Everlasting - Iris Johansen [12]
She crossed her arms over her chest as a little shiver ran through her. She had been determined not to let Zack Damon intimidate her, but, apparently, in order to block out uncertainty it was necessary not to think at all. Which was going to be a near impossible task when even the blasted mountains reminded her of him.
She had been unable to sleep for a long time after she'd gone to bed. Her mind had been a turmoil of jumbled thoughts, impressions, and apprehensions. Why was she so upset? It wasn't like her to brood about things she couldn't help. There was a price to be paid and she would pay it. Zack Damon was both attractive physically and fascinating mentally. And, she went on thinking, there had to be scores of women who would do virtually anything to wind up in bed with him. It wasn't as if Kira had any hang-ups about her virginity, for heaven's sake. Stefan was the conservative one, not she. There just hadn't been a man who appealed to her in that way before.
And there was certainly no doubt that Zack did appeal to her sensually, she thought, amused that she'd used such a tepid word as “appeal” to describe how he made her feel. Her reaction to him had been near inflammatory in the brief time they'd been together. It wouldn't be any hardship giving him what he'd asked, if she could only get rid of this uncharacteristic shyness.
“Do you like my mountains?” Zack asked from behind her.
She whirled to face him. He leaned against the jamb of the sliding glass doors, watching her. He was dressed in jeans and a cream-colored sweatshirt, but the casual garb did nothing to diminish his aura of controlled power. If anything, it augmented it. Now he blended into his surroundings, rather than standing deliberately apart, and she again had the feeling he was drawing power from everything around him.
“I didn't mean to startle you. I brought your breakfast tray. I knocked, but you evidently didn't hear me.”
“No.” She felt suddenly tongue-tied as she gazed up at him. “I thought Juana was going to bring my tray. Do you usually provide personal service to your houseguests?”
“I wanted to see you,” he said simply. “I couldn't sleep for thinking about you last night.”
Her eyes widened. “Why?”
“You persist in questioning the obvious.” He smiled, his eyes bright with amusement. “If I tell you, do you promise to blush again?”
“How unkind. I know it's provincial, but I can't help blushing. I assure you I'm working on eliminating it.”
“Don't. I like your blushes. Every time I see the heat beneath your skin I want to reach out and touch you, feel the heat, the softness, the silk.”
She tried, but couldn't manage, to look away from him. That maddening color rose to her cheeks. “Your words are very pretty, but I'd prefer to appear sophisticated rather than naive.” Her lips were trembling as she smiled at him. “I'm not usually like this, you know. For some reason, you make me a bit nervous.”
His smile faded. “I don't want that. I want you to feel entirely comfortable with me.”
How could she when the mere sight of him caused her breath to catch in her throat and her legs to turn boneless? She glanced away. “I will. It will just take time. I've never met anyone like you before. I'm more accustomed to men who are social butterfly types than to men who are so serious about everything.”
He frowned. “You think I lack a sense of humor?”
“No, you're just more … intense.”
“Yes, I am intense. I don't believe you should do anything unless you're prepared to throw everything you have into it. But then, you should understand. You're an exceptionally intense person yourself.”
Her gaze flew back to him. “Who me? You have the wrong lady. I'm known as the original scatterbrained madcap. Ask anyone.”
“I don't need to ask anyone. I prefer to form my own judgments.” His