Zach was struck by how her face glowed when she smiled, how beautiful she looked with the nip of cold staining her cheeks. His heart performed a tuck and roll in his chest. The urge to kiss her slammed into him, stealing his breath. He’d never been so wildly attracted to a woman before, and the intensity of his response to her laughter and her kiss rocked him to his core.
His face must have reflected the change in his mood, because she knitted her brow again and gave him a puzzled look. “Zach, what’s wrong?”
He shook his head and turned his gaze out the driver’s side window. “Nothing. Forget it.”
He sighed restlessly, and when his breath fogged the glass, his mind flashed to an image of two bodies tangled together, steaming up the windows in earnest. Zach swallowed a groan.
The snowball ice pack she’d made him had melted into a drippy mess. He chucked the wet undershirt into the backseat, then dug in his backpack. “I think I’m ready for some of those crackers.”
More than he wanted food, he wanted a distraction from the tantalizing ideas that now tickled his brain. Somehow he knew Ellen wasn’t the sort of woman who’d entertain the notion of a fling simply because it was convenient to their circumstances. Especially since he intended to spoil all her sister’s best-laid wedding plans.
Guilt bit hard on his conscience. He’d tried to talk to Sean about his misgivings concerning the wedding months ago, and Sean hadn’t taken him seriously. Anytime he’d raised the subject since then, something or someone—usually Trixie—had interrupted their conversation and derailed the topic. Now he faced the unpleasant task of disrupting a celebration months in the making. And wouldn’t that make him the life of the party?
But Zach just couldn’t believe that Sean “Girl in Every Port” O’Banion had chosen marriage over womanizing of his own free will. Sean had been a hound dog all through college and earned a reputation in their fraternity as the least likely to settle down before forty.
Zach fished out a pack of cheese and peanut butter crackers, then shifted uncomfortably on the seat. Being a wedding saboteur was never his goal, but wasn’t sparing his friend from the train wreck of a broken marriage the most important consideration? He had an obligation to be forthright with his best friend, even if he hated spoiling the festivities, putting a fly in the proverbial punch bowl—disappointing Ellen…
Zach frowned. When had Ellen become a factor in his plans?
“So tell me some of your family’s Christmas traditions.”
He jerked his head toward Ellen when she spoke…and regretted it when a bolt of pain shot through his skull. He gritted his teeth and leaned his head against the seat back. “Don’t really have any.”
“Aw, come on. There must be something you like to do every Christmas? Caroling? Eggnog at midnight? Waking at dawn to open all your gifts?” Night had swallowed the car in darkness now. Only the thin glow of the moon filtering through the dissipating clouds provided any light.
Zach tapped the dimmer switch to turn on the car’s interior lights, then shrugged. “The last two Christmases I’ve spent alone at my apartment, watching whatever pro football game was on and eating the dry fruitcake my mom insists on sending every year.” He grunted. “I hate fruitcake.”
“Alone? That’s awful!”
Her tone vibrated with a sympathy and compassion that pricked like unwanted pity, yet also touched a vulnerable place inside him he hated to acknowledge—the lonely part of him that dreaded the upcoming holiday.
Zach shoved the uneasy duality down, hiding his vulnerability on this point with humor. “No, my mom’s fruitcake is what’s awful. But I think it makes her feel less guilty about missing every holiday with me. See, she has a tradition of taking a trip somewhere tropical every year with the current boyfriend. This year it’s Hawaii.”
Ellen harrumphed and crossed her arms over her chest as if she were the offended party. “You shouldn’t be alone on Christmas. That’s just not right.”
Zach shrugged. “No big deal.”
She clutched at his arm again, leaned toward him. “Come to my parents’ house. Spend Christmas with us. I know they won’t mind. We always have extra folks around during the holidays. Exchange students who couldn’t afford to fly home, neighbors who live far from family…the more the merrier. Trixie will be off on her honeymoon so you can stay in her room. What do you say?”
“I don’t know. Your family doesn’t know me.”
