Hawk's Way: Callen & Zach

by Joan Johnston

  But there was more to like about Rebecca Littlewolf than her body. From the first day he met her, when she was a kid of thirteen, she had worn her heart on her sleeve. It had been a huge heart, for a kid, open to every wounded, needy or crippled being that crossed her path. He wondered how much of that openhearted, guileless girl remained in the woman she had become.

  Zach shoved his fingers through his hair in agitation. At least he wouldn’t make the same mistakes the second time around. He wouldn’t set his heart on a platter for another woman. He refused to make himself vulnerable ever again to the kind of pain Cynthia had caused.

  But he desperately wanted children of his own. By the time his thirty-sixth birthday had come and gone, he had realized that time was running out. Conceding that a wife was a necessary part of the family he craved, he had decided on an advertisement as the quickest way to interview the broadest range of candidates. He had been determined to make a rational, informed decision. He had wanted a woman he could admire and respect as the mother of his children, someone with whom he could live amicably. It was icing on the cake if he felt physical desire for her. In Rebecca Littlewolf he had found a woman who filled all his needs.

  It took Zach a moment to realize that the soft thumping sound he heard was someone knocking at the back door. He sprinted to the bedroom, dragged on a pair of jeans over his briefs, and buttoned a couple of the buttons as he headed for the kitchen.

  The morning sky was streaked with pinks and yellows that gave him enough light to see who was standing there.

  “Hello, Zach.”

  “Come in, kid.” As he had the previous day, Zach held the screen door wide for Rebecca Littlewolf. She stepped just inside and stopped.

  “I didn’t sleep much last night,” she said. “I think we need to do some serious talking.”

  “Uh-oh.” Zach hid his anxiety behind a grin, and gestured Rebecca farther into the kitchen. She crossed to the spot she had taken the previous day, in front of the sink. He didn’t feel like sitting down, so he leaned against the center island and crossed his arms and his ankles. “What’s on your mind?”

  She let go of the strand of hair she had tangled around her forefinger and said, “I’m having second thoughts, Zach.”

  Zach felt a sudden lurch in his belly. He hadn’t been particular about who his wife was before he had decided on Rebecca. Suddenly, he couldn’t picture anyone else in the role. He found her lowered gaze and tucked chin enchanting. He wanted nothing so much as to lift that chin and kiss those eyelids.

  “We shook on it, kid. As far as I’m concerned, it’s a done deal.”

  “It isn’t that simple, Zach.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because of Cynthia.”

  He wondered exactly what she meant and was afraid he knew. “What about Cynthia?”

  “I’ve been wondering whether, for the rest of my life, when you look at me, you’ll be seeing her instead.”

  Zach snorted. “You don’t look at all like Cynthia.” She blushed a fiery red, and he realized she had taken his comment wrong. Her next words confirmed it.

  “I know I’m not beautiful, like Cynthia, but—”

  “Looks had nothing to do with my decision,” Zach interrupted, unconsciously confirming her opinion that he found her wanting. “Look, kid—”

  “I stopped being a kid years ago, Zach.”

  She shoved her hair behind her shoulders, revealing rounded breasts beneath a worn T-shirt that were proof of her point without the need for words. But he knew she wasn’t making reference to her physical maturity. He conceded that he didn’t know her as an adult. The woman standing before him was as much a stranger to him as any of the other candidates he had interviewed.

  It was disconcerting to admit that he had been calling her “kid” to keep her at a distance. At the same time, he had been using it as a term of endearment. The kid he had known was sweet and kind and had a heart of gold. He wanted to hang on to that memory of goodness as long as he possibly could. He had liked the kid he knew. It was hard to acknowledge those admirable qualities in the sexually attractive woman who stood before him. So “kid” it was…and would remain.

  “All right, kid, let’s hear it. What did you decide during your sleepless night?”

  She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I was thinking maybe it would be better if we didn’t get married.”

  “We had a deal.”

  “I’m not reneging on the deal, just changing it a little.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Changing it how?”

