White Picket Fences

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White Picket Fences Page 13

by Tara Taylor Quinn


  Dawn hadn’t let on. Or he’d never tuned in.

  He still wasn’t sure which was more accurate.

  Maybe they were equally true.

  Sammie crawled out from under the table and sniffed around them, looking for crumbs. Finding none, she sat next to Randi, laying her head on Randi’s knee.

  Randi barely seemed to notice, even patting the dog’s head before abruptly pulling both hands into her lap. Eventually Sammie moved over to Zack, and Zack spent the next few minutes attempting to lower his blood pressure a bit.

  The movie was hair-raising, he reminded himself. The state of his blood pressure had nothing to do with the woman sitting next to him. Absolutely nothing.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  BY THE LAST FIFTEEN MINUTES of the movie, after two hours of sitting next to Randi, feeling her energy, watching her gorgeous body strain with the effort it took to live through a young boy’s anguish, Zack was restless. Feeling caged.

  No longer sure what was so great about just being friends.

  He had dogs. They were man’s best friend. What he needed was a woman.

  This woman.

  And the thing was, judging from the covert glances Randi had been sending him on and off over the past two weeks, she wanted him, too. She’d even dressed up for him tonight. He might not be able to tell when a woman didn’t want him, but he sure as hell knew when she did.

  They’d been great together in bed. Two bodies that fit together perfectly.

  He shifted in his seat. The credits were coming up soon. Randi was holding her breath as the movie crescendoed.

  Randi snatched his hand as the final scene played itself out, her fingers practically cutting off his circulation.

  Her skin was soft. Vital. He grabbed hold.

  God, he wanted her.

  And it felt so damn good. To let himself just want a woman.

  Dawn had done a lot of damage. She’d stripped him to the core. Talking about her tonight had brought it all back. The shock. The inner fears. The unanswered questions. He’d never doubted his ability to have great sex. He had a lusty appetite. What he doubted was his ability to make sure the woman he was with enjoyed herself as much as he did.

  Randi had a way of making him feel he could do no wrong.

  Sammie, lying under the table again, lifted her head, looked at them, then laid it back down.

  As the credits finally rolled across the screen, Zack didn’t let go of Randi’s hand. She’d finally taken her eyes from the television set—to stare at him.

  “I thought we weren’t going to do that again,” she whispered.

  “We aren’t going to tie ourselves down with false expectations.” They’d been honest, each knowing where the other stood.

  She bit her lower lip. Nodded.

  Zack pulled her across the cushion separating them. She moved toward him slowly, her gaze fixed on his.

  For that moment there was no doubt. No past. No future. And no more thought. There was only this moment. This woman.

  Zack lowered his head.

  RANDI WOULD HAVE made love with Zack right there on his couch, she was so far gone. Desire had been building from the moment he’d left her house that night all those weeks ago.

  “Not here, not like this,” Zack murmured against her throat, giving her delicious chills all the way through her body. He picked her up easily and carried her down the hall to the door that had been closed to her earlier.

  Wrapped in his arms, dwarfed by his large body, she felt feminine—and desired. She felt fragile and safe, protected and oh, so precious.

  “I didn’t get to watch you undress the last time,” she said when he placed her on his bed and bent to follow her down.

  “And that disappointed you?”

  “Not at the time,” she admitted with a grin, looking at him with lazy eyes. She felt drugged, sluggish, and yet spurred on by a passion that was raging out of control. “It was only later.” She ran her tongue across her lips. “When I didn’t have enough pictures in my mind…”

  She was lying flat on her back, propped up by a couple of pillows, fully dressed except for the shoes she’d abandoned in the living room. Her nipples were hard, straining against her bra.

  He pulled his T-shirt over his head. “You’ve been trying to picture me naked?”

  “Uh-huh.” And her memory, even mixed with a heavy dose of imagination, had not done him justice. His chest was magnificent. So firm and muscular that every sinew was outlined.

  Dark hair swirled in the middle of his chest, reaching out to encircle both nipples. A trail of it ran down over his abdomen, as well, and beneath, hidden by the sweat shorts he was wearing.

  “Keep going,” she urged as he stood there, feet apart, hands in the waistband of his shorts, watching her.

