Stop That Wedding
Chapter 5
Zenith could only hear her thudding heart. Part of her wanted to fling herself at him,
show him how he affected her. The other part, the sensible Zenith, held back.
‘I want to discuss your feelings for me.’ Had Brad really said that? Could she have
misunderstood him?
Her heart thudding rapidly in her ears, she didn’t voice a protest when he swept past
her and into the living room. Shutting the door, she turned and watched him talking softly
to a madly capering Buffy, who danced on her hind legs, her dainty front paws swatting
the air.
After ruffling the dog’s fur affectionately, he turned to Zenith, who still hovered in the
entryway. He knew he’d startled her, and that she didn’t understand why he showed up.
He wasn’t going to rat out her sister, though, so he decided to let her remain ignorant to
the fact he’d read her diary.
“Are you coming in, or shall I join you?” His smile teased her; she realized that by
remaining by the door he’d labeled her a coward. To prove him wrong, she scooted into
the open.
“I don’t know why you’re here,” she declared, her chin lifting fractionally in her familiar
defiant gesture. She reached down and plucked Buffy up, holding her securely against
her chest. “But I don’t feel like playing whatever game you’re planning here, so you can
leave.”
His chest tightened. In her flannels and braids, clutching Buffy like a child would hold
a stuffed toy, she resembled a young teenager. Gone were the sophisticated trappings
she barricaded herself with. Instead, he saw the real Zenith: young, innocent, slightly
lost, and very confused. He wanted to hold her, tuck her safely against him.
No, he was lying to himself. He wanted to loosen up those childish braids, run his
fingers through the luxurious curtain of hair, cover her mouth with his own, feel her
pressed up against him, moaning his name.
The glittering diamond on her finger stopped him. She belonged to another man, and
until she was free, he couldn’t act on the feelings stirring strongly through him. The same
emotions told him her marriage to Chadwick would be a mistake, one whose price he didn’
t want to pay.
“I need to know how you feel about me,” he growled. “We’ve known each other long
enough to be honest with each other.”
Her throat tightened. Yes, they should be honest, she admitted. But what was the
truth?
“I don’t know how I feel about you,” she told him, her voice barely over a whisper.
He barked an astonished laugh. “I asked you a very important question and that’s all you
can tell me? That you don’t know? What will it take for you to figure it out?”
“I don’t know,” she repeated, glaring at him fiercely. “I don’t know how I feel about
you, I don’t know what it will take to figure it out, and I don’t know why you’re here or why I
let you in! Now will you please leave?”
Brad snorted and flung himself onto the couch. “I don’t think so. My leaving won’t
answer my question.” He gazed at the television. “Hey, I’ve always meant to watch this
movie. And look, you’ve provided popcorn. How thoughtful.” He grabbed a large handful
and munched on it nonchalantly.
Zenith seethed with frustration. “Brad –“
He raised his eyebrows mockingly. “Zenith.” He patted the seat next to him. “Come
sit down. We’ll watch the movie, we’ll relax, then we’ll talk later. Sound okay with you?”
Zenith didn’t dare answer. Her nerves were tingling at the mere thought of sitting
near him. She stomped over to the couch, flopping down as far away from him as she
could get, thumping her fuzzy feet on the coffee table.
He grinned at her, which she pointedly ignored. He’d turned his charm on full-force,
trying the worm his way through her defenses. She wasn’t falling for it, though. She didn’
t understand this game he played, but she wouldn’t participate.
But soon her intentions were forgotten. She became engrossed in the movie,
giggling at one scene, then abruptly stifling it when she saw Brad looking her way. She
did it twice more, but each time Brad didn’t react. He treated her casually, even getting
up at one point to fetch them both a glass of Zenith’s favorite lemonade.
When a wildly tossed chicken hit the hero, Brad roared with laughter, eliciting a smile
from Zenith.
“Wait,” he howled, “rewind that. I want to see it again. Does this poor guy survive the
movie?”
Laughing at his question, she reached for some popcorn. “Of course he does. He’s
her prince.”
“Ah.” He frowned thoughtfully. “And this is a movie rule?”
She nodded. “In romantic comedies it is. It wouldn’t be very funny if the hero died,
now would it?”
He grinned at her. “You have a point there.”
