by Bonnie Pega
Victoria just stared up at her mother’s face with solemn blue eyes and gurgled.
Libby pressed a soft kiss on the baby’s forehead. “Just don’t do it anymore, okay? He’s really a nice man. A very nice man. He’s intelligent and funny and sexy as all get-out—not that you need to worry about sexy just yet.”
Hannah waved at Libby and came over, Nicky asleep on her shoulder. “I see you and Zac have been talking.”
Libby gave a rueful smile and brushed back an errant strand of hair. “I don’t mean to quote clichés, Hannah, but you know that one about a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs? I get the impression that describes your brother-in-law in a room full of babies.”
Hannah nodded. “You’ve noticed, huh? For some reason, he keeps saying that babies hate him.”
“Why does he think that?”
“I’m not saying he really believes that. Part of me is inclined to believe he uses it as an excuse. Personally, I think he thinks kids won’t fit into his life. Although, Ben said that when Zac was seventeen or eighteen, he got stuck baby-sitting one of his young cousins who had colic. Ben said that the baby howled all weekend long. And then, there was Pamela’s daughter.”
“Who’s Pamela?”
“His ex-fiancée.”
He’d been engaged. Libby wondered if he was still nursing a broken heart. Maybe that’s why babies made him uncomfortable—they reminded him of what he’d lost. “How long ago was he engaged?” She tried to sound casual.
“Last year.”
“What about the daughter?”
“She was four years worth of spoiled rotten. I think she didn’t like the idea of sharing her mommy with anybody. Every time she saw Zac she began screaming her head off. Up until that time Zac figured it was just babies who hated him. After Pamela, he began to believe it was kids in general.”
“Did, ah, did he take the breakup hard?” Libby hoped her interest in Zac wasn’t too obvious.
“Not at all. I don’t think it was his heart that was damaged. It was his pride. He hadn’t gotten engaged because he’d fallen in love; it was more that he felt it was time he got married. At least that’s my theory and Ben thought the same thing.”
That was the second time Hannah had mentioned her husband’s name. “Have you heard from him at all?” she asked gently.
“I just got the signed divorce papers in the mail a few days ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Because I’m glad it’s over.”
“So was I when my divorce became final.”
Zac came up behind them in the middle of this conversation and eavesdropped shamelessly.
“How long were you and Bobby married?”
“Four long, lousy years. It was a mistake almost from the beginning.”
“Why?”
“Because he had no sense of responsibility. I met him when I was finishing up my master’s degree. After six years of school, the last year spent student-teaching, his every-day’s-a-holiday attitude seemed to be what I needed at the time. I really thought that once we were married, he’d settle down.”
Libby sighed and shifted the baby from one shoulder to the other. “He didn’t. He still went out partying almost every night until all hours. And if I didn’t want to go, he went anyway. Unfortunately, he was out so late every night, he began oversleeping and he was late to work a lot. He lost seven or eight jobs before finally going to work for his uncle.”
Zac cleared his throat and Libby turned around. “Here’s your soda.” He gave her a cup of ginger ale, then turned to Hannah. “I have to go. I have an early meeting.”
Hannah rolled her eyes at Libby and whispered, “Personally, I think he just wants to get out of here—too many babies and all that.”
“You’re darn right.” He’d overheard. He turned to Libby. “I guess you have your car now so you don’t need a ride.”
She nodded. “At least until the next thing goes wrong with it. Is seven-thirty Friday okay?”
Zac nodded. “See you then.” That is, if he didn’t manage to talk himself out of it. And he intended to try. Real hard.
FIVE
He’d tried, honestly tried, to break his date. He even got as far as calling Libby. But the minute he’d heard her soft, husky-sweet voice, he’d forgotten what he’d planned to say. So here he was, standing outside Libby’s front door, trying to make his legs move. Come on, you fool, either advance or retreat, but for God’s sake, do something. He knocked.
