29
Zee
My words rang so true.
I’d steered clear of relationships—clear of men, honestly—because I didn’t imagine myself ever being so attracted to a man to become intimate.
I had a boyfriend when I was a teenager. I was homeschooled by a tutor, but he went to the local high school. We met through a local church group. He took my virginity, and then, once we broke up, I had a one-nighter at a party—one of the only parties I attended at that age—with a jock from the local high school. Both were enjoyable, but neither was anything close to my experience with Reid Wolfe.
After the hunt—I could say it now —I was a mess. I turned to drugs, and after I struck a deal with Derek Wolfe to pay off my rehab bills and finance a new start, I still wasn’t interested in men. I was clean, I had a good job that kept me in great physical shape, and I didn’t have to worry about anyone except myself.
It wasn’t exactly heaven, but it was good. As good as I figured things would ever get for me.
Then Reid Wolfe catapulted into my life, asking me to be his date for his family’s double wedding in Las Vegas.
And feelings I never thought I was capable of surfaced.
Raw feelings. Raw yet pure in the most devastatingly wonderful way.
The Wolfe of Manhattan wasn’t in love with me, and I could live with that. I’d been around the block enough to know I wasn’t in love with him either. I could easily mistake the pure emotion I felt for love, but I was skeptical. I’d been beaten down more than most, and I didn’t believe in love at first sight, or even love at first feeling.
Just didn’t happen.
Still, today had been the most amazing day of my life so far, and it had only just begun.
Reid cupped my cheek. “I can’t lie to you, Zee. It was pretty damned amazing for me too.”
A soft sigh escaped my throat. Reid was the Wolfe of Manhattan. He’d probably uttered those same words to dozens of women. Make that hundreds.
But I chose to believe them. This wouldn’t last forever, so I’d take what I was given.
This had been special for him. I’d take him at his word.
“Are you hungry?” he asked. “I can have the chef make you some breakfast.”
Chef. He had his own chef. Wow. “I could eat. What do you like for breakfast?”
“The breakfast will be for you,” he said. “I have a meeting to get to.”
“Oh.” The disappointment was apparent in my voice, but Reid didn’t seem to notice.
“So what will it be? Eggs and bacon? Pancakes?”
Pancakes sounded good. Sort of. I’d just burned a lot of energy, but my appetite had waned in the few seconds after Reid told me he wouldn’t be joining me.
“Zee?”
I bit my lower lip. “Coffee. Black. And a few pancakes would be nice. Thank you.”
“I’ll get it ordered.” He grabbed a towel and rubbed it over his short hair. When he hung the towel back up, his hair was spiky and nearly dry.
“So”—I cleared my throat—“when will I meet with your detective?”
“He’s not my detective,” Reid scoffed.
“I didn’t mean—”
“I’m sorry,” he said kindly. “I didn’t mean to get short with you. It’s just that this guy has been the bane of my existence since the murder. He’s gunning to get one of us to go down for it.”
“You don’t think…”
“Think what?”
“That he’ll try to pin it on me?” My voice came out like a squeak.
Reid touched my shoulder. His hand was warm. “I don’t. I’ve discussed that with my brothers and sister. Your show was dark the night of the murder, but we can easily prove you weren’t anywhere near New York. Flight logs will show you weren’t on a plane, and it would take days to take the train or drive. Plus, you don’t have the kind of money or connections to have it done.”
I knew all this, but his words flew at me and pricked me as if they were little shards of metal. His voice seemed so distant and cold, in contrast with his hand so hot on my flesh.
“I suppose you’re right,” I said.
“Trust me. I’ve been through this with my lawyers ad nauseum. You won’t be charged. I guarantee it.”
“How can you guarantee it?”
“I just can. You may have a motive, but you’ve had that motive for ten years, Zee. Why now? And you weren’t even in the state of New York.”
His words still pricked me like talons, but he made a lot of sense.
“So when, then?”
“When what?”
“When will I meet with him? The detective?”
“Oh, right.” Reid squirted a tiny amount of gel into his palm and then whisked it through his hair. “Sometime today, I imagine. I have to go in for more questioning as well.”
“Will you be with me when I’m questioned?”
“You’re not being questioned, Zee. You’ll simply make a statement.”
“But after that, they’ll question me, I assume.”
“Not if I have anything to say about it.” He touched my cheek lightly.
His words no longer pricked me like tiny nails. He was sweet Reid again.
“Okay.” I attempted a smile.
He let his towel drop to the floor. I kept my eyes from widening. I’d already seen all of him, but he was still magnificent every time. Tan and muscled and spectacular.
“I’m going to call in your breakfast and then get dressed. I’m already running late.”
Okay. Back to distant Reid.
But was this truly distant Reid?
Perhaps this was businessman Reid. Billionaire businessman Reid. A billion-dollar empire didn’t run itself, and Reid had been his father’s right-hand man.
God, his father…
I’d learned to compartmentalize over the years. Some days I was more successful than others.
Right now, though, my mind didn’t really know which way to go. I was here with the son of my tormentor. I’d just slept with him, and now I had to tell the story of what his father had done to me.
So it was pretty difficult to compartmentalize, especially when I was in love with his son.
Except I wasn’t in love. I’d already been through that in my head. It was simply emotion spurred by physical reaction.
It had to be. No other explanation made any sense.
I unwrapped my towel, hung it over the shower door, and donned one of the lush white robes, my hair still bound in the turban. I left the bathroom and found Reid already in boxer briefs and black dress socks. Not really a good look on a man but he pulled it off astoundingly well.
“Food’s on the way. I figured you’d be more comfortable eating in here.” He opened his closet door.
I gasped.
This wasn’t a walk-in closet, it was another bedroom. Suits hung, separated by color. Then shirts, again by color. Five different racks of ties. And…
I couldn’t hold back a gasp.
One wall was all shoes.
I never imagined a man could own so many shoes. No wonder he sent me shoes. They were obviously his thing.
He chose quickly and dressed with similar speed. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. Within minutes, he was ready to grace the cover of GQ.