A Facade to Shatter (10 page)

He stopped talking abruptly, turned his head to look out the window. His jaw was hard, tight. But he swallowed once, heavily, and her heart went out to him.

“What things?” she whispered, her throat aching. When he turned back to her, his eyes were hot, burning with an emotion that stunned her. Self-loathing? It didn’t seem possible, and yet …

He opened his mouth. And then closed it again. Finally, he spoke. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “No.”

Jesus, he was losing his mind. She’d been here for two days and he wanted to tell her everything. He wanted to take her to his bed, strip her naked and worship every last inch of her body. Which she would not allow him to do if he told her his darkest fears. His deepest secrets.

If she knew how flawed he was, she’d run far and fast in the opposite direction. She’d take that baby in her womb and get the hell away from him. Hell, she’d probably get a restraining order against him.

Her eyes were wide and blue as she sat on that bar stool and looked up at him. Innocent.

God, Lia was so very innocent. She would never understand what he’d been through, or what he’d almost done out there in that trench. Hell, he didn’t understand it himself. He lived with the guilt every minute of his life and he still didn’t understand it.

She was at a loss for words. He could see that. She dropped her gaze again, and he stepped away from her, breathed in air that wasn’t scented with her intoxicating lavender and vanilla and lemon scent.

His body was hard. Aching. He hadn’t needed a woman this much in … well, he couldn’t remember. The last time had been with her. He wanted her again.

Now wouldn’t be soon enough. But she was sweet
and delicate and pregnant. She did not need him making sexual demands of her just yet.

Zach rubbed a hand over his head. He couldn’t think straight. His entire plan had been to protect his family from scandal—but really, was that the reason? His father had been in office for over two decades now. Would the news his son had knocked up a girl really shock anyone enough that they might not vote for him if he ran for president?

But what if Zach knocked her up and abandoned her to raise the child alone? Yeah, that might raise some heads. But so what?

It was his life, not his father’s. Besides, his father had people who spun these things for him. Any scandal of Zach’s, unless it involved criminal activities, wasn’t likely to touch his father’s career—or the funding for the veterans’ causes that Zach worked so hard to obtain.

His plan, such as it was, had little to do with protecting anyone, if he were truthful.

And everything to do with the odd pull Lia Corretti had on him.

He wanted her, even if his brain had had trouble figuring that out at first. He’d nearly sent her away. He could hardly credit it at this moment.

“I’m sorry,” she finally said. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

His gaze slewed her way. She was toying with the remains of her omelet. He had a sudden, overwhelming urge to tell her what she wanted to know.

But he couldn’t. How could he say the words? He’d never said them to anyone. And if he did, what would she think of him? Would she look at him with terror or pity in her expression?

He couldn’t bear either.

“It’s not you,” he said, because he didn’t want to see that hurt expression on her face. She had so much to be hurt about, he realized, now that he knew about her father and what he’d done to her.

Rotten bastard. If the man was still alive, Zach would love to get his hands on him.

He blew out a harsh breath. “It’s just … I don’t talk about what happened out there. Not to anyone.”

“It’s okay. I understand.”

She wasn’t looking at him. He walked over and tilted her chin up with a finger. Her eyes were liquid blue, so deep he could drown in them.

“Do you?” he asked.

“Yes.” Her voice was firm. “I know what it’s like to have things that hurt you. Things you can’t talk about.”

The idea anyone had ever hurt her made him want to howl.

She reached up and wrapped her hand around his wrist. It was a soft touch, gentle—and he felt the ricochet
effect all the way down to his toes. If he kissed her now, here, would she kiss him back?

“But if you ever want to talk about it,” she was saying, “I’m here.”

Here. His. He lowered his mouth, brushed his lips gently across hers. Her intake of breath made a current of hot possession slide into his veins. He wanted to hold her closer, kiss her harder.

Instead, he lifted his head and walked away.

