One Night With the Billionaire (Men of the Zodiac) (7 page)

Chapter Eight

N
erves tattered Zoe’s spine two days later as she approached the pool. It was the same one she’d passed upon her initial arrival, only now it was very much alive. Laughter drifted on the waves like music, small twinkling lights overhead indistinguishable from the starry night sky. Even though it was just a small gathering of staff, the scene looked like it belonged in a movie. Despite her crippling desire for a drink, second thoughts turned into thirds. She wasn’t ready for this. More pretending. Hers was the smallest of untruths, but she just wanted to be herself, and the self with which she most readily identified was the one achingly familiar with Ryder, who had increasingly taken over her thoughts. It had been one thing when she associated him with nothing but the promise of sex, but after snorkeling, she found she craved his friendship as much as she did his body.

He was off limits, though, and it was as much his assertion as hers. So why did he have to be so gorgeous in a pair of board shorts, touristy hibiscus print and all? He sat on the edge, feet dangling in the water and a beer in his hand. And when he looked up and snagged her with his gaze, he smiled and wrecked her.

Zoe looked away, praying the heat that tainted her blood at the sight of him didn’t give her away. When she did, she found Aggie walking toward her with a drink, which Zoe took gratefully. “You’re an angel.”

“Don’t think nothing of it, honey.” Aggie said.

At first, Zoe thought she was talking about the beverage, but Aggie was looking at Ryder. “What do you mean?”

“Any woman would look at him that way. No one will realize it’s because you have a past.”

Aggie knew of their past? Denial crept up her throat, but she drowned it with alcohol. Good alcohol. “What is this?”

“It’s a cocktail called Absolut Stress. You looked like you could use it.”

Zoe forced a laugh. “I looked like I could use stress?”

Aggie waved her hand. “Heavens, child. Something to relieve it. You just might prove to be as difficult as that…as Mr. Nash.”

“Something tells me you don’t normally refer to him as Mr. Nash.”

She shook her head, which seemed to neither confirm nor deny Zoe’s suspicion. With her gaze directed toward Ryder, she said, “I’ve been his housekeeper for years, but before that he was a new hire at a security agency where I was on cleaning staff. I enjoyed riling that one up, I did. He was a little uptight, but I might not have ridden him so hard if I’d known why.”

Zoe took another sip of her drink. “The orange juice in this tastes fresh.”

“Fresh squeezed just for tonight.”

Zoe swished the drink and watched Ryder throw his head back in laughter. Two of the men with him followed suit, while the third scowled. She suspected the indignity feigned, and her feelings were more or less confirmed when the straight-faced man cracked a smile.

She glanced at Aggie, then back at the pool. She didn’t feel she should ask, but how could she not? “Why was he uptight?”

“Honey, I have a feeling you know.”

Zoe swirled her straw in her drink. Did she? The number of hours she’d spent staring at him didn’t add up to knowing anything beyond what he left on the surface, and for most people, that was only what they wanted you to see. Ryder didn’t strike her as manipulative—if anything, the way he turned her inside out with the sex talk suggested he was blunt—but who had he been back then? Besides devastatingly sexy, she didn’t know.

“I don’t think anyone knew,” she said softly.

Aggie waved a dismissive hand before settling both on her hips and giving Zoe a look she swore went right through her. “Hmph. I reckon it was all for the best, but sometimes I think he lost something he can’t get back. He can’t want for a thing money can buy, but there’s something he hasn’t found yet, and I don’t think it’ll be for sale when he does.”

Aggie’s tone saddened Zoe. It also perplexed her. “You know I’m just the decorator, right?”

“Do you really think I’d be saying any of this if you were just the decorator?” She punctuated the sentiment with a pointed look, then left Zoe for the dry side of the swim-up bar, where she promptly began haranguing the man Zoe assumed to be former bartender Carson for leaving his station. He simply shook his head and went to task, mixing a drink for Aggie without even asking what she wanted.

