He was no longer in imminent danger of choking to death, but her question took his breath again. “We’re not going to go there, Bug.”
“Why not? You’re welcome to ask me what I want in a man. I have no secrets. Well,” she said slowly. “Not about that subject.”
Her offer almost made him reconsider. But no. He wasn’t going to discuss his sexual preferences with Frannie. End of story.
“Eat your popcorn, woman.”
She was quiet while he cued up the movie. Soon, they were both into the story. It was a good film. Funny. Charming. Much like Frannie herself. When it was over, she yawned and stretched. “I think I’ll head upstairs and get ready for bed. That love seat over there is big enough for me. I don’t want to leave you down here alone.”
“Absolutely not. You’ll sleep in the guest room where your bags are.”
Frannie stood. Folded her arms. Glared at him. “I won’t be able to hear you if I sleep upstairs. It isn’t safe.”
“I’m a grown-ass man. I can take care of myself.”
“You nearly killed yourself in the bathroom.”
“I’ve learned my lesson. I’ll shove any and all small rugs out of my way.”
She changed tack. “You don’t have a shred of color in your face. The ankle is hurting badly. Am I right?”
He wanted to say no, but he couldn’t lie. Not to Frannie. “All the devils of hell are pounding on it with hammers. I have some hydrocodone upstairs in my medicine cabinet. If you’ll grab it for me, I would be most grateful.”
“Why do you have narcotics?”
“I had my appendix out last fall.”
“Oh.” She chewed her lip.
“What, Frannie?” He could almost see the wheels turning in her brain.
“If you’re drugged, I should be close to you.”
“How close?”
“There you go again.” Her grin was wry.
“Sorry. It’s a flaw in my character, I’m sure. Please, Bug. The medicine? And I’d like my overnight case, too, if you can manage.”
* * *
Frannie returned to Zachary’s bedroom for the third time that day and rummaged in his bathroom until she found the requested prescription. The instructions said take with food. He’d already eaten a ton of popcorn, so she put the meds in her pocket, picked up the overnight case and hurried down to the kitchen to pour him a glass of two percent. The milk wasn’t past its due date. He must have been up here in northern Maine fairly recently.
When she offered both to him, the pill and the drink, he sat up and muttered his thanks. She bent and kissed his cheek. “Your bag is right here. Call my cell if you need me. Promise?” His jaw was scratchy with stubble, his skin warm.
“I’ve been on my own a long time. I don’t need any woman.”
The sharp comment came out of nowhere. His mood had deteriorated, perhaps because his discomfort had increased. His disgruntled expression told her he had reached his tolerance for being coddled.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” she said quietly. “Good night.”
He called her name as she left the living room, but she kept on walking. Maybe his terse pronouncement was his way of keeping her at a distance, because he didn’t like being the subject of her amateurish nursing skills. Or maybe he really didn’t want to be told what to do...even for his own good.
Her feelings were bruised, but it was probably for the best. She’d been getting far too chummy with Zach. Maybe that was another clue. As a young adult, he’d made the choice to go from Zach to Zachary. He called the shots with his life. That was apparently what happened in his relationships, too. When it was time, it was time.
Zachary simply walked away.
And there was the kicker. She wanted him physically and emotionally, but the thought of being intimate with Zach and then having him walk away made her cringe inside. Better to keep the status quo, no matter how her poor heart wove daydreams.
She slept restlessly. At three, the alarm on her phone chimed. After shaking off the remnants of sleep, she stumbled down the stairs and hovered just outside the living room. A gentle snore from the vicinity of the sofa eased most of her concerns. Even so, she tiptoed in and stopped several feet away.
It was dark. Zachary had somehow turned out all the lights. She should have thought to do that for him.
A few steps closer, and she was able to see that he was naked from the waist up. Her toes curled into the carpet. Her legs grew shaky. Surely, he wasn’t completely naked. She didn’t think he could get his pants off without help.