Libby opened the door almost immediately. He nearly groaned out loud when he saw her. She was wearing some kind of frilly skirt that hit several inches above her knees, and a scoop-neck T-shirt, in sunshine yellow. She looked like a buttercup or daffodil or some other kind of yellow flower, he thought.
The killer, however, was the pair of yellow sandals that showed off her delectable pink-tipped toes. For one brief moment he found himself wondering how they’d taste.
“You, uh, look very nice,” he said lamely. “And something smells good.”
“The best homemade lasagna on the East Coast. What’s that?” She motioned at the bag he held in his left hand.
“A bottle of wine. I didn’t know what you were fixing, so I brought a rosé. I hope that’s all right.”
“It’s fine,” Libby murmured.
“Where’s the baby?” Please let her be at Grandma’s or something, he asked silently.
“I just put her down to sleep, but I don’t think she’s nodded off yet.” Libby smiled brightly. “Do you want to see her?”
“No! I mean, I’d hate to keep her awake. How long do you think she’ll sleep?”
“With any luck at all, until twelve or one.” She stifled a sigh at his look of relief. She really liked Zac. A lot. But Victoria had to be her first responsibility now. And if she was going to date, it was going to have to be with Victoria in mind, and that meant a man who really liked children. As much as she liked Zac, maybe seeing him wasn’t such a good idea. She wondered about a brief, passionate affair. Maybe that would take care of the incessant itch she felt every time she thought about him. Maybe. But she doubted it.
She took the bottle of wine from Zac and put it on ice to chill. She ran down a list of things to talk about, but her mind seemed to have gone blank. Apparently he couldn’t think of anything to talk about either, because the silence dragged on for several minutes. She wished he’d go into the living room and wait. The longer he stood there and watched her, the more nervous she got. It was as if she could feel his gaze on her back.
Zac cleared his throat. “This is a very nice—” A loud, deep “woof” reverberated around the room, and Zac broke off his words and backed up against the kitchen counter. “What in the world?”
A large, silky-haired golden retriever ran into the room, tail wagging so hard that it was hitting itself on either side. The dog paused for all of a tenth of a second before bounding over to Zac and sticking its nose in his crotch.
“He won’t hurt you,” Libby said quickly.
“I’ve figured that out.” Zac’s voice was dry as he fended off the exuberantly affectionate advances of the dog. “I take it this is Wells?”
“Yes. He really seems to like you too.”
“Just my luck,” Zac muttered and tried to keep the dog from licking his face. “I didn’t know they allowed you to keep ponies as house pets.”
Libby grabbed Wells’s collar and managed to tug the large animal away. “Okay, sweetie. I think you should go out in the backyard for a little while.” She struggled to hold on to the dog with one hand and open the back door with the other.
“Let me.” Zac opened the door, and Libby gave Wells a gentle shove.
“Sorry about that,” she apologized. “He’s very affectionate. He’ll be happy out there for a few minutes, anyway. Then he’ll have to come back inside.”
“Will he run out into the street if you don’t bring him in?”
“No, the backyard’s fenced. He�
�s really a people dog, and when I put him out, he gets lonely after a few minutes and starts crying.”
Zac tried in vain to brush off the golden-white hairs clinging voraciously to his dark trousers.
“So, are there any more like you at home?” Zac finally said, and leaned up against the kitchen counter, crossing his legs at the ankle.
“My sister, Faith, is in her last year of medical school. What about you? I know you have a brother who occasionally persecuted you as well as a brand-new nephew. What about your other brother?”
“Actually, both brothers persecuted me. I was the youngest. There’s Ben and Matt. Matt is married and lives in New York. He’s got two kids exactly nine months apart—one boy, one girl.”
Libby opened the refrigerator and began setting items on the counter. “Do you see your niece and nephew a lot?”
“Ah, no, I don’t get up there very often.”
“New York isn’t exactly half a continent away.”
“Yeah, well …” He changed the subject. “Can I help you do something?”
“Are you good at chopping veggies?”