The group was clearly a family, and Zoe envied them. She’d never found herself like this, on the outside looking in, but she couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard laughter beside her family’s pool. Her father’s goal had long been to sit on the Supreme Court, and in chasing that appointment, he’d lost all trace of humor. He lived as if smiling was some kind of indignity. Her mother had once been a vibrant woman—Zoe had seen the pictures to prove it—but for as long as Zoe could remember, Charlene Davenport had been as subdued and solemn as her husband. Any emotion he showed tended to be politically fueled, and her mother must have tolerated his rants, but that was the end of her interaction with him. Zoe didn’t get the impression her parents were unhappy together, but she didn’t sense they ever had any fun, either.

How ironic that the tables had turned—that he now surrounded himself with the kind of family relationships she felt were missing from her life.

He caught her staring and stood, drawing to his full height like he was in some kind of advertisement for beach resorts. Or six packs. Or sin. A visual trace of his abdomen was akin to that first big drop on a roller coaster, or maybe the click to the top when your heart was in your throat because you knew what the ride would entail. And what a ride it would be. The man was better than a sculpture…he was real.

“You enjoying that drink?”

She’d been so lost in her thoughts that his proximity hadn’t registered until she felt the heat of his skin. Definitely closer than he’d been to the guys. He stood protectively, and while it didn’t have to mean anything…it did. She wasn’t worried about her cover on the island—even if word got out that she was there, there was no way any two-bit gossip columnist would get near her. She doubted if any cared enough to try. She might be news now, but the DC and national rags had plenty of scandal to keep them busy without burning up frequent flyer miles to find her.

“Yeah, I am. It’s probably one of the best drinks I’ve ever had.” God, his eyes were mesmerizing. Why hadn’t anyone put him in a movie? She could stare at him for days, but that was something she’d figured out years ago. She was surprised to realize she missed those days, but no way they’d compete with being this close to him now.

He turned and held up his beer, signaling his desire for another, then tossed it at the same time the bartender shot one his way. The bottles crossed in mid-air, Ryder catching the refill with practiced ease. He popped the twist-off top and took a long swallow, in the process giving her a great view of the tat on his bicep. She’d noticed it upon her arrival, but until that moment, the details had escaped her. Now, there was no mistaking what it depicted.

A horse’s ass.

“What’s the story behind that tattoo?” She stared appreciatively. He had the kind of arms normally covered in ink. Rock star muscles—built, but agile. Works of art within themselves. God, how they’d feel around her.

“I got it when I was eighteen from a traveling-gypsy-type artist who has a shop in New Orleans. I’d just left home and decided I was going to be a rebel.”

“And your idea of rebellion is the ass end of a horse?”

He choked on a burst of laughter. “Nah. It was supposed to be the sign of Sagittarius. Spontaneous, exciting, optimistic. Honest and strong-willed. Ambitious.”

“And modest.”

He snorted. “The other half of the horse is an archer.”

Her brow hitched. “The other half of the horse is missing.”

“Yeah, well, getting this half traumatized me more than I thought it would. I hate needles.”

Zoe laughed. Hard. “And you’re a bodyguard?”

“Which is precisely why I felt a civic responsibility to guard my body from additional pain.”

She leaned into him, taking a closer look. “That’s not how they do it. Not one part, then the other. Isn’t there supposed to be an outline of the whole thing before they fill it in?”

“Says who?”

“I think I saw it on TV.”

Again, he laughed. “Fair enough, though I must say I’m intrigued that a straight-laced…decorator watches people tattoo things on TV.”

Yeah, that was her. Boring, straight-laced attorney. She couldn’t blame him for seeing her that way—after all, the first brush with excitement she’d had in years sent her running—but she was also inexplicably disappointed by his assessment. He’d want someone sexy. Dangerous.

Someone who didn’t stun him by watching The Learning Channel.

Definitely someone other than her.

“So what happened?” she asked.

“I wasn’t sure how I wanted the archer, I told them to start with the horse, and I’d figure it out after I saw how it looked. All I actually figured out was that I wasn’t going back there.” He shook his head. “I’ve been shot. I’ve been hit by a car. I took a dive out of a helicopter—low flying, mind you—and I’d take any one of them again before I’d take another hit from that tattoo gun.”

“You fell out of a helicopter?”

“Yeah, but I’ve hit the ground harder.”

“When?”

He took a long drink before he answered. “Twice. Once when I took a dive down a flight of stairs.”

