The Millionaire’s Ultimate Catch Page 5

  “Reba is a natural talent,” Zack added. “I told her that she needs to capitalize on this. She can be the next Rachel Ray or that other one that shouts at you.”

  “Zack, I told you that I’m not interested.” Reba entered the dining room equipped with another dish between her hands. She rested the beautifully crafted bowl on the table. “I cooked up a batch of your favorite gravy for the mashed potatoes.”

  “Once again, she spoils him,” Frannie said with a smile.

  “Whatever it takes to get him to visit,” his father, Paul, said. Silence fell immediately; the simple statement weighed heavily in the room. Maybe the way Zack’s face tightened spoke more to the tension.

  “I have no complaints.” His wife stared at him, her wish plain on her face that her husband cease and desist.

  Paul Keathley owned the title of patriarch of his family. He sat at the head and presided over the table in an easy manner. Naomi rarely saw him in the house. He seemed to be constantly working or leaving early before she awoke or returning after she’d settled in for the night.

  In the short time she’d known Zack, he seemed to have taken that trait to heart. She continued with her observation of the two men, hoping that neither would pick up on her interest. Zack matched his father’s height and bearing with that discerning ability to ooze confidence. But the physical resemblance ended there.

  Zack’s father bore his receding hairline without any attempt to cover the thinning spots with a comb-over or a toupee. His deeply lined face with its strong chin added to his stately handsomeness, along with a rich laugh and booming voice that caught and held her attention. Paul Keathley had a visible partnership with success on all fronts except with his son.

  Naomi tried to think of something to say to alleviate the tension. “Um, I really do appreciate you inviting my grandmother and me to your home.” Even though she wasn’t a part of the family and didn’t know the full dynamics, she found it difficult to take the quiet role. Besides, the family was growing on her with their effusive welcome and generosity.

  “Think nothing of it.” Frannie waved her hand. “I want to have a party.”

  “Party?” Zack’s fork clattered against the plate. “Why?”

  “What do you mean why? I want Naomi to know how much we appreciate her. I want our friends to know what she did.”

  “Oh, my, I really don’t need this much attention,” Naomi excused herself.

  “Don’t worry, Zack. Vernetta won’t be invited.” Chantelle’s eyes sparkled with mischief.

  “Vernetta? I don’t care about Vernetta. Never did,” Zack protested.

  “Vernetta is a woman he lusted after through college,” Chantelle explained to Naomi. “She eventually married a doctor, but now they’re divorced. She’s available again.”

  “Never liked that girl.” Frannie wrinkled her nose. “She wore her morals like a—”

  “Would both of you quit?” Zack tried to smile at her, but the contortion of his mouth looked as if he was in pain.

  Now Naomi wanted to know more about Vernetta. What type of woman attracted Zack and didn’t meet his mom’s approval? She didn’t want to be cast in that category.

  Not that she would ever be Zack’s woman.

  “Naomi used to have some crazy men come after her too, especially being a professional athlete.” Her grandmother piped up.

  “Really?” Zack propped his elbows on the table.

  Her grandmother beamed under everyone’s attention. “One even found where I lived and left tons of flowers on the porch every night.”

  “For Naomi?” Chantelle had also joined in.

  “No. For me. He figured that if he won me over that I would convince Naomi to give him a chance.”

  “And…” Zack never took his eyes off Naomi.

  “Although I was flattered, my living room was looking like a funeral parlor.”

  “How did you get rid of him?”

  “I told him that she was far gone in a relationship. And that I was heading off to meet her boyfriend’s family in Washington.”

  Naomi’s head snapped to look at her grandmother, who grinned with the innocence of a small child.

  “Ha.” Chantelle clapped her hands. “How convenient.”

  “Lucy, I like how you think.” Zack’s mother winked at her grandmother. A small smirk worked at the corner of her mouth.

  Actually, Naomi didn’t quite see the comedy in the situation.