“I’m an expert.”
Libby handed him a cucumber, a tomato, and a knife. “Prove it.” She turned away with the flash of a smile and the flip of her skirt.
Zac turned his attention to the task at hand, then glanced at Libby. “All done.” He stopped dead for a moment and made a strangled sound. “What are you doing?”
Libby straightened from where she’d been unbuckling a sandal. “I hope you don’t mind. My feet hurt.”
His mouth felt suddenly dry. “Go ahead.” He watched as she finished unbuckling one sandal and slid it off her dainty foot, then wiggled her toes as if relishing the freedom. That simple act was every bit as erotic as if she’d slipped her blouse over her head. He felt an unmistakable pressure in his groin and turned away before she removed the other shoe, though he strained his ears listening for the telltale sounds.
Lord, what was the matter with him? He’d never had this fixation on feet before. Of course, he acknowledged to himself, he’d never seen feet quite like hers before. He wondered if they were ticklish, and flexed his fingers at the thought of running them lightly down the bottom of her foot. Would Libby laugh or just wriggle her toes?
A sudden disgruntled wail from the other room made Libby straighten. “Oh, dear, Victoria’s awake.” As she headed to the bedroom, Wells started barking outside the kitchen door. “Would you let him in before he disturbs the neighbors?” she called over her shoulder.
This evening was not turning out at all like Zac had hoped. A little dinner, a little wine, a little romance? Ha! He should have remembered The Plan. Stick with women who know how to play the game and avoid, at all cost, women with fussy babies and barking, shedding dogs.
They ate dinner with Victoria bouncing on her mother’s knee and Wells staring down Zac with pleading brown eyes as he leaned against Zac’s leg, adding even more hairs to the ones still clinging from earlier. Surprisingly, the conversation went well, or maybe not so surprisingly, since Libby was a charming and intelligent companion. It wasn’t her fault she came complete with infant and mutt.
After dinner the baby still wouldn’t go back to sleep, so Libby and Zac sat in the living room, drinking decaffeinated coffee while Libby held Victoria. “Maybe if I nursed her …” Libby glanced at Zac. “If it’s okay with you.”
“Sure, go ahead.”
Libby angled her body away from Zac, and he could see her fumble with her T-shirt for a moment. Then he heard the unmistakable suckling noises of a contented baby. He forced himself to look away from the bare skin of her back that had been revealed when she tugged up her T-shirt, and found his gaze lingering on her feet again.
He was as aware of her as if she’d been dancing naked in front of him. His skin prickled with her nearness, yet the contented noises of the infant were a powerful deterrent to any more errant thoughts. Their conversation became more stilted and garden-party formal—they even discussed the weather. The silent pauses became longer and more awkward. When Libby got up to put a now-drowsy baby back in her crib, Zac decided to leave before it got even more difficult.
Zac stood when Libby came back into the room after putting the baby down. “It was a terrific dinner. You’re right. You do make the best lasagna on the East Coast. Is the baby asleep?”
She smiled. “She’s sleeping like, well, like a baby.” Her smile faded. “Do you have to leave?”
“Um, yes. I have an, ah, an early meeting. It’s been a nice evening, though.”
You’ve got that same fight-or-flee look again, Mr. Webster. Well, go right ahead and flee. I mean, if a man doesn’t like babies, then I can’t waste my time on him. Even if he does have nice shoulders, tight buns, and a smile that not only could charm the birds out of the trees, but could likely charm the socks—or whatever—off assorted ladies as well.
From the look on Zac’s face, it was obvious he felt the same way Libby did. This was an ill-advised and ill-fated relationship and it was better ended before it began.
“Thanks for the wine,” she said. “I’m sure it was terrific.”
“Even if you didn’t drink any,” Zac murmured dryly.
“I’m sorry, I guess I forgot to tell you that Cupcake’s a little too young to drink.”