He reached for some popcorn, but Zenith pulled the bowl out of his reach. “If you
want some, go make your own!”
He laughed, lunging for the popcorn. “No way! I came here for the free movie and
popcorn, and I demand to get my fair share!” He grabbed for the bowl, managing to get a
finger around the edge of it. Zenith tugged the bowl free, causing a few golden kernels to
fall onto the floor. With a yip of delight, Buffy jumped down to enjoy the unexpected treat.
Chortling uncontrollably, Zenith ordered, “Buffy, stop! No, you’ll get fat!” But the
animal either didn’t understand the commands or decided that a madly cackling owner
wasn’t much of a threat. She continued to happily munch the snack.
Brad changed his tactics, as she determinedly held the bowl well above her head.
With his free hand he spanned her ribcage and began to tickle. Shrieking, she tried to
escape him, jerking away as far as the couch would allow. The popcorn bowl jiggled
haphazardly; popcorn cascaded all over them, the couch, the floor, and Buffy.
“Yes!” Brad crowed, stopping his attack to grab a handful of popcorn off her lap. He
pulled a kernel out of one of her braids while she glared at him through her giggles.
“You look enchanting with popcorn in your hair,” he told her mischievously. “And I like
the new bowl.” Grinning wickedly, he scooped a few more pieces from her lap. With a
laughing shout of outrage, she tossed the remainder of the popcorn in the bowl straight
into his face.
“That means war, woman!” he growled at her, launching himself at her. In a futile
attempt to escape, she dropped the bowl and tried to scramble off the couch. Brad was
ready though; with a firm arm wrapped about her waist, he pulled her back onto the
couch and onto his lap. Laughing and screeching, Zenith struggled against his strong
hold. He was unyielding; she finally collapsed against him, dragging in deep breaths.
“Oh, my ribs ache!” she said as she tried to calm her speeding pulse. The heat of his
body radiated through her pajamas. For a moment she let herself indulge in the feel of
his hard body and firm muscles against her. It was a tiny slice of heaven, she decided.
She stifled a sigh as he spread the fingers of one hand over her back.
Grinning, Brad brushed one of her braids away from her face. “You look like a little
girl with these,” he observed teasingly. His fingers grazed her cheek. Her breath caught
in her throat as a current of awareness shot through her.
“You don’t feel like one, though,” he whispered, his mouth hovering above her throat,
his heated breath dancing across her skin. He inhaled, and Zenith felt her groin shiver in
response. Her bones melted and her limbs began to shake; she couldn’t have pulled
away if she’d wanted to.
His lips feathered over her sensitized flesh, traveling to the base of her throat. Of its
own volition, her neck arched against him, demanding deeper contact. Desire danced
through her; thoughts of restraint vanished like cobwebs. Hunger for him overwhelmed
her as his hands explored her back, then cupped her firm buttocks. A wave of need
pulsated deep within her, and she writhed against him, needing more.
Brad moaned. He’d promised himself this wouldn’t happen, that he’d honor her
commitment to another man, but she was like a narcotic. One taste, one heady whiff of
her raspberry-scented hair, and he became addicted. Her head twisted towards him; he
couldn’t deny himself what she offered. Finding her lips with his mouth, he pressed her
down into the couch, feeding his burning ache for her.
Her fingers grazed over his cheek as her response grew. Burying her fingers in his
hair, she pulled him even closer. He couldn’t get enough of her, feel enough for her.
Magic sizzled in her touch, an explosion like dynamite in her kiss.
Zenith was drowning, and she loved it. Her senses sang like never before, her heart
was leaping in a manner she wasn’t accustomed to, and she was positive the world had
melted away. She felt like a puddle beneath Brad’s weight. The air snapped between
them like a palpable current. She opened her eyes; she needed to stop this before it
went too far. As she focused, two inquisitive dark eyes stared back. A screech escaped
her.
“What?” Startled, Brad sat up, causing the culprit to bound off his back onto Zenith’s
chest.
“Buffy!” She grabbed the little dog and glared at her. “What were you doing?”
“Walking on me, actually.” Brad grinned at her. “I was ignoring her, hoping she’d go
away.” He gently lifted the dog out of Zenith’s arms and placed her on the floor. “I didn’t
want to be interrupted.” His mouth found hers again, and she succumbed to the delicious
feel of him.
