Then Comes Marriage

by Bonnie Pega

  “I’ll think about knocking the day you start locking the front door.”

  “You should have knocked anyway. I could have had a hot date in here.”

  “Since when?” Her eyes lit up. “But then, you did have Zac Webster over for dinner last night, didn’t you? How’d it go?”

  Libby nodded. “Dinner went … fine.”

  “Fine,” Deb repeated. “Now, I’ve known you for a long time, Liberty Austen, and you use that word the same way other people use the word interesting—to avoid committing yourself.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Oh, come on. How was it?”

  Libby rolled her eyes. “He came over. We ate dinner. He went home.”

  “Is that why you were mumbling to yourself when I came in?”

  “I wasn’t mumbling to myself. In case you haven’t noticed, there’s another person here.”

  “Yeah, and she’s cute as a bug, but not exactly a sparkling conversationalist. And you’re trying to avoid the issue.”

  “There is no issue,” Libby protested. “There’s just nothing to say.”

  “Nothing to say? You had a date with a terrific-looking guy, the same guy who delivered your baby, I might add, and you have nothing to say?”

  “Okay, you want all the gory details, here they are. Victoria was fussy, the dog shed all over him, and he lit out of here about nine o’clock. Is that what you want to hear?”

  “No so good, huh?”

  “No so good. On a scale of one to ten, I’d have to give it an honest minus two. I don’t expect I’ll hear from him again. We may run into each other at Hannah’s on occasion, but I think we’ll wind up being cordial acquaintances more than anything else.”

  “And on a scale of one to ten, how would you rate the man?”

  A twenty-six. “Since he coached me through labor, that’s hardly a fair question.” The telephone rang. Libby handed the baby to Deb and answered it. “Hello?”

  “Hello,” Zac said softly. “I wanted to thank you again for dinner last night.” Libby could feel that silky voice on every nerve ending in her body. She wondered if she was blushing. She wasn’t the blushing sort, but she could feel heat spreading up her neck. “Um, hello. I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

  “How’s the baby this morning?”

  He always called Victoria “the baby,” Libby noted, as if doing that helped him maintain a distance. “She’s fine, playing with Auntie Deb.”

  “That’s good. Since you uh, made dinner for me, I thought maybe you’d let me return the favor by taking you out to dinner.”

  No, I don’t think that’s a good idea at all. “I’d love to. When?” Shoot, she thought, it looked like her mouth had a mind of its own.

  “I guess tonight would be short notice.”

  Libby reached out and tapped Deb on the shoulder. “If I can find a sitter tonight …” Deb nodded. “I can. What time.”

  “Seven?”

  “Seven?” She looked at Deb again for approval, then said, “That would be fine. Dressy or casual?”

  “I thought we’d have dinner and then perhaps go dancing afterward.”

  Dancing with him could be hazardous—at least to her mental health. Heaven knows, when she got near him, her brain went on leave and her hormones took over. She could handle dinner. They’d have a whole table between them and food to eat should they run out of things to talk about. But she didn’t think dancing was such a good idea. “Okay. I’ll see you at seven, then.” Libby hung up the phone and turned to Deb, who was grinning like a Cheshire cat.

  “I thought you said the date was not so good,” she said slyly.

  “I didn’t think so.”

  “Apparently he thought so.”

  Libby turned away and fiddled with the collection of tiny perfume bottles on her dresser. “Do you want me to bring Cupcake to your place tonight, or do you want to come here?”

  “I’ll come here. It’ll be the first time I’ve been out on a Saturday night in six months.”

  “Why?” Libby looked at Deb in surprise.

  “I’ve sworn off men for a while. Maybe forever. I thought I told you over Easter break.”

  “Deb—”

  “Why don’t I take Victoria for a stroll so you can wash your hair or whatever in peace?”

  “Okay, if you don’t want to talk about it—”

  “I don’t.” Deb turned with a toss of chestnut-brown curls. “Where’s the stroller?”