“But Sean does. And he’ll be family by then, so…”
Zach grunted, biting back his argument that Sean might not be family…if Zach had a chance to talk to him before the wedding. And if his voice of caution did change the groom’s mind, Zach would most certainly be persona non grata at the bride’s house.
Ellen’s face darkened, telling him she understood his grunt. Aiming a finger at him, she shook her head. “I’m warning you. If you try to mess things up for Sean and Trixie—”
He caught her finger in his hand. “The point isn’t to mess things up. I’m not some kind of spiteful monster who enjoys disrupting weddings. I don’t even want to come between Sean and Trixie.”
“Good!”
“But—”
Ellen growled and yanked her finger from his grasp. “But nothing!”
As much as he hated explaining himself, Ellen clearly needed a little context. “Do you know how many girls Sean dated in college?”
She hesitated, frowned. “No. Why does that matter?”
“It matters, because he once told me he pitied men who tied themselves down to one woman before turning forty. He dated a different girl virtually every weekend throughout college.”
Lifting an eyebrow, she tipped her head at a skeptical angle.
“No lie. Our junior year alone, he went out with twenty-five different women. Does that sound to you like a guy who is ready to settle down and play happy home with one woman?”
Ellen’s brow dipped, and her eyes narrowed. “Twenty-five?”
“Just during our junior year. He slowed up a bit our senior year, because he was busy with his final project and term papers. He was a hound dog, but he was also studious.”
Scowling, Ellen snuggled deeper into her coat. “I don’t believe you. And even if it is true, it’s a moot point. He’s changed. He’s in love with Trixie, and they are happy. Let bygones be bygones, and let them get married in peace.” Her eyes beseeched him, tugging at a soft spot inside him. “Please?”
Zach dragged a hand down his face and groaned. “I have to be sure my friend is doing the right thing. I have to speak up if there’s even a chance he’s got qualms or doubts about this wedding. The Sean I knew in college would not be marrying someone he’s known for only a year. He wouldn’t be marrying, period.”
She brooded for a moment, staring into the blackness out the window. Then, pinning him with a challenging gaze, she raised her chin. “Fine. Do what you feel you must. But Sean will still marry my sister. I know he will. Their love will prevail, and they’ll have a long, happy life together. You’ll see.” She gave him a smug grin and tugged her scarf back up around her cheeks.
Her sanguinity shone in her eyes as she settled back in her seat, wearing a self-assured smile. “And you’re still invited for Christmas. Jaded agenda or not, no one should be alone at Christmas. Who knows? Maybe after spending a little time around a family where love works the way it should and couples stay together for the long haul, we might even change your dim view of the state of marriage in America.”
Her confident optimism sparked a hopefulness deep inside Zach he hadn’t known in years. Maybe his willingness to buy into her happily-ever-after scenario was nothing but a product of holiday sentimentality, but he savored the ribbon of warmth that unfurled in his chest. Pulling his mouth in a lopsided grin, he turned the interior light off to conserve the car’s battery. “I hope you’re right, sweetheart.”
Chapter 5
E llen pushed the light button on her watch and squinted at the glowing display. 10
:28 p.m. By her calculation, they’d been sitting in this freezing car for five hours now, give or take a few minutes. Her cramping leg muscles and sore butt said they’d been cooped up more like fifty hours, and her icy nose and fingers agreed.
She stretched her back as best she could and shook the ache from her legs to keep the blood flowing. Glancing at Zach, who’d been suspiciously quiet for the last several minutes, she gave his shoulder a nudge. “Hey, you’re not falling asleep on me, are you?”
“Maybe,” he mumbled. “I’ve been up since 4:00 a.m. to catch my flight outta Sacramento, and only had three hours’ sleep the night before that. Dosing off is definitely a possibility.”
“How’s your head?”
“Still attached to my neck.”
“Har, har. Does it hurt much?”
“Define much?”
