A Long Way From Eden

by Jana Richards

  At that moment Zane didn't care if they never made it to dinner. He could spend the whole night just looking at her. "Don't worry about it. We have plenty of time."

  They drove across the city to St. Boniface, the French quarter of Winnipeg, where even the street signs were bilingual. All the way there he kept trying to think of something to say, something amusing or witty or even mildly interesting, but nothing would come. He felt tongue-tied and awkward. Meg was beautiful when she wore faded jeans and an old T-shirt, her hair pulled back in a careless ponytail. Tonight, in a sexy black dress, her hair and her make-up giving her a sleek polished look, she was stunning.

  He pulled into the parking lot of La Petite Maison, a restaurant that he knew featured wonderful French cuisine, good wines and excellent service. He'd booked a table in a quiet corner where they could relax and not be disturbed.

  The ma�tre d' ushered them to their table and provided them with menus. After settling Meg in her chair, he discreetly disappeared. She looked around with interest and smiled. "This is beautiful, Zane. Thanks for bringing me here."

  "You're welcome," he managed. The light from the candle illuminated her face, giving her skin a warm glow. Her eyes sparkled. Zane imagined he saw a light that burned with intense heat when she looked at him.

  Their waiter took their order, filling their wine glasses before he left. Meg glanced around the room as she drank her wine, looking relaxed.

  Zane felt anything but relaxed. Again he searched for something to say that didn't sound stupid or awkward, wishing he were the type of guy who was comfortable with emotions and words. Finally he hit on what he thought was a safe subject.

  "Jane's a nice girl."

  She smiled. "She's a terrific girl. The Evans family took me in when Tommy was a toddler. Joe and Maria have been like parents to me, and Jane and Chris are my siblings of the heart. I started using their last name shortly after I moved in with them, though they never formally adopted us. It was my way of showing them how much their support meant to me."

  Zane leaned forward, fascinated. "How did they come to take you in?"

  Meg hesitated and looked away, and Zane immediately regretted prying into her personal life. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

  "No, it's okay. I want to tell you." She took a deep breath. "I took a job in the restaurant as a dishwasher. Joe and Maria had just taken over the management from Joe's parents, Pearl and Isaac. Jane and Chris were nine and three, and Tommy was about two and a half."

  Meg smiled in remembrance. "Grandma Pearl was so sweet. And Grandpa Isaac was just the best. In those days they used to work at the restaurant quite often. Anyway, Joe and Maria found out I had a young child and they started taking me under their wing, sending home food for me and Tommy, things like that. Not long after I started working for them, the old building where we lived was condemned and Tommy and I were evicted. We had no place to go. When Joe and Maria found out, they invited us to move in with them. And the rest is history."

  She picked up her wineglass and had another sip. Her story explained a lot, while raising new questions. Through Erin he had learned that Tommy's father, along with both sets of grandparents had died in a plane crash, and that they had all lived in a small town in Saskatchewan. Hadn't there been anyone, either friends or family, in that small town who could have helped Meg raise her son? Why hadn't her family provided for them in a will? And why had she left the small town she'd known all her life to live in a big city where she knew no one?

  But he kept his questions to himself, knowing Meg wasn't ready to answer them.

  The waiter arrived with their salads and they ate in silence for a few moments. After she finished she set her salad plate to one side and smiled at him. "I almost forgot. I'm supposed to ask you for names and phone numbers of Erin's friends so Jane and I can invite them to the baby shower."

  "Baby shower?"

  "It was Jane's idea. We thought we'd get all Erin's friends and female relatives together and throw her a party. Everybody will bring gifts for the baby and we'll play silly games and eat too much and have a good time."

  Zane was touched by her thoughtfulness. It would mean a lot to Erin to have Meg welcome her into the family like this.

  "I'll get some names and phone numbers for you."

  "Zane, I don't know what's going to happen in the future with Tom and Erin. Maybe they'll stay together or maybe they'll go their separate ways. But whatever happens, Erin and the baby will always be a part of our lives. I know you still feel strongly that they should be married, but if you want that because you're worried your grandchild will some how be thought of as inferior, don't. This baby is already very much loved."