  “I’m suggesting we live together, rather than marry right away.”

  “What purpose would that serve?”

  “It might save us both a nasty divorce.”

  “Do you have any reason to believe you can’t—or won’t—get pregnant?”

  She shook her head. “But that doesn’t mean it will happen, either.”

  “I’m willing to take my chances.”

  “I’m not.”

  He grimaced. The teenage girl he had known and liked, the one who had marched to the beat of her own drummer with an army of three-legged, lop-eared, crop-tailed animals trailing along behind her, had grown into an equally obstinate and opinionated woman. She was playing with her hair again, which he recognized as a sign of nerves. He wanted to free her hands and take them in his own, to give comfort, to ease her fears.

  He took a step toward her, and she extended her hand, the palm flattened in a signal to stop.

  “Don’t,” she said in a breathless voice.

  He took another step, and another, until the flat of her palm rested against his chest. Zach stopped then, because he had what he wanted. He could feel the heat of her, feel his heart pound beneath her trembling hand. She looked up at him with eyes that revealed her vulnerability.

  She wanted him.

  Zach swore under his breath. She had never been good at hiding what she was feeling, and she did nothing to mask the desire that glowed in her eyes. He had seen the look before in other women and knew she was a moment from surrender.

  “Don’t look at me like that, kid,” he warned in a low, husky voice, “unless you mean what you’re saying with your eyes.”

  She jerked her hand away and tucked it behind her. Her eyes blinked several times as though she were recovering from a trance. “I’m sorry, Zach. I didn’t mean—”

  He laughed, a rumbly sound deep in his chest. He reached out and folded her in his arms, rocking her back and forth several times. “Ah, kid, what am I going to do with you?”

  “Why can’t we just live together, Zach? I promise I’ll marry you when—if—I get pregnant.”

  He shook his head. “That isn’t good enough.” He didn’t—dared not—trust her. What if she no longer wished to marry him once she was pregnant? At least if they were married he would have some legal right to his child. But he wasn’t going to put ideas in her head by mentioning his fears.

  “It has to be marriage, kid. I don’t want my child born a bastard, or left counting the months between our marriage and his birth.”

  “Don’t you think our child is going to ask questions when she notices the nature of our relationship?”

  “We’ll be sleeping together. We’ll be civil at the breakfast table. That’s more than most marriages can boast,” Zach said flatly.

  Her brow furrowed. “I don’t understand you, Zach.”

  “You don’t have to understand me. That’s not part of the job description. All you have to do is keep your part of the bargain.”

  She turned her back on him and stared out the window over the sink into the central courtyard. “I don’t know, Zach.”

  He closed the distance between them and slipped his arms around her waist. She stiffened, then relaxed against him, into him. He heard her gasp as his palms flattened against her belly, but she didn’t fight his intimate possession of her. He lowered his head and nuzzled the soft skin beneath her right ear.

  She made a purring s
ound in her throat that caused his body to go hard. His hand slid down the front zipper placket of her jeans until he was cupping her. She spread her legs and arched into his hand.

  “Zach.”

  A shudder reeled through him when she said his name.

  “I…want…you so much.” The words seemed forced from her and were followed by a guttural sound of pleasure.

  “Marry me,” he murmured in her ear. “Marry me and have my baby.”

  “Oh, Zach, you don’t play fair.”

  His mouth suckled a tender spot on her nape, and she hissed in a breath of air.

  Then he felt her hand on his thigh, high up, near his genitals. She wasn’t playing too damn fair herself, Zach thought as his blood pumped, and his breath grew ragged. Soon she had both hands behind her, both hands cupping him, and he leaned into the pleasure, reached out for it, groaning in satisfaction at the way she touched him.

  “No marriage, Zach. Not until there’s a baby.”

  Abruptly he freed himself. He grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her around. His hands tightened on her shoulders as his eyes flashed with anger. “That sort of blackmail won’t work.”