L
IA CAREFULLY BRUSHED
her hair and donned the dress she’d chosen for this afternoon’s cocktail party. Her reflection in the mirror looked the same as always, but she felt as if she’d been changed somehow. Her lips tingled at the thought of Zach, at that light brush of a kiss that had not really been a kiss.

She’d wanted more. She’d wanted to reach up and pull him to her and not let him go until he’d thoroughly kissed her.

And then some.

But he’d walked away without a word. He’d had no trouble doing so. He’d left her sitting there with a half-eaten omelet and a fire inside her that wouldn’t go away.

She was mortified. And angry. He might not want her, but he had no right making her want him. If he tried that again, she was going to sock him.

Because her heart couldn’t take it. He smiled and laughed and fixed her an omelet, and she wanted to sigh and melt and bask in his presence.

Pitiful, Lia.
Just like Carmela had accused her of being. She’d spent so many years wanting to belong to a family that shunned her, and now she was up to her same old tricks with Zach. When would she ever learn? She had her baby now, and that would have to be enough. This thing with Zach was temporary.

He’d told her as much in her hotel room, hadn’t he?

Except, dear heaven, when she thought of him this morning, telling her why he’d joined the military and why he continued to book public appearances even though they were difficult for him—well, she wanted to know him. Really know him.

She didn’t want this to be temporary when he said things like that. She wanted this to be real. She wanted a chance. They’d gone about it backward, no doubt, but there was something about Zach that hadn’t let her have a moment’s peace since the instant she’d seen him in that ballroom in Palermo.

She wanted him in her life, and she wanted him to want her.

Lia picked up her perfume and dabbed a very little behind her ears and in the hollow over her collarbone. Then she grabbed her phone to check her email one last time before slipping it into her bag.

There was another email from Rosa. She opened it and read carefully, her heart rising a bit with every line. She had, after careful deliberation, answered Rosa’s initial email. Now she had a reply. One that was friendly and open and even a little curious.

Lia sighed. Just when she’d given up on ever having a relationship with any Corretti other than her grandmother, this happened. She was pleased, but she was also baffled. It was as if so long as she wanted a connection, it would always elude her. The moment she stopped caring, or stopped wanting what she wasn’t going to get, it happened.

If she could force herself not to care about Zach, would he suddenly be interested?

Lia frowned. If only it worked that way. She dropped her phone into her bag and went to meet Zach. He was waiting for her in the grand living room that overlooked the lawn and the river beyond. He looked up as she walked in, his dark eyes sparking with a sudden heat that threatened to leave her breathless.

His gaze drifted over her appreciatively. Tiny flames of hunger licked at her skin wherever he looked. Then he met her eyes again. The fire in her belly spiked. For a moment, she thought he might close the distance between them and draw her into his arms.

He did not, of course. Zach was nothing if not supremely controlled. Disappointment swirled inside
her as they drove to the Lattimores’ cocktail party. She kept her gaze focused straight ahead, but she was very aware of Zach’s big hand on the gearshift so near her knee.

It was insane to be this crazy aware of a man, and yet she couldn’t help it. Zach filled her senses. The more she worked to keep it from happening, the worse it got. He was the sun at the center of her orbit when he was near, no matter how she tried to ignore him.

The event was in a gorgeous mansion in Georgetown. After leaving the car with the valet, Zach escorted her into the gathering, his hand firmly on the small of her back. Lia’s stomach vibrated with butterflies. Last night, she’d simply been the woman on his arm at an event. Tonight, she was his fiancée, and the media would take a more pointed interest in her now.

She’d seen the papers in his office, and read the stories about all-American hero Zach Scott and the mystery woman he was suddenly engaged to marry. Of course there was speculation as to why. That didn’t surprise her at all.

The story basically went that Zach had traveled to Palermo for a wedding, met the groom’s cousin and had a whirlwind romance. They also speculated that she and Zach had conducted this affair over the phone and through email until they simply couldn’t stand to be separated any longer.

It was a lovely hypothesis, though laughably far from the truth.

