“You weren’t kidding, were you?”
Zoe looked up to see Frank standing in front of her desk. She hadn’t even noticed him approaching. “Meaning what?”
“Declan Price is up front for your interview.”
Her heart thundered into her chest. “What?”
Frank grinned. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”
Frozen, Zoe just sat there. Frank was already gone, leaving her to flounder in panic. Declan was here? Why? About an interview? God, what was the man up to now? And why the heck did she have flutters of anticipation in her stomach at the thought of seeing him again? Not from anxiety or anger, but from desire and excitement. Damn it, why did she let a deceitful jerk affect her like this?
She shouldn’t. She couldn’t. Zoe pushed to her feet. She wouldn’t. Whatever Declan’s game, and he had one—that she was certain of—it had to be shut down at the gate. With newfound determination, Zoe headed for the front lobby, pad, and pen in hand.
She found him standing rather than sitting in one of the many empty chairs. The receptionist eyed Zoe and a smile played on her lips. Everyone knew Zoe and Declan had been…a thing. How could they not? Their picture had been all over the competition’s paper and the gossip all over the building.
In a black, pinstriped suit, he looked like the Declan seen in the media. The man she’d met that first night at the bar. Sexy. Confident. A bit cocky even. “Hello, Zoe,” he said in a low voice that rippled along her nerve endings and forced her to suppress a shiver.
Her first instinct was to call him Mr. Price, to put formality between them, thus distance, but she decided that made her look upset. No, she thought. She’d show him the unexpected. “Hello, Declan,” she said and smiled. “I hear you have some news for us?”
He studied her for a few moments, which felt like a lifetime, his blue eyes as bright as a perfect sky. The depths of his gaze probed and explored, wearing her down under their scrutiny. “Is there somewhere we can talk?”
Her eyes narrowed on him, but she gave him a nod. Without another word, she turned and walked away, giving him no option but to follow if he wanted to talk. With each step she took down the narrow hallway toward cubicle land and the far corner conference room, she was aware of Declan watching her. Behind her. Too close. Not close enough.
When she stepped inside the rectangular-shaped conference room, Zoe stood back, hand on the doorknob as Declan entered. He walked by in a cloud of spicy maleness that made her want to grab him and…do things she shouldn’t. Hit him. Yell at him. Kiss him. Sex had been amazing with Declan. She’d seen the heat in his eyes in the lobby. His desire for her was still alive and well as was hers for him. She wished that wasn’t the case. It would be easier to hate him with her mind and body…and her heart.
She shut the door and turned, expecting him to have taken a seat. Instead, he stood only a few feet away. Zoe motioned toward the long wooden table. “Feel free to sit.”
“I’ll sit when you do,” he said.
Not with the power trip. She didn’t like it. Zoe set the pen and paper on the table. “Declan,” she said. “Sit. I don’t have the time or energy to go through some invisible battle of control.”
He took a step toward her and she wanted to back up just as much as she wanted to move forward. She stood perfectly still. “You’ve won that battle many times over in the past week,” Declan said, his voice low. Taut. “Every damn time I called and you wouldn’t answer.”
“It didn’t take you long to give up, now did it?”
“I’m here, aren’t I?” he asked. “Does it look like I gave up?”
“You should.”
“Why?”
Zoe fought the urge to cross her arms in front of her body. She didn’t want to show a reaction. “What do you want, Declan?”
“You,” he said in a voice as smooth as velvet.
She drew in a breath. “You already had me.”
“Had being the operative word.”
“Do you have a story or not?”
He stared at her, fire and challenge in his eyes. Then, abruptly, he masked his expression. “The charges against your father were dropped.”
Of all the things he could have said, that wasn’t what she expected. “What?” she asked. “How? When?”
“Late last night. Ray confessed to setting him up.”
“What?” Zoe could barely believe her ears. She forgot the discomfort between her and Declan, taking a seat as she suddenly felt weak-kneed. “Why would he do that?”
Declan chose the seat beside her, not across, as she would have expected. He moved the legs of the chair so that he faced her. “Some of this is off the record. What you let the paper print has to be discussed between you and me and agreed on.”