  “In the hall closet.”

  “By the way, what about feeding her?”

  “She’ll take a bottle with no trouble, though it probably won’t be necessary. I’ll nurse her just before it’s time to go.”

  Libby spent an inordinate amount of time staring in her closet, trying to decide what to wear. She’d always liked dressing up and had been told she had a good sense of style, but any sense she had seemed to desert her as seven o’clock drew nearer.

  She tried on one outfit after another and discarded all of them. One was too small since the baby, another too formal, another too casual. Finally about five minutes to seven she tugged on a white scoopneck dress that buttoned down the front.

  She’d barely gotten her hair brushed into place when her bedroom door opened. Libby turned with a start. “Heavens, you scared me half to death, Deb. If you don’t start knocking—”

  “Hey, I just wanted to tell you Zac’s here. He’s waiting in the living room, trying to keep Wells from eating him alive.”

  “I guess I’d better go rescue him, huh?” She looked at herself in the mirror one more time, wishing she had a butterfly net to catch all the ones fluttering inside. “Do you think this is all right?” she asked, indicating her dress.

  “Perfect.”

  “You don’t think it’s a bit snug over the bust? I know I’ve gained at least one whole bra size since I’ve been nursing.”

  “Don’t worry about it. He won’t think it’s too snug. But you did forget something.”

  “What?” Libby stared at her reflection again. “Oh, earrings.” She hurriedly put on gold hoops.

  “Not exactly,” Deb murmured dryly. “More like shoes.” She grinned and pointed at Libby’s bare toes.

  Libby stuffed her feet into white sandals, trying to ignore Deb’s knowing look. She slicked on some lip gloss, took a deep breath, and went into the living room. It was just as well she’d taken that breath, she thought, because she didn’t think she could have drawn another one had her life depended on it.

  He looked terrific as usual, but that wasn’t what stole her breath. It was the smile on his face that unnerved her—a smile of pure masculine appreciation. His gaze traveled from the top of her head to her feet, lingering first on the swell of her breasts, then on the tips of her toes, and the smile widened. Libby didn’t know if she could stand looking at that smile the rest of the night. Not without melting into her sandals, anyway.

  “You look beautiful,” he murmured.

  “Thank you,” Libby said, feeling as if she had a mouthful of peanut butter. “You don’t look so bad yourself.” If he looked any better, she’d need mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.

  Zac pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to Deb. “These are the numbers where we can be reached if you need us.” With a slight grimace he extricated his foot from underneath Wells, who was sitting on it, and turned to Libby. “Are you ready?”

  Libby nodded, not sure she could get her tongue unstuck. She’d had her first date at fifteen and she didn’t think she’d been this nervous—even though her date had been captain of the junior varsity baseball team. But then, Chris Matthews had been only cute, not sensual dynamite.

  Of course the hot flashes, tight throat, and knot in her stomach could have been caused by the flu. But she didn’t think so. It might have been better if she did have the flu, though. At least the flu didn’t usually lead to heart involvement. Dinner with Zac could.

  “Have you ever been to Wendover’s?”


  Libby found her voice. “No. No, I haven’t, but I’ve heard some nice things about it.”

  “They specialize in seafood, but they have a few other items if you don’t—”

  “I love seafood.”

  Wendover’s had a look of classic understated elegance—dark red plush carpets, pristine white tablecloths, glittering candles. And despite the Saturday night crowd, their table was private and secluded. Too secluded to Libby’s way of thinking. Their whole dinner reeked of romance. And Zac was aware of it, too, if the intimate smile he turned her way was any indication.

  There wasn’t a lot that ever affected her appetite, but sitting across from Zac was definitely pushing it. It might have had something to do with the fact that Zac smiled at her the whole time he ate his oysters. It might have been due to the teasing comment he made about oyster’s aphrodisiac qualities. It might have been. But it wasn’t. It was due solely to him and the sheer male power he radiated that made every female within fifty feet—or five hundred feet—take notice.

