Zane’s eyes widened.
She chuckled at her bad choice of words. “You know what I mean.” Pressing down on the canister, she released a mound of shave cream in her hand and leaned forward to rub it over his cheeks, chin and throat.
Zane leaned a little closer, his body braced by the counter. Her heart did a little dance in her chest. His nearness, the refreshing heady lime scent, her position sitting on the counter, touching him—suddenly she was all too aware of the intimate act she was performing on her brother-in-law.
What on earth was she doing?
Zane needed help and she’d rushed to his aid. But she hadn’t thought this through.
He still towered over her, but only by a few inches now. She lifted her eyes and found him, waiting and watching her through the mirror.
Her hand wasn’t so steady anymore.
She couldn’t fall down on her first official act as Zane’s personal assistant, intimate as it was.
“Okay, are you ready?”
He kept perfectly still. “Hmm.”
Her legs were near his hip, and she angled her body to get closer to his face. Bracing her left hand on his shoulder to steady herself, she was taken by the strong rock-hard feel of him under her fingertips. She stroked his face, and the razor met with stubble and gently scraped it away. Carefully she proceeded, gliding the razor over his skin in the smoothest strokes she could manage.
His breath drifted her way as heat from his body radiated out, surrounding her. Cocooned in Zane’s warmth, she fought an unwelcome attraction to him by thinking of Steven, the man who’d shattered her faith. And that reminder worked. Thoughts of Steven could destroy any thrilling moment in her life. She dipped the razor into the sink and shook it off. Zane’s gaze left the mirror, and as she lifted her eyes to his, there in that moment, a sudden surprising sizzle passed between them.
One, two, three seconds went by.
And then he focused his attention back on the mirror, keeping a silent vigil on her reflection.
“How are you holding up?” she asked, breaking the quiet tension.
“Am I bleeding?”
Her lips hitched at his intense tone. “No.”
“Then, I’m good.”
Yes. Yes, he was.
“Okay, now for your throat. Chin up, please.”
He obeyed without quarrel. Gosh, he really did trust her. Something warm slid into her belly, and the feeling clung to her as she finished up his shave.
“All done,” she said after another minute. “Not a nick on you, I might add.” At least one of them had come out of this unscathed.
“I think I hear Mrs. Lopez tinkering in the kitchen now.” She handed him his razor and jumped down from the counter. “Do you want breakfast? Coffee?”
She was partway out the door when Zane caught her arm just above the elbow. He looked gorgeous in his white ribbed tank, his face and throat shaved clean but for the last traces of shave cream. “Just a sec. I haven’t thanked you. And you don’t have to worry about breakfast for me.”
“I don’t?”
“No. That’s not part of your job description.”
Well, duh. She knew that. Mariah hadn’t served him his meals, but Jessica couldn’t very well tell him she’d run her mouth in order to get away from him as quickly as possible.
“We’ll go over what I expect of you as my assistant this morning. Thanks for the shave.” He slid his hands down his smooth face, and his eyes filled with admiration. “Feels great. You’re pretty good.”
She swallowed. Did this mean she’d have to shave him every day?
Gosh, she really didn’t think this through thoroughly enough.
“Thanks. Well, I’ll see you at breakfast.”
“Oh, and Jess?”
“Yeah?”
He released her arm. “I’m glad you’ll be staying on. I do need your help. And I think you’ll enjoy it, but whenever you’re ready to head home, I’ll...understand.”
“Thanks, Zane. I’ll do my best.”
* * *
Four hours later, Jessica sat behind the desk in Zane’s office, satisfied she had things under control. It had been a little scary at first. What did she really know about Zane’s celebrity life? But Mariah had been acutely efficient, keeping good records and documenting things, which made it easier for Jess to slide into the role of personal assistant. She seemed to live by a detailed calendar, and Zane’s appointments, events and meetings were clearly labeled. Thank you, Mariah, for not being a slouch. In the day planner she came to regard as The Book, Mariah had jotted down phone numbers next to names and brief reminders of what needed to be said or done.
No to the People magazine interview.
Yes to donating twenty thousand dollars to the Children’s Hospital charity. Zane would make an appearance in the future.
No to an appearance on The Ellen DeGeneres Show.
And so on.
With a little help from Zane earlier this morning, she was able to field a few phone calls and make the necessary arrangements for him. It was clear Zane was in a state of celebrity hibernation. Other than opening a new restaurant, Zane was pretty much in a deep freeze. Maybe he needed the break away from the limelight, or maybe he wasn’t through running away from his demons.
In a sense, she was doing the same thing by being here, afraid to go home, afraid to face the pitfalls in her own life. She, too, was hiding out, so she had no right to judge him or try to fix the situation. It wasn’t any of her business. That was for sure.
“How’re you doing?” he asked.
She glanced up from The Book to find him standing at the office threshold, leaning on his crutches. She flashed back to shaving him this morning and the baffling emotions that followed her into breakfast. Her heart tumbled a little.
“Good, I think.”
He smiled. “Anything I can help you with?”
“No, not at the moment.”
He didn’t leave. He didn’t enter the room.
“Is there anything I can do for you?” she asked.
“Sort of.” His lips twisted back and forth. “You see, Dylan’s bugging me about this script. Fact is, I don’t know if acting is right for me. I never had an acting lesson in my life. So I want to say no to him. But...”
She braced her elbows on the desk and leaned forward. “But, just maybe it’s something you want to do?”
He stared at her. “Hell, I don’t know, Jess. I guess I need a reason to say no.”
“And how can I help you with that?”
“Dylan’s got this idea that if I had someone run lines with me, I’d feel better about accepting the role. Or not. I didn’t ask Mariah, well...because she works for me and I’m not sure she would be—”
“Honest?”
“Objective. She tends to encourage me to try new things, so she might not be the person to ask.”
“So you’re saying I’d have no problem telling you ‘you suck’?”
He chuckled. “Would you?”
“No,