His simple statement was a blow to her resolve. “But I’m—”
“Getting married soon, I heard that part. But you’re not married yet.”
His hoarse whisper was more like a challenge, sending a shiver of longing over her shoulders.
“Have you and your friend enjoyed your visits to the spa?”
“Yes,” she said breathlessly. “Th-thank you for the special attention.”
“I noticed your friend is checking out tomorrow.”
“That’s right,” she murmured.
“But you’re staying for a few more days.”
Her mind raced. She had told herself she might look for another hotel when Erica left, just to put some space between her and this man. But at this moment, she couldn’t think of why she’d want to be away from him. “Yes.”
Colin put his mouth close to hers. “Excellent.” He didn’t kiss her, but his lips caressed hers as he rasped, “I’m in the penthouse, room 1200. If you change your mind and want some truly special attention, knock on my door.”
Then he pushed to his feet and walked away.
6
ZOE RETURNED TO HER ROOM in a daze, Colin’s provocative invitation swirling through her head. Her body was exhausted, but her mind wouldn’t allow her to fall asleep for a long while. She lay in the dark replaying the words he’d said over and over.
I want you again, Zoe. I want you again…I want you again…
I’m in the penthouse…If you change your mind and want some truly special attention, knock on my door.
She wasn’t sure exactly what he’d meant, but it sounded…intriguing. Still, she shouldn’t take him up on his offer…she couldn’t…
When she finally dozed off, Zoe slept fitfully, plagued by troublesome images of Kevin and Colin and herself. She was in her bridal gown, running, but away from something or toward something, she couldn’t tell. And then she felt as if she were walking in quicksand—her feet were moving, but she wasn’t going anywhere. Frustration rose in her chest until she cried out.
Zoe jerked awake, her mouth dry and her legs tangled in the sheets. Daylight streamed in around the curtains and Erica was gone, with a note left on her pillow that read “Do everything I wouldn’t do.”
Zoe groaned—it was a conspiracy. She pushed her hand into her hair and picked up the tableside clock. It was already midmorning. She needed to take a shower and get moving, needed to do something to take her mind off Colin Cannon and his outrageous proposition. Working out the details of her upcoming wedding should do the trick.
The shower and a couple of aspirin did revive her somewhat and helped to clear her mind. After all, just because an impossibly sexy man had invited her to indulge in a few days of illicit sex, didn’t mean she was going to do it.
She dressed in comfortable clothes, put the “Zoe and Kevin’s Wedding” binder in her bag and left the hotel, walking briskly while glancing out from under the brim of her hat for any sign of Colin. She didn’t encounter him and breathed a little easier when she reached the street.
Just because she hadn’t instantly rejected him didn’t mean she was actually considering it.
It was another beautiful day with mild temperatures and sun, sun, sun. Zoe walked to the Royal Botanic Gardens by way of the southern end of Circular Quay, past the Opera House. Sydney Harbour jutted a deep C into the gardens, but a walkway next to the water was one of the most popular attractions. Zoe bought a chicken kebob and a bottle of water at a vendor cart and ate as she strolled. But even in the midst of the burgeoning lunch crowd picnicking in clumps on the expansive grassy inclines, she felt singular and alone.
At the section of the gardens where the harbor cut the deepest, Zoe left the walkway and wandered past the spectacular Oriental garden to seek out her favorite spot, the Palm Grove. The shady haven included the garden’s oldest trees, some of them more than one hundred fifty years old. On her many trips to Sydney, she always made a point to bring a book to enjoy in the grove. This time she chose a particularly beautiful cabbage palm and settled near the trunk before pulling out the wedding binder.
Zoe stared at it hard, trying to recapture the enthusiasm she’d felt when her mother had first handed her the binder, saying they were going to have to be ultraorganized to make sure everything went smoothly. She opened the book and ran her fingers over the color-coded tabs. Her mother had handled most of the big details—securing the church, the minister, the reception hall, the photographer, the videographer, the florist, the caterer.