Through it all, through the effect his unique masculine scent and touch had on her,
through the reaction to his evident arousal, one thought remained.
This felt like home.
That thought, in itself, was wrong. She belonged to Chadwick, not to Brad Pearce.
She was spoken for, not a free spirit to be wantonly throwing herself at another man. She’
d damaged something with her actions; she couldn’t be sure if it were Chadwick’s love for
her or her self-respect.
Pain at the idea of the harm she’d done flashed through her. Pushing away from
Brad, she twisted out of his arms. Her feet didn’t meet the floor; she landed in a heap at
his feet.
“Zenith?” Brad’s questioning voice reached her, catapulting her to her feet.
“This is wrong. We shouldn’t be doing this.”
He surged towards her, gripping her arms firmly. “No. Your engagement to Chadwick
– that’s wrong. Don’t you understand, Zenith? You can’t be in love with him and kiss me
like you just did. Don’t you see?” His eyes bore into her; the truth she saw there was
stifling.
“You can’t marry him; not when you’re attracted to me.”
His softly spoken words skidded her heart to a stop; it pulsated forward, out of
control. Not marry Chadwick? But what would she have then?
She knew what Brad offered: passion, sizzling moments out of time, like this evening.
But once the attraction faded for him, where would she be? Brad would move on; he’d
never stayed with any one woman long enough to form an attachment. Then she’d be
alone, without her carefully planned future to hold onto.
Placing her open hand over his heart, she took comfort in the rapid beat that matched
her own. If only she could rely on him.
“You don’t know what you’re asking me to give up. I’m happy with Chadwick; with him
there’s no surprises. He and I want the same things out of life.
“Brad, don’t you think I know how you feel about marriage? About commitment? Why
would I pursue something with you when I know I’d never find the things I need with you?”
“I never said I was against something long-term with the right woman. I’m against
marriage and all the legal garbage that comes with it.”
“And what about children? Or is that part of the garbage?”
Brad’s face hardened; she knew he was remembering the pain inflicted on his family
when his father’s second marriage failed. “I’m not planning on having any,” he stated
flatly.
Zenith’s fingers curled in reaction and she pulled her hand away from his hard chest.
“I want children, Brad. Very much. Which means that whatever this is between us has to
stop.”
“I don’t see why. We can find out where is will lead, and who knows? Maybe I’ll
change my mind about kids.”
She stared at him in astonishment. Did he honestly think his half-offer of a ‘maybe’
was reason enough to toss away her future? Pain and uncertainty welled up inside
her.
Twisting away, she rushed towards the bedroom, not sparing Brad a glance.
Brad’s eyes closed as she fled from him. It didn’t take a genius to understand that
she was a bundle of conflicting emotions. but he didn’t want her running from him. He
needed to keep her talking to him.
Hoisting himself up, he walked down the hallway. The trail of popcorn that had
dropped from Zenith like crumbs led him into the master bedroom and straight to the
closed bathroom door.
Tapping lightly, he called her name. He didn’t really expect an answer. Not yet. She’
d have to come out sometime, though, and he’d be here. He plopped himself on the bed,
settling down for a long wait. Buffy leapt up beside him, curling into a contented ball of
fur against his side.
It took him a few minutes to notice the artwork, and the more he studied it, the more
impressed he became. The walls, a soft pale yellow, were painted with a muted
reproduction of the vines from the bedspread. But there were differences, and that was
where it stopped being decorative painting and became art.
Tucked in the vines, intertwined with the flowers, were subtle, delicate faces. They
drew him off the bed, demanding to be touched, to be experienced. Some were deep in
thought, while others were gazing at flowers or peering into the distance, as if searching
for a lost love. They were all young, beautiful women, with wisdom in their eyes. He’d
found five of them by the time the bathroom door opened silently.
His fingers were tracing a gentle curve of a girl’s cheek, astounded by the skill that
created them when he felt her presence behind him. He smiled gently over his shoulder.
“You’re too talented to waste it running charities and going to the opera.” He never
questioned who painted them; they spoke of her personality too strongly to be anyone
else’s.
He spotted a tiny butterfly perched on the girl’s shoulder. “It looks like it could fly
away!” He straightened and turned towards her. “I remember you drawing when you were
a teenager. You showed a lot of promise then but this in incredible. Do you have
anything else?”
