Zachary woke up Saturday morning with a smile on his face, though he hadn’t slept much the night before. He was still incredulous that he had impulsively invited Frances Wickersham for a weekend getaway, and even more incredulous that she had accepted.
After their clandestine shopping spree at the store, he had dropped Frannie off at her hotel and handed over the three shopping bags with her new gear. She had offered him a subdued good-night and skedaddled, as his dad used to say.
F. Wickersham was a conundrum. She certainly wasn’t the mousy, shy girl he remembered. She was a full-grown woman. Assertive. Independent. And to his immense surprise, sexy as hell.
He’d never been one to go for the studious academic type. He dated women with big breasts and large personalities. In his experience, those types of women knew the score. They dated rich guys for the perks, and when it was over, everyone parted company happily. Nothing wrong with that.
To his knowledge, Zachary had never broken any woman’s heart. He was a generous boyfriend and an even more generous lover. No complaints. No dings on his record. Five-star ratings across the board.
The fact that none of his relationships lasted longer than three or four weeks had not been a problem. He was open and honest about what he wanted. Some women appreciated that in a man.
But he was about to embark on a “friendship” that skated into unknown territory. The all-grown-up Frannie fascinated him. As much as he was attracted to her kick-ass body, he was equally looking forward to matching wits with her.
In high school, Bug had kept him on his toes. What would it be like now that she possessed considerably more confidence and what he assumed was considerably more sexual experience, as well?
When she met his initial invitation with outright skepticism, he had understood for the first time that the playboy reputation he’d willingly cultivated might actually be a stumbling block for some women.
He hadn’t been hitting on her. At least he didn’t think so. Everyone knew the subconscious could be a crafty bitch. Had his libido been making plans behind the scenes? He couldn’t deny that the thought of spending two entire days with Frannie on the northern coast was damned appealing.
When he pulled up in front of the hotel, she was ready right on time, wearing her own clothes still, but this time casual. Faded jeans showcased her long, long legs and narrow waist. Yet another cashmere turtleneck, this one navy, hugged her curves.
Zachary popped the trunk and hopped out to open Frannie’s door. She tossed her coat, the one she had worn the night before, into the back seat. The bellman put her suitcase and carry-on in the trunk. Then Zachary handed the guy a twenty, and they were off.
“Have you had breakfast?” he asked.
“No. I snoozed the alarm three times.”
“Drive-through okay?”
“As long as they have good coffee and plenty of carbs, yes.”
Thirty minutes later, they were on the road headed north.
Frannie sipped her hot drink with a smile on her face. “Did you bring the Porsche to impress me?”
He shot her a sideways glance. “Is it working?”
She sighed, snagging one of the cinnamon sugar doughnuts he had suggested. “Would it surprise you to know I could buy a couple of Porsches of my own?”
“No. I think I always knew you would do well in your chosen career. Whatever that turned out to be. Why do you ask?”
Her profile was pensive. “You’d be shocked how many men lose interest when they discover that my bank balance is bigger than theirs.”
“Small dicks,” he said, shrugging.
Frannie’s giggles made him smile. Turned out, he liked making her laugh.
“You haven’t changed much, have you?” she said. “Still the same outrageous boy who enjoyed entertaining the class.”
“Maybe. But life’s gotten pretty damn serious. I lost my father. Nearly lost my brother. And that’s after my sister-in-law died when I was barely out of grad school. Being an adult is not for the fainthearted.”
Frannie touched his arm lightly, just a brush of his shirtsleeve. “It wasn’t a criticism, Zach. The world needs more laughter. It doesn’t mean we ignore the bad stuff. You’ve been a huge support to your brothers.”
“I hope so.” He reached for another doughnut. “I didn’t mean to get maudlin. Let’s talk about you.”
“Let’s not,” Frannie said lightly. “How about the weather?”
He chuckled. “Cold. Might snow. That about covers it.”
“How much snow?” Now the lady definitely sounded wary.
“I don’t know. Does it matter? We have a fully stocked freezer and plenty of firewood for the fireplace.”
“Aren’t you worried about getting stranded?”
“Not particularly. We have lots of catching up to do.”
“Oh.”
Zachary couldn’t deduce from that single syllable whether or not Frannie was enthusiastic about his statement, or intimidated. He snorted inwardly. This new Frannie didn’t seem like the kind of woman to be intimidated by anything.
The trip passed quickly. Occasionally they talked about one subject or another, but mostly, the car was silent. Good silent, not bad silent.
Zachary was perfectly comfortable. Weird.
Eventually, they passed the turn to Bar Harbor and Acadia National Park and joined the two-lane highway that led north and east to Stone family property. Traffic was light on this gray November day. “Not long now,” he said.
