Zyah didn’t get bad vibes from the Torpedo Ink club members. They were courteous and simply introduced themselves and told her when they were on the schedule to work in the back or stock the shelves for her. They made certain she had their cell phone numbers in case of an emergency. She had always had a gift for remembering faces and names. This club took their jobs seriously. Alena and Lana, the two women, were friendly, although she got a very watchful vibe from them. They also were on the work schedule to help out in the store.
The last customer was gone, and she closed the register, hoping that Player stayed outside waiting for the rest of his club, too embarrassed to come inside, but she knew she wasn’t going to get that lucky. He didn’t seem like a man who was the kind to get embarrassed by his despicable actions. He was a . . . player. He played women. He’d warned her just by introducing himself. She was the fool for believing in her faulty gift—one that had only been in her family for hundreds of years. She was not going to cry again over her utter failure as a Gamal woman.
“You all right?”
History really did repeat itself. She would recognize that voice anywhere. It was low, husky, as if the vocal cords had been badly damaged at some point. He’d asked her the exact same question the night she’d run like a coward from Player’s room, sobbing like a baby, feeling like he’d stabbed her through the heart. She closed her eyes briefly, hoping that would get rid of any leftover brightness in her eyes, and then forced herself to meet Destroyer’s concerned gaze. He’d introduced himself as Destroyer that night. He wore that same look on his scarred, ruggedly handsome and terribly charismatic features.
Zyah had to admit there was something very compelling about all of the Torpedo Ink members. She sent him a faint, sheepish grin. “I just stubbed my toe. I’m not wearing shoes like I should be.”
He didn’t believe her, but he didn’t call her on her lie. He glanced over his shoulder, and immediately Player stepped up to the counter. “Zyah. I’m glad to finally find you. I’ve been searching for you since I woke up and realized what a complete ass I made of myself. I owe you an apology.”
He sounded absolutely sincere. He looked absolutely sincere. Worse, he looked every bit as gorgeous and as perfect as she remembered. The wild hair, the tattoos and scars, the muscles on top of muscles. She could barely look at him. She had no choice or she would be the rudest person on the planet, and her grandmother would never abide rudeness no matter the circumstances.
She was extremely happy for the years of working in all the countries where the men weren’t exactly thrilled taking orders from a woman. She’d had to learn to be a diplomat and keep an impersonal smile on her face no matter how she felt inside. Her heart could be pounding in absolute terror, she could be mad, sad or a combination of all three emotions, but her hands would remain rock steady and she could keep that smile going forever.
“No worries. I completely understand. There was every reason for you to misunderstand the situation. I appreciate that you didn’t hold it against me when you realized I’d applied for this job.” She sent him another smile and began to work in earnest. She had to get the job finished so she could go home.
Player didn’t interrupt her, but he didn’t move away either. That meant he had more to say and she was going to have to listen to him whether she liked it or not. She heaved a sigh and forced herself to look up the moment she had made certain the till was right. “Is there something else I can do for you?”
Player leaned toward her. He smelled just the way she remembered. Masculine. Sensual. Just plain yummy. She was so far gone on him it was crazy. She busied herself again with receipts, keeping her head down so she didn’t have to look into his amazing eyes.
“Zyah, I was seventy-two hours without sleep. That being said, you gave me the best night of my life. I fucked it up by being so tired I began mixing reality with fantasy. I didn’t think you were real for a variety of reasons, the main one being I’d never been around anyone like you. I had no idea a woman like you existed or I could react the way I did. I’m damned sorry for the way I treated you and I’d like a chance to start over.”
There it was. He was asking her to take a chance on letting him tear her heart out again. It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t know what he was asking. He wanted great sex. Their chemistry was off the charts. Right now, just looking at him, she could probably have a mini-orgasm if she let herself get close enough to smell him while she looked into his eyes. Seriously, that’s how her body responded to his.