It was obvious he debated whether to insist or not. “Call if you need anything. Pizza or tampons.”
Shaking her head, she bid the crazy man good night and dragged herself to her door. As she passed by her neighbor’s door, it cracked open.
“Is that you, Zoe?” Her patience was paper thin, but she forced herself to smile at the anxious Marcus peeking at her. Mrs. Lupe’s roommate and occasional caretaker was acting like a frightened watchdog.
“Yes, Marcus. Is everything alright?”
“Oh, yes. I was about to go out and I saw the car. I couldn’t see who got out, that’s all. I just wanted to make sure.”
She offered him a reassuring smile. “That’s very kind of you. Is Mrs. Lupe still up?”
“Oh yes. All comfy in her chair, watching her favorite TV show. You need to see her?”
An idea popped into her mind. “Not really. I need a drink and I was wondering if I could buy a bottle from her. Whatever she has is fine. Hard liquor preferably.”
Marcus blinked. “You okay, honey? Hard liquor means a broken heart, you know.”
“Only a hard day at work. Don’t worry about my heart.” It’s already lost, Zoe told herself.
His bald black head disappeared for a second and came back with a bottle in his hand. “Mrs. Lupe told me to give you this one. Whatever the ailment, it will cure it. Her words, not mine.”
Zoe frowned, taking the bottle in her hand. It was an unopened bottle of rum, and an exceptional one. “Whoa! It’s too much. I’m sure she has a bottle already open.”
She tried to give it back, but Marcus pouted. “No, dove. It’s what she told me to give you. Nothing else.”
Resigned, Zoe reached for her wallet. Once again, Marcus shook his head. “And she said that if you tried to give me money, to shut the door in your face. One piece of advice from a man who needs hard liquor more than he should on a regular basis, be careful and don’t drink too much. Broken and painful just means that it’s still beating. And that life is giving you another shot.”
Zoe was tempted to set him straight when she realized that broken possibilities were like a broken heart too. She would drink to that.
“Thanks, Marcus. Say thank you to Mrs. Lupe for me.” And Zoe made a mental note to find something for the old lady as a thank you gift.
The man patted her hand before closing the door. With a boost of energy, she climbed her steps and unlocked her door.
Silence welcome her. Soothing. Her mind wanted to summon images of Archer and her, but she fought against them. Putting her bag on the floor and the bottle on the coffee table, she made a beeline for the bathroom. Zoe stripped and took a quick, scalding shower, scrubbing her body and face as if to remove the grime and ugly of what she had done. With her skin flushed, she quickly dried herself and wrapped her body in a long green silk robe before lying on the sofa. On the coffee table was the bottle of rum glaring at her and she placed her phone beside it. Sighing, she closed her eyes and instantly, images of Archer swirled in her mind. He was cold, irritating, controlling, but also caring, sweet, passionate. A very dangerous mix, in her opinion. The more she dug, the more she liked him. However, after what she had done today, if he ever learned about it, it would crush everything that may be between them. More proof was how he’d jumped at the chance when she told him about only wanting a fling. She wasn’t that important to Archer Blackwood. He may have told her that she’d woken something inside him, but those were just empty words, weren’t they? Words to seduce, bring her where he wanted.
The more her mind turned the question, the more Zoe circled until she zeroed on the evidence that Archer was much more than curiosity. He was more than attraction or a simple puzzle to decipher. She cared about him. And that was the crux of her problem. When Finch had called and exposed Lucas, he had shut down any possibility for her to even hope for something meaningful between her and Archer. Even if he never learned about her treachery, not only hadn’t she been straightforward about why she’d applied for the job, but she’d also gone behind his back. He was not the kind of man to forgive that sort of thing. Ever. Swift regret gnawed at her heart as her mind imagined what could have been. It would be hell forgetting his touch, the taste of his lips, his body against hers. And his deep voice with that British accent that made her wet every time.
“Zoe, darling.”
Damn, her imagination was on fire tonight. It was as if she could hear his voice right now. Fingers skimmed her cheeks and as it was her fantasy, she allowed herself to purr like a cat and seek the touch. Her imaginary Archer let out a low laugh, and as expected, she could almost hear the smugness in it. The man let loose was full of himself.
The fingers, teasing, made their way to her collarbone, making patterns, sliding a little under the silk. Zoe pushed her chest up a little and she felt lips on her neck. Warm breath. Instinctively, she reached out. It was when her fingers touched actual hair that she lurched back, opened her eyes, and screamed.