Frannie straightened in her seat and surveyed the countryside with interest. “I can’t imagine you so far from civilization.”
“People change, Frannie.”
“Do they?” She turned sideways in her seat and eyed him so intently her gaze felt like a physical touch.
“Don’t make a big thing of this,” he muttered. “Both of my brothers have houses up here, too.”
“But it was your idea, wasn’t it? In the beginning.”
“Why would you say that?” Her probing was making him regret his invitation. He didn’t need someone digging around in his psyche.
“When we were in high school, one rainy afternoon after we had finished all our projects and we were stuck in study hall, you swore that you were going to get out from under your father’s thumb one day. That you were sick to death of other people running your life. That you wanted to live somewhere you could breathe the air and run naked through the woods if you wanted to...”
“I said that to shock you.”
“I know. You liked being outrageous and making me say, Zacchh...”
With his eyes glued to the road, he grinned. “You were so sweet and naive and so easily rattled. It was fun to make you screech my name.”
“I used to wonder why you didn’t ask for another lab partner. I always got the feeling you were irritated with me half the time.”
He pulled off onto the side of the road with a squeal of tires and a flurry of gravel. Shoving the car into Park, he turned to face her, resting his arm on the steering wheel. “It was more than irritation,” he said, remembering all that teenage angst. “And it was all the time. I was so damned frustrated. Nothing I did was quite good enough. You were at the top of every class, every ranking. I was supposed to be a genius. Everybody told me so. But there you were. Edging me out.”
Frannie chewed her bottom lip. “I’m sorry,” she said.
“Don’t be sorry, Bug. It made me work harder—harder than I wanted to, in fact. If it weren’t for you, I might have flunked out of Glenderry. You were the carrot. The prod. The itch under my skin.”
She stared at him, big eyed. “I never knew you felt that way.”
“Of course not. What teenage boy is going to admit he’s competing with a girl? And losing?”
“It sounds like you thought of me as more of an adversary than a friend.”
He sensed he had hurt her feelings. “There was a lot of gray area in my life back then. I was a horny adolescent stuck in a school where I couldn’t do what I wanted to do when I wanted to do it. I was angry with my father, and I missed my brothers. You were probably the only person who kept me sane.”
“Doesn’t sound like it,” she muttered.
He ran a thumb down her cheek, barely a touch, less than a split second. “You should never have to apologize for being brilliant, Ms. F. Wickersham. I didn’t know how to handle that when we were kids.”
She raised an eyebrow. “And now?”
“We’ll see.” He studied her face. The high brow. The pointed chin. The eyes that were an intriguing mix of deep blue and rich purple. And those cute, sexy glasses. Frowning suddenly, he reached out and slid them off her nose.
“Hey,” she said indignantly. “Give those back.”
He held them up to the light. “Frannie,” he said. “You’re a fraud.” She grabbed for the eyewear, but he kept them out of reach. “These lenses are clear glass.”
She turned red, her expression equal parts aggravated and mortified. “People expect smart women to look a certain way. It’s already an uphill battle to be taken seriously. The glasses help.”
Without another word, he slid them back onto her ears and smoothed her hair. “I apologize. It’s not my business. But for the record, you don’t need to wear them around me. I take you very seriously. I always have.”
Frannie sat back in her seat, resisting the urge to put her hands to her hot cheeks. That was the most amount of personal information Zachary Stone had shared with her. Ever. And they had known each other pretty well back then.
Apparently, he was a damned good actor. She had known he wanted the Oxford scholarship. He’d made no secret of the fact that he was bummed when she won it and not him. But all that other stuff he’d said? That was news to her.
Because she honestly didn’t know what to say, she mulled over everything and kept mum for the rest of the trip. It wasn’t too long. Another thirty minutes. They left the highway and passed through a security gate, where Zach punched in a code. Now they were on a paved road—narrow, but paved.
“You may not like it,” Zachary said out of the blue.
“Like what?”
“The house.”
“So tell me, is it a rustic cabin in the woods or a lavish hideaway?”
“Neither. And it’s not so much in the woods as it is surrounded by woods. It’s on a cliff overlooking the ocean. Not a huge cliff. You’ll have to see for yourself. It’s smaller than either of my brothers’ places. They have room for wives and kids and visitors.”
“And you don’t?”
His profile was etched with what looked like introspection. “Not really. I didn’t see the point. What woman would put up with me? Besides, I still have that pesky aversion to being told what to do. I’m a terrible relationship risk. So I don’t bother.”
“I see.” And she did see. At least in part. Zachary was a chameleon. Though he wanted people to believe he was open and carefree, she suspected the exact opposite was true. Zachary Stone was a man with deep layers.
