Dance card, my butt. How out of date could he get? ‘You’ll be inundated with offers.’ Did he really want to dance with her? She’d never survive. What little control she might exercise on her need would sink without trace if he so much as held her in his arms, let alone danced with her. Anyway, he wasn’t making sense. He’d been peed off when she dumped him, so he wouldn’t want to get close to her on the dance floor. Or did he have other plans? Plans that involved payback? Tease and tempt her, then say bye-bye?
As Zac put the phone to his ear he shook his head. ‘If you didn’t want dancing tonight you should’ve gone to the retirement village to find a group of old guys with their tin whistles to play for us.’
‘I enjoy dancing.’ Just don’t intend doing it with you.
‘I didn’t know that. Looking forward to it. Looks like your florist has arrived.’ He nodded in the direction of the doors, then went back to the phone. ‘Jake, is that you, man? How’re you doing?’
Olivia stared at Zac. He knew Jake Hamblin, the band’s lead guitarist? That could be good for getting the band to actually turn up. Zac was full of surprises. Hadn’t he said something about the florist too? Spinning around, she came face-to-face with a neat and tidy woman dressed in black tailored trousers and an angora jersey under her jacket. Nothing flower-like about her. ‘You’re the florist? I’m Olivia Coates-Clark.’
The woman nodded, sent Zac a grin. ‘That’s me. I see the flowers finally turned up. Show me exactly where you want these arrangements and I’ll get on with it.’
Zac was handing the phone back to Olivia. ‘How’s things, Mrs Flower?’ That really was her name. ‘Your hip still working fine?’
‘You were the surgeon. What do you think?’
Zac’s laughter was loud and deep, and sent pangs of want kicking up a storm in Olivia’s stomach. ‘Good answer,’ he said.
So he knew this woman too. Probably used her for sending beautiful flowers to all his women. Ouch. He’d sent her flowers when she’d dumped him. A stunning, colourful bouquet of peonies, not thorns or black roses, as well he might’ve.
‘Do we have a band?’ she asked in her best let’s-get-on-with-things voice.
‘Filling the service elevator with gear as we speak,’ Zac said. ‘What’s next? Want those buckets of flowers moved somewhere?’
The band was on its way; the flowers were about to be fixed. Olivia shook her head in amazement. Two more ticks on her mental list of outstanding things to get finished. Things just happened around Zac. Somehow it had all got easier with him here. ‘We need two long tables up against that far wall for the auction. The hotel liaison officer went to find them an hour ago.’ She needed to display the gifts that’d been donated.
‘Not a problem.’ Did he have to sound so relaxed?
The clock was ticking. That long soak she’d planned on in the big tub in her room upstairs before putting on her new dress, also from the shop where she’d got her coat, might just be a possibility. ‘Easy for you to say,’ she snapped.
Zac took her arm and led her across to where the florist was already wiring irises into clever bunches that were going to look exquisite. ‘You explain where you want everything and try to relax. We’ll get this baby up and running on time. That’s a promise.’
‘I am relaxed.’
‘About as relaxed as a mouse facing down a cat. A big cat.’ He grinned and strolled away before she could come up with a suitable rejoinder.
Very unlike her. She always had an answer to smartass comments. Watching Zac’s casual saunter, she noted the way those wide shoulders filled his leather jacket to perfection. Her tongue moistened her lips. No wonder she wasn’t thinking clearly—the distractions were huge and all came in one package. Zachary Wright.
AN HOUR LATER, Zac handed Olivia a champagne flute filled with bubbly heaven. ‘Here, get that into you. It might help you unwind.’
‘I can’t drink now. I’ve got to finish in here, then get myself ready.’ Her taste buds curled up in annoyance at being deprived of their favourite taste. But she had a big night ahead of her so having a drink before it had even begun was not a good idea.
With the proffered glass Zac nudged her hand—which seemed to have a life of its own as it reached towards him. ‘One small drink will relax you, Olivia.’ He wrapped her fingers around the cool stem. ‘Go on.’ There was a dare in his eyes as he raised his own glass to his lips.
Zac knew she never turned down a dare. But she’d have to. Tonight’s success rested on her being one hundred and ten per cent on her game. Her mother had taught her well—go easy on the alcohol or make a fool of herself. Not going to happen tonight when everyone’s eyes would be on her.
Zac’s throat worked as he tasted the champagne. Appreciation lit up his eyes. His tongue licked his bottom lip.
And Olivia melted; deep inside where she’d stored all her Zac memories there was a pool of hot, simmering need. The glass clinked against her teeth as the divine liquid spilled across her tongue. And while her shoulders lightened, tension of a different kind wound into a ball in her tummy and down to her core. ‘Delicious,’ she whispered. Zac or the wine?
He nodded. ‘Yes, Olivia, it is. Now, take that glass upstairs to your room and have a soak in the hot tub before getting all glammed up. I’ll see to anything else that needs to be done here before I go across to change.’
She went from relaxed to controlled in an instant. ‘No. Thank you. I need to check on those flowers and—’
‘All sorted.’ From the table he handed her an iris that been tidied and then tied with a light blue ribbon. ‘Take this up with you.’
Even as she hesitated, her hand was again accepting his gift. What was it with her limbs that they took no notice of her brain? ‘My favourite flower.’
‘That particular shade matches your eyes perfectly.’
‘Wedgwood. That’s the variety’s name.’ She stared at it, seeing things that had absolutely nothing to do with this weekend. Or Zac. All to do with her past.
When she made to hand it back he took her hand and held it between them, his fingers firm. His thumb caressed the inside of her wrist. ‘Who does it remind you of?’ Very perceptive of him.
How had she walked away from this man? She must’ve been incredibly strong that day, or very stupid. ‘My father used to grow irises.’ Before he’d left because he’d been unable to cope with his wife’s drunken antics. And I could? I was only twelve, Dad.
Tugging free from Zac’s hand, she stepped back a pace. ‘Why are you helping me?’ He hadn’t decided to target her for sex, had he? Or was that her ego taking a hit? Zac never had trouble getting a woman; he didn’t need her. Even if what they’d had between them had been off the planet.
Zac’s eyes held something suspiciously like sympathy. She hated that. She didn’t need it, had finally learned how to deal with her mother by controlling her own emotions, not her mother’s antics. The same tactic kept men at a distance. Except for Zac, she’d managed very well. When she’d shocked herself one day by realising she cared about him more than she should she’d immediately called the whole thing off. No one would ever leave her again. No one could ever accuse her of being a slow learner.
‘I’m here because you needed help.’ Zac tapped the back of her hand to get her attention. ‘I’m alone, as in no partner, so doing stuff behind the scenes isn’t going to get anyone’s back up.