She shrugged, pleased at his praise. Nobody in her family, save Grandfather, ever
truly appreciated her artwork. They thought of it as a cute little hobby, not something she
poured her passion into. Bringing something alive with her imagination filled her with
deep satisfaction.
“I don’t know if I have anything you’d be interested in. Most of my drawings are
flowers, or landscapes. There are lots of sketches of Buffy.” She remembered something
suddenly, and her face lit up. “Oh! I do have something you might like. I did some
colored pencil sketches of some fairies I thought about adding to the wall, but decided it
would be too busy. Would you like to see them?”
“I’d love that, thanks.” He laughed softly at her eagerness as she scampered away,
returning a few minutes later with a sketchpad.
Perching on the side of the bed, she opened it and laid out several pieces of thick paper
in front of him as he sat on the edge of her bed. Each was a scene filled with whimsical
flowers in a riot of delicate colors, all blending together. In one, a fairy darted from one
flower to another, resembling a hovering butterfly. Her features were tiny, but Brad could
swear it was a miniature Luna. Another depicted two sleeping fairies, curled up together
on a rose petal, their wings drooping over the edges, reminding him of dragonfly wings in
their translucency.
He could see these as a series of artwork. They were definitely of professional
quality. They were done with a light touch, yet filled with amazing detail.
“I’d frame these,” he told her, “and hang them on the walls in here. They’d make a
perfect addition, Zee.” He held one at arm’s length, imagining a light frame and a
brushed gold mat. It would be striking, he decided.
“Would you mind if I borrowed these?” he asked her. “I’d love to show them to Lydia.
She’s been struggling with a theme for the boutique depicting summer weddings. These
would be a good inspiration for her.” In fact, Lydia was thinking of hiring a professional if
she didn’t come up with an idea soon.
Her eyes widened, and a faint blush tinged her well-defined cheeks. “You really think
so?”
“Of course I do,” he assured her, but he actually pondered some other ideas. The
talent in them was palpable, yet she seemed so blind to it. He dropped a swift kiss on the
tip of her nose, then stood up.
“I’m going now,” he told her gently. “I’m not strong enough to sit here with you in your
bedroom without thinking of you under those sheets. We have a connection, you and I. I
can see under all the layers you cover up with to the real Zenith, and I think you like that.
I don’t know where it would take us, and what it could lead to, but you’re obviously
committed to Chadwick, and I need to honor that.”
He leaned down and kissed her trembling lips briefly. “Think about what we share,
Zee, and what you share with Chadwick, and make a decision.” Before she could reply,
he left the room. Moments later, she heard the outer door close. Buffy whined her
disappointment, then curled up against Zenith, her little tummy distended from too much
popcorn.
She fell back onto the bed, staring at the stark white ceiling, wondering how in just a
few short days her entire world was suddenly shaken upside down. The funny thing was,
in the real world, it hadn’t even registered on the Richter scale.
^^^^^^
“Zenith!” Startled, Zenith jerked and her toothbrush flew out of her hand, landing
toothpaste down on the counter. Her sister’s voice sounded again as she stared at the
toothbrush with disgust.
“Drat!” she muttered. She needed to talk to Luna about barging in with her key.
Especially before eight in the morning. She picked up the toothbrush, set it by the sink,
then stomped out of the bathroom to confront her sister.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded. Luna was kneeling down lavishing pets
on a very subdued Buffy.
“I came to drop off your blouse on the way to school. If you were asleep I’d just leave
it on the couch, but I was pretty sure that you’d be up, now that you’re a working girl.”
She grinned mischievously at her older sibling, then stood up. “Buff seems a bit slow this
morning. What’s wrong with her?”
“Too much popcorn, I expect. I spilled some last night.” She was disgusted at her pet;
the little glutton had scarfed up most of the scattered popcorn before collapsing on her
bed the night before. Only a few crumbs were left.
“Must have been some spill.” Luna set the blouse on the couch, then noted the two
half-full glasses still sitting on the coffee table. “Hey, did Chadwick stop by last night?”
Zenith’s blush told Luna the truth. “Oh, you sly woman! You had another man here! I
am so proud of you!”