  Zane could only nod, his throat too tight with emotion for words. Their entrees arrived and he took pleasure in watching Meg eat, her enjoyment of the tourtiére, a traditional French-Canadian meat pie, delighting him. He barely noticed what was on his own plate.

  Later he drank coffee while he watched her demolish a piece of cheese cake drizzled with maple syrup. He loved watching her, loved the emotions that sped across her face as she talked, and how the candlelight emphasized the blue-black sheen of her hair. Finally she pushed away the dessert plate.

  "That was so good. Do you think they'd give me the recipe?"

  Zane laughed. "So that you can make it in your restaurant? I don't think so."

  Meg smiled. "It was a thought."

  The waiter brought the bill and Zane settled up. Outside, the sun hung low in the west, not quite ready to call it a night. Zane wasn't ready either. The evening air was warm with a gentle breeze blowing across the Red River. "Would you like to go for a walk?"

  She smiled. "I'd love to."

  They walked on a well-groomed path along the riverbank and watched as lights turned on one by one in the business towers across the river. Music drifted on the wind from an outdoor theatre at the Forks, a market and meeting place at the point where the Red and the Assiniboine rivers joined. Zane stopped on the path and faced her, his heart in his throat. He held out his hand.

  "Would you like to dance?"

  He waited for what seemed like an eternity for her answer. She searched his face for a moment, as if coming to a grave decision. Finally she nodded, her expression serious. "Yes."

  She took his hand and danced into his arms.

  Chapter Six

  She must have had way too much wine, Meg thought. How else could she explain the intoxication she felt in Zane's arms? She reveled in the feeling even while frightened by it. Meg knew firsthand how dangerous it could be to just let go, to let emotions rule commonsense.

  Yet dancing in Zane's arms, with his blue eyes focused so intently on her, she knew she'd never felt more safe or protected or cherished in her life.

  The music from across the river stopped and so did they. Zane pulled out of her embrace and looked away.

  "I'm sorry Meg."

  Her whole body tensed. "Why?"

  He ran a hand through his hair in a gesture of frustration. "Because I shouldn't have done that. It's not smart for us to get involved."

  Disappointment raged through her, even though she knew he was right. "No, I suppose not."

  Zane took a step towards her, his eyes blazing. "Dammit, I told myself that this was a dinner to talk about the kids, that's all."

  "Yes." Her voice came out as a breathy whisper. She couldn't tear her gaze from his.

  "So cloth or disposable?"

  Her head was reeling. "What?"

  "Are we going to use cloth or disposable diapers? We're supposed to discuss this, remember?" His hands clutched her shoulders.

  "I..." Meg tried to think but it was difficult with his hands on her. "I imagine Erin will use disposables."

  "Good. Enough discussion."

  He crushed her against him, his mouth consuming hers. Her arms went around his back even as her head screamed at her to run away. Her body was a mass of nerve endings and all she could do was feel. Heat radiated through
her, pooling at the apex of her thighs. Zane brought her hard against him and she could feel his arousal pushing against her stomach.

  "Come home with me Meg. Now. I need you."

  Fear clawed at her stomach and she pushed away from Zane. She looked around, panting, disgusted with herself and feeling fifteen again. Though the spot they occupied was some distance from the street and hidden from view by some trees and the settling darkness, it was still a public place. Anyone could have stumbled upon them while they groped each other. She winced, heat burning her face with humiliation and memory.

  "I can't. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have...led you on like that." She closed her eyes and hugged herself to keep from breaking into a million pieces. "Please take me home."

  Zane's face seemed set in stone. "Yes, of course."

  They walked back to the restaurant parking lot in silence, being careful not to touch each other. The half hour car ride to Meg's apartment was equally silent. Zane stopped in front of her building and she opened the door immediately. His voice stopped her as she climbed out of the car.

  "Are you all right?"