  “When have you pictured me naked?” he asked, instead.

  When haven’t I? “Once while we were skating and you were in front of me. Your, um, backside was right there and—”

  “Only once while we were skating?” he asked. His eyes glinted with humor. With challenge. And with something much hotter…

  “Okay, more than once.”

  He eased his waistband down an inch. “When else?”

  Randi licked her lips for real. He was going to make her pay for her pleasure. That thought made her want it all the more.

  “In my office, when I was supposed to be approving the assistant director’s budget.”

  His waistband lowered another inch.

  “Once at the grocery store.”

  Swirls of dark hair were her reward for that one. And a bulge that she was very impatient to see.

  To feel.

  “When we were at the movie the other night.”

  He lowered his pants another inch.

  “When I was lying alone in my bed at night.”

  His shorts dropped to the floor. “Lady,” he said, sliding down beside her, taking her in his arms.

  “You aren’t alone in bed tonight.”

  “Thank goodness,” she whispered as he took her mouth in a kiss so consuming she was no longer sure where she was.

  Except in his arms.

  And that was enough.

  Zack loved her slowly, undressing her, touching her gently, everywhere. Exposing nerve endings she didn’t know existed. The undersides of her elbows had never before been connected to the pit in her lower belly. Nor had the backs of her knees. But when Zack touched them, kissed them, ran his tongue along them, her belly tightened with excruciating need.

  “You are so beautiful,” he said as though he was worshiping her. “So firm.” He caressed her arms, the tops of her thighs. “And so womanly.” His fingers delved slowly, intimately, inside her.

  “Make love to me,” Randi whispered desperately. He was driving her crazy. Making her hurt with need in places that weren’t supposed to hurt. Places that didn’t normally feel pain.

  “I am, Miranda Parsons, I am.”

  And he did.

  He took her traditionally the first time, climbing on top of her, holding his weight on his forearms as he thrust into her. Again and again. Bringing her to a fabulous crescendo.

  The second time they came together, Randi was on top, loving him as thoroughly as he’d loved her.

  “This night’s going to kill me,” she sighed when she reached completion for the second time in an hour.

  “But what a way to go.” He lay back, one arm over his head, the other around her as she snuggled into his chest.

  She was exhausted but couldn’t fall asleep. She didn’t want to waste a minute of her time in his bed. He was giving her tonight. She was only prepared to take tonight. She couldn’t bear to lose a second of it.

  “Shouldn’t we cover up?” she asked, glancing at the clock beside his bed.

  “Probably, but who wants to move?”

  She didn’t. And was glad he didn’t, either. They’d been lying quietly for several minutes. It was officially afterward and he wasn’t runnin
g off.

  Or running her off.

  The third time they made love, they were lying on their sides, facing each other. Neither of them above the other, or below. They coupled as partners, looking into each other’s eyes.

  Randi liked that way best of all. It was a completely intimate expression of give-and-take.

  She tried to doze after that. To be content lying in Zack’s arms, in his bed. But now that she was sated, thoughts were crowding in on her. And worries returned. Maybe she’d liked Zack’s touch just a little too much.

  He wanted temporary. Wanted things short and sweet.

  They had the sweet part down, but how many times constituted short?

  And how many times could she do this without upsetting the well-ordered contentment of her life?

  Maybe she shouldn’t stay. She was probably risking too much, lingering there, getting cozy in a bed that wasn’t hers. That wouldn’t ever be hers.

  Zack settled in beside her, tucking her more securely into his side. He didn’t say anything, but she didn’t think he was asleep. His breathing wasn’t deep enough.

  If Zack was such a caring guy—as his commitment to animals and to his pet-therapy patients attested—why did he refuse even to consider seeing where something between them might lead?

  Not that she wanted it to lead anywhere. But why didn’t he?

  She came up with several possibilities—he liked living alone, he liked variety, he didn’t like her—all of which she immediately dismissed. Even if he liked living alone, she already knew he’d also liked living with a partner. He’d believed his marriage was near perfect. That he and Dawn had been a team.