Zenith’s face flamed. “It wasn’t like that at all! We just watched a movie and –“
“So there is another man!” Luna shrieked. “Oh, I love it! You know, you just don’t
spark when you’re with Chadwick! I hope this guy makes you spark. You shouldn’t have
to settle for less.” Seeing the few kernels of popcorn on the couch and the floor, she
grinned in delight. “Looks like you had fun!” She planted a kiss on her sister’s cheek,
grabbed the blouse and headed towards the master bedroom.
Zenith sighed, plopping down on the couch. Now her sister thought she’d cheated on
Chadwick. But it wasn’t...
Oh, who was she fooling? She’d kissed another man who excited her far more than
her own fiancé ever had. Up until a few days ago, she’d been very content. But now…
She’d never been capable of the grand passion, that ‘one true love’ that all her
friends talked about and dreamed of. She’d be happy marrying someone with whom she
was completely compatible and could discuss things with in a calm, sensible fashion. She
snorted. She could never label any of her discussions with Brad as ‘calm’ or ‘sensible’.
Buffy crawled onto her lap and licked her chin. Zenith ruffled her fur absently. No,
she’d never be bored around Brad, but she’d never be comfortable either. Until last
night. It was the first time since she’d been a teenager that she’d actually sat down with
him, just the two of them, and enjoyed a normal activity like a movie. It had been...nice.
No, ‘nice’ didn’t fit. It had been fun and stimulating, and one of the most enjoyable
evenings she’d ever spent with a guy. It was an evening she’d never expected to share
with Brad Pearce.
“It’s all hung up, gotta go.” Luna swept by her, walking a mad pace to the door. “It’s
late, so you’d better hurry.”
“Oh, drat!” Surging up from the couch, Zenith rushed into the bathroom, wondering
frantically if the dogs would notice if her teeth weren’t brushed.
^^^^^^^^
“These are the list of dogs that you need to walk,” Derrick Palmer told her, smiling at
Zenith with open curiosity. When Bradley introduced her as Zenith Somersbee, she could
tell Derrick bubbled over with questions, but one look from Brad quelled them. After that,
Derrick treated her with a deference she found a bit annoying.
She didn’t want respect because of her family name, although until now she’d always
expected it. She didn’t want to be treated properly because Brad told them to.
She wanted to be treated like Brad was – with deep regard because he’d earned it. She’
d watched him carefully these last few days. She’d observed how everyone treated him,
how they respected his opinion, listened carefully while he spoke, studied him while he
listened. She’d seen the deep thought his words invoked as they’d pondered through
what he’d said. She’d witnessed the smiles of relief when he helped them puzzle through
a difficult situation.
Brad was more than a figurehead at Somersbee’s. Somehow, since her grandfather’s
retirement, he’d become the heart and soul of the company. She realized what a
valuable asset he’d become, and she respected him for that. Of course, right now it was
difficult separating the man from the earth-shattering kisses he’d given her last night.
“Zenith? Did you hear me?” Derrick’s voice cut through her musings, and she looked
up at him with a distracted smile.
“I’m sorry. I missed that. Could you repeat it, please?”
“I said that when you do this job, you’re on a pretty tight schedule. The hotel is very
upscale, so we cater to our guests as much as possible. Pets are always welcome, and
we end up with a lot of them, especially on weekends. So you’ll have about twenty
minutes per set. That means you walk them to the park across the street, walk them
around once, give them time to stop, then back up into the hotel and back into their
rooms. The rooms are listed on these little tags on their collars. You return them to their
rooms, then go get the next set. Got that?”
Zenith nodded. It sounded simple enough; how could she screw this up? Dogs loved
her. She had a way with dogs; Buffy was very well-behaved. She allowed herself a rare
chuckle. She would show Brad how capable she was.
The thought of Brad sent a tingle up her spine; she’d spent all morning fighting off
memories of the night before, of his touch, his kiss, the feel of his mouth on her throat, of
his hands on her bare flesh.
No, she reprimanded herself sternly. She couldn’t daydream about him. He’d spent
most of his adulthood perfecting his survival skills against the female population. It wasn’t
uncommon to see photos of him escorting a different woman each time, who’d be looking
up at him adoringly. For some reason she now held his interest, but how long could that
last? Not long, if his track record held true.
“Okay, Zenith, let’s go get the first set. You can try walking them when we get to the
park, see how it goes.”
