“I believe you,” she said hastily, and he paused, his blue eyes speculative.
“Young and vibrant?” he said with a half-smile.
She dropped her gaze. “Now you’re fishing.”
“Damn right. California surfers need compliments, too.” His tone was deceptively light, but she sensed the tension in him from across the room.
“How about some dinner?” she chirped nervously. “You must be starved.”
His grin widened. “I’ll pretend you didn’t say that.”
“Zach, I didn’t mean to—”
“Easy. I know you didn’t. You’re the model of propriety…as long as someone’s watching, that is.”
“You’re teasing me about the dancing.”
“Very gently.” He seemed to sense her hesitation, and he didn’t push the issue. “Let’s toss some sandwiches together and eat them on the back porch.”
“Instead of dinner? I had some pork chops ready to fry, and I—”
“Too much work.” He walked into the kitchen, talking as he went. “We’ll use that leftover ham, and I’ll help you throw them together. Don’t you get tired of the same old cooking routine?”
“Sometimes,” she admitted, trailing after him. “But routines can be…comforting.”
“I agree,” he said, taking bread and lettuce from the refrigerator, “and I understand why you’ve maintained them. But when the time is right, routines should be broken, or they become ruts.”
“You might be right.” She pulled the cutting board from under the counter.
He winked at her. “California surfer philosophy. And speaking of California, is there any chance that somewhere in this house you’ve got a bottle of wine?”
“Wine? With sandwiches?”
“Is there an Illinois law against it?” He loaded his arms with ham, mustard, mayonnaise and cheese from the refrigerator.
“Don’t be a smart aleck. As a matter of fact, I might have a bottle or two stored in the basement. Jim used to give wine as Christmas presents to some of his best customers.”
“But you don’t drink it.”
She glanced at him. “You think I’m a real prude, don’t you?”
“Let’s say I think you’re conservative. It has a nicer ring to it. You must admit you haven’t been guzzling booze in my presence. No beer or wine in the refrigerator, no bourbon in the side cupboard. I assumed you don’t drink.”
“I used to have a glass of wine occasionally, when I—”
“If you say when I was younger I’m going to smear you with mustard.”
She laughed. “You sound like Allison.”
“Al and I have a lot in common.”
Yes, you do, she thought. You both approach life with a gusto that I envy.
“I interrupted you,” he continued. “You were saying?”
“I was trying to explain that I don’t like to drink alone,” she said quietly.
“Oh.” He was silent for a moment. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s okay.”
He glanced up from tearing the lettuce. “You’re not alone now.”
“No, not at the present moment,” she said, underlining the transitory nature of their relationship.
“I think living in the present is a pretty good idea.”
The invitation in his blue eyes made her heart leap. She was afraid that if she didn’t find something to do immediately, he would take her in his arms. “I’ll get the wine.” She fled down the basement steps.
Within a few minutes they were settled on the porch swing with a bottle of merlot on a side table, plates in their laps and brimming wineglasses. Zach had even remembered to fill Beethoven’s dish with dog food, and the spaniel munched happily beside them.
Diana sipped her wine and smiled at Zach. “This is nice, although Mrs. Eckstrom may keep the grapevine humming for days if she sees us. A picnic on the porch, wine, no kids…”
“Diana, we are the only two people on the block who know we have an empty house in there. Unless Mrs. Eckstrom’s information sources are better than I thought.”
“She seems to know everything, but you’re right. I’m acting paranoid.” Beethoven finished his meal and came to curl up at her feet.
Zach swallowed a bite of sandwich and gazed at her thoughtfully. “But not as much as I’d expected.” He looked somewhat confused. “I expected to come home and find you hiding away in your bedroom under a ton of face cream with rollers in your hair. Instead you’re be-bopping in the living room, and looking pretty damn sexy, as a matter of fact.”
She flushed, but his praise felt good. Very good. “That was a whim. Maybe because of Allison.”
“Allison?”
“She…” Diana paused and glanced at him. She needed to confide in someone, someone who cared.
“What about Allison?” he prompted, his eyes kind.
“Today she officially became a woman.”
“Really?”
Diana nodded, then smiled wryly. “And she wasn’t happy, believe me. Thought it was a great inconvenience before the big slumber party.”
He chuckled in understanding, and she was very glad she’d told him. “I bet.” He glanced sideways at her. “So you got a sudden urge to dance?”
She gazed into her half-full wineglass and sighed. “Trying to forget my age, I guess. As of today, I no longer have a little girl.” She swirled the ruby wine and took another sip to disguise the fact that she was dangerously close to tears.
He watched her silently then touched her hand. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured.
She gave him a tremulous smile. “Thanks.”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For sharing the news about Allison.”
She wiped gathering moisture from the corner of her eye. “I’m glad to have someone to tell. Someone who gives a damn.”
“I’m glad you realize that.” His thumb stroked gently against the back of her hand.
“It’s obvious you care about those girls.”
“Not just the girls.”
Her heart pounded, and she looked away from the intent expression on his face. “Zach, I—”
Immediately he withdrew his hand. “More wine?” he asked.
She took a deep breath. “I’d better not. I’ve become maudlin enough as it is.”
