Hold Me Close - Talia Hibbert Page 0,271

them filled her up like helium.

She shouldn’t want anything else from him, not when he already made her so happy. But she’d always been a little bit greedy.

Chapter 8

Was it weird to fixate on the way a woman typed? Probably.

Ten minutes into the buffet dinner, Rae’s face lit up and she reached for her phone. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I just got an idea. Do you mind if I write it down?”

Zach waved her on and watched her hands. He was well aware of the men around them studying her long, brown legs beneath the table; her mouth, red like a warning sign; the breasts her dress clung to so lovingly. But all he could focus on were those hands: the way she laced her fingers together at the back of her phone, creating a careful cradle. The thoughtful hover of her thumbs over each key, like the words she chose mattered, down to the very letter. Then there was her frown of concentration and the press of her tongue inside her cheek…

He blinked away, disorientated, as if he’d been staring into the sun.

Earlier, when she’d come out of the bathroom, he’d wondered for one wild moment if she wanted Kevin’s attention. As a friend who protected her interests and hated her ex-husband in solidarity, Zach had been unnerved by the possibility. But he should’ve known better; these days, Rae lived for herself. Whether or not she saw it, felt it, believed in it all the time, she was Ravenswood Rae no matter where she went. He’d stay by her side until she grew comfortable enough to realise that, and it would be no hardship.

In the lift, she’d sent her reflection pleased little smiles that made his heart melt.

Now, she stopped typing and looked up. When their eyes met, she smiled and leaned forward, her feet nudging his beneath the table. She might as well have set him on fire. Just the slightest brush of contact, leather on leather, and his whole body thrilled to life like they’d never touched before. Jesus.

“Done,” she said excitedly. “I’m not sure where that came from, but thank God it came at all.”

Great,” he croaked, still grappling with the sensations spiralling through him. “Lots of magical murder going on in your head, then?”

“Tons,” she said with satisfaction. God, he liked her satisfaction.

“Do you want to rush through dinner, so you can go upstairs and write?”

“Oh, that’s a great idea. If you don’t mind. I should strike while my brain’s being cooperative,” she said, and went back to devouring her plate of tempura prawns like it was her last meal. Unsurprisingly, she finished before he could manage his steak, and got up for a second course.

Which is how Zach ended up alone at the table, chewing overdone beef like a cow with cud, while a swarm of eager men chatted Rae up by the fucking pasta bar. For some reason, he found the sight profoundly irritating.

A guy on the table to his left leaned over, smiling beneath a bristly, white moustache. “That’s the missus, eh?”

Zach grunted.

“She’s impressive, that one,” the man said.

It was true, and it sounded complimentary, so Zach grunted again. Thank God for the food in his mouth. Without it, he might’ve said something rude like Fuck off and leave me to my creepy staring.

The poor guy seemed to get the message, anyway.

Rae now had a serving spoon in her hand, but she couldn’t reach the chicken arrabiata because she was still surrounded by men. Older men with grey hair and gravitas who were probably successful writers with brilliant minds like hers. She seemed to know most of them, and she looked happy enough, so he couldn’t interrupt. Which was fine. She deserved to be fawned over. He, as her friend, was glad. The tight, hot feeling in his middle was a very pure and platonic kind of pleasure.

Eventually, she grabbed some pasta and left her adoring fans in the dust. For the next hour, she sparkled like champagne while Zach grew dull beside her, hovering helplessly over his own body, watching himself be grim and difficult. He didn’t know what was happening, and he couldn’t seem to control it. Still, forcing smiles and seeming fine had been his coping mechanism for years, so he tried his best.

It wasn’t enough. When they finished dinner, Rae stopped him on the way to the exit. In the shadow of a sharp, potted fern, she rose up on tiptoe to whisper in his ear. “Hey. Are