Her thoughts were whirling around her; she tried to pull them back under control, off
the image of Brad’s face only inches from her own. She needed some time alone, to work
through her emotions and get herself back under control. She couldn’t do that with
Derrick around.
“I’m sure I can handle this, Derrick. How about I’ll take this set alone?” She graced
him with a full smile.
His returning smile faded rapidly as he digested her words. “I don’t know if that’s a
good idea.”
He doubted her. Zenith felt her face tighten as she tried to keep her features
pleasant. “Everything will be fine. You’ll see.” She plucked the schedule from his
unresisting fingers. With a light wave, she headed for the elevator. Derrick stared after
her, uncertainty written all over his face. Zenith walked determinedly on.
The list was broken down into scheduled sets. In the elevator, Zenith noted that the
first set was on two different floors, so she punched a button while she studied the list.
There were four, no, five dogs in the first group.
Five? They expected her to walk five dogs at the same time? For the first time, she
began to have misgivings. Sometimes, when Buffy was very exuberant, Zenith
experienced some difficulties keeping her from wrapping the leash about her legs. How
could she keep five dogs under control?
The first couple of rooms went off without a hitch. Marvin, a tiny Yorkshire terrier,
resembled a wave of liquid gold and black fur. Sweetpea, a proper apricot toy poodle,
was timid and hung back a bit, but seemed very obedient. So far, so good.
The trouble started when she picked up Chester, a young exuberant Boxer. Chester
resembled a large ball of energy encased in short reddish and white fur. Zenith began to
seriously worry about the smaller dogs’ safety.
The next two dogs were mid-sized, older dogs, and they had a settling effect on
Chester. Zenith began to relax.
She made it out of the hotel and to the park with little incident. Then the trouble
began. Chester became very excited at the sight of the first tree; Zenith was dragged
unceremoniously into its trunk, while the other dogs yipped in excitement and leashes
became tangled about her ankles.
“Chester! Hold still!” she commanded; she thought she glimpsed remorse in the large
animal’s eyes. It lasted long enough for her to get her feet untangled. But then the next
tree caught his attention and Chester took off again.
“Chester!” She barely missed stepping on poor Marvin, and Sweetpea yipped in
terror. Luckily, the second tree was only a few feet away. She glared angrily at Chester.
Nearby, traffic streaming down the busy street slowed as drivers stared in amusement at
her.
“What on earth are you doing?”
Zenith’s spine stiffened at the sound of those smooth tones. Oh why, she wailed
internally, did Brad always have to show up just when things weren’t going well?
She ignored his question, concentrating instead on untangling the mass of dogs.
Picking Marvin up, she wove him through a couple of leashes, then sat him down. She
did the same thing with Sweetpea. She didn’t dare look at Brad, knowing quite well the
look of amusement and exasperation she would see there.
“Zenith? Would you like some help?”
Her gaze flickered to his well-clad feet. Quite a difference from her scuffed white
athletic shoes, which were her most comfortable shoes. “No, thank you,” she gritted. “I
have everything under – oomph!”
Launching himself forcefully, Chester raced off to the next tree; Zenith realized with
horror that it was in a very long row of trees that marched beside the street. This tree
didn’t satisfy Chester, however. Zenith found herself dragged another ten feet, this time
ending up on her derriere.
Brad’s laughter only worsened her demeanor, and she tossed a scowl his way. He
reached down and took the dogs’ leashes from her, then deftly untangled them while she
righted herself. Stretching out her hand, Zenith retrieved the leads from him. She took
care not to touch him; the current between them was always too much for her to handle.
“Where’s Derrick?” he inquired. Zenith heard the steel creeping into his voice, but
decided to ignore it.
“I told him I didn’t need any help.”
“You dismissed him? Zenith, he isn’t your servant. In this case, he’s your
supervisor. You can’t treat him like you would the butler or the maid.”
Her features hardened. “I didn’t treat him in any such manner! I simply told him I
could handle this.”
His eyes darkened. “Obviously you were mistaken.”
Zenith’s brow furrowed in anger. “No, I’m not mistaken! Chester just caught me by
surprise.”
Neither of them noticed the woman walking by with a pudgy basset hound, or Chester’
s ears jerking forward in excitement.
“I think I’d better help you to the hotel.” He reached for the dogs’ leashes. Zenith
pulled them out of his reach.
