and necklaces jangling. “Zach darling, you won’t mind?” She patted his arm. “There’s a love.”

“Find me,” Tess mouthed in Zach’s direction as Sydney dragged her off.

Zach entered the third display room stemming off the main parlor. What had Sydney done with Tess? The women had disappeared forty minutes ago.

Time that should have belonged to him and Tess.

Hands in his trouser pockets, he studied the room. A few guests congregated near the huge sculpture dominating the small space—a freakish parody of Michelangelo’s David. In keeping with the theme of extravagance, the statue sported a prominent, gemstone-encrusted erection.

Zach rolled his eyes. He’d always thought Michelangelo had cheated the original David in the manroot department, but Post’s version bordered on ridiculous. Was depicting a lewd version of world-famous art even legal? Tess would know.
His
Tess.

His special woman.

The thought stopped him. However, only for a moment.

Yes, there was definitely something special about Tess. And how he felt about her.

Something in her smile, her soul. Her caring, her sense of adventure, her soft heart.

Their connection transcended the physical. That sounded so corny, he couldn’t believe it. Neither could he deny it. Tess meant more to him than any woman he’d dated. All of them. Combined.

This feeling couldn’t last, would probably die out once their attraction waned. But he wanted to ride it for all it was worth—until it ended.

He circled the group near the statue then spotted her. She stood alone, studying a painting in the farthest corner of the room, her refilled champagne glass pressed to her cheek. She shifted her weight from one sandaled foot to the other. As if sensing his approach, she turned and offered a gracious smile.

His chest tightened. Yeah, she was damn sure special.

“You’re a difficult woman to get alone,” he said as he neared her.

“Sydney’s high maintenance tonight.”

“Sydney’s always high maintenance.”

“I’m beginning to realize that.” Her gaze returned to the painting. “This artist she’s featuring—”

“Rodney Post.” Zach loosened his tie. He hated ties, but hadn’t wanted to draw attention to himself or Tess by looking out of place in his standard golf shirt and Dockers.

“What do you think of his paintings?”

Zach studied the large monstrosity in a heavy gilt frame. The Picasso-inspired piece of…work featured two or possibly three figures of indeterminate gender engaged in oral sex. Like Post’s other offerings, fake jewels encrusted the dark, heavy oils. In this case, an inordinate number of pearls.

How to put it politely? “Definitely multi-media.”

Tess laughed. “I couldn’t agree more. I’ve visited the gallery before, when Sydney’s grandmother was alive. I don’t recall Millicent van Hoyt sharing Sydney’s taste.”

“You tell me. Millie was a class act. But Sydney’s determined to make her own mark, and good for her. You can’t deny there’s an audience for this crap. I’ve seen worse.”

“I hope his style isn’t catching. It’s vulgar. It’s like he’s obsessed with his genitals.”

“What can you expect from a guy named Rod Post?”

She laughed again. The rich, musical sound heated Zach’s veins.

He grazed her shoulder with a fingertip. “I’m proud of you.”

“Why?”

“Because Sydney took you on. Because your skill and reputation convinced her to. This is only the start for you, Tess.”

“I have you to thank for it.”

“All I did was introduce you.”

They proceeded to the next painting, slightly less vulgar than the last. At least Sydney had displayed the artist’s most questionable pieces in the small, private room.

Zach glanced back to the group near the statue. The room wasn’t private enough, though.

He leaned in close to Tess. “About our talk…”

“I can’t leave yet. Zach, I’m sorry. Sydney might need me again. Or Teddy.”

“Until they do, you’re mine.”

Her gaze flickered. They continued from painting to painting. When she spoke again, uncertainty traced her voice. “Zach, I’ve been thinking, our talk could become quite personal and I don’t want someone overhearing us.”

“Someone who might mistake us for a couple?”

Cheeks rosy, she nodded.

“You still want to be alone with me, though.” The desire in her eyes revealed her answer. He quieted his voice further. “Do you want me to touch you, Tess?”

Her lips parted.

“Do you want to touch me?”

She licked those luscious lips, and his manroot immediately put Post’s parody of Michelangelo’s David to shame. It was quite evident she was turned on. Zero to ninety in under sixty seconds.