The Virgin and Zach Coulter

by Lois Faye Dyer

  “I do.” He shot her a quick smile before focusing on Jane. “I’m impressed by your references, Jane, and it’s clear the people you’ve worked with think you have a bright future. But the Lodge will be catering to clients from all over the world, some of whom probably employ full-time personal chefs. Tell me how a girl with no formal training, who’s never worked at a five-star restaurant in New York, Paris or Los Angeles, can compete with someone who has.”

  Jane’s pause was barely discernible before she replied. “While it’s true I don’t have the credentials other more formally trained applicants may have, I grew up on a ranch not quite sixty miles from here. My mother was an amazing cook and she taught me to prepare just about every local food available. If you want the Lodge to have a menu that’s unique, then you need someone who can provide that, and do it well. That’s what I can bring to the kitchen that you can’t get with a chef imported from New York City or Los Angeles.”

  Zach grinned, his white teeth flashing in approval. “Well said,” he told her. “Next question—the Lodge will be open all year long. Although the person we hire will have set days off, we’ll provide a three-bedroom apartment as part of the employment package because I want them to live on-site. Would that be a problem?”

  “I’m a single parent with a six-year-old son,” she replied. “It wouldn’t be possible for me to live on-site unless I could make arrangements for child care while I work. I’m not sure how I would do that here on the Triple C, away from Indian Springs.”

  “What kind of arrangements do you have now?” Zach asked.

  “I don’t believe we’re allowed to ask personal questions,” Cynthia interjected, giving him a warning glance. She hadn’t missed the way Jane’s fingers had tightened where they curved over the arms of the wooden chair.

  “I’m not asking her how old she is or if she’s married,” Zach said smoothly. “And you don’t have to answer if you’re not comfortable doing so, Jane.”

  “I don’t have a problem with your questions, Mr. Coulter,” she responded. “I can understand that the situation here at the Lodge is unique. Basically, my son’s father isn’t part of our lives and I have no relatives in the area. My little boy stays with a neighbor when he’s not at school and I’m working. But that wouldn’t be possible if we lived here at the Lodge.”

  “No,” Zach agreed. “It wouldn’t—and it wouldn’t make sense for you to drive him to Indian Springs and have to pick him up after work, then drive back here.” He frowned. “We’ll have to give that some thought.”

  “Perhaps I should make it clear…” Jane’s chin firmed, her eyes darkening. “Much as I would love the opportunity to become chef here at the Lodge, my son is my first priority.”

  “Of course.” Zach nodded soberly, his gaze gentling over the woman. “I understand.” He turned to Cynthia. “I believe that’s all the questions I have. Anything you wanted to add?”

  “No, I don’t have any more questions.” She rose and Jane stood also, collecting her purse. Cynthia leaned forward over the desk and the two women shook hands, a firm meeting of palms and fingers.

  Zach escorted Jane out of the room, returning a few moments later to lift an eyebrow in silent query.

  “I like her,” Cynthia said firmly.

  “So do I,” Zach said, his gaze studying her. “I was impressed by her references. And I was really impressed by her determination to turn down the job if her son isn’t well cared for. She won’t get many career opportunities like this one and I’m dead certain she won’t take it if we can’t work out day care for her boy.”

  “I feel the same.” Cynthia met his gaze. “I want to hire her.”

  His mouth quirked, the smile reaching his eyes. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” she said firmly.

  “Then it’s a done deal. Figure out a way to keep her little boy occupied while she’s working and make her an offer.” He turned to leave.

  “Zach.” Her voice stopped him. He looked over his shoulder at her. “Thank you.”

  He smiled, winked and left.

  She knew Zach would have denied it, but she was convinced he’d given the single mother the job not only because of her references, but due to the strength of character and her unshakable determination to put her son’s welfare first, before her own career. Cynthia couldn’t help but be touched by his kindness.