They rounded a bend in the road, and Frannie caught her breath. “Oh, Zach. It’s beautiful.” At first glance, it seemed as if his entire house was made of glass. That was impossible, of course, but the front elevation facing the ocean was nothing but windows. Was it two levels? Three? She couldn’t tell, because the sunlight reflected blindingly.
Her companion, who had grown more taciturn by the minute, pulled into the circular driveway and cut the engine. When they opened the car doors, the scent of evergreens wafted into the interior. The air smelled like Christmas.
Actually, it felt like Christmas, too. At this altitude and with the wind off the ocean, Frannie reached immediately for her coat and slipped it on, buttoning it all the way to the neck and down to her knees. Zachary donned a coat, too, but it was more of a jacket, and he didn’t bother to zip the lightweight navy wool.
She walked over to the edge of the drop-off. Zach was right. It could definitely be described as a cliff, but it wasn’t all that high. Even so, the rocks below looked slippery and treacherous. There might be a narrow beach at low tide, but not now. She shielded her eyes.
“How do you ever leave?” she asked quietly, feeling the breeze and the warmth of the sun caress her face, each fighting for supremacy.
Zachary stood at her side, shoulder to shoulder. “I wouldn’t if it were only me,” he said quietly. “This is all a man needs.”
“Or a woman. You’re so lucky,” she said. “How did you find this place?”
“The land has been in our family for several generations. A lot of it was sold off over the years, but thank God, my relatives kept the coastline.” He noticed when she shivered hard. “We should get you out of the cold before you turn into a block of ice. Don’t worry about your bags. I’ll come back out for them.”
They ascended the steps, and Zach unlocked the front door. When she stepped inside, there was that whole breath-catching thing again. It might have been the house, or it might have been the way Zach smelled, like a man who had been outside in the cold. Either way, she found herself dizzy.
Zach stood off to one side as she walked around the living room. He had created an amazing oasis that was both strikingly modern and yet completely at home in the midst of a forest. The furniture had sleek lines and crimson upholstery. The rug looked like a masterpiece from some modern art museum.
And then there was the fireplace. Though it was empty at the moment, of course, Frannie had no trouble at all imagining Zach lounging in front of the flames. Who was with him in that scenario? He claimed he didn’t bring women here. Translation—his disposable, flavor-of-the-week bimbos.
Why would a man as brilliant as Zachary Stone bother with women who had no depth? The answer was fairly obvious, but it made her uncomfortable. Sex. Meaningless sex. He didn’t care about their IQs. What did it take to please a man like Zach in bed?
Behind her, the male in question cleared his throat. “Well,” he said. “What do you think? Do you like it, or is the ambience too much?”
She whirled to face him. “Not too much at all. It’s magnificent, Zach. Truly. I’m so impressed. Will you show me the rest?”
His broad grin said her words of praise pleased him. Surely, he knew his home was a stunning masterpiece. Didn’t he?
“Whatever the lady wants.”
He led her out of the main living area into the kitchen, which wasn’t huge, but was a cook’s dream. High-end appliances. Italian tile backsplashes. A refrigerator big enough to feed a football team. And best of all, the kitchen was open on one side...open to the dining room that overlooked the forest. From the dining room, a guest could wander back to the living room, making a comfortable circuit. Good traffic flow.
“It’s perfect,” she said, already imagining lazy mornings of French toast and coffee and scrambled eggs. “Do you cook?” she asked impulsively.
He made a face. “I can cook, but I don’t advertise that particular talent.”
She cocked her head and studied his odd expression. “Why not?”
Zachary moved restlessly, opening the fridge and offering her a cola. When she declined, he popped the tab on one for himself. “It’s too much of a cliché, don’t you think? Wealthy bachelor prepares fine cuisine for his lady friend? I don’t like them to get too settled.”
“But you said you don’t bring dates here.”
“It’s the same principle in Portland. My condo there has a great kitchen, too. I cook for myself. That’s all.”
“And your brothers? Your family?”
“My brothers would razz me unmercifully if they knew I could prepare coq au vin or chocolate soufflé. So I keep that to myself. Farrell’s fiancée, Ivy, is a great amateur chef. I’ve helped her out in the kitchen a time or two.”
“Where did you learn to cook?”
“I taught myself. I like to eat. And I get tired of restaurants.”
“But you don’t share your expertise with anyone?”
“I’ve made homemade pizza a few times for my brothers. Or grilled a steak. That’s as far as it goes.”
She was quiet for a moment, trying to understand. Yet again, Zachary was hiding his light under a bushel. He was brilliant. Multitalented. Yet the face he showed to the world was that of a shallow thrill seeker with little discrimination when it came to the opposite sex. It didn’t make sense.
