“I seem to remember you using me in a much more intimate way.” He touched his cheek to hers again and whispered, “I should have warned you, but I knew you could pull this off. I believe in you, Willow.”
I believe in you, Willow. That’s what he’d said to her when she’d confided in him about being terrified to leave Sweetwater and go away to school. He’d wrapped her naked body in his arms, and there beneath the stars, having just given her the most incredible night of her life, he’d confided in her that he’d been scared, too, when he’d gone to LA. Now, as her body remembered the feel of him cocooning her from her fears, he splayed his hands over her back, bringing their bodies flush and causing her nipples to spike. The rest of her body also remembered what it was like to be wrapped up safely within his arms, nestled against his naked body, gazing into his confident, caring eyes, and she felt herself moving against his hard length instead of focusing on her anger. This was a bad plan. A very bad plan.
“It’s only a couple of weeks,” he reminded her, kneading the back of her neck again.
God, that feels good. How did he remember how much she loved that?
Forcing herself to think past his scrumptious layers of seduction and focus on the annoyance that had simmered low in her belly moments earlier wasn’t easy. But the lust surging forward threatened to drown her if she didn’t get away from him. Now. “You’ve got three seconds to let go of me and get me out of that reporter’s sight, or that breakup scene you’re anticipating is going to happen a few weeks early.”
ZANE WRESTLED WITH what the hell had just happened between him and Willow as he scanned the area for an escape before she blew this deal. He’d gotten lost in his own fantasy—only he had never fantasized about romantic walks and stolen kisses. His fantasies were dark and dirty, involving hot, sweaty nights with Willow’s legs wrapped around his neck, or waist.
“Three. Two,” Willow counted down.
His eyes landed on a fishing boat preparing to leave the dock. “Come on.”
They took off running across the lawn and sprinted down the dock, leaving the photographer scrambling to gather the bags at his feet and run after them.
“Hold on.” She toed off her heels and picked them up, holding them against her as they hurried up the ramp to the boat.
Zane whipped out a wad of cash and handed it to the crewman. “There’s more where that came from if you can get us out of here now.”
The burly fisherman grinned from behind his beard and dark sunglasses. “Damn, man. That’s more than it costs to charter the boat for a day.”
The photographer was on the dock, camera pointed at them as he hurried toward the ramp.
“I’ll double it if you pull this ramp before that guy gets here.” He nodded toward the photographer.
“Roll ’er out,” the fisherman called to another guy at the front of the boat.
Zane put an arm around Willow’s shoulder, shielding her from the photographer. He needed those pictures, but she was right. He should have given her a heads-up, and now all he wanted to do was get her out of the guy’s sight. He ushered her into the cabin of the boat, where a brunette woman and two young boys with thick mops of dark hair were playing a game of Go Fish.
The woman smiled up at them. “I didn’t know we were chartering today. I’m Cheryl, and these are my boys.” She touched the younger boy’s hand. “This is Tommy. He’s five.” She motioned to the older one. “And that’s Kenny. He’s eight. Say hi, boys.”
“Hi,” they said in unison.
The older boy studied Zane. “I know you. You’re the guy from that movie Mom wouldn’t let us see.”
The woman squinted at Zane.
“Guns Rebellion?” Zane said. “You’ve got a good memory. That came out last year.” He held a hand out to the woman. “Zane Walker. It’s nice to meet you.”
Willow cleared her throat.
“Oh, sorry.” Christ, I’m an idiot. “This is Willow.”
A blond-haired guy who looked like he pumped weights for a living, sporting a rich tan and eyes the color of the sea, came down from the deck, eyeing Willow appreciatively. He lifted his square chin in her direction. “How’s it going?”
“Better now,” she said flirtatiously.
Zane was a big dude at six one, but even so, the blond guy had a solid two or three inches on him. Zane didn’t like the jealousy gnawing at his gut. He thrust his hand in the guy’s direction. “Actor Zane Walker.” If you’ve got it, flaunt it. “This is my fiancée, Willow.”
Whoa. That felt weird coming out of his mouth. Pretending Willow was his suddenly took on a whole new meaning.
Willow glared at him.
The guy’s eyes moved between the two of them. “Fred. Nice to meet y’all. Running from the press?”
“Yes. Sorry to crash your Friday afternoon,” Willow said, even more flirtatiously than before.
Zane reached for her hand. “My girl hates the press. Don’t you, sweet cheeks?” That earned him another piercing glare.
She turned happier eyes to Fred, taking a long, lascivious look at his muscular frame. “I don’t love the spotlight, but Zane craves it. I guess as the number-one action hero he has to.” She smiled at the woman and children. “He’s also great with kids, and he loves to talk shop.”
What are you up to?
“Now that we’re away from the dock,” Willow said with a hint of payback in her eyes, “I’m going to sit in the sun. Why don’t you stay down here and tell these adorable boys all about what it’s really like to be an action hero?”
“Yeah!” Kenny cheered. “Sit next to me. Do you know The Rock?”
Zane didn’t mind children, but he sure as hell minded the way Willow was fluttering her lashes at Freddy Beefcake Fisherman.
“I’m not that familiar with boat safety,” she said to Fred. “Would you mind giving me the rundown?”
Zane stifled the urge to call her out on the lie. She’d not only grown up on boats, but she’d worked at the marina for a few summers when they were younger.
“Happy to,” Fred said.
Kenny tugged on Zane’s hand, pulling him down to the bench beside him, forcing Zane to watch Fred follow Willow up the stairs.