“Are you kidding? You ought to attend a California sensitivity group if you want to see maudlin.”
“No, thanks.”
“What’s wrong with allowing yourself to relax a little? Have some more wine,” he urged, picking up the bottle.
“I don’t think so. How does that saying go? Candy is dandy but liquor is quicker.”
His blond eyebrows rose a notch, and he replaced the wine bottle on the table. “That was uncalled for.”
“Oh, don’t get upset. I was only teasing.”
“I’m not amused.”
“Now who’s being touchy?” Her pulse sped up as she held his gaze. “What exactly do you want?”
“You know perfectly well.” His blue eyes bored like augers into her soul. “But I didn’t plan to get you drunk to accomplish it. I suggested the wine because I thought we needed to relax a little to relieve the tension of this crazy situation. I don’t want a bottle of wine to be an excuse for the decision you—we—make, any more than you do.”
She didn’t have to ask what decision he was talking about. She began to tremble, and she clutched her plate as it started to slide from her lap. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
He glanced at her shaking hand and laid his gently over it. “Let’s go inside. The porch swing is too public a spot for what I have to say.”
Diana felt the heat of his skin touching hers, which made her leap up as if she’d been burned. Beethoven jumped up with her, his tail wagging. “Beethoven wants to play,” she babbled, eager to focus attention on another topic.
“Tomorrow I’ll throw sticks for him until his little legs fall off,” Zach promise
d, taking the plate and wineglass from her. “But tonight he stays outside.”
She swallowed hard. “All right.”
Zach stacked her plate on top of his, and holding the two wineglasses by their stems, motioned her inside. Silently they walked into the kitchen where he deposited the plates and glasses then turned to her.
“I’d like to hold you while I’m saying this.”
She took a hesitant step toward him, and he met her halfway. Gently he pulled her into his arms and guided her head to a resting place in the curve of his shoulder.
“You’re quivering like a leaf.”
“I should have accepted another glass of Dutch courage. I’m scared.”
Gently he stroked her back. “Don’t be. You know how much I want you, but neither of us is willing to compromise our situation or embarrass the girls.”
“No.” Her voice sounded small in the silence.
“Diana, if we make love tonight, they’ll never know. We’ll make sure of it.”
Warmth spread through her body, warmth that would soon become raging desire. She didn’t have much time to make her decision. Soon passion would make it for her. “What about after tonight?” she asked softly. “Have you thought of that?”
“Yes,” he admitted. “It won’t be easy, but life is becoming damn near impossible now. The girls will be gone at other times, and I’m willing to wait until then.”
Despite his deceptively gentle touch on her back, there was no denying that Zach was thoroughly aroused. Diana felt the first wave of desire wash over her as she felt his warm pulsing maleness against her. “Not while they’re in school.” She was weakening, and her voice was breathless with emotion. “I won’t have us scrambling to make the bed and get dressed before they get home.”
“All right.” His breathing quickened, and he lowered his lips to the side of her neck. “God, that perfume.”
She closed her eyes and savored the damp heat of his mouth trailing kisses up her neck to the curve of her jaw. Delirium was close. Soon he would take her lips, and then nothing else would matter but mindless surrender.
“Diana,” he murmured close to her ear. “I know your body’s answer.” His hand moved down to cradle her hips and crush her tightly to him. She moaned softly. “But you have to tell me that I can love you. I won’t let you melt against me and abandon all responsibility, much as I want to. Commit yourself. Say you want me to love you tonight.”
“Zach,” she pleaded, “you know.”
“No, I don’t.” His warm lips left her throat. “Look at me.”
Reluctantly she raised her head from the haven of his shoulder and gazed languorously into the fiery blue of his eyes.
He drew a shuddering breath. “Say it. Say it, Diana, or so help me, I’ll leave this house tonight and sleep on a park bench rather than have you claim tomorrow that making love was a mistake.”
Her dazed mind fought to sort out her feelings. He wanted her to come to him guilt free. Could she do that? Would she be able to look her daughters in the eye tomorrow if she lay in a passionate embrace with Zach tonight?
Nine
Diana gazed into Zach’s rugged sun-bronzed face. In a matter of months he would be gone. And then, in slower stages, the girls would leave. Life, youth, excitement were slipping away from her. But now, in this moment, she held all three in her arms.
She tried to speak, swallowed and tried again. “I—want you tonight, Zach,” she said haltingly. “Please love me.”
His breath caught in his throat. “Gladly,” he whispered. “Gladly.”
At last she felt the promise of his lips, the arousing flick of his tongue against hers. After weeks of watching him move through the house, his virility calling to her deepest feminine instincts, she knew the rush of warmth as he pressed her to him. Her body shook with anticipation.
As her heart raced out of control, she felt his hand mold to her waist, skim the thin material of her bodice and cup her breasts. She wanted those hands against her bare skin, wanted to touch him in return. Boldly she tugged his T-shirt from the waistband of his shorts and slid her palms up the smooth length of his torso to the bunched muscles of his shoulders. He groaned and stroked her taut nipples with the pads of his thumbs.