  “Well, I don’t know much about Naomi, but I like that white lie. Zack, now this is the type of woman who can sit at our dinner table.” His father polished off the rest of his chicken.

  “Grandma Lucy, you’ve got to stay for the party.” Chantelle leaned over and hugged the older woman.

  “Oh, I wish, sweetheart, but I’ve got my husband who depends on me.” She explained his medical needs with dialysis and diabetes. “I trust that Naomi will relax and heal under your care.”

  “Definitely. She can stay as long as she wants.”

  “Oh, no, I couldn’t. I’ll be heading home.”

  “Home? In Chicago, where there is no one to take care of you?”

  “I’m functioning just fine. See? I’m sitting up eating, moving around.” She raised her hands to show off her mobility. The sharp pain in her side almost made her whimper, but she bit her lip and shoved the hurt aside.

  “Maybe you should tell that to your body,” Zack replied. “You’re breaking out in a sweat.”

  “At least one more week, please?” Frannie asked.

  “I can’t possibly sit still for another week.”

  “Zack, would you be Naomi’s companion while she’s here?” Frannie asked.

  “Would be one way to get him to visit more often,” his father added.

  “Fine,” Zack said shortly.

  “Oh, no, you’re not going to sound as if I asked you to move a mountain. Where are your manners?” His mother glared at him.

  “I didn’t mean it that way.” Zack set down his napkin.

  He rested his folded arms on the table and leaned forward. His dark eyes practically drowned her in their mysterious gaze. Up close she admired the smoothness of his face and the strong lines that defined his features. But as always, his mouth drew her. Its wide strength covered immaculate, white, perfect teeth. She’d barely felt the fullness of his lips. As he was poised to speak, she couldn’t help but focus her gaze on his mouth.

  “I would be honored to serve as Naomi’s companion during her stay. Will you stay?”

  His question had been asked in a softer tone, almost in a husky whisper as if they were the only two in the room. Naomi nodded.

  “Fantastic. Now I can stop worrying about my granddaughter.” Grandma Lucy pushed aside her plate. “I can’t wait to see what’s for dessert.”

  Chapter Four

  Later, after dinner, Naomi opted to relax in the living room rather than retire to her room. She didn’t want to act like a patient. Her grandmother and Zack’s mom had settled in the family room to yell at the TV as the evening’s reality shows played.

  Chantelle had left for the evening with a bunch of noisy friends. Her recent episode didn’t affect her youthful exuberance. But it didn’t stop the mounds of advice and warnings from every member of her circle—including Naomi. Naomi followed her instinct to give Chantelle her private cell number. She might not know Seattle, but she’d find her if another emergency arose. Zack had followed his father out of the dining room. Naomi could only assume that an intense conversation was about to take place between the two men.

  A soft sound near her broke her out of her musings. She opened her eyes and turned to see Zack easing himself into the love seat next to her.

  “Sorry. I tried to let you sleep.”

  “I wasn’t sleeping. Letting my mind get quiet.”

  “Do you meditate?”

  “Not formally. I do like sitting in a quiet room and allowing my thoughts to flow uninhibited. It frees me. It’s kinda hard to explain. And
you?”

  “I’ve studied various meditating techniques. Helps with my migraines.” His phone buzzed at his hip. “Excuse me.” He looked at the number displayed, but didn’t answer the call. A scowl settled over his face.

  “Work?”

  “Yeah. It’s nothing,” he said dismissively.

  She’d beg to differ but didn’t think he wanted her assessment, no matter how accurate.

  Zack returned the cell phone to his hip. Then he looked up at her. “You know, you don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”

  His flat, matter-of-fact sentiment caught her by surprise. She sat up despite her body’s protest. Where did this change come from? Unless she’d managed to let her silly imagination run earlier when he’d asked her to stay. Now he’d turned into a cool, crafty persona.

  “Do you want me to stay?” Why did his opinion matter? But she couldn’t stop herself from asking.

  “I don’t live here.”