“What do you think you’re doing?” She swatted away his hand. He reached around
her and grasped a couple of the tethers. Reacting swiftly, she twisted away from him,
recovering the leashes from him.
“Listen, you Neanderthal-“
“Neanderthal?” Brad’s mouth twisted in outrage. “I’m not going to take insults from a
prima dona princess!”
Zenith shrieked as his fingers clamped around her wrist. Transferring the leashes to
her other hand, she jerked them out of his reach. Twisting her arm out of his grasp, she
glared at him, all her anger boiling in her sharp gaze.
“Brad, you conceited jerk, I can-“
Taking full advantage of Zenith’s inattention, Chester bounded towards the basset
with an energy-filled leap. Zenith, unprepared for his defection, ended up flat on her
back.
All the dogs scattered; Marvin and the older dogs chased after Chester, Brad on their
heels. Little Sweetpea, however, terrified by all the action, scurried off towards the hotel,
across the busy street. Horrified, Zenith rushed after her. Sweetpea reached the curb
and didn’t slow down; Zenith stopped with a scream of terror.
The terror-filled poodle dashed straight out in front of a bright yellow taxi, whose
screeching brakes and honking horn were simultaneous. Traffic jerked to an abrupt halt,
narrowly missing the tiny pooch, who made it safely to the sidewalk in front of the hotel.
Angry honks and grinding brakes were followed by a horrendous crash. A hiss could be
heard over the shouts. Zenith’s hands flew over her eyes as she groaned in horror.
Peeking between her fingers, she surveyed the chaos she’d caused. A large black
limousine had barreled into the back of the taxi, catapulting the cab up onto the sidewalk
just a few feet away. Steam escaped from the limo’s badly crumpled engine
compartment, fluttering the diplomatic flags that were hanging forlornly. The taxi driver,
leaping out from his destroyed cab, glared at her in outrage. Tiny Sweetpea peeked at
her from across the street, looking as chagrined as a canine could.
Open-mouthed in shock, Zenith couldn’t stop her eyes from traveling to Brad’s face.
Securely containing the four remaining dogs, Brad could only stare. Even from five yards
away, she could make out his demeanor: horror mingled with extreme anger. Aimed
directly at her.
She was doomed.
The limo’s rear door flew open and a huge dark-haired man tumbled onto the
sidewalk. Taking in his expensive suit and the limo’s flags, Zenith felt certain he was a
foreign dignitary.
He was also in distress. One hand clutched a half-eaten hot dog smothered in every
topping imaginable. The other hand encircled his throat in the universal sign for
choking. His eyes flew around the crowd as if seeking for help; when they landed on
Zenith, she could see the censure there.
Rushing to him, Zenith could only hear a panicked gagging sound. She didn’t hear
any wheezing or gasp for more air, which meant that he wasn’t getting any oxygen. She
didn’t know what to do; her arms couldn’t encircle large girth to perform the Heimlich
maneuver.
“Here.” Brad’s hand gripped her arm as he shoved the dogs’ leashes into her hand.
He strode swiftly to the choking man. Squatting behind him, he maneuvered his arms
around the man’s girth. Placing his fist slightly below the ribcage, he thrust once, twice,
three times upward.
On the third try, a large chunk of hot dog flew out and the man sucked in several
deep breaths as Brad supported him.
A few moments passed, then both men turned accusing glares at her. Even Chester’
s gaze seemed filled with reproach.
Yes, she was definitely doomed.
^^^^^^
Zenith barely registered in the large chair opposite him. Brad knew she felt terrible,
that she was well aware what could have happened. He didn’t plan on easing her
burden, however. He would let her stew for a few minutes longer.
The door burst open, and his executive assistant Riley, with his usual high energy,
swept into the room. A small dark-haired man in his mid-thirties, he glowed with an
intensity that was magnified in urgent situations such as this.
Riley didn’t spare a glance at Zenith, whom he’d once referred to as ‘that insufferable
ice goddess.’ If Brad remembered right, that was right after Buffy yipped at an
inappropriate moment during a meeting. Riley had reprimanded the dog, and Zenith
froze him with her legendary stare of disapproval, which caused snickers to reverberate
throughout the room. Riley didn’t take humiliation easily. Brad could tell his assistant
enjoyed Zenith’s tumble from grace.