He’d managed to add logs to the flames. The pile beside the hearth was smaller. Maybe during the night, he’d gotten too hot and had shed part of his clothing.
Even in the modest illumination from the fire, his chest was a thing of beauty. He looked far less civilized than the CFO of a huge company. This was a man who would not allow himself to be domesticated. A man who didn’t like being handled. Even when he actually needed help, he hated having to ask for it.
She hoped his ankle would heal quickly.
Since he appeared to be resting comfortably, she sure as heck wasn’t going to wake him. Morning would come soon enough.
She inched away, intent on returning to her warm, soft bed, but a hoarse, gravelly male voice stopped her in her tracks.
“Frannie. Come back. Please.”
She winced, knowing he couldn’t see her expression. When she turned around, his eyes were open. “How are you feeling?” she asked.
He lifted a hand and wobbled it back and forth. “So-so.”
“Do you want more meds? It’s been long enough.”
“Not right now. They make me muzzy.” He sat up and ran his hands through his hair. “Come sit with me.”
Frannie was a smart woman. Very smart. She knew this was the witching hour, that time of night when defenses were down, the real world seemed far away and people sometimes made stupid choices. Bad things happened.
Even so, she couldn’t resist his quiet plea.
Her night wear was perfectly respectable. Navy flannel pants with cavorting sheep and a white T-shirt that had been washed so many times it was soft as a whisper. The fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra was perfectly normal, though her lack of one made her feel vulnerable and underdressed.
She perched on the edge of the sofa, keeping a good three feet between her hip and Zach’s. “You should go back to sleep,” she said.
“I will. Eventually. I’ve dozed mostly.” He grimaced. “I’m sorry I snapped at you earlier.”
“You were hurting.”
“That’s no excuse. I really am sorry.”
“Apology accepted.”
“After you went to bed, I called Quinten. He’s leaving before dawn to come rescue us.”
“That’s good.”
“I told him we had about six inches of snow. Portland only got flurries.”
“Ah.”
He stared at her...so intently that her nipples furled beneath her top. Could he see? His gaze was almost a tactile caress. At last, he sighed. “On a scale of one to ten, how bad would it be if I kissed you?”
She sucked in a startled breath. “You already kissed me,” she pointed out.
“Doesn’t count. That was a thank-you kiss. Unpremeditated.”
Maybe he didn’t think much of that moment after their trek through the woods, but it had affected Frannie deeply. It had opened her eyes to dangerous possibilities. “It was still your lips and mine. What’s the difference?” She wanted to hear his answer. Desperately.
“The difference is intent. All that talk earlier about what you like in bed made me wonder how you like to be kissed.”
Heat rolled from the pit of her stomach up to her breasts and throat. Too bad she couldn’t strip off her top. She picked at a loose thread on her knee. “
I’ve always heard that spontaneity is a plus.”
He shook his head slowly. “The problem is, sometimes a guy can’t tell if the woman wants the kiss or not. You see my dilemma?”
“I can’t imagine any woman not wanting to kiss you, Zach,” she said, being entirely honest. Her bones were melting into a puddle of yearning. Even so, this seemed like a big step at a dicey moment.
“Is that a yes?” His lips tilted the tiniest bit. The smile was hungry and wary and bold all at the same time.
Her throat tightened to the point of pain. “Yes, please.”
Everything in the room went still. Two seconds passed. Then five. Slowly, Zachary leaned toward her and slid his hands beneath her hair. His fingers brushed her neck, warm and breath-stealing. His thumbs caressed the line of her chin.
“You were a very appealing girl, Frannie,” he said softly. “But you grew up to be a stunning woman. I’ve wanted to do this for hours.”
Her lips parted. She was about to say something, but Zachary put his lips on hers, stealing the words. The kiss was soft at first. Seeking.