“And the other?”

Another long silence. Laughter rang across the pool. Aggie was in the thick of the other three men, no doubt giving them a run for their money. Zoe caught Ryder watching them, a hint of a smile shaping his lips.

“Want to go for a walk?” he asked when he noticed Zoe looking at him.

“You’re going to duck out on your own party?” To say nothing of her question.

“They’re here for the bar, not me.”

At the rate the drinks were flowing, it was a convincing argument.

“If you’re not comfortable with me,” he said, “don’t feel like you have to say yes. I hope you’ve realized by now that I’m harmless, but if you’re not convinced” —he pointed to a long, faded scar she hadn’t noticed running the length of his leg— “aim there. I’ll go down like a sack.”

“What happened?”

“What happened is I thought you’d look damned beautiful standing on the beach, so I asked you to go for a walk.” As dismissive as his words were, his tone was gentle. Almost playful.

“I’d like that,” she said.

He took her glass and walked over to get it refilled.

Realizing she was about to leave without speaking the first word to his friends, she followed him, finding herself inexplicably nervous to meet them. After a few years in the courtroom, very few people rattled her. Ryder’s friends weren’t exactly intimidating, with their riotous laughter and ready smiles, but worry skated her spine. If they didn’t like her, then Ryder…hell. He was the one she was worried about. Thus far, she and the guys had only exchanged polite waves through windows, as they hadn’t any reason to toil around the guest rooms where she had spent the past two days.

He shot her a mildly sympathetic, predominately amused look, then turned to the little group by the bar. “I guess I couldn’t keep you to myself forever. Michelle Elliot, please meet Neil, Hector, and Carson. Neil is our charter boat captain and water sports guy. Hector is a pilot, and he’s into extreme adventure, which usually translates into some kind of trouble. Carson is one hell of a bartender, but overqualified. And Miss Elliot was just about to see the beach.”

Neil grinned. With sandy light brown hair and a deep tan, he looked like he belonged on the water. “I know you like to be in the middle of everything, Nash, so if you want to stay here and babysit these miscreants, I’d be happy to show her—”

A cutting look from Ryder put a quick end to Neil’s sentence, but the smile didn’t fade. Clearly he’d been goading Ryder.

“You boys behave,” Aggie said. She winked at Zoe and playfully popped Hector across the back of the head.

“What?” he sputtered. “I didn’t say anything!”

“But you were about to,” Aggie shot back.

Carson shook his head and bypassed Ryder to personally hand Zoe her drink. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Miss Elliot.” Of the four men, Carson, with his clean-cut, graying hair and button down shirt, looked the executive part. Ryder had told her Carson was a former CFO, and he hadn’t entirely shed the look.

She gave him a grateful smile and forced herself not to tell them to call her Zoe. “The pleasure is all mine. That was one of the best drinks I’ve had in quite a while.”

“Always happy to serve. And also, it’s my job.”

Zoe laughed.

Ryder touched her arm. “Shall we?”

“It’s good to meet you all,” Zoe said with a small wave. “Aggie, nice to see you again.”

“We need to open in a week,” Ryder said, “so don’t tear down the place.”

“Hear ya, boss-man.”

Ryder shook his head, then touched her back to indicate she should start walking. The intimacy of the gesture didn’t elude her, nor did the signal it sent to the rest of the guys.
Hands off.
The caveman tactic probably should have offended her, but it had been so long since she’d felt wanted, and it didn’t hurt that she was madly attracted to him. There could never be anything between them—her father was grooming her to take over his DC law firm, which seemed about as far from the sparking Caribbean as a person could get—but it didn’t matter. Just being near Ryder resurrected feelings she had long forgotten. He represented a time of her life when she’d been carefree—when the greatest of her problems was the noise he made outside her window and whether he’d ever look her way and actually see her.

He sees you now
.

He looked as if he wanted to ask her what she was thinking, but he didn’t. Instead, he let the wash of the sea do the talking. Soft. Melodic.

Beautiful.

Quietly, they walked the short distance over powder soft sand to the water’s edge. Unlike the ocean, with its huge waves and churning water, this water lay calm, the moonlight glinting nearly undisturbed at the edge of the sea.