Page 187 of Positively Pricked
Chapter 62
I turned to face him. "What'd you say?"
He looked dead-serious. "Isaidyou're staying with me."
Instantly, an image of Bob popped into my brain. I couldn't help but wonder, why hadn'thebeen offered a place to stay? After all, he needed shelter way more than I did.
And yet, Zane's offer was so very tempting.
Embarrassingly, it wasn't even because I had no options. It was because, even now, I wanted to throw myself into his arms and forget everything else – the squashed house, the tension between us, and worst of all, the slump of Bob's shoulders as he shuffled away.
It was that final image that stiffened my resolve. I shook my head. "No. Thanks, really. But I'm not."
"That's whatyouthink."
"No," I told him. "That's what I know."
"We'll see." With that, he turned, once again, to look at the house.
I looked, too. As I took in the damage, I couldn't help but compare this place to Zane's estate. Unlike the mess in front of me, Zane's place was big and luxurious. It even had a swimming pool.
Plus, it wasn't squashed.
But it wasn't his house that was tempting me. It was Zane himself. Heaven help me, I probably did love the guy – because the longer this went on, the more I wanted to cry at the thought of life without him.
I was pathetic.
But I wasn'tsopathetic that I'd actually jump on his offer – orhim, as tempting as he was, standing beside me, looking annoyingly fine in the morning light.
Ihadto end this now, before I forgot all of the reasons why this would never work. With that in mind, I turned and began striding toward the front of the house, planning to grab my suitcases and settle this once and for all.
As I moved purposefully toward the driveway, Zane silently kept pace, never letting me out of arm's reach.
When I reached the back of the limo, I paused as a realization hit home. The trunk was locked. Trunks were always locked. I knew that. I'd just forgotten, that's all.
Undaunted, I strode to the limo's driver's side and rapped on the window. When the glass slid down, I said to the driver, "Could you please pop the trunk?"
The driver looked to Zane, who gave a slight shake of his head. The driver looked back to me and said, "I'm sorry, but no."
"Oh, for God's sake." I turned to glare at Zane, even as the window slid back up. Through gritted teeth, I said, "Give me my suitcases. Please."
He shrugged. "All right."
I felt my gaze narrow. Knowing Zane, there had to be a catch, because nothing with him was this easy. I crossed my arms and waited.
He flicked his head toward the limo. "Get in."
"What do you mean?"
"Get in the car," he said, "and I'll give you the suitcases."
"When?"
"When we get there."
"Where?"
"My place. Like I said."