  Late that afternoon, once again Cynthia was clearing her desk long after the rest of the work crew had left for the night. She was just leaving her office, laptop and purse in her hands, when Zach intercepted her.

  “Stay and have dinner with me tonight,” he coaxed, tucking a tendril of loose hair behind her ear.

  “I really should go home,” she told him. “I have a stack of files I want to go through.”

  “You work too hard,” he told her. “As your boss, I’m officially telling you to take the rest of the night off. Besides,” he told her, “I’m testing out the fireplace tonight so if you insist on working, we can eat in front of the fire.”

  He pulled her into the kitchen, took her laptop, purse and files from her arms and set them on the countertop. He disappeared into the quarters off the kitchen and returned a moment later with a bright blue wool blanket tossed over one shoulder.

  “We can raid the refrigerator—Mariah always brings home food from the café.” He pulled open the door and started taking out bags and white cartons. “Come here.” He crooked a forefinger at her.

  When she walked across the kitchen and joined him, he handed her two bags and a square container. His own arms laden, he bumped his hip against the door and it swung closed behind him.

  “Head for the lobby and we’ll light the fire.”

  Cynthia went with him, unable to resist. She loved spending time with him and they had little time alone since the Lodge was filled with other workers during the day. Tonight, though, they were the only two people in the quiet Lodge.

  They entered the big room and crossed the glossy wood floor to the huge river rock fireplace. Wood was stacked on the hearth, waiting to be lit. Zach set his armful of food carriers down on the low rock seating shelf and shook out the blanket, letting it drift to cover the floor.

  “Have a seat,” he invited, before turning to touch a match to the fire.

  Cynthia sank to her knees on the blanket, the bright blue wool soft under her. “Are you sure we want to eat on this?” she asked doubtfully as she deposited the restaurant bags and cartons. “What if we spill something on it?”

  “Don’t worry about it.” Zach took sofa pillows from one of the few pieces of furniture in the big room and stopped to switch on the radio. The antique console radio was beautifully restored and fully functional, with amazing speakers and sound. The strains of classic blues filled the room and Zach adjusted the volume to a low background before he rejoined her on the blanket.

  “Here we are.” He dropped the pillows, frowning at the collection of bags and cartons on the blanket. “Be right back.”

  He strode off to the kitchen, returning moments later with plates, utensils, napkins, two stemmed glasses and a bottle of wine.

  “I think we’re ready,” he told her, dropping down beside her and stretching his long legs out on the blanket.

  “Ready for what?” she asked, eyeing him through the screen of her lashes. He’d showered and changed after work, the clean black T-shirt tucked into the waistband of snug faded jeans, polished black cowboy boots on his feet. A silver-buckled belt threaded through the loops of his low-slung jeans. He looked incredibly male, heartstoppingly handsome, and she wanted to lean over and kiss him so badly her hand shook as she opened a carton.

  “For whatever we want,” he answered. The timber of his voice had changed, lowered, and her stomach muscles clenched in response.

  She needed to slow things down, she thought. Maybe tonight was the night they would make love. But first, she needed time to unwind from a day filled with stress. Maybe Zach did, too.

  “First,
I want food,” she told him. She peered into the carton she held and her smile brightened. “Mmm, Stroganoff.”

  She looked at him. “What have you got?”

  Obediently, he flipped the lid open on a restaurant carton. “Lasagna,” he said with a grin.

  “Nice. What’s in the rest of the containers?”

  They spent the next hour feeding each other bites from the eclectic mix of food. Cynthia was delighted to find a flat box filled with pastries and small cakes. “You are so lucky to have a future sister-in-law who works in a café with a fabulous baker,” she told him, closing her eyes in bliss as she tasted the coconut pie.

  “And I know it,” he told her with emphasis. “I’ve already warned Cade that he has to share all the food Mariah brings home. Just because they’re getting married doesn’t mean he gets first choice of the munchies.”