  Though his tone was brusque she heard the underlying concern. A part of her wanted to fling herself into his arms and take comfort there. But she knew the comfort would be brief and the regret very long.

  "I'll be fine."

  She got out of the car, closing the door softly. The Lexus idled on the curb, waiting, while she hurried to the apartment door and fumbled with her keys. When she finally managed to control her shaking hands long enough to work the lock and step inside the building, Zane drove away.

  Meg watched the taillight of his car disappear down the street, feeling like it took a part of her heart with it.

  * * * *

  Zane picked up the phone and began dialing, then abruptly stopped and slammed the handset onto the receiver. He cursed a few times and paced a circle around his desk in his downtown office. He'd tried to call Meg at least a dozen times in the past week but couldn't think of what to say. Somehow 'I'm sorry I wanted to have sex with you' didn't sound right. Besides, he wasn't sorry about that at all. He was only sorry he'd been abrupt and crude and had upset her.

  A knock at his door shifted his attention away from the telephone. "Come in."

  Erin entered his office carrying an armload of files. "Hi Dad. Karen said you keep these files in your office. Is it okay if I put them away for you now?"

  "Sure. Knock yourself out."

  Erin smiled and stepped over to his filing cabinet, setting her files on the edge of his desk. She'd been coming into the office on a part-time basis the last few weeks to help out his secretary Karen. It gave her the opportunity to make a little spending money before the baby came, as well as to get out of the house. It also gave him the opportunity to keep an eye on her, to make sure she ate well and didn't overdo. She was really beginning to blossom, pregnancy wise, and had taken to wearing maternity clothes. Her pregnant appearance took a little getting used to.

  Erin slipped the last file into its appropriate folder. "There, all done. I'll get out of your hair."

  "That's okay, honey. Actually I could use a diversion today. Why don't we go somewhere for lunch?"

  "I'd love to, Dad, but Tommy's picking me up today. We're going down to the Forks."

  "Oh." He tried to keep the disappointment out of his voice. "Good. You and Tom have a good time. We'll go out another time."

  She cocked her head to one side. "Why don't you come with us?"

  Zane grinned at her. "Do I look that pathetic? Thanks Erin, but no thanks. You guys go ahead and have a good time. I'll see you after lunch. I have some tenders I should work on anyway."

  "All work and no play makes Zane a dull boy," she said with a grin.

  "Ouch. You really know how to hurt a guy."

  Erin laughed. "You should get out more. Why don't you call Meg again?"

  Zane felt his smile fade. He turned away, rearranging the pencils on his desk. "I don't think that's a good idea."

  She came around his desk to look into his face. "Okay, spill it. You've been moping around here since you went out with her last week. What happened?"

  "Nothing." That was exactly the truth. Nothing had happened and that was the problem.

  She frowned at him. "Well, something must have happened. Tommy said his mother was crying when she came into the apartment after your date."

  Zane's head jerked up. "What?"

  Erin shrugged. "Tommy asked her what was wrong, but she just laughed it off. He was pretty upset with you. He says his mother doesn't cry."

  He closed his eyes and cursed himself silently. He felt like a heel. The thought of Meg being upset because he'd pushed himself on her made him sick.

  He grabbed his jacket from the coat rack and gently steered Erin out of his office.

  "Where are you going?" she asked.

  Zane pushed his arms through the sleeves of his jacket as he hurried towards the elevators. "I have a sudden craving for lemon meringue pie."

  * * * *

  Meg felt Zane's presence the minute he walked through the restaurant's doors. It was as if she had some kind of insane radar where he was concerned. She lowered her head to avoid looking at him as she loaded dirty dishes onto a tray.

  Her tactic didn't work. In a moment Zane was at her side touching her arm.

  "Can we talk?"

  "I'm really busy right now." She kept her gaze averted, unwilling to look in his eyes and see the contempt that she knew must be there. "Maybe later."

  To her surprise he quietly agreed. "That's fine. I need lunch anyway. Can I have this table?"