In the deep blackness of the night, their conversations over the past several hours had been a bit like listening to a talk-radio station. Faceless voices exchanging banter. And confidences. Ellen had often wondered how people could call talk-radio shows and spill their guts to a stranger—for public broadcast. But after five hours—give or take a few minutes—of passing time with Zach, trying not to think about the cold when her nose and feet were almost numb, she had more sympathy for the loquacious callers. Anonymity—or in her case, the complete darkness—bred openness. Confiding in someone was easier if you didn’t have to look them in the eye, see their reaction, feel the weight of their gaze.
She gnawed her bottom lip, remembering just how honest she’d been with Zach. Had she really admitted to all the embarrassing things she and her girlfriends had done last year in New Orleans during Mardi Gras? Operating under the influence of a couple Hurricanes from Pat O’Brien’s Pub was no excuse for lifting her shirt for perfect strangers.
At least he’d confessed a few of his embarrassing moments when his turn came, and they’d laughed together over the verbal picture he painted of his “worst Halloween costume idea ever.” However, remembering her admission of how she’d lost her virginity at summer camp made Ellen cringe. She’d crossed the line there. Zach’s awkward response and hasty change of subject spoke volumes. She shuddered.
“I agree,” Zach said, jolting her from her uncomfortable reminiscing.
“What?” Ellen’s heart tripped. Lord, if she’d said something aloud by accident and giving away the track of her thoughts—
“You shivered. And I agree that it’s past time to crank the heat. I can’t feel my ears anymore.”
She heard him fumbling, then the car engine rumbled to life. Soon heated air poured out of the vents, and she rubbed her hands in front of the warm stream.
“There’s an Italian restaurant in Sacramento,” he said without preamble, “that has the best eggplant parmesan on the planet.”
“I don’t like eggplant. Too squishy.”
“No way. It’s awesome. I’d kill for a plate of that stuff right now.” He chuckled. “In fact, I’d settle for my mom’s fruitcake at this point. I’m starving. Those crackers didn’t go far.”
“Thanks for sharing them with me. We wouldn’t have even had that much if it were left up to me.” She paused. “Oh, wait…I think I have a breath mint if you want it.”
He chuckled. “A breath mint?”
“Better than nothing.”
“Barely. But what the hell. Yes, please, I’d like a breath mint before I start chewing on my shoelaces.”
She laughed at the image of Zach gnawing on his foot and dug blindly in her purse until she found the candy. After popping one in her mouth, she found his hand in the dark. “Here. Take the rest of the roll. Merry Christmas.”
“Gee, and I didn’t get you anything.”
Ellen leaned her head back and closed her eyes, savoring the warm air from the heater and enjoying the easy repartee she’d found with Zach. His sense of humor helped her keep her mind off their situation and the cold night.
“Say, if you like Italian food, I’ll have to have my mom make her homemade lasagna for you the day after Christmas. Oh, man. Talk about good!”
They tortured themselves for the next several minutes discussing favorite foods and restaurants, until the pinch of hunger in Ellen’s gut morphed into unexplained nausea. Surely the breath mint couldn’t have made her sick. She tried to ignore the queasiness, but the sickness only grew.
“Can we not talk about food anymore? I don’t feel so good.”
Zach clicked on the interior light, and they both blinked as their eyes adjusted to the relative brightness.
“What’s wrong?” A wrinkle of worry dented his forehead.
“I’m just feeling kinda sick to my stomach.” She shrugged, finding her shoulder sore and stiff from banging the car door when they crashed. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”
“Can I do anything? Do you want a couple of my antacids?” He pulled the roll of chewable tablets from his pocket and extended them to her.
She shook her head, but cataloged his compassion and concern with the other reasons for her growing fondness for her travel companion—his determination to play havoc with Trix’s wedding aside.
Zach stashed his roll of heartburn remedy and leaned his head back. As she visually checked the swelling of the knot on his head, he winced and pinched the bridge of his nose. She had a bottle of ibuprofen—in her suitcase, which was probably still stuck in the powerless Sea-Tac terminal. She sighed. The painkiller was no use to them there.