  “What does that mean? If you lived here, you’d have something to say about me staying here?”

  “Yes.”

  She gave a short laugh. “Oh, man, you are pretty accurate with your razor-sharp honesty.”

  Zack shrugged.

  “If you lived here, what would you say?” Naomi pushed. Her irritation was building to anger.

  “I’d say that you had to leave.”

  Naomi pushed up out of the chair. Pain be damned. “Why?”

  He shrugged.

  Naomi walked over to where he sat on the love seat. She leaned over, her anger escalating like a pot on the boil. His bland gaze didn’t help her disposition.

  “Have you changed your mind?” he asked.

  “Changed my mind about what?”

  “About staying.” Then he grinned.

  Naomi pulled up. Guess she had changed her mind. But there was a smug tug at his lips that caused her to frown. What was he playing at?

  “I suspected that if I said that you had to do one thing, you’d pick the opposite. I don’t know if it’s a natural trait to be stubborn or you’ve saved that up for me. So when I suggested that you stay, you said no. When I said you should go, then you said you’re staying.”

  “You…you think too much of yourself.” He did manage to irritate her quite a bit.

  “No, I recognize a kindred spirit when I see one.”

  “You must not have a lot of friends.”

  “Actually, I’m very selective with those around me,” Zack explained. “You, for instance, I like you around me, and my family. I think you would be a good influence on Chantelle.”

  “You barely know me.”

  “Something that could be rectified if you chose to relax and spend a few days here. If you invited me to benefit from your hospitality, I wouldn’t object.”

  She didn’t doubt that he wouldn’t object. His relaxed pose against the love seat with one arm casually resting on the back of the seat invited her.

  She could see herself sitting next to him, curled against his body, inhaling his expensive cologne while admiring his strong jawline as he uttered his sarcastic views on life. Really, she was the one who wouldn’t object. The man had sex appeal for days. She had the appetite to appreciate its effect.

  If she attached a calorie count to the overall visual stimulation, she’d have to check herself into a weight-management program. Despite his height and muscular frame, he moved with a casual elegance. Everything about him pulled her, drawing her interest with a tantalizing invitation—the velvet chocolate skin tone was a backdrop to piercing eyes hooded with thick eyebrows that subtly twitched with his varied expressions. The long line of his nose descended into a peak that begged for her finger to trace its strong outline. His square jawline helped frame the distinctive face, angled by the high sculpted cheekbones. Again and again, his mouth had its own power and strength to draw her attention. She took a deep breath with the constant mental refrain to be cool.

  Without warning, he stood and held her arms. The playful expression vanished and he looked into her eyes. She struggled to rid her mind of the feel of his touch. Maybe she should stop looking into the dark eyes and allowing her thoughts to run a little too wild.

  Her gaze brushed over his nose down to his full, wide mouth. All she wanted to do was kiss those lips. She wanted to touch them with her lips, her tongue.

  His arms slid from her arms to around her body, ever so gently. He lowered his mouth to hers and after a moment’s hesitation launched an all-out capture of her mouth. To have her imagination turn into a reality suited her fine. His kiss softly awakened her mouth with a buzz to the senses that didn’t require an introduction. She kept her arms tucked in at her side, not wanting any pain to distract from the moment. While he softly attended to her mouth, she enjoyed the slight twitch of his muscles on her kneading touch. Her enjoyment was like a heady aftereffect from a good wine. She couldn’t stop even if she wanted.

  “You’re beautiful,” he remarked. He had to say something to give his body time to stand down.

  “I know. So keep kissing me.”

  Her response drew his laugh. But he didn’t wait to see if she was serious. If she thought he wouldn’t follow through on her directive, then she didn’t really understand him. She didn’t realize that he wanted more than a stolen kiss or a brief unexpected acquaintance.

  He kissed her with renewed passion, allowing his mouth to tell his story without words.