She might have moaned. Did he notice? Did it matter? Her arms came up around his neck. The hair at his nape was silky soft when she ruffled it with a single fingertip. If Zach had intended the kiss to be exploratory, it got out of hand fast. His tongue delved between her lips, seeking hers, mating.
Her heartbeat deafened her. He was big and strong, and it felt perfectly right to be in his arms, even though somewhere in the far reaches of her brain, she knew she would pay for these moments of bliss.
“Zach...” She whispered his name, caught up in a weird time warp between then and now. How many times had she fantasized about a kiss like this? Her teenage dreams hadn’t come close to the reality.
He slid a hand beneath her T-shirt, his palm warm on her back. Wordlessly, she urged him to go farther. Her breasts ached for his touch. Apparently, Zach had more control than she did. He kissed the side of her neck, the tender skin beneath her ear. His free hand landed on her thigh, innocently enough. But possibly ready to trespass.
When he bit her earlobe, she shuddered. The fact that he so clearly wanted her made her heart sing. Maybe it was any port in a storm for Zachary. She chose to believe that it wasn’t only pheromones and opportunity.
Now, it was her turn to explore, and she took her assignment very seriously, stroking his shoulders and his back and kissing his collarbone. Despite the fact that he was half-naked, his skin was warm beneath her fingertips. Zachary Stone was a man. In comparison, the handful of other males she had allowed into her life seemed little more than boys.
That wasn’t fair, really. In Frannie’s eyes, Zach had always been the gold standard when it came to available mates. The trouble was, he had never been available. Nor was he now—not really.
His arm around her waist held her close, but they were in an awkward position. Standing was a better idea, though Zach couldn’t put weight on his foot. What would happen if she lay back on the sofa? The erotic image in her head made her weak and shaky. Desire was a liquid fire burning away her inhibitions, her good sense.
He kissed her again, more urgently this time, nipping her bottom lip with his teeth. “Frannie, sweet Frannie.”
Even as she returned the kiss, panting...hungry, she recognized they were reaching a point of no return. If she let this go much longer, they were going to be in too deep. As much as she wanted to be intimate with Zach, everything about this was wrong. He was hurt. They hadn’t seen each other in years until Friday morning. She suspected that nostalgia was driving this encounter on both their parts.
Worst of all, she was scared. Scared to reach for what she wanted. Scared he would never let her into his heart and his life. Scared that she needed something from him he could never give.
She was a planner. A “weigher” of consequences. This was no time to throw caution to the wind.
Being a responsible adult sucked sometimes.
“Zach.” She put her hands on his shoulders and pushed.
To his credit, he released her immediately. “What is it, Bug? What’s wrong?”
“I’m going back to bed. Upstairs. Alone. I barely know you. We’re about to make a big mistake.”
His frown encompassed frustrated male desire and an unwillingness to end their late-night interlude. “I would argue that you know me better than almost anyone, other than my family.”
“You’re not a teenage boy anymore. He’s the Zach I knew.”
“Maybe that’s true. But the core of who I am is the same. You and I had something special at Glenderry, Frannie. Four years. Hundreds of hours spent together. You can’t call me a stranger.”
It took a lot of mental fortitude in the wee hours of the morning to stand up and step back. Knowing that she could soon be making love to Zachary Stone if she gave in to temptation and let nature take its course was painful and bittersweet.
She willed him to understand. “I’ve never been a creature of impulse. I don’t think it’s wise to start now. My work and my reputation are important to me. Your family has a potentially damaging situation brewing. My first priority has to be my job at SRO.”
He didn’t say a word for an entire minute, maybe two, his posture rigid. The tension in the room was palpable. At last, he sighed. Leaning back into the sofa, he closed his eyes. “I wasn’t really thinking about SRO just now.”
“I don’t know how to do casual sex. I’m sorry.”
“Are you so sure it would be casual?”
“Nothing I know about you suggests otherwise.”
His expression was inscrutable. “I suppose I deserved that.”