Her mother had even chosen the wedding gown, although Zoe did love it. The bridesmaids’ dresses were another matter, she thought with a laugh. She would’ve chosen a color other than apricot. But her mother had convinced her that the shade would be lovely in the photos. And since her parents were footing the bill for most of the expenses, she felt obligated to defer to her mother’s judgment. Her marriage to Kevin was the only thing her parents seemed to agree on. It was a nice reprieve from the constant bickering.
With a sigh she downloaded her e-mail and grimaced to see more messages from her mother, all about the wedding. In her absence, her mother had chosen the decorations for the head tables, and had invited Kevin over for dinner so he could choose the music mix for the band.
* * *
It’ll be one less thing for you to worry about, dear. Your father and I are so happy for you and Kevin. You know we love him like a son. Hope you’re having fun on your last trip to Sydney.
* * *
Zoe bit into her lip. She was lucky that her parents approved of Kevin and that he got along so well with them—her engagement had had a calming effect on her parents’ volatile relationship. Both her mother and father had commented on how congenial she and Kevin were. Zoe’s hope was that she and Kevin would rub off on them. Ditto for Kevin’s parents, who were like two birds pecking at each other.
Zoe sighed and unfolded the seating chart for the reception that still needed to be worked out. Twenty tables, ten persons per table, and countless conflicts. She put a mark through Kevin’s aunt Marion and moved her to a table where she wouldn’t be able to make eye contact with Aunt Lynn. But that displaced a co-worker of her mother’s who might or might not be bringing a friend with her, which would leave the friend sitting alone…but would also give them the flexibility of moving everyone back if Aunt Marion and Aunt Lynn were suddenly on speaking terms again by the wedding.
And then she pulled up the e-mails from her mother:
* * *
Don’t sit Susan Jennings with Tim Miltman—they’re in litigation.
* * *
Randy Holder is a strict vegetarian and asked not to sit at the same table with big-game hunter Nolan Graham.
* * *
Karen and Darrell Williams are separating and no longer wish to sit together; in fact, seat them on opposite sides of the room and remove the steak knives from their place settings.
* * *
Lynda Samples asked if you could please sit her nephew Art Finnis next to an eligible young woman of good reputation.
* * *
Fiona Sites asked if she could be seated as close as possible to the restroom.
* * *
Brad Station asked if he could be seated as close as possible to the bar.
* * *
Please find a single person to sit between Mr. Dunbar and Mr. Wheaten at table five.
* * *
Zoe made a frustrated noise and lifted her hand to massage her temple.
“Hello, there.”
She looked up to see a fortyish petite woman with a pink streak in her short black hair. It took a few seconds for Zoe to place her as the woman who had sat next to her on the plane, the one who’d asked about the letter she’d been reading. “Hi. Lillian, right?”
The woman smiled and nodded. “And you’re Zoe?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry, am I interrupting? I was on my way to the Tropical Centre to see the orchids and noticed you here.”
“No—please, sit.” Zoe closed the notebook. “Trust me, I’m happy for the diversion.”
Lillian lowered herself to the grass near Zoe, then gestured to the binder. “Planning a wedding can be stressful.”
Zoe sighed. “You can say that again. Everyone seems to think it’s about them.”
“Weddings do tend to bring out the best and worst in people. Is it going to be a big ceremony?”
“Bigger than I anticipated,” Zoe admitted. “But my mother…Well, it’ll be nice.”
Lillian smiled wide. “I’m sure it will. Your ring is lovely.”
Zoe glanced at her diamond engagement ring and murmured her thanks. As a hobbyist jeweler, she would’ve chosen a nontraditional stone, something unique, if Kevin had consulted her. But he hadn’t. Still, it was indeed a beautiful ring.
“What’s your fiancé like?” the woman asked.
“Kevin? He’s…a nice man.”
“The two of you must be very compatible.”
A vision of her and Kevin’s incompatibility came to mind in the form of a tall, blond, green-eyed Aussie, and Zoe almost panicked—had Lillian seen Colin signal her on the plane to join him in the lavatory? Her throat closed as snatches of the two of them together bombarded her, along with his blatant suggestion last night that she “knock on his door.” Zoe squirmed. Eager to change the subject, she asked, “So, how do you like Australia?”