  If he planned this correctly, the first thing he couldn’t do was get caught getting fresh with his mother’s guest. He drew away from the warmth of her lips. And because he couldn’t help himself, added a final peck. “You’ve got to stop throwing yourself at me like that or I may get banished from the family kingdom.”

  “You are a devil with a lowercase d.” She pushed away from him and he released her.

  “I’ll take that as a term of endearment.” To eliminate his fixation on the empty feeling where she recently stood, he folded his arms. “I think we should reunite with the others, don’t you?”

  She straightened her hair and pulled at her shirt. Her eyes accused him but didn’t hold any animosity. He sensed a rebuke forming, but he didn’t allow her the opportunity to say anything. He walked ahead of her and then paused in the doorway for her to follow. As she walked past him, he lightly brushed her hair, which was tousled on the side. Then he dropped his hand balled into a fist.

  His cell phone rang. The spell broke, especially when he saw who called. He mouthed “sorry” and headed off to a quiet area to have the not-so-nice discussion with his business partner.

  In the meantime, she had to tell her grandma that she’d changed her mind. She’d be staying for another week. Somehow, she didn’t think that her grandmother would object.

  Zack headed back to his office, his face set in a grim mask of anger. His assistant met him at the door. She shook her head slightly. He picked up on the warning and didn’t ask what was on her mind. Instead, he stepped into the waiting area and looked around expecting to see the businessman who gave him heartburn.

  “Jamison is in the conference room,” Rachel, his assistant, said.

  He nodded and headed down the hallway. He opened the door and spied his business partner with another man. What was this all about?

  “Hi, Zack. Let me introduce you to one of my colleagues, Seth Lassiter.”

  “Mr. Lassiter.” Zack shook the proffered hand, trying to size up this new face. The squinty cast of his eyes, pinched features and weak chin didn’t give him confidence. He decided to wait and let Jamison do the talking.

  “Look,” Jamison began. “I know you think that things aren’t going as fast as you expected. I, on the other hand, think that we are right on track. The city council is willing to stand down from making a decision about the types of stores that will fill the mall.”

  Zack held his response. Instead he looked pointedly at Lassiter.

  “Oh, Lassiter will come in on the deal, my end of course. Can’t hurt to have more cap
ital.”

  “This is something that we should have discussed privately—no offense.” He observed that the man barely blinked and stared back at him with the coldness of a robot.

  “Mr. Keathley, I am a man of many connections. I know what this small town needs. Bring in the right businesses and you bring the high-end professionals.”

  “But this was supposed to be for the middle income, our targeted demographic.”

  “The middle draws the lower end. The upper income will draw the middle.” He stroked his goatee, his actions full of slimy deliberation. “Look around at the megaplexes that have popped up over the state. They are overpopulated with a nagging criminal element that makes the lawyers and doctors run.”

  “I don’t need another partner.” Zack didn’t bother to look at Lassiter.

  “I beg to differ.” Jamison opened his briefcase and pulled out a thick sheaf of papers. He slid the packet over to Zack. “Read it and get back to me. Twenty-four hours, okay?”

  “What is this?” Zack skimmed the document, noting the legalese in various fonts. What was Jamison up to? From the first glance, the document looked like the paperwork they had signed between them. Now that this man sat in the room and Jamison insisted that they needed him, Zack had a sick feeling that he’d learn exactly what was happening when he poured through the document.

  “We’ll talk later.” Jamison stood and adjusted his tie. He waited for Lassiter to stand next to him before addressing Zack. “I haven’t tried to pull anything over on you. I’ve always said that we needed an additional partner to win over the council and to get the protesters to realize that they can’t stop progress. The longer it takes for us to break ground, the more money I’m losing. That’s not the business model that I’m interested in pursuing.”

  Zack didn’t respond. He had nothing to say. Every word that Jamison uttered angered him, much less his so-called partner Lassiter. They sounded like sharks roving through unsuspecting victims. Many of the council members might buy into the skewed point of view and take a protectionist stance against the wrong kind of people moving in.