  Yet, in contrast to the previous night at her house, they talked easily. Their conversation flowed from books to movies to politics. She wasn’t sure what the difference was between last night and this, but perhaps it had something to do with the deliberate charm Zac was exerting—charm so potent that she decided it either had to be a God-given talent or else he’d taken classes in it. Maybe even taught the classes.

  She had a feeling that that charm was going to be overwhelming up close though, close as in dancing. And as the waiter brought their dessert, and the time to go dancing drew nearer, Libby fell into silence. This wasn’t a good idea. He had a potent effect on her, but a relationship would be foolhardy. After all, she had one major drawback, at least to his way of thinking—a beautiful blue-eyed baby daughter.

  As they headed to Sunny Daze for dancing, she thought she ought to tell him she had a headache and wanted to go home, but again her tongue seemed glued to the roof of her mouth. And she really couldn’t resist one dance with him. Just one. Maybe she was flirting with trouble, but she’d never backed down from a challenge. And Zac was nothing if not a challenge.

  But maybe if she got him talking about a subject near and dear to his heart, he’d forget to turn that tongue-tying charm on her. And according to Hannah, the subject nearest and dearest to his heart was his company. So Libby brought up the subject. “Hannah said your company is doing quite well. I know you do something with computers, but what is it exactly?”

  If Zac thought she was crazy for bringing up the subject out of the blue, at least he didn’t say so as he expertly parked the car and opened her door for her. “I originally started out designing and installing customized computer programs for various businesses. I’d go into a company, look over their record keeping, talk to a number of people about what they need, and I’d personally design a software program to fit.”

  “Could you do that for almost any business?”

  “Sure. I’ve done a record-keeping program for a hardware store, personnel files for a regional pharmacy chain, even a file to keep various toy designs on record. I’ve worked with landscaping firms, pet stores, and craft shops. Lately, though, we’ve begun to specialize in educational software. That seems to be the coming thing.”

  With his hand at her elbow he guided Libby through the crowd of people to an empty table. “Do you want something to drink?” he asked loudly over the music.

  She sat down and shook her head. “No, not right now.”

  “Do you want to dance?”

  “Not just yet. I want to hear more about your company. What is it you’re working on now?”

  “We’ve begun to concentrate more on designing educational programs to be used in schools.” God, I can’t believe I’m talking shop with a woman I’ve been more intimate with than any other woman in my life. And yet, except for that kiss last night, he had never touched her sexually. Not that he hadn’t thought about it. He had. Over and over and over.

  He didn’t want to talk anymore. They’d talked constantly over dinner and he’d discovered they had things in common that he didn’t want to know about. That they agreed on politics had been the final straw. One more thing in common. One more nail in his coffin.

  He didn’t want to have anything else in common with her. After all, not only did she have a b-a-b-y, but she had a d-o-g too. He wanted to keep this relationship purely physical. But it was damned hard when he kept finding things that drew him to her. And it was harder still when he remembered how brave, how strong she’d been during labor. And how she’d never lost her dry, sometimes wicked sense of humor—or that air of tranquility that seemed such a part of her.

  He’d like to bottle the serenity that she wore like a second skin. Would she wear it when she made love—her movements calm yet thorough? Or would she discard it, like her clothes—and let sheer womanly instinct guide her in passion?

  “I want to dance with you,” he murmured, not caring whether or not she heard him over the loud thrum of the music. He stood and held out his hand, his gaze holding hers. “Dance with me, Libby.”

  SIX

  Babies and dogs and happily-ever-afters, all the things that put him off, faded away when he put his arms around her. All he was conscious of was the softness of her breasts against his chest, the sway of her hips in time to the music, the swag of hair cascading down her back, the gentle friction of her thighs against his.

  Her delicate scent teased him, but he couldn’t put a name to it. It made him think of summer nights, sitting on his grandmother’s porch swing, chasing fireflies, sipping cold lemonade, eating sugar cookies. Honeysuckle. That was it. Honeysuckle. He lay his cheek against the top of her head and breathed in the warm, sweet fragrance. It was a fragrance a man could wrap around himself.