Zach, however, seemed determined to play his role to the hilt once they entered the party. He was the besotted fiancé. He stayed by her side, fetched her drinks, kept a hand on her arm or her waist or her shoulder. Lia took a sip of her nonalcoholic cocktail and tried to calm the racing of her heart.

Zach’s touch was driving her insane.

She could hardly remember half the people she met, or half the conversations she had. Her entire focus was on Zach’s hand, on his warm, large presence beside her. On the butterflies that hadn’t abated. Oh, no, they kept swirling, higher and faster, each time Zach touched her.

It was all she could do not to climb up his frame in front of everyone and kiss him senseless.

Her senses were on red alert, and her body was primed for him. Only him.

It irritated her, but she couldn’t stop it. She watched him as he spoke with a gray-haired woman, watched the curve of his mouth when he laughed, the sparkle in his eyes and the long, lean fingers of his hand—the one she could see—as he held his drink.

Lia closed her eyes, tried to blot out the visual of that hand tracing a sensual path over her body. It
didn’t work, especially since she knew precisely how it would feel.

His arm went around her and she shuddered. “Darling, are you all right?”

Lia looked up at him, into those dark beautiful eyes that seemed full of concern for her. It was an act, she told herself. An act.

Her heart didn’t care. It turned over inside her chest—and then it cracked wide-open, filling with feelings she didn’t want.

“I—” She swallowed and licked her suddenly dry lips. “I need to freshen up,” she blurted.

Without waiting for his reply, she turned and made her way blindly through the crowd until she found an exit. It didn’t take her down a hall toward the restrooms, as she’d hoped, but spilled out onto a covered patio that gave way to a manicured garden with a tall hedge. Lia walked right down the path and between the hedges before she realized it was actually a maze.

Her heart beat hard as she breathed in the clean air, hoping to calm down before she went back inside and faced all those people—and Zach—again.

What was the matter with her? Why had she come unglued like that?

Because she was Lia Corretti, that’s why. Lost little girl looking for love, for a home, for someone who
needed her. She’d been staring at Zach, letting her mind wander, letting her fantasies get the best of her.

And she’d realized, boom, that she felt far more than she should be feeling. That she’d let herself fantasize him right into her heart.

How could you love someone you hardly knew? How could your heart make such a catastrophic mistake?

She hadn’t seen it coming. How could she? Of course, she’d thought about him for the past month, thought about their blissful nights together and the way everything between them felt so right—but that was lust, not love.

When did love enter the equation?

When he’d made her an omelet and told her he wanted to do something meaningful with his life? Or earlier, when he’d pulled her against his hard body in Palermo and told her she was beautiful?

“Lia.”

She turned at the sound of his voice, her heart thrumming, her skin flushing hot. She didn’t want him here, and yet she did. He moved toward her, so tall, dark and gorgeous that he made her want to weep inside.

How had she let this happen? Panic flooded her as he approached.

But then she had a thought. Maybe—just maybe—it
wasn’t love, after all. Maybe it was simply a deep infatuation. Yes, she could certainly be infatuated with him. That was far less pitiful than falling in love with a man who was only marrying you because you were pregnant.

Zach came closer, his brows drawn together. “Is everything all right?”

“I needed space,” she said. “The crowd was too much.”

It wasn’t entirely untrue. She wasn’t accustomed to so many people. Her life in Sicily had rarely involved crowds or massive gatherings. Her grandparents entertained, and quite frequently, but she hadn’t been expected to attend. Now she’d been to three events in as many days, and it was tiring.

“Do you feel well? Should we sit down somewhere?”

“I’m fine,” she said quickly.

“Lia.” He stopped in front of her, so close she could feel his heat. Her head tilted back to stare up at him. Her breath shortened in her chest as their eyes caught and held. His hands came up to settle on her shoulders, and she felt a deep throbbing note roll through her at that simple touch. “Don’t lie to me,
cara mia.
”

She loved it when he spoke to her in Italian.

“Fine, I will tell you,” she said. “I feel overwhelmed, Zach. I feel as if I don’t really know you, and I won’t
know you so long as we are constantly putting on a public face. I miss the man I spent time with in Palermo, the one who didn’t say or do anything he didn’t mean. There were no masks there, no appearances to maintain.”