  They sampled food until they were full. Zach was just refilling their wineglasses when he paused, tilting his head to the side to listen.

  “This is my favorite song.” He put aside the bottle, took the glass from her hand and set it on the wood floor. “Dance with me.” He stood, holding out his hand and when she placed her fingers in his, he lifted her easily to her feet.

  She went happily into his arms, the low muted growl of a saxophone filling the lobby.

  He pulled her close and they moved to the rhythm, their bodies perfectly attuned as they swayed to the music. The song ended but another started immediately and they stayed locked together.

  Cynthia threaded her fingers into the thick, softness of his hair at his nape, her face tucked into the curve of his throat. She felt restless, achy, and the pressure of his chest against the tips of her breast wasn’t enough. She wanted more.

  She tipped her head back, just enough to press a kiss against the underside of his chin. His arms tightened around her, his body tensing beneath her touch. When she pressed closer, he responded by lifting her higher against him, fitting her more closely against his chest, hips and thighs.

  He brushed kisses against her temple, her cheekbones, and when his mouth took hers, they stopped dancing, focused on the press of bodies and heated exchange of lips and tongues.

  “Honey,” he murmured long moments later. “Let’s go to my apartment.”

  “Yes.” The answer was simple, inevitable and Cynthia knew it was the right time, the right place and the right man.

  His arms tightened, crushing her to him, before he bent and swung her into his arms. Cynthia wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her face against his throat as he strode swiftly down the lobby, through the darkened kitchen, and into the apartment in the back. She caught only a glimpse of the lamplit living room before they entered his bedroom and Zach released her legs, letting her slide slowly down his length until her feet reached the floor.

  He cupped her face and kissed her, his mouth hot, carnal. When he lifted his head, she was dizzy with a need that tightened her body and made her ache. He reached around her and lowered the zipper on her dress before closing his hands over her shoulders to slip his fingers under the material. He pushed it down her arms and torso, letting it fall to pool at her feet.

  Zach went still, his gaze hot and intent as he stared at her. She wore a white lace bra and matching lace panties with a garter belt and hose; nerves tightened as she wondered with sudden uncertainty if he liked what he saw.

  “Damn.” His voice was guttural, barely audible. “You’re more beautiful than I imagined.” He glanced up at her. “And I’ve imagined you naked a lot.”

  “I’m not naked—yet.” Her voice trembled, revealing nerves that shook as she tried to lighten the moment.

  “Not yet, honey,” he agreed with a slow curving of his lips. “But you will be.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest and caught the hem of his T-shirt, tugging it loose from his jeans and up over his head. It dropped to the floor behind him, ignored as Zach reached out and pulled her close, wrapping her against the bare, warm, hard muscles of his chest and abdomen.

  Cynthia shivered, swamped with sensation.

  Zach nudged her face up and kissed her again, his mouth hot and insistent on hers. She barely knew when he stripped off her bra, only aware of the feverish relief of her bare skin pressed to his. It wasn’t until he lay her back on the bed and sat to pull off his boots, that the whirlpool of desire slowed and she was once again nervous. He leaned over and took a condom from a drawer in the nightstand, standing to shuck off his jeans, shove them, and his boxers, off with one smooth movement.

  Cynthia caught her breath, staring at him.

  “Something wrong?” His voice was deep, reassuring.

  “Just…nervous,” she said hesitantly.

  “Trust me, Cynthia.” His voice held amusement, along with lust and determination.

  Then he rolled on the condom and joined her on the bed, his much bigger, harder, warmer body covering her. His mouth took hers and Cynthia was quickly lost in passion. So lost, that when he settled between her thighs, the heavy weight of him nudging insistently, she felt only impatience and urged him nearer.

  Though he struggled to be slow, and careful, she didn’t want easy and patient. She wrapped her legs around his waist and demanded—and he gave in. She fought to match his rhythm and at last, felt fierce delight when the world seemed to implode.

