She needed to get a grip. Zach had made it clear that he wasn’t interested, and she had no desire to hurt him with her lust. She also had no desire to hurt herself with… with feelings. Rae shouldn’t want a man this way. Not so personally, so specifically, like only Zach’s hands and Zach’s smile and Zach’s strength would do. That was something more than attraction. It was something she couldn’t risk again.
They padded down the 11th floor corridor in silence, their footsteps muffled by the thick, grey-flecked carpet. When they reached their room, she fumbled with the key card, suddenly awkward and hyper aware of her body. Of the way it strained toward him, even when she was still. She shoved the feeling ruthlessly away.
Their hotel room was Boring Blue just like the foyer, all smooth and sharp and spacious—which was a relief, since Zach’s presence felt larger than life. At least they wouldn’t be squashed together like sardines, with nowhere for her secrets to hide. The furniture was all clean, dark wood, reassuringly business-like. There was a tea set, a decent TV, a huge double bed—
Oh. Shit. The huge double bed.
Zach dumped their luggage at the foot of that bed, staring at the plump white pillows and snowy sheets with a slightly stunned expression. She didn’t blame him. In her head, a king-size had seemed vast enough to hold two very separate human islands. But now she compared the space to the breadth of his shoulders and wondered if she’d end up sleeping on top of him.
“Sorry,” she blurted, because they’d never explicitly discussed this. “I—I didn’t think this part through. The room was booked and then you were coming, and it was all so—”
“This is fine,” he interrupted roughly. Then he cleared his throat, smiled, and everything was easy again. “I heard someone saying downstairs that the hotel’s been fully booked for months. Plus,” he winked, “I trust you with my virtue.”
Rae huffed out a rusty, creaking laugh that did nothing to hide her discomfort and went to the window, running a frazzled hand over her hair. They had a stunning view of the grey, blocky office building next door. It was blessedly dull, bland enough to distract her from forbidden, shameful wants. Hopefully.
Zach appeared beside her, his wonderful hands safely on the windowsill instead of cradling her face like she was precious. Thank God. “So, what’s the plan, Captain?”
She snorted. “Plan? Never heard of her.”
“Colour me surprised.” His voice was a warm mix of fondness and exasperation. It was no secret that preparation wasn’t one of Rae’s talents, or even one of her interests. Still, the last thing she expected was for him to say, all self-consciously casual, “Luckily, I printed out an itinerary.”
She turned to face him. “I’m sorry. You did what?”
He whipped out a folder from somewhere. “Thought you might forget your schedule.”
He knew damn well that she had never laid eyes—never mind hands—on a schedule. “Where did you get that?” she demanded, staring at the folder with horrified fascination. It looked so… official. Organised. Put together. She was starting to sweat.
“I checked the website,” he said calmly.
“You did?”
“I did.” He opened the folder. “And then I printed it out and highlighted all the shit we should go to. There’s a colour-coding system, if you’re into that. Actually, never mind. I know for a fact you’re not into that.” He thrust the folder at her. “Go wild.”
She flicked through the pages and said faintly, “It looks like you already did.”
She had the delicious pleasure of seeing the ever-confident Zach Davis look slightly nervous. He grunted, rubbing the back of his neck. “I like organising shit. I knew you’d be too busy to do it—”
“Incapable, more like.”
“Your brain,” he said seriously, “is full of more important things.”
For some reason, those words hit her hard—maybe because she’d never heard anything like them before. Usually, it was, Jesus, Rae, pay attention. Hurry up. Stop daydreaming. Can’t you do anything useful? The mental voice that repeated those barbs was a disturbing mixture of Mother’s drawl and Kevin’s irritated snap, a toxic cocktail that tightened her gut and hardened her jaw automatically. It was as if the two had joined forces to emphasise that the contents of Rae’s head—the stories and fantasies and incandescent what-ifs—would never be important enough to make up for everything she lacked.
But, clearly, the things in Rae’s head were important to Zach. He got it.