“Don’t be mad, Zach. I liked what we were doing. A lot.”
“But not enough to see it through.”
“We’re rebuilding our relationship, and I’m happy about that. Let’s not ruin what we have.”
Seven
That was the problem with really smart women. They knew how to undo a guy without even trying. Of course she was right. That didn’t make Zachary’s erection any less insistent. He was horny, damn it. And he didn’t want just any woman—he wanted Frannie. He couldn’t explain his reaction to her. He didn’t really want to analyze it. Sometimes life dropped fun surprises into your lap.
Only now, Frannie had drawn a line in the sand. Business on one side, pleasure on the other. Zachary knew which side he wanted her to choose.
Frustrated and exhausted, he pulled the afghan over his legs and settled back into his temporary bed. In hindsight, he should have asked Frannie to bring him a real pillow. But she’d done so much already. He wasn’t going to ask her to fetch and carry again.
Punching the sofa cushion into a more pleasing contour, he settled in, balancing his ankle carefully. As soon as he closed his eyes, Frannie was right there with him. He could still catch a lingering trace of her subtle perfume. The feel of her smooth skin was imprinted on his fingertips.
Kissing her had been the best thing to happen to him in months, maybe years. Who knew little Frannie Wickersham would grow up to be an intensely feminine woman with loads of sex appeal?
The fact that she was clueless about her own charms made her all the more exceptional. If he were honest, he’d brought her to northern Maine hoping to impress her with his house and the setting. Instead—because he’d challenged her to that stupid race—he had ended up looking clumsy and helpless.
Not the best way to win a round with Frannie.
Why did it always have to be win and lose? They were adults now. He and Frannie weren’t in a competition.
Yet maybe he had kissed her so she would forget he was sidelined for the moment. Had he been hoping a romantic interlude would erase the memory of his ungainly splat on the bathroom floor? The second accident had been pretty damn humiliating.
He wanted to impress Frannie. That’s what he’d always w
anted. And because his best had never been quite good enough, he’d hidden his insecurities and had posed as a guy of unlimited confidence.
Playboy. Mischief maker. Man of the world who didn’t need anybody. The persona was a comfortable armor he had worn for a long time. Frannie was one of the few people with the ability to puncture his facade. That made her dangerous.
In any case, it was a moot point. Frannie was upstairs in the guest room, and Zachary was stuck on the sofa.
He stared at the fire, seeing the flames dance and shiver, imagining what it would be like to pull Frannie down onto the rug and make love to her there.
Oh hell. He shifted restlessly and groaned. His fantasy about Frannie was only making things worse.
Sheep. He would try counting sheep. At 4:32, he gave up. Apparently, he had slept just enough during the first hours of the night to make it hard to go under again. The combination of physical pain and erotic imagination created a perfect storm of insomnia.
For the next three hours, he floated in and out. His ankle hurt like a bitch. He should have taken more medicine. The sofa was about six inches too short to be comfortable for an entire night. Sunlight was streaming into the room through cracks in the drapes when a text from Quinten said he would arrive by midmorning. Thank God. As much as Zachary had wanted to bring Frannie up here to the coast, he now wanted to leave.
After a trip down the hall, he washed up and wet his hair to make it cooperate. Then he went to the kitchen to check out the options. The peanut butter sandwich Frannie had fixed him last night had run out a long time ago.
He was careful. Very careful. He wasn’t keen to end up on his butt again.
Just as he had formulated a plan, Frannie appeared in the doorway. “Good morning,” she said quietly. A familiar dusting of pink on her cheeks told him she was embarrassed about last night. He planned to ignore that memory. For the moment. Otherwise, he might skip breakfast entirely and do something that would get him in trouble.
She had her hair up in a riotous ponytail. Her eyes were clear, her gaze wary. Her soft, figure-hugging jeans and button-up yellow shirt made her look fresh and beautiful.
Secrets of a Playboy Page 8