  He let her go and stepped back. “I have my reasons for wanting marriage first. I’m not willing to compromise, and I’m not going to change my mind. That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.”

  For a terrifying moment, he thought she was going to leave it. She stared at the toe of her booted foot, dragging it back and forth several times across the brick-tiled floor.

  “All right, Zach,” she said at last. “I think you’re making a mistake.” Her lips twisted. “I think I’m making an even bigger one. But I’ll marry you.”

  “In two weeks?”

  “Two weeks.”

  “I’ll have my lawyer draw up papers to guarantee funding for the camp. We can sign them before the wedding.”

  “Have your lawyer send them to my lawyer first,” Rebecca said.

  Zach looked at Rebecca with searching eyes. The kid he remembered would have believed the best of him, not taken precautions against the worst. No, she wasn’t a kid anymore, no matter what he chose to call her.

  “Fine,” he said. “Anything else?”

  “What time should I be at the courthouse?”

  “Meet me at my lawyer’s office at 3:00.” He gave her an address. “We’ll go from there to the courthouse.”

  She smiled in a way that was unutterably sad. “I hope neither of us will be sorry a year from now for making this devil’s bargain.”

  “If you’re having second thoughts, just don’t show up at the courthouse.”

  Zach was sorry the instant the taunt was out of his mouth. He was no longer willing to settle for just any woman. He wanted Rebecca.

  “Goodbye, Zach.” She crossed past him without looking back, her shoulders squared and her chin high.

  Zach had no idea whether she meant goodbye until the wedding, or farewell forever. He opened his mouth to ask and snapped it shut again. He would burn in hell before he admitted to her that he cared, one way or the other.

  For the next two weeks, that’s just what he did.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “HI, KID. ARE YOU AWAKE?”

  “I am now,” Rebecca mumbled, still half asleep. She checked the clock beside the hotel bed. “It’s 5:00 a.m., Zach.”

  “Time to rise and shine, sleepyhead.”

  “Goodbye, Zach.”

  “Whoa, kid,” he said with a laugh. “I wanted to let you know you’re welcome to move your things in this morning. I’ll be out working on the range, so you’ll have the house to yourself. Kid? Are you there?”

  “Sure, Zach. That sounds like a good idea.”

  “I could hang around if you need any help.”

  “I loaded the trailer. I can unload it.”

  “Okay, don’t get your dander up. I’ll see you later this afternoon, then.”

  “Goodbye, Zach.” Rebecca dropped the phone into the cradle, groaned and shoved herself upright.

  Her wedding day had arrived.

  Rebecca was no more certain that she was doing the right thing now than she had been two weeks ago. Mrs. Fortunata, however, had been overjoyed.

  “See? What did I tell you?” She dabbed at her eyes with a hankie. “I can’t believe you want me to be a camp counselor. No more mopping floors! I’m one lucky old lady. That’s for sure!”

  It had felt good to make Mrs. Fortunata happy.

  Rebecca winced at the thought of having to explain to Zach that—without consulting him—she had hired Mrs. Fortunata—and expected him to pay her—to cook for them during the months when camp wasn’t in session and—also at his expense—let her live in the counselor’s suite in the girl’s bunkhouse year-round.

  Mrs. Fortunata needed that kind of security in order to leave her job at the hospital. And Rebecca had made up her mind that, once she left the hospital, Mrs. Fortunata was never going to mop or buff another floor in her life.

  It vaguely troubled her that she hadn’t inquired whether Mrs. Fortunata could cook. However, it had seemed a logical assumption for a woman with that many kids and grandkids. And even though Mrs. Fortunata had never held a position exactly like the one Rebecca had offered her at the camp, Rebecca knew she would be wonderful with the children.

  She gnawed on her lower lip. She would just have to tell Zach what she had done at a time when he would be receptive to the idea.

  As she drove under the black wrought iron archway that spelled out Hawk’s Pride, she watched for her first sight of the whitewashed, Spanish-style adobe house that would soon be her home. Wooden posts that served as ceiling beams protruded at intervals along the high walls of the flat-roofed structure. She backed the rented trailer up to the kitchen door, but instead of going inside immediately, followed the stone path that led into the central courtyard.

