And he would come back to Sweetwater on Thursday. Christmas Eve. Funny. He hadn't realized Christmas was so near. He usually looked forward to the holiday, but not this year. Not knowing that he couldn't have the one thing he wanted most. Not knowing that it would mark the resumption of his life without Beth. Already he dreaded the long nights alone and the months that would pass between brief glimpses during her visits to Sarah. He would miss the sound of her voice and her rare smiles and her rarer laughter. He would miss making love with her and talking to her. He would miss touching her. Looking at her.
She moved the leftovers from their lunch to the opposite side of the bench and moved to snuggle in beside him. "Want to take a walk?"
Wrapping his arm around her, he gave her a measuring look that took in her dark wool slacks and low-heeled boots. "You're not exactly dressed for a hike. Don't you own any jeans?"
"I did once in college. My mother said proper young ladies didn't wear jeans and threw them away."
"I thought you were rebellious in college. Did you make a point of wearing nothing but jeans around your mother after that?"
"I could only stand up to one parent at a time, and in college that was my father. He was so determined to make me go to the school of his choice to study for the career of his choice. Right up to the day I accepted the job with the firm, he thought he could change my mind. If I ever have children…"
She let the comment trail away as Zachary slid his hand beneath her sweater to rest on her flat stomach. The image of her pregnant came too easily, too wistfully, to mind. "If you ever have children … what?"
But she shook her head and refused to answer. "Do you have electricity in the house yet?"
With a sigh he let her change the subject. "Just water so far. Everything's been wired, but we probably won't actually hook up to the power lines until spring."
"Do the fireplaces work?"
"Uh-huh."
She was looking up at the master bedroom. Suddenly she shifted her gaze to him. "Do we have to go into town? Can't we just spend the night here?"
He leaned back so he could study her more thoroughly. The idea wasn't as far-fetched as it sounded. He had an inflatable mattress in the back of his Cherokee that was as large as a double bed and nine inches thick, and an air compressor that would pump it up in fifteen minutes. There was also a blanket or two back there, left from his last camping trip, and there was more than enough firewood to keep them comfortable.
Logistically, it would be no problem. But did he want her to spend even one night in this house? Did he want to make love to her here? Did he want to have to deal with memories of her later?
Ignoring his doubts, he simply nodded. "Sure. We can spend the night here."
As Zachary had suggested, they went over to the Ryans's house for a visit, and, of course, Sarah invited them for dinner. It had been a lovely evening, Beth thought as they drove up the mountain one more time.
It had been a normal evening, she corrected herself. Friends enjoying one another's company. Two couples sharing a meal and a good time. And for the first time ever, Katie had approached her without that wary look and greeted her the same way she greeted everyone, with a little-girl soft, wispy, "Hey, Bef."
Even as she thought about it, Zachary commented on it. "I heard Katie call you Bef. Sach and Bef. She has a way with words, doesn't she?"
As they crossed the brook, she glanced at him. "You know, I used to wonder sometimes just how far back she could remember. She's always been so leery of me, and I've never done anything to her. I sometimes thought maybe she remembered that I was the one who took her from her mother and brought her here to live with a stranger. But, heavens, she was just a baby. She couldn't possibly remember that."
"I think you probably just intimidate her a little," Zachary replied.
He got points for diplomacy tonight, she thought with a small smile. He could have reminded her that she simply wasn't the sort of person that small children warmed up to. But how could she be expected to interact well with little kids when she'd never been around them? Even as a child herself, she'd never been allowed to play in the rough-and-tumble way Katie did.
But she would learn.
This time when they reached his place, she offered to get the gate, but he was already jumping out. The few seconds the door was open let a blast of cold air into the truck. She was looking forward to a warm fire and a night in Zachary's arms.
Although the moon was full, the house was dark. Zachary pulled a flashlight from the glove compartment, then hustled Beth inside. He had inflated the air bed earlier and carried it, along with a sleeping bag and one blanket, upstairs to the master bedroom. Together they had carried up armloads of wood, and he had laid the kindling. Now he started the fire while she waited in a shadowy corner.
She had taken advantage of his busyness to change from her short leather jacket into the longer, heavier fur. It encircled her with warmth, but she still shivered. She had been anticipating this all day, and now her body trembled, her muscles were taut, and her breasts had already grown heavy.
And he hadn't even touched her.
The woodpile Zachary had taken these logs from was made up of the trees he'd cut down nearly two years ago, he'd told her. The wood was dry and well-seasoned, and it burned with a steady, heat-giving glow. He watched it for a moment, then stood and brushed his hands on his jeans before turning around. "It's not fancy, but it's…"
He broke off, and she saw him swallow as she stepped out of the shadows. She crossed the room to him at her own leisurely pace, cupping his face in her hands when she reached him and giving him a slow, leisurely kiss. She moistened his lips with her tongue, coaxed his mouth open and lazily dipped her tongue inside. He tasted of Sarah's coffee, warm and dark and rich, and of something else, something sweet, something mysterious. Something pure Zachary.