  He slipped his hands underneath her hair and moved them up and down her back, the rough texture of the cotton on his fingertips in sharp contrast to the softness of her body beneath. He didn’t want permanence, but he didn’t have to live like a monk either, did he? What would be the harm in a hot, passionate, if short-term relationship? She probably didn’t want to get involved either. After all, she was recently divorced.

  She felt so good in his arms, though. So right. Sometimes he felt like a penniless kid with his nose pressed against a candy-store window, wanting what he can’t have. A wife, two-point-five kids, a dog—one that doesn’t shed—and a house with a rose garden in the back sounded nice, but he had a lot yet to do in his life.

  He didn’t have time for things that hadn’t been planned out years in advance. He believed in plans. They hadn’t let him down so far. Of course, he hadn’t planned on meeting a beautiful, sexy lady with a baby and a dog. They definitely didn’t fit in his agenda. But getting to know her better couldn’t hurt, could it? How many more things could they have in common anyway?

  He pulled back just far enough to see her face. Her eyelids fluttered, then opened. Lord, getting close was one thing, but he needed some distance right now or he was going to throw her over his shoulder and carry her out. And that would never do. He needed to demonstrate more finesse than that. Maybe some pleasant conversation would give him a chance to cool down. “You teach, right?”

  She nodded, seeming surprised at his abrupt attempt at dialogue. “I teach sixth-grade English.”

  “I’m working on a design now for an English program aimed at sixth and seventh graders. Do you do much with computers?”

  “I haven’t yet, but if there was a program designed to make kids more eager to write, I’d go for it.”

  Zac stared at her for a moment. Damn, one more thing. “If you were going to design a program, what would you want it to do?”

  “I’d want it to make kids understand that the most important skill they can develop is the skill to communicate. Everything they do from here on out, everything they become, how far they go, how they manage day-to-day life, will all depend on how well they communicate their needs.”

  Her voice vibr
ated with intensity. “Ultimately the person who goes the furthest is the one who communicates the most effectively. Just think about trying to deal with an office full of people and not knowing how to tell them precisely what you want them to do.

  “When you can’t get your point across concisely, you have misunderstandings, hurt feelings, and you usually wind up not getting what it was you wanted in the first place.” She stopped as if just now realizing she’d been rambling on.

  “I’m sorry,” she murmured with a self-deprecating smile. “I’ll climb down off my soapbox now. I hope I didn’t put you to sleep or anything, but I have very strong feelings about that subject and can rattle on for days.”

  “I wasn’t bored. I was just thinking how beautiful you are when you’re passionate about something, and I was a little jealous that you weren’t as passionate about me.”

  Their gazes locked and Libby swallowed hard, then ran her tongue over her bottom lip while Zac watched with avid interest. He moved his hands from her back to her waist, holding her body tight against his. His touch telegraphed a message that couldn’t be mistaken. He wanted her. And he told her as much when he murmured that he wished they were alone.

  Libby’s eyes widened as she felt the unmistakable surge of his lower body against hers, and she gasped. “Zac, I think we need to talk.”

  He spread his fingers wide over her back. “So do I, baby. But not here.”

  Libby started toward the table and Zac pulled her back against him. “Don’t go yet. Give me a minute.”

  She didn’t need to ask why he needed the time, she could feel it. Heat suffused her whole body, and she wondered if he could feel it radiating from her. When she looked up at his face, she could see him close his eyes and take a couple of deep breaths.

  “Definitely high voltage,” he muttered as he grabbed her hand and headed out the door, stopping by the table just long enough to scoop up her purse in his other hand.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Not to your house yet. You’re right, we do need to talk, but I doubt we could say what needs to be said with Deb and the baby in the other room. And,” he added dryly, “your dog lying across my knees. We’ll go to my place. We’ll have all the privacy we need.”