“I wonder if this storm has taken out the power in Spok—” She yawned and fought to keep her increasingly heavy eyelids open. “Excuse me. In Spokane.”
Zach reached for the dimmer switch. “Want me to turn the light out so you can nap?”
“No, I…I’m going to stay awake with you, remember?”
“Nonsense. I don’t need you to babysit me.” His churlish tone startled her. “Go to sleep if you want. I’ll be fine.”
When Zach turned off the light again, Ellen shivered. “Somehow the car feels colder in the dark.”
“It’s not.”
“I know it isn’t really. I said it seems that way.” Under her breath she added, “Grump.”
Ellen closed her eyes and took a deep, slow breath trying to soothe the seesawing in her stomach. She absolutely would not toss her cookies in front of Zach. Talk about embarrassing. Geez, what if she’d caught a stomach virus? That would make for a miserable wedding for her.
“I’ve been waiting for weeks for the caviar Trixie ordered for the reception. If I’m sick, I may not get any.”
“What?” Zach sounded groggy, confused.
She supposed her comment did sort of come from left field.
“Nothing. Never mind.” The thought of food made her queasier. She needed a distraction. She tried to think of a safe topic of conversation, but the warmth blasting from the heater made her all the sleepier. Her head felt too fuzzy to think.
But she had to keep Zach awake. Zach, who was coming for Christmas…
“You won’t have a stocking. We need to get you a stocking.” She fought down a wave of nausea and blinked hard to stay alert. “Santa owes us.” She scowled, and her head swam dizzily. She closed her eyes…just for a minute. “His reindeer did this. Bad reindeer.”
“That was a joke. There is no Santa. Never was.”
“You’re a Scrooge, Zach Kallen. Where’s your Christmas spirit?”
“I left it back in Seattle, ’bout the time the power failed.”
“Kallen the Scrooge…” she grumbled, then yawned again. “I don’t want to talk to you if you’re gonna be mean.”
“Good! My head hurts too much to talk anyway.”
Ellen folded her arms over her chest and pouted. “I didn’t ask to be stranded with you. They closed the airport, you know. How am I supposed to get to my wedding?”
“Sean’s wedding, not yours.”
“I know!”
“Do you mind? I asked you to be quiet.” His tone had become surlier.
She rested her head against the cold window. She never could sleep sitting up. Cars, planes…She was going to be late for the wedding. She and Zach Kallen would miss it….
“Hey, I just thought of something,” she mumbled groggily. “When I marry you, my name will be Ellen Kellen.” She giggled, and her eyelids drooped.
“It’s Kallen, with an A. And who said we were getting married?”
Opening her eyes seemed a struggle. “That’s where we’re going now, dummy!” She frowned and rubbed her temples. “If this stupid plane would ever take off.”
Zach gritted his teeth. Her crazy rambling was making his head ache worse. “Go to sleep, Ellen. You’re not making any sense.”
When she didn’t answer, he clicked on the light again and glanced her way. Her eyes were finally closed, her chest rising and falling in the steady rhythm of sleep. Thank goodness. He wasn’t sure how much more of her babbling he could take. Normally he considered himself a pretty tolerant guy, but in the last few minutes, Ellen’s drowsy chatter had become exponentially more irritating.
Now, he studied her fragile features as she slept. Her dark lashes fanned against her pale skin, her bowed lips slightly pursed and maddeningly kissable. Like a ripe raspberry…
He paused and frowned. Her lips were no longer the sweet dark pink hue that made him conjure images of berries. Her lips were dark cherry red, and her fingernails had a bluish tint.
Not good. Why…?
Zach struggled to clear the hazy fog from his brain. Where had he heard about this? Was it a bill he was working on with the senator? An article he’d read?
Fuzzy details drifted through his pain and sleep muddled mind. A public service announcement the senator had been featured in…dangers in the home…faulty heaters…
The heater. Exhaust. Engine running…
Understanding slapped him like an icicle to the heart.
Adrenaline snapped him to alertness.
Stranded with the Bridesmaid Page 4