For the first stunned moment he simply stood there, his arms at his side, letting her kiss him. She finished the kiss, reluctant to break the contact but wanting more. She reached for his hands, letting her fingers brush innocently across his groin. Like her, he was already aroused. With one kiss, he'd grown hard and heavy and hot. Knowing that she could do that, could arouse him with just one kiss, made her feel more feminine, more passionate, more real, than she ever had before.
It made her feel loved.
She twined her fingers with his and lifted his hands, then laid them on her breasts. Between her flesh and his were the thick nubby knit of her sweater and the weight of the fur, but the sensations were no less than exquisite. Already she ached for his hands, for his mouth, for his hardness.
Slowly Zachary rubbed her breasts, his hands gliding over the fur. He couldn't find words to describe the way it felt—the tingling in his palms, the utter richness of the coat, the sheer pleasure of touching Beth.
Still caressing her, he bent his head for a second kiss. Just as she had filled his mouth, now he took hers, stroking and thrusting, suckling, nipping. He couldn't remember how many times they'd touched, kissed, made love, in the past week, but this time was going to be different. Already he was so needy that he ached. Already his blood was pumping and his breathing was ragged and his body was throbbing as if it had never known satisfaction. Already he wanted to strip off her clothes and this coat that gave him such pleasure and bury himself deeply inside her, too deep ever to be apart from her again.
Just as she had guided his hand to her breast, now he drew hers to his hardness, folding her fingers over the swelling, pressing her palm against it. She squeezed gently, and a low moan caught in his throat. Then she unfastened his jeans—quickly this time, with no fumbling—and slid her hand inside to stroke his bare flesh, and a tortured groan escaped him. For a moment he caught her hand, holding it in place, unsure if he could bear one more caress, certain he couldn't bear giving up this touch.
Then she pulled away, but only to undress him. She dropped his jacket on the floor, tossed his shirt beside it, guided his jeans and briefs
down his legs to join the rest of his clothing. Then she knelt in front of him, and her mouth touched him in a kiss so intimate that he shuddered. He tangled one hand in her hair and braced the other on her mink-clad shoulder while she teased and tantalized and tormented him.
Groaning her name, he forced her to her feet, then pushed the coat off her shoulders and dragged her sweater over her head. She was naked underneath, as he'd known she would be, naked and beautiful. He wanted to kiss her breasts, to make her moan and tremble, but first he had to be inside her, needed to be before he was driven over the edge by the sheer overload of sensation. He pulled her slacks down, taking her narrow, lacy panties with them, then came to the barrier of her boots. With a throaty laugh, she unzipped first one, then the other, and kicked them both off, and he pushed the rest of her clothing out of the way.
He didn't even wait until they were on the bed, but simply lifted her, then settled her easily, heavily, on his hardness. When she'd taken every bit of him, he groaned, his frantic need somewhat abated. Holding her tightly, he found the hearth behind him and carefully lowered himself until they were seated on the stone.
"Nice fire, counselor," she whispered, shifting against him so that her breasts rubbed his chest and her body did all sorts of wicked things to him.
"You started the fire," he whispered back. He covered her breasts with his hands and studied the contrasts between his skin and hers, now colored creamy gold by the firelight, and the shadows they created. Slowly he rubbed her, the calluses on his palms abrading her delicate skin, making her nipples even harder, swelling her breasts even more. "Do you have any idea what you do to me, lady?"
She shifted her hips, withdrawing until only the barest contact remained, then taking him in again. "I think I have a glimmer. Why don't you show me?"
He chuckled softly, then suddenly grew serious. He raised his hands to her face, cupping her jaw, and looked intently into her eyes. "Beth—" And just as suddenly he stopped. She had made it clear that she didn't want a man in her life, that all she was looking for was companionship. Lovemaking. And he had accepted those terms the first time he'd made love to her. There could be no declarations of love now, he reminded himself. No pleas for forever. No attempts to draw promises of something more, something always, from her.
Instead he kissed her with all the need, all the passion, all the love, he felt for her, and he guided her against him, matching her rhythm, feeding her hunger, sharing her desire. Then in one soul-shattering moment it ended. Her body shuddered against his, her cries mingling with his groans, and he filled her.
He completed her. He loved her.
* * *
They made love again on a mink-covered mattress, this time without the desperation, without the frenzy or painful, clawing need. When Zachary awoke a few hours later to a chilly room and warm embers, he stoked the fire, piling on log after log, then returned to bed to find Beth once more awake and waiting, tempting, teasing, pleasing.
After the last time she fell asleep in his arms, and he held her close, lightly stroking her. She would probably never come to this house again after this weekend. He would never make love to her in this room again. But no matter what happened, no matter if he never saw her again, if he married and finally learned to love someone else, he knew he would never forget this night.
He would never look at that fireplace without remembering her here.
He would never walk into this room without feeling her presence.
He would never make love to another woman without wishing she were Beth.
And even if he did learn to love someone else, he would never, as long as he lived, stop loving Beth.
* * *
They returned to Nashville on Sunday afternoon, Zachary driving, Beth staring quietly out the window. There had been a subtle change in their relationship last night, she acknowledged as she watched the countryside give way to the city, and she couldn't quite explain it. Somehow she was sure it had to do with their lovemaking. That first time had been so … intense. As if they had, in the truest sense of the words, been joined together and become one. As if their souls had bonded.