Then again, she couldn’t really say she knew the adult Zachary Stone.
With every second that passed, though, she wanted more and more to understand what made him tick. What motivated him. As a teenager she had been intimidated by his good looks and popularity. The only arena where she’d felt comfortable around him had been academia. She’d held her own there.
Now, as an adult, her self-concept was healthier. More grounded. The fact that Zachary was a beautiful, rough-hewn, sexy man didn’t bother her. Much. When she dipped her toes in the pool of sexual attraction, she liked to stay in the shallow end. She had no illusions about her ability to deal with the likes of her onetime school chum.
She no longer thought of herself as a bookish wallflower. But that didn’t mean she was going to be stupid. For the next month, give or take, she would be working for Zachary Stone and his brothers to ferret out possible espionage at Stone River Outdoors. It was possible she and Zach might spend a fair amount of time together.
Frannie was absolutely not going to resurrect her teenage crush. Period. If her heart beat a little faster and her mouth went dry and her knees got all wobbly around him, she would manage to deal with those alarming reactions. Somehow.
A woman as smart as she knew better than to swim with the sharks. She liked Zach. A lot. He was one of the few people who could discuss almost any subject under the sun with her and be both witty and insightful on an astounding level.
Still, a meeting of the minds was a long way from a casual fling or romance or hooking up—whatever people liked to call it nowadays. She would keep her hormones where they belonged. Besides, there was absolutely no possibility that Zach looked at her sexually.
She was the irritating classmate who had made him feel less than.
“Do you think you could teach me?” she asked impulsively.
His eyes widened. “Excuse me?”
“To cook. I’m hopeless in the kitchen, but I’ve always wanted to learn. I know you’re busy, but I’ll be in Portland for several weeks.”
His lips twitched. “I’m surprised, Frannie. I can’t imagine you being not perfect at anything.”
She shrugged. “I think I’ve always been scared of trying to cook, because everyone talks about culinary disasters. It would demoralize me to fail badly, so after a few mortifying attempts right out of college, I quit trying.” She eyed him cajolingly. “So, will you? Teach me how to cook while I’m in Maine?”
Zachary shook his head slowly. “I think I’m being set up. But let’s put it this way. I’ll think about it.”
“That’s good enough for now,” she said. “Can I see the rest of the house?”
“Sure.”
He led her upstairs. A library and gallery ran the length of the house at the back. “Wow,” she said, feeling envy curl in her chest. It must be wonderful to have this to come home to when responsibilities allowed. Comfy overstuffed armchairs invited visitors to kick back and relax. Frannie itched to examine the paintings and books and sculptures, but Zachary kept the tour moving.
“Here’s where you’ll sleep,” he said, his voice matter-of-fact.
The single guest room was actually a luxurious suite with a living area separated from the bedroom and private bath. She went to the window and looked out at the ocean. The water was gray and foreboding today...with wind-tossed whitecaps. Even in this mood, it was starkly beautiful.
“Too bad I’m only here for one night,” she said. “Maybe I could stay and access your computers remotely.” She said it jokingly.
Zachary took it as such. “I feel the same way,” he said. “Sometimes the family business is a millstone around our necks.”
“You haven’t thought about selling out?”
“It’s crossed our minds a time or two. But we can’t escape that whole family heritage thing. Farrell and Quin and I aren’t keen to put an end to generations of Stone family history. Plus, anytime you sell a business like ours, you run the risk of having the new owners clean house. Some of our employees have been with us since we three were babies.”
“You feel responsible for them.”
“Exactly. When you hold another person’s livelihood in your hands, the decisions you make affect more than yourself. What if they all lost their jobs?”
“That’s a lot of pressure. At least you have siblings to help bear the load. Have you ever considered bringing in a few high-level employees who could take over and allow you and your brothers to step back?” She winced. “Wow. I didn’t mean to sound like I have all the answers. I work for myself. I can’t even imagine juggling the pressures of a company as big as Stone River Outdoors.”
“No worries,” he said lightly. “You’re only voicing questions we’ve asked ourselves time and again. Maybe if we can rule out the espionage thing, we’ll reconsider. It hasn’t been all that long since Dad died and Quin was injured. We’ve been in survival mode. When things settle down, I imagine we’ll take a look at the big picture and plan for the future.”
“Makes sense.” She wanted to ask where he saw himself in five years. But she didn’t. It was too personal a question at this stage in their relationship. They had been close once. In a way. But the years that had passed since their last meeting created a chasm too great to cross in one day.
Zachary leaned against the door frame, watching her as she examined her surroundings. “Would you like to see my bedroom?” he asked.