  The house, which was shaped in a square, had been built around a moss-laden live oak that was twice as tall as the roof and which provided a mantle of cooling shade. A latticed arbor near the sliding glass door to Zach’s bedroom was draped with fragrant wisteria that hung down above a wooden swing big enough to seat two comfortably. The whole area was bounded by grass and flowers that created a delightful lover’s bower. Rebecca couldn’t help wondering if Zach had ever made love to Cynthia there.

  She forced her thoughts away from Cynthia Kenyon. It would be too easy to let herself get eaten up with jealousy of a dead woman. But her stomach churned at the thought of what mementos of the other woman she might find in the house.

  Rebecca let herself into Zach’s bedroom through the sliding glass door. The blinds were closed, and it was dark and quiet and cool inside. Zach had a housekeeper several days a week, so there wasn’t a speck of dust to be found on the tile floors, but a Western shirt had been thrown over the arm of a wooden rocker, and several ranch magazines lay on the floor beside the unmade four-poster bed. She could still see the imprint where Zach’s head had lain on the pillow. From the tossed look of the sheets, he was a restless sleeper.

  To her dismay, a picture of Cynthia Kenyon sat on Zach’s dresser where he couldn’t help but see it each morning when he awoke.

  She was tempted to pick up the magazines and make the bed. And remove the photograph from Zach’s dresser. She resisted the impulse, but exorcising the ghost of Cynthia Kenyon was high on her list of Things to Do When I Marry Zach.

  “Hello? Kid, are you here?”

  Rebecca froze when she heard Zach calling to her from the kitchen. She hurried from his bedroom, unwilling to meet him there. She nearly ran into him as they met in the archway to the living room.

  “Oh, there you are,” he said.

  She laughed nervously and sidestepped her way farther into the room, keeping her distance from him. “I thought you planned to be gone from the house.”

  “I took a break from fence mending on the chance you might need some help lifting boxes after all.”

  Rebecca looked at him
closely for the first time and was struck dumb by what she saw. He had obviously been engaged in hard physical labor. A pair of worn leather gloves stuck out of his back pocket. His plaid Western shirt was open down the front and hanging outside his jeans, and his chest glistened with sweat. His Stetson showed a ring of dampness near the concha band, and the hair at his nape clung to his skin in wet curls. His boots were dusty, his jeans dirty and torn at the knee.

  She wanted to touch him, to lay her hands on his slick skin, to taste the salt on his neck, to shove the hat off his head and feel the coolness of his damp hair and the heat of his flesh. She was amazed at the flood of purely sexual desire that made her knees feel weak.

  “Zach.”

  “Oh, kid, don’t look at me like that. Not now. Not yet.”

  Rebecca took a step toward him. She hesitated, remembering the picture of Cynthia in the other room.

  Be careful, Rebecca. Oh, be careful. He’s still in love with another woman, an inner voice cautioned.

  But Cynthia was dead. Zach was hers now, and she wanted to touch him. She could tell from the fierce, possessive look in his eyes that he wanted her, too.

  She took another step, and another, until only inches separated their bodies. She could feel his heat, smell the musk of hard-working man. She turned her face up to him and waited. Her body quivered with anticipation.

  Zach stared at the woman before him. He had dreamed every night of finding her waiting for him like this. The reality slammed him in the gut like a fist. Her body called to his in a way that was as primitive as man himself. His genitals drew up tight, and he felt the blood pounding in his temples. He wanted her like he had never wanted another human being in his life.

  Rebecca was helpless to move. She could see the threat of violent passion in Zach’s taut face, in his tense body, and noted the flimsy leash by which he had it tethered. Her eyes fell closed in surrender.

  His mouth was incredibly gentle when it touched hers. He came back for another touch, another taste, his tongue dipping slightly, then retreating.