She dropped her gaze, focused on the buttons of his deep blue shirt. He’d worn a gray pinstripe suit, no tie, and Italian loafers. His jacket was open, and his shirt molded to the hard muscles of his chest. It was custom fit, of course—and the effect was mind-blowing on her already addled brain. He was perfect, beautiful.

For the life of her, she still didn’t know what he’d ever seen in her. Or what he ever would see.

“This is my life,” he said. “The way it really is. Palermo was an anomaly.”

“Yes, well, I choose not to believe that is entirely true. You were more you because you weren’t worried about being Zach Scott. You were freer there. You know it’s true.”

His head dropped for a second. And then he was looking at her again, his gaze dark and mysterious. “Yes.”

“That’s it? Just yes?”

He sighed. His hands on her shoulders were burning a hole in her. He slid them back and forth, back and forth, and the tension in her body bent like a
bowstring. When he slid them to her upper arms, it wasn’t a relief.

“You’re right. What more do you want me to say?”

She couldn’t believe he’d admitted it. But it made something inside her soar that he had. “About which part?”

“That I felt freer in Sicily. I wasn’t the main attraction, and I knew it. The press might hound me here, they might follow me if I make a well-publicized trip abroad, but Sicily was unexpected. And too quick to matter much, though of course, they now wish they’d pursued me.”

“Why?”

He laughed softly. “Because of you, Lia. Because the confirmed bachelor went to Sicily and came back with a fiancée.”

“Thank heavens they didn’t,” she said, imagining a photographer lurking outside the Corretti Hotel. Or, worse, somehow learning they’d spent two nights together and contriving to get a photo through the open window. Lia shuddered.

“If they had, I doubt any of this would have happened,” he said, and her heart twisted in pain. She knew what he meant.

“Perhaps you wish that had been the case.” She lifted her chin, trying to hide the hurt she felt deep inside. He was so close. Too close. All she could smell
was his delicious scent—a hint of spice and hard masculinity. She wanted to step in, close the distance between them and wrap her arms around him.

Her body ached with the need to feel him inside her again. To be needed by him.

Dio
, she was pathetic.

She expected him to agree, to step away, put distance between them and tug her toward the house and the party.

He did not do any such thing. Instead, he slid one of those electric hands up to her jaw, cupped her cheek. The other went to the small of her back, brought her that short step closer, until her body was pressed to his, until she could feel the heat and hardness of him emanating through the fabric of his clothes.

“I should wish it,” he said. “But I don’t.”

Her head was tilted back, her eyes searching the hot depths of his. “I don’t know what that means, Zach.”

His gaze dropped to her mouth, lingered. And then his lips spread in the kind of wicked smile that made her heart flutter. “I think I’m about to show you,
bella mia…
.”

His mouth claimed hers in a hot, possessive kiss that stole her breath and her sense. Lia threaded her arms around his neck without hesitation, melded her body to his. She could do nothing else. She simply wasn’t programmed to respond any other way.

The answering hardness in his groin sent a fresh blast of desire ricocheting through her. Had it been this incendiary between them the first time? Had she felt this sweet, sweet fire raging in her belly, her brain, her core? His tongue against hers was nirvana. She couldn’t get enough. She kissed him back hotly, desperately, her tongue tangling with his again and again.

He groaned low in his throat, pulling her closer, one hand splayed over her hip, the other sifting into her hair, cupping her head, holding her mouth against his.

She was being swept away on a tide of heat and deep burning feelings that ached to get out. If he kept kissing her like this, she wouldn’t survive it. She would not be the same Lia Corretti when it was over.

She would be his creature, his to do with as he wanted. His slave. His, his, his …

With a cry, she pushed him away. She didn’t know why, except she knew it was necessary to her sanity, her survival. She could not be any less in control of herself and her emotions than she already was. She could not allow him to own her like this when he gave her nothing of himself in return.