  Long moments later, when she could catch her breath between labored gasps, she turned her head on the pillow to look at Zach.

  “You,” she told him with amazement, “are phenomenal.”

  He turned his head, his teeth flashing in the dim room. “You,” he replied, “are amazing.”

  “We both are then,” she said complacently.

  “Are you okay?” He rolled over to face her, leaning his head on his hand, elbow propped on the pillow beside her head. “Sore anywhere?”

  “I feel fabulous,” she told him. “Women have been losing their virginity for thousands of years and as far as I know, rarely have died from it.”

  “Jeez, I hope not,” he said fervently.

  She smiled. “In fact,” she whispered, “I feel so good, I’d like to do it again.”

  “Now?”

  “Yes, right now. Please,” she added.

  He roared with laughter and pulled her into his arms, rolling onto his back with her settling on his chest. “Honey, women can do it all night long, but men need a little recovery time.”

  “How long?” she asked, stroking her hand over his bare chest to his abdomen, fascinated by the faint line of silky dark hair that surrounded his navel before arrowing lower.

  “You keep doing that and it probably won’t be long,” he told her drily.

  And as it turned out, it wasn’t very long at all.

  They didn’t sleep. In between lovemaking, they opened another bottle of wine and lay in front of the fire, talking about everything and nothing, the people they’d known, the places they’d traveled.

  But morning came all too soon and just before dawn, Zach bundled her up and drove her home, insisting he didn’t want her driving alone so early in the morning.

  Despite protesting that she didn’t need to sleep in, Cynthia obeyed Zach’s orders and didn’t wake till after 10:00 a.m. Carrying her coffee into the quiet living room on her way upstairs to the shower, she glanced out the front window and saw her car sitting at the curb.

  Zach must have returned it this morning, she thought. How sweet.

  She floated through the rest of the week in a daze. She’d always hoped making love would be a wonderful experience.

  With Zach, she’d found it to be the most incredible, earthshaking thing she’d ever done.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Late Friday afternoon, Cynthia was tidying her desk, preparing to leave the office on time for a change. She and Zach had plans to have dinner and see a movie later that evening and she wanted time to do her nails and fix her hair before he picked her up.

  She was slipping her laptop into its carrying case whe
n Zach appeared in her open doorway. Her welcoming smile faded as she took in his grim expression.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I just got a call from the commissioner of the county zoning board. They’re holding an emergency meeting an hour from now and asked me to be there. Someone’s brought a complaint about the Lodge.”

  Cynthia’s eyes widened. “A complaint? About what?”

  “I don’t know,” Zach said grimly. “We’ve complied with all the local and state rules so I’m hoping it’s just a question of proving we have all the right permits. But just in case, I’d like you to come with me and bring your file on zoning permits.”

  “Of course.” Cynthia crossed to the filing cabinet and pulled open the middle drawer. “I can’t help but wonder who would have filed a complaint,” she said as she extracted a file folder and slid the drawer closed.

  “I’d like to know that myself.” Zach’s mouth was a hard line. “I know it’s bogus and we can prove we’ve complied with the rules, but if the process drags out for any reason, it’s bound to impact the date for reopening the Lodge. And that has the potential to cost us a great deal of money and clients.”

  Cynthia knew he was right. Everything they’d done focused on the soft opening of the Lodge and its future hung in the balance. If the opening had to be delayed for any reason, the project’s success would be in jeopardy.

  “I’ll follow you in my car and go straight home after the meeting,” she told Zach.

  He nodded and headed across the lot to his truck, long strides eating up the distance. By the time Cynthia had settled her files, laptop, purse and jacket into her car, he was driving down the lane.

  They reached the meeting room in the county office building just as the four commissioners were settling into their seats. The long table faced two shorter tables with chairs pushed up to them and the bench seats that filled the rest of the room.

  “Good evening,” an older man on the right called. “You’re Zach Coulter?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Will you come on down and take a seat at the table on the left, please?”