  She looked up at him and saw a gentle smile play on his lips. "Yes, yes of course." She gave the small table a hurried wipe. "Would you like coffee?"

  "Please."

  For the rest of the lunch hour rush Meg's heart hammered in her chest. She managed to take Zane's order and bring him utensils without dropping or spilling anything, though her hands felt as if they were encased in blocks of ice. After he finished his meal he handed his credit card to her.

  "Do you think we could talk now?"

  She nodded. Might as well get it over with. "I'll take a break as soon as I put your card through."

  A few minutes later they walked through the kitchen and out into the back alley. It was a warm afternoon but despite the sunshine Meg felt chilled to her bones. She hugged herself to keep warm and looked down at her feet. "Just say what you want to say and get it over with."

  "I'm sorry."

  It was the last thing she'd expected him to say. Her head jerked up in surprise. "What for?"

  He took a couple of steps toward her, stopping just short of touching her. "For pushing myself on you and scaring you. I behaved badly and I'm sorry."

  He meant it. Meg was touched that he would take responsibility for what she'd done, but she couldn't let him think it was his fault. "No, Zane. You didn't do anything wrong. It was my fault and I'm the one who's sorry. I shouldn't have gone out to dinner with you."

  "Meg--"

  She put up her hand to stop him when he would have touched her. "You didn't push yourself on me. I wanted you to kiss me. But then when things got too intense, I couldn't handle it." She looked into his eyes, afraid she'd see pity or contempt, and was surprised when all she saw was concern.

  "Don't blame yourself."

  She shook her head. "I'm sorry Zane. I don't know if I could ever manage another relationship." She swallowed hard, determined to tell him the truth. "It's not fair to let you go on thinking there could ever be anything between us."

  His expression registered a flash of sadness before he carefully wiped all traces of emotion from his face. Meg hated that she caused him pain.

  "I see," he said. "Is that what you really want, for me to walk away and leave you alone?"

  He watched her intently, like he did the night he took her to dinner. She couldn't look away from his gaze. The look in his eyes challenged her to tell the truth. She fought a
gainst it, forcing herself to look away.

  "Yes," she whispered.

  "I don't believe you. If you can look me in the eye right now and tell me you really want me to leave, I won't bother you again." He briefly touched her face with the tip of his finger. "You'll never have to talk to me, or play piano for me or dance with me ever again. Is that what you really want?"

  She tried to say it was, tried to make the words come out, but they refused. "No, that's not what I really want," she whispered.

  Zane stepped closer, placing one hand on her shoulder while the other stroked her hair. "What do you really want, Meg?" he whispered, his voice a caress.

  "I'm afraid to want anything," she said truthfully, her gaze locked with his. Her body trembled under his touch. "At least that way I can't be hurt."

  "Who hurt you, Meg?"

  She shook her head, and to her embarrassment felt tears pooling in her eyes. Why did he have to make her feel so much?

  "Please, don't push me on this."

  Something changed in his face, and he dropped his hands. He averted his gaze for a moment and when he turned back to her, she saw the determination there.

  "I don't scare easily, Meg. When you're ready to tell me your secrets, I'll be here."

  He turned and went back into the restaurant, leaving her staring at the closed door, her hands shaking. A part of her wanted to trust him, to believe that he would understand what she'd done. She was tired of the lies and secrets. But the part of her that had spent the last seventeen years in hiding recoiled at the idea of trusting another man, even Zane.

  * * * *

  Zane picked up the phone and dialed Meg's home number before he could change his mind again. It had been several days since he'd talked to her in the back alley of the restaurant and a complex array of emotions still surged through him whenever he thought of her. After what he'd been through with his mother, he despised secrets. It hurt that she couldn't, or wouldn't, share her past with him, especially after he'd bared his soul to her. But jealousy was the predominant emotion he felt. It burned through his belly like a prairie fire, and no matter what he told himself to try to control it, it continued to smolder. Had she loved Tommy's father so much that she couldn't let him go? First love was a powerful thing. Did he really want to compete for Meg's love with a dead man?