Then she smiled at the outrageousness of that idea. She wasn't sure she believed in bonding. She wasn't even sure she believed in souls. All she knew was that something had happened, and now Zachary was drawing away from her as a result. It wasn't anything overt—only someone who had studied him as long and as hard as she had would notice—and even she couldn't put her finger on it. He was a little more distant. A little less … connected.
Maybe he was worried about appearing in court tomorrow. Their first witness was going to be Tyler Lewis, and Zachary was going to question him. He'd already questioned several of Carrie's neighbors and had done an excellent job, but Tyler was a little different. Zachary knew that, along with Carrie herself, Tyler was their most important witness, but he didn't want the boy called. He didn't want to subject him to the gawkers who crowded into the courtroom, to the sensationalism that surrounded the case, to the ordeal of getting up in front of a roomful of strangers and condemning his father, blaming him for his own death.
Or maybe his withdrawal was something more personal. Maybe his interest in her was waning … although last night certainly seemed to indicate the opposite. Or maybe this spur-of-the-moment trip to Sweetwater had been some sort of test, some trial to see how she fit into his world, at his house, with his friends and, at one of those old-fashioned Sunday dinners he'd told her about, with his family. She had thought the meeting had gone rather well. His parents had been friendly and warm, his grandmother had seemed to like her, and she had liked them.
But maybe in Zachary's eyes it hadn't been such a success. Maybe somehow she had failed his test.
She sighed softly, and he glanced at her, but he didn't ask what was wrong. Was she being oversensitive in thinking that a few days ago, he would have?
Of course, she could ask him what was wrong. She was a lawyer, paid to ask questions, to dig up answers. Why not use some of her much-acclaimed talent on her own behalf?
Because she was afraid of the answers she might find.
Zachary left the interstate and followed the maze of streets to her condo. In the garage, they silently unloaded the Jeep—she took her mink, he took the overnight bag—and entered the elevator. He seemed so distracted on the ride up that she suspected he wouldn't notice if she appeared in front of him naked but for the fur.
Just before they reached her floor, she spoke his name at last. "Zachary? I—I had a nice time this weekend. Thank you."
He gave her a preoccupied look, then smiled faintly and nodded. As soon as the doors opened, he stepped off and walked down the hall to her door.
Feeling troubled and just a little bit despairing, Beth followed. She'd waited all her life to have a few nice times with a man. Now that she finally had, it seemed they were coming to an end almost before they'd started.
Maybe she'd been right all along.
Breaking the rules she lived by had been a mistake.
Getting involved with Zachary had been a bigger mistake.
And falling in love with him just might be the biggest mistake of all.
* * *
"Good thing we have reserved seats," Zachary muttered as they pushed their way through the crowd in the courthouse hallway Monday morning. "If we didn't, we couldn't get in to see this circus."
Beth touched his arm when they finally made it inside. "Don't worry," she said softly. "You'll do fine."
"I'm not worried about myself, counselor. I am worried about what we're going to do to that fourteen-year-old boy."
"Look at it this way—it's nothing compared to what his father put him through. And it's nothing compared to what losing his mother for the rest of his life will do to him. Besides, he might be Carrie's best chance."
"Yeah, sure. Anything for the client, right?"
She didn't like this cynicism in him. She was supposed to be the cynic, right? Zachary was supposed to be the
romantic. The charmer. The easygoing, warm, supportive lover.
Not last night. He'd gone to bed before her, and he'd pretended to be asleep when she had joined him an hour later. She had wanted to touch him, to arouse him, to make him respond to her on that level, at least, but she had let him pretend. If she had pushed the issue, who could say that he wouldn't have retreated to the privacy of his own room down the hall? At least this way she had been close to him. She'd fallen asleep to the steady, even sound of his breathing, and she had awakened this morning with his arm around her waist. It wasn't much, but it was something, when soon she would have nothing.
The bailiff called the court to order, and the defense called their next witness, Tyler Lewis. At Beth's side, Carrie stiffened, then clutched her arm. "You can't do that," she whispered. "You can't make him testify."
Beth patted her hand reassuringly. "I've already explained this to you," she whispered back. "We need his help, Carrie. He's the only person, besides the victim-Del—and the defendant—you—who knows what happened that night. The jury needs to hear what he can tell them."
Tyler, accompanied to the courtroom by his grandfather, looked longingly at his mother as he made his way to the witness stand. It was the first time Beth had ever seen the child in him, the first time anything besides anger or hostility had filled his eyes. He was dressed in a white shirt that was too big for him and black trousers that were too long. The clothes made him look even thinner than he was, although she could tell that he'd put on a few pounds since moving in with the Morrises.
He was sworn in and seated before Zachary approached him. He asked a few unimportant questions first—how old Tyler was, how many brothers and sisters he had, their ages. His manner was kindly but not condescending, and it worked well with Tyler. Of course, Beth thought dryly, that day spent working together at Zachary's house was probably much more responsible for Tyler's receptiveness than anything on Zachary's part today. That was a bonus for them, since Duane Misner hadn't had that opportunity.
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