“The Ambassador has been released from the hospital,” Riley announced, the drama
in his tones intentional, Brad surmised. “However, he’s chosen to stay at another hotel,
due to the fact that one of our employees caused his unfortunate accident. I’m highly
doubtful that he’ll stay here any time soon.” He flipped a baleful glance at Zenith.
“You think he’d be grateful; you did save his life,” Zenith muttered.
His brows furrowed into a deep frown. “I wouldn’t have had to save him, if he’d not been
involved in your debacle.”
“He wouldn’t have needed rescuing if he’d not been such a glutton,” she countered.
The Ambassador, on his way from the airport, had seen a street vendor hawking hot
dogs. Never having tasted them before, he ordered the driver to stop. Purchasing three
dogs, each covered in a myriad of toppings, the Ambassador had taken a huge bite of
the second one when Sweetpea so precipitously stopped his journey.
“Send a gift basket to the Ambassador’s hotel room, and make sure we pick up his
hotel bill as our apology,” he told Riley, his voice flat and devoid of any emotion. “And
Riley, have all of the animals who were involved in this thoroughly checked by a vet, and
their owners receive a free night, compliments of Miss Somersbee.” He frowned at her.
“It’s the least she can do, don’t you think, Zenith?”
Zenith remained silent, studying his array of photos in an obvious attempt to avoid his
censure.
His eyes traveled over her slender form, definitely the worse for wear after her abrupt
contact with the ground. Her once elegant hairdo hung half down her back with a few
strands of dry grass intermixed. Grass and leaves clung to her jeans; he’d noticed from
an earlier perusal that her bottom was now stained a vivid green. The vision of her as a
cool collected socialite had been effectively shattered.
However, instead of detracting from her beauty, it only enhanced it. She seemed
more approachable, more human. The morning’s events left her cheeks color-stained
and her eyes such a vivid green he could drown in them. Definitely not a wise move,
given the fact he easily lost all common sense around her.
Riley left the office, intent on his mission of soothing ruffled feathers. Brad turned his
attention to Zenith. Her expression was a unique blend of defiance and contrition.
She looked like an erotic mix of vixen and ice queen, woman and child. He envisioned
pulling her into his arms and kissing her senseless. He wanted to see if he could inspire
the vixen with his lovemaking, if he could drive the woman in her into senseless passion
that would tumble them both over the edge.
He frowned impatiently. No, he’d promised himself, and her, that he’d stay away from
her. She was engaged to another man and confused about her feelings. He couldn’t
take advantage of her like this.
He noted that her chin lifted higher and realized that she’d misinterpreted his frown.
He sighed; he couldn’t deal with her now. He’d find a way to touch her, to kiss her, to
complicate both their lives.
“Go home, Zenith,” he told her softly.
Her mouth opened in surprise, then she nipped her bottom lip. He felt his blood
pressure rising at the sight of her delectable flesh caught between her white teeth.
Damn, why did he find himself so turned on by her? Did it stem from what he’d read
in her diary? Now that he knew she felt something for him, did that turn him on? Or
perhaps the fact she was out of his league and he’d always known he’d never stood a
chance with her?
Too much, too late, he told himself grimly. Yes, she responded to his kisses, and
seemed receptive to more. But he couldn’t push it; he didn’t want her torn in two between
Chadwick and himself. If he did pursue her and was successful in winning her, would she
resent him for taking her away from Chadwick, for capitalizing on her confusion?
Standing up, he crossed to her. With a firm hand on her arm, he helped her up. “Go
home, Zenith. Plan your wedding, watch a movie, whatever. But go home.”
The green in her eyes glowed as she stared at him. He could see the uncertainty in
her. “Does this mean I’ve failed? That I’ve let everyone down?”
He closed his eyes briefly. Her loyalty to her family just made her all the more
endearing. “No, come back tomorrow. We’ll find something that there’s no chance at
disaster.”
Her mouth twisted into a feeble smile. His hand rested on her arm, and she made no
attempt to pull away. “Are you sure that’s possible?”
He forced away his longing to kiss her, to comfort her. “Yes, I’m sure.” He settled for
a bleak smile. “Go home, Zenith, before I break my word to you.”
She didn’t ask what he meant by that. Silently slipping out the door, she left him.
