She had no clue what to say. “I'm sorry,” she squeaked out. “I really didn't mean to do that."
"The first time I figured you just got scared and realized you shouldn't be taking a strange guy home. The second time, though, you pissed me off.” His voice was harsh, his square jaw tight, and his lips pressed tightly together.
"I'm sorry,” she said again, with genuine regret. “There were reasons, but I can't talk about them right now. Could you please let go of my arm?"
He stared at her. “Okay,” he said finally, releasing her. “Just tell me this: Were you or were you not attracted to me? ‘Cause I thought we had something going on. Was I wrong?"
Now she was silent for a long moment. Then she blurted out, “are you married?"
His brows snapped together over his nose. “Huh? Of course not. Would I have hit on you if I was married?"
She definitely didn't want to answer that question. Okay, he wasn't married. He was good-looking, successful—and so angry he unnerved her. She hadn't been able to stop thinking about him since she'd met him, despite believing he was someone's cheating husband.
"Are you married?” he asked suddenly.
"No!” She drew in a long, deep breath. Then, “no, you weren't wrong,” she said slowly. “I was attracted to you.” Even as the words came out, she had a feeling she shouldn't be doing this—but it was too late.
His face softened, and she felt a similar response deep inside her. “Okay, so I'm not nuts,” he said. “So now what do we do?"
"I don't know,” she whispered. “It's complicated."
He tipped his head to one side.
"You're a client,” she explained. And it was true. It just wasn't the whole truth.
"I thought you were just being consulted on this case."
"Yes."
"Okay, so it would be fine if we went out."
She gazed at him, her mind whirling.
"I know your last name now,” he pointed out.
"What are you going to do, stalk me?"
He grinned, and she melted at that. “No. Hell no. Look, do we have to have this conversation here on the sidewalk? All I want is to take you out for dinner or something. I know that first night maybe we moved a bit fast. All I really wanted was your phone number so I could call and ask you out.” He paused. “Well, I did want more than that,” he admitted, his eyes moving over her, and her tummy fluttered again. “But a phone number would have done. So? Will you have dinner with me?"
Oh boy, did she ever want to say yes. But this was such a bad idea, on so many levels.
"Ashlyn?” He looked at her with those hot, dark eyes, and she felt herself soften even more.
"Okay,” she whispered.
He grinned and took her hand. “Okay, let's go."
"Now?” She was stunned. “But ... I thought you meant ... sometime."
"Sometime when you can manage to run away from me again?"
"No. That's not what I meant."
"I'd like to go home and change,” he said. “I hate wearing suits.” He tugged at his collar. “How about you?"
"Um ... okay. Wh ... where are we going for dinner?"
"How about Doc McCue's again,” he suggested softly, watching her. “They have great pizza, great beer, and you can try again to beat me at pool."
That sounded so good. Apart from the beer.
"Okay,” she agreed. “Um ... I'll meet you there?"
"No way,” he said, shaking his head. “I'm not letting you out of my sight."
"But..."
"We'll go to my place first, so I can change. Where do you live—for real this time?"
"Bougainvillea Street. Just off Harbor Drive."
He nodded. “Your place first, then. Mine is closer to Doc McCue's."
"What about my car?"
"Hmmm.” He thought about that.
"You can follow me home,” she offered, still not sure why she was doing this. “I promise I won't disappear."
He turned to her and looked straight down into her eyes.
"Really?"
She tried to hold his gaze. Then she closed her eyes and sighed. “I know you're still wondering why I acted like that, but...” She opened her eyes and met his. “I won't run tonight."
For a long, heated moment, their gazes met. And held. Then he nodded. “Connor always tells me I'm too trusting. Okay."
He walked her to her car, parked on the street near his. All the way home, she argued with herself over the wisdom of doing this.
How could she have made such a stupid mistake? She smacked one hand on her steering wheel, shaking her head as she waited at a red light. When he'd given her the fake name, she hadn't thought anything of it. Yet she knew Connor's bother was his partner in the brewery from the info Jessica had given her, she just hadn't known Zach's name. And she'd never imagined they could look so much alike. And—she had to be honest with herself here—she'd been seriously distracted by the heated attraction she'd felt for him from the moment they'd started talking. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Anger at her own negligence simmered inside her as she drove home.
Zach was careful to keep her in sight as they drove, but it was easy. She wasn't trying to escape him. She pulled up in front of a little cottage a couple of streets off the beach. It wasn't anything fancy, with peeling paint and a cracked sidewalk, but cheery pink bougainvillea grew up the side of the small porch.
She waited for him at the door. “I have two roommates,” she told him. “I don't know if they're home."
They could hear the shower running in the bathroom and she smiled. “Yup, someone's home,” she said cheerfully. “I'll just be a minute. Have a seat...” She waved at a couch that faced a small brick fireplace and disappeared down the hall.
He looked around. The house was likely a rental property, which was why it hadn't been well-maintained, but it was spotless and kind of cute. Hardwood floors gleamed and the furnishings, while old and shabby, were comfortable and attractive.
Only a few minutes later—literally—Ashlyn returned dressed in jeans, flip-flops and a snug tank top. She carried a soft leather purse that looked like a small backpack and a sweater.
"That was quick,” he said, surprised. She shrugged.
"I don't fuss a lot.” She pressed her lips together.
"You look great. Except...” He reached out and tugged the elastic that held her hair back.
She put a hand to her head, combed her fingers through her hair. The silky stands fell into place around her face, and she looked at him warily.
"I like it down,” he said. “Ready?"
They climbed into his SUV. “Nice vehicle,” she said.
"Thanks.” He took the freeway to his place, although it wasn't that far, and he pulled into the front driveway of his home moments later.
"You live right on the beach.” She looked around. “Lucky."
"Yeah. I just bought this place a few months ago. I'm still having work done."
He unlocked the door and the alarm started beeping. As he punched in a code, Ashlyn heard scrabbling on the wood floor, and a huge golden dog charged at them. She gasped.
"Rocky!” Zach said, as the dog put his front paws on Zach's chest and tried to devour his face. He laughingly dodged the big pink tongue while rubbing the dog's back. “Rocky, buddy, I'm home. Now, down.” Obediently the dog returned to all fours and sat, long tail sweeping the floor behind him and his tongue hanging out of a smiling, panting mouth.
"I have to get him a treat.” Zach reached into a glass container on the table near the door. He tossed the biscuit into the air and Rocky caught it neatly then stood to crunch it, dropping crumbs all over the floor. Ashlyn watched with amusement.
"Do you like dogs?” Zach asked, looking at her hopefully.