Any Way You Want It (Brand Clan #2)(62)
How could she have forgotten about the illicit fantasies she’d once had about Remy? How could she have forgotten that the second time she and Heath made love, she’d closed her eyes and pictured Remy rising above her, his face tender with longing as he thrust into her.
Or maybe she hadn’t forgotten. Maybe she’d simply suppressed the memory because she was ashamed, and she was afraid to analyze the meaning of her fantasies. She was good at that. Burying memories, suppressing feelings.
Heath gave a sympathetic chuckle. “You have no reason to be embarrassed, Zandra. Although you didn’t know it at the time, you were in love with Remington. So it was only natural that you’d imagine him during our lovemaking.” He paused. “Now if it had been some random bloke whose name you called out, then I might have taken umbrage.”
Zandra stared at him, aghast. “Please don’t tell me I—”
“Oh, heavens, no. Nothing like that.” Heath’s gray eyes glinted with humor. “Well...maybe once or twice.”
He laughed as Zandra groaned and covered her face with her hands.
After the barista came over and removed their empty plates, Zandra smiled ruefully at Heath. “Enough about me and my Freudian issues. How are you doing? Are you seeing anyone special?”
“Not at the moment. Oh, I’ve dabbled in relationships over the years, but there’s been no one special.” He smiled wistfully. “You ruined me for all others, Zandra.”
“I’m truly sorry to hear that,” she said softly. “If there was any way for me to make it up to you, I would.”
Heath reached across the table and gently took her hand.
She stared at their entwined fingers, then slowly raised her eyes to his.
There was an edge of sadness to his quiet smile. “In case my cancer comes back, and I never see you again...there is one thing you can do for me before you leave.”
Zandra held his gaze. “Anything.”
He hesitated for a long moment. “I need to see you with him. Hearing about him is one thing. Seeing the two of you together...that’s what will finally set me free.”
Chapter Eighteen
It was after one when Zandra returned to 51 Buckingham Gate, a luxury hotel nestled on a secluded side street between Buckingham Palace and Westminster Cathedral. The moment she stepped from the chauffeured vehicle, the concierge materialized to take her shopping bags up to an opulently furnished presidential suite that featured beautiful artwork, a separate living and dining room, a kitchen, and views overlooking the hotel’s lavishly landscaped courtyard garden.
She hadn’t been back long when Remy returned from the conference. She helped him out of his suit jacket and fixed him a drink from the bar.
When he saw all the shopping bags in the room, he laughed and shook his head at her. “I guess I don’t have to ask how you spent your morning.”
She gave him a saucy grin. “Don’t make fun of me. You know what a clotheshorse I am. Besides, you’re the one who banned me from attending your panel session.” Her grin widened. “How was it, by the way? Were you able to concentrate any better?”
“Not really.”
“Why not?”
“Because,” he murmured, leaning down to brush his lips across hers, “all I could think about was the way you looked in bed when I left this morning.”
“Mmm,” Zandra purred, letting her tongue touch his. “Guess that defeated the purpose of the banishment, huh?”
“Guess so.” His tongue swept the underside of her upper lip before dipping inside her mouth.
Shivering with arousal, she forced herself to pull back and smile up at him. “Are you ready to go sightseeing?”
“Yeah.” His eyes glinted wickedly. “But not the kind of sightseeing you’re talking about.”
“Oh, no,” she warned laughingly, stepping away from him. “Uh-uh. We’re not doing that.”
“Why not?”
“Because we stayed in bed most of yesterday doing that.”
He wiggled his brows suggestively. “I didn’t hear you complaining.”
She grinned. “That’s not the point, Remy. Look, while you were in the military, you never came here for pleasure. London is a great city. I want you to experience it with me.”
He heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Fine. We can do the tourist thing.”
“Thank you.”
“Just let me catch my breath first.” Ice clinked in his glass as he sipped his scotch, then smiled at her. “Why don’t you show me some of the clothes you bought.”
Zandra grinned. “You mean the clothes you bought?” she reminded him, because even though she could more than afford her own shopping spree, Remy had insisted on spoiling her during this trip, refusing to let her pay for even a pack of gum.
“Yeah,” he drawled teasingly, “let me see how you spent my hard-earned money, woman.”
“Yes, sir.”
Tugging his silk tie loose, Remy sat on the king-size bed and watched as Zandra modeled one designer outfit after another. She made him laugh as she strutted back and forth, struck haughty poses and dramatically executed the half pivots perfected by runway models. Remy clapped, whistled appreciatively and pretended to snap pictures of her like a fashion photog.