In a Bind. Stephanie Bond

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      Erica nodded to the binder peeking out of Zoe’s bag. “I hope you’re not going to worry about the wedding the entire time you’re here.”

      “I won’t, I promise. I just need to send a few e-mails to tie up loose ends.”

      “As long as you don’t change your mind about the bridesmaids’ dresses. Because I’m so looking forward to wearing what you’ve picked out. Did you say that strange color is apricot?”

      Zoe winced apologetically. “My mother’s idea.”

      “It’s okay. I have one of those, too. I remember how she was when I planned my wedding.”

      Zoe nodded. It was as if her mother was determined that her daughter would have the wedding that she herself had always wanted. Satin and bows, lace and frippery. Which now seemed totally incongruous. Because after her encounter with Colin Cannon, all she could think about was leather and metal.

      She gave herself a mental shake. Getting back into the details of the wedding would help to get her mind back where it belonged—on her groom.

      Can I see you again?

      Zoe forced the images of Colin from her head and concentrated on the view outside the taxi window. To her, Sydney was a cross between New York and San Francisco—bustling with people and cars, but hemmed by a breathtaking blue-and-white harbor. The resort was settled a few blocks from the epicenter of the city, in an older part of town. Its spalike atmosphere was a favorite destination for flight attendants, but the steep rates had always been a little pricey for Zoe. This was her first visit. Erica would be staying for two nights before returning to the States, but Zoe had used all her accumulated credit card points and splurged for ten days.

      The lobby was soaring and lush with green plants and water features. The check-in process was smooth and quiet, their bags whisked away by white-suited bellmen.

      “I’m going to need a nap before we do anything,” Erica said, yawning.

      “You go ahead,” Zoe said. “The signal on my cell phone is strong. I’m going to try to reach Kevin and check e-mail. I’ll be right up.”

      Erica nodded, her eyes drooping, then walked toward the elevator. Zoe moved to a quiet corner and pulled up her e-mail on her phone. She winced. Six messages from her mother, and from the subject lines, all of them had something to do with changes to the reception dinner seating chart, which Zoe was supposed to be working on.

      Postponing reading them until later, she switched to phone mode and punched in Kevin’s number. She desperately needed to talk to him, but considering it was almost midnight in Atlanta, she didn’t expect him to answer. He usually went to bed early so he’d be rested for his morning workouts. When his voice-mail service kicked on, she felt a pang at the warm familiarity of his voice.

      “Hi, it’s me,” she said brightly. “The flight was—” traitorous “—fine. I’m—” a big, fat cheater “—fine.” Zoe pressed her lips together, telling herself she needed to act as if everything was normal. As if she wasn’t still tender in places from being with another man, as if she wasn’t still besieged by images of them together. “I’ll call you later. Bye.” It was only after she hung up that she realized she hadn’t said that she loved him.

      And the guilt that she’d been expecting finally swamped her body with the force of a flash flood. She closed her eyes against the physical pain until it ebbed, then told herself that there was nothing left to do but to live with it.

      She turned to face the expansive white lobby, enjoying the peaceful chiming sounds of Aboriginal music playing overhead. Sun poured in on the gleaming floor tile and polished brass fixtures. Overhead fans stirred the branches of potted fig trees. She inhaled deeply and exhaled, feeling instantly calmer. This soothing ambience was exactly what she needed to relax and to rid her mind of one Colin Cannon.

      “This is a nice surprise.”

      Zoe pivoted to see the man himself standing at the check-in desk, a duffel in one hand, a briefcase in the other. His leather duster nearly touched the ground. Her mouth opened and closed as alarms sounded in her head. When the shock subsided, disbelief and anger set in.

      She strode up to him, her heart racing double-time. “Mr. Cannon,” she said, trying to keep her voice calm, “what happened on the plane was a one-time thing. You had no right to follow me here.”

      He looked confused, then smiled. “I didn’t follow you here, Zoe. This is purely a coincidence.”

      That was possible, she conceded. “Th-then you’ll have to go to another hotel.”

      “That would be rather difficult,” he said.

      Zoe crossed her arms. “Why?”

      Colin was interrupted by a reservations employee who handed him a flat wooden box over the counter. “Your keys, Mr. Cannon. I’ll ring the bellman.”

      He thanked the woman, then turned back to Zoe, taking in her belligerent stance with an amused expression. “Because…I happen to own this place.”

      4

      AT THE NEWS THAT SHE’D just checked in to a resort owned by the man with whom she’d gotten down and dirty in the airplane lavatory, Zoe’s mind whirled in confusion. Followed by bleeding mortification that she’d just accused Colin Cannon of stalking her.

      She blinked and her mouth gaped. “I…I…”

      A smile crept across his handsome face as he gestured to the incredibly lavish lobby—his lobby. “Thank you. This place renders me speechless sometimes, too. That’s why I bought it.” Then he leaned in close to her ear and murmured, “My apologies. If I’d known we were bound for the same destination, I would’ve postponed my invitation until we were in more comfortable quarters.”

      Zoe swallowed hard. “Let’s just forget about it, okay?”

      “Too late,” he said. “You left an indelible impression.”

      So had he, she conceded. His close proximity gave her a whiff of the cologne she had smelled on his neck. And he was still wearing the silk tie that had bound her wrists, now neatly reknotted at his shirt collar. Zoe took a step backward to clear her head.

      “I’m moving to another hotel,” she announced.

      His face creased in disappointment. “Please don’t. It’s a big resort, our paths probably won’t even cross. Are you a regular guest?”

      “No,” she said, then gave him a wry frown. “No offense, but it’s a little beyond my normal budget. But a co-worker and I are here for—” she swallowed the real reason “—a treat.”

      “Ah,” he said. “A prewedding treat?”

      She nodded, awash with shame.

      “Then a treat you shall have,” he said with a wink. He turned back to the reservations desk. “Please arrange for Ms. Smythe and—” He looked back to Zoe. “What is your friend’s name?”

      “Erica Winston.”

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