Wells groaned in his sleep and rolled over on his back. Zac stared at the lump of fur sprawled across the floor for a moment and decided it was past time to leave. “I’ll call you.” He knew darn well he wouldn’t. There was absolutely nothing in this world that could induce him to get involved with her. With an effort he kept his eyes from straying to her bare toes. Well, almost nothing.
Libby walked with him to the door. “Thank you again, Zac. For everything.” She planted a kiss on his cheek.
He wasn’t sure how it happened, but suddenly she was in his arms. He moved his mouth over hers, tentatively at first, then with certainty. She tasted like sunshine and raindrops, fluffy clouds and clear skies. Her soft breasts nestled just right against his chest, and her thighs meshed with his.
He pulled back just far enough to see that she stood on dainty pink tiptoe. That was all it took. He’d call her. He had to.
Zac couldn’t sleep, and it was all her fault. Dammit! She just had to kiss like an angel, didn’t she? Or, then again, maybe it wasn’t an angel that she kissed like. It was more like a Lorelei—luring unsuspecting men to their death. But, he found himself thinking, they’d go with smiles on their faces.
He sprawled on his white velour sofa, relishing the quiet of his luxury apartment. No baby noises, no dog noises, nothing but the muted gurgle from his twenty-gallon tropical fish tank.
It was even restful on his eyes—the black and white decor simple and direct. Not at all like the riot of colors that assaulted the senses in her living room. The flowered sofa had pink and green throw pillows piled all over it, while the carpet was some kind of pink, green, and blue design. All of it had been littered liberally with bright dog toys.
Her house abounded with a carnival of aromas—tomato sauce, oregano, the scent from the roses outside the front door, the fresh green smell of the dozens of houseplants elbowing one another for space in front of the windows, and the underlying sweetness of baby powder.
Zac breathed deeply. His own place smelled of … nothing. Apparently, his expensive air purifier did a great job. Not even the scent of her hair lingered in his nostrils.
Zac sprinkled a dash of fish food in the aquarium, watching as the black and white angelfish, black mollies, and white tetras swarmed around the particles. Even his fish fit the color scheme of his apartment, he thought—and they didn’t shed. He watched the fish for a moment longer, then straightened the line of silk plants on the black marble mantel. Maybe he didn’t have a regular jungle of plants in front of his windows, but at least these didn’t need to be watered or fertilized.
Finally he picked up the latest business magazine from the coffee table and loo
ked through it. When he found himself reading the same page three times and still not knowing what it said, he tossed the magazine down. He felt restless for some reason he didn’t care to define. Maybe a half-hour workout in the gym downstairs would cure it.
Forty-five minutes, a workout, and a shower later, and he was still restless. He flipped through every channel on the television, shook his head, and turned the set off. What good was it having thirty channels when he couldn’t find anything that could keep his mind occupied? With a sigh he turned off the lights and walked down the hall to the bedroom.
After an hour he still lay staring at the ceiling. It took such an effort to keep from thinking about Libby that he couldn’t get to sleep. “I give up,” he said, and let images of her fill his head.
There had been some high spots in his life—the Christmas he got his first bicycle, the blue ribbon he’d won in track, Barbie Jo Britton in the backseat of his dad’s Chevy, graduating from college, the day he opened the doors of his company. But none of them compared with that one single kiss tonight. Not one.
Zac sighed deeply and closed his eyes, then burrowed his head down into his pillow. He fell asleep thinking about how Libby’s silky hair would feel beneath his cheek, how soft her breasts would be to touch, and her feet, those dainty sexy feet …
“That kiss last night really ripped it,” Libby muttered as she lay Victoria on the bed and changed her diaper. The baby just blew bubbles and kicked her legs. Libby laughed. “Okay, you wiggle worm, settle down. I was all prepared to not only never hear from him again, but feel happy about it—or at least resigned to it. Why did I have to do it? Why did I think I could kiss even his cheek and get off scot-free?”
“Get off what scot-free?”
“Oh, hi, Deb,” Libby said without turning around. “Did you ever think about knocking?”