Breathing hard, he lifted his mouth from hers. “Let’s go upstairs.”
“Upstairs?”
“Yes. This time, yes.”
Diana understood. The upstairs bedroom held no memories of married love. Zach’s choice was the right one, until they established their own style, their own pattern. “I’ll meet you there,” she said, withdrawing reluctantly from his warmth. “I wasn’t exactly prepared.”
“That’s okay. I am.”
“You knew this would happen?”
“No.” He swallowed. “I hoped but I didn’t know.”
“Then let me…get ready.”
“Sure. I’ll wait here for you.”
“No, go on up. Please. You might even—” she took a breath and rushed on “—take your clothes off.” Before he could respond, she ran from the kitchen into her bedroom. Then she listened for his tread on the stairs and the creak of the old wooden floor above her head that told her he was in his room.
Her hands, made clumsy with passion, jabbed at the buttons of her shirtwaist, and she wondered if he was stripping off his T-shirt without a quiver. After tossing her dress on the bed, she stepped out of her shoes and pulled her slip over her head. Was he unzipping his shorts? She licked her dry lips.
She pushed the straps of her bra over her shoulders, reached behind her back and unhooked the fasteners. Her breasts fell free, and she touched them wonderingly. The skin felt taut, stretched firm and tight with desire. She slipped the damp fabric of her panties over her hips and stood in the middle of her bedroom, her eyes lifted to the room above. She heard the bedsprings squeak under him. He was waiting.
* * *
Zach stretched out on the mattress of the four-poster and draped the white sheet over his aroused body. He left the bedside lamp on and placed a condom within reach. Below him, he heard a drawer open and close.
Would she come to him fully dressed, or had she, too, removed her clothes? Never in his life had he lain like this, waiting for a woman. Seduction had always involved the gradual undressing ritual, the slow discovery of his partner’s body, the thrill as each level of inhibition faded away.
But this unusual preliminary had driven him to a fever pitch of desire, until he doubted his ability to hold back with Diana, to make sure her own response equaled his before he buried himself in her softness. God, how he ached for her! If she hadn’t said yes tonight, he probably would have considered leaving the house forever. He had only so much control, and in the past week his primitive urges had nearly overpowered him.
The wooden stairs announced her approach, and his heart beat faster. He watched the doorway and suddenly she was there, a hesitant smile on her rosebud mouth. A pale blue silken robe was belted loosely around her small waist, and her pert nipples thrust against the material, announcing to him that she wore nothing underneath.
“May I come in?”
He propped himself up on one arm and held the other out to her while he devoured her with a hungry gaze. The robe made little whispering noises as she crossed to him on bare feet, and when her fingers entwined with his, he closed his eyes briefly and hoped for the strength to take it slowly.
Her voice was low, husky. He’d never heard it like that. “You followed my instructions,” she said.
“Of course.” He drew her toward him, and she perched on the edge of the mattress. He released her hand and rubbed his knuckles gently across the pucker of her nipple under the blue material. Her silvery eyes darkened. “You haven’t changed your mind.” He meant it as a statement, not as a question.
“No.”
Deliberately slowing his movements, he reached for the belt of her robe. His fingers slid under the loose tie and pulled it free. “I’ve never seen you,” he said. “Onl
y imagined…” His hand slipped beneath the lapel of the garment and gently pushed it aside. “God.” His gaze lifted to her face. “You’re like porcelain.”
“But I’m not,” she said. “Porcelain is easily broken.”
He allowed his fingers to drift from her collarbone down the slope of one breast, and he trembled at the silken perfection of her pale skin. “And I know you’re not. You’re a strong woman, Diana, but you’re made so delicately.” He pushed the other side of the garment away and took a quivering breath. “So delicately.”
She shivered as his feather-soft touch outlined the curve of each breast.
“Take off the robe,” he murmured.
She stood and allowed the pale blue garment to slide from her shoulders to a shimmering puddle on the wooden floor.
“My lovely moon goddess,” Zach breathed. “How I want you.”
Her silver gaze flickered over his prone body. “I want you, too,” she said softly. “Pull back the sheet, Zach.”
Wordlessly he complied, and her eyes glowed with approval. “You’re beautiful,” she said, her voice catching in her throat.
“Men aren’t beautiful.”
“You are.”
“Come here.”
With a sigh she lowered herself beside him and tentatively brushed her hand over his chest and down to his stomach. “I’ve wanted to touch you for so long.”
When her slender fingers closed around him, he moaned and reached for her. “I’ve dreamed about this—you touching me, me touching you. It’s better than my wildest fantasies.” He stilled the erotic movements of her hand and brought it up to his chest. “Can you feel that? You’re driving me crazy.”
She nibbled on his lower lip. “You’ve been driving me crazy ever since you arrived on my doorstep.”
“And ever since I saw you standing there, looking so cool and collected in that horrendous heat, I’ve wanted to find out if I could get beyond that cool exterior and make you moan, make you whimper and call my name.” His tongue dipped into the hollow at the base of her throat, then began a slow journey to the tip of her breast. “Heat up for me,” he whispered, circling the erect nipple with tiny licking kisses.
The Fix-It Man Page 11