  Was that it, then? He’d never gotten over his ex-wife? Was still in love with her? He seemed like the kind of guy who would do the forever once-in-a-lifetime kind of love. Was that why he wasn’t willing to get involved in another relationship? Because he knew he couldn’t? His heart wasn’t his to give?

  She could understand that, she supposed. Randi had no intention of risking her own heart, her own life, to something outside her control. And a full-blown relationship with Zack would definitely be that.

  But to think he’d just made love to her so…so…completely, while in love with another woman.

  It made sense, though. Went right along with his aversion to having anything he and Dawn had shared in his home. When he’d acted so oddly earlier about his half of the divorce settlement, sidestepping her question about where his things were, Randi had realized he was hiding something.

  “You awake?” she asked him. If she was going to lie there figuring him out, she might as well get his confirmation of her conclusions. She might as well know the truth.

  Or risk kidding herself.

  Randi couldn’t do that. Not about Zack. Not about anything. Facing facts head-on was the only way she’d gotten through the accident that had robbed her of her dreams.

  “Sort of.” His voice was only slightly groggy, his fingers trailing back and forth along her ribs.

  Half-awake was good enough. “You’re still in love with her, aren’t you?”

  “Hmm?” He paused. And then asked, “In love with who?”

  “Your ex-wife.”

  “Dawn?” His fingers stopped their caresses.

  “Yes.”

  “Not hardly.”

  “It’s okay,” she assured him. “I understand. We both know this is nothing more than an interlude.”

  “I’m not in love with Dawn,” he said again. There was nothing drowsy about him now.

  “But it’s so hard for you to talk about her. You didn’t even want to bring anything the two of you had in your home to this house.”

  “The issues I have with my first marriage have nothing to do with unrequited love for my ex-wife.”

  He spoke with such conviction she believed him.

  “It’s a matter of trust, then? Because she was unfaithful to you?”

  “Partially.”

  He still held her, their voices soft as they spoke in the dark.

  “What else?”

  “Hey, why all the questions?” he asked, nudging her. “You’re alone, too—and you intend to stay that way.”

  “I know.”

  “You do intend to stay that way, don’t you?” he asked.

  His question sounded discordant in the room where they’d come together so perfectly such a short time before.

  “Yes,” she finally said. Because he deserved an answer. And because she meant it.

  What she and Zack shared was incredible. A dimension of life she’d never expected to experience.

  But it was only one dimension. And a temporary one. She was a challenge to him. So far, she’d managed to keep him interested. But eventually he’d tire of the game. Tire of having a woman around who was always so…competitive.

  If Zack ever did settle down again, he’d pick a really feminine woman. A woman who spent hours putting on her makeup. Who knew how to put on an hour’s worth of makeup. Who knew what colors to wear, which ones to stay away from.

  Who knew how to be a princess.

  All the best guys went for girls like that.

  SITTING IN HIS HOME OFFICE on Saturday just before lunch, Will Parsons, the president of Montford University, sighed. Being Randi’s oldest brother was hard sometimes. He got most of the responsibility for her welfare. Being the brother she fought with the least was hard, too. It gave everyone an excuse to let that responsibility lie firmly on his shoulders because she might actually listen to him. Loving her so much was hardest of all.

  Straightening his shoulders, Will looked at the phone.

  He’d been putting this off for most of the morning. And knew that if he showed his face at the lunch table without making the call, Becca would send him right back to his office.

  Will slung his jean-clad legs up on his desk, leaning back in his chair, arms folded. He didn’t want to be in the office any more that day. He had plans to take his girls, Becca and baby Bethany, into Phoenix. He and Becca were getting Bethany’s six-month picture taken. And buying her some new clothes. In return, she was going to accompany her parents to a five-star restaurant for dinner and sleep through a show afterward.

  There was no way Will would enjoy any of it if he was worried about Randi. Next to Becca and Bethany, he loved Randi more than anyone else on earth. And she was fragile. More so than she knew.

  “Hello?” she answered on the fourth ring.

  Thank God she was home. He’d been half-afraid she wouldn’t be. And then he’d have to think about where she was.

  He wished his mother had left him in blissful ignorance. His feet landed on the floor with a thud as he sat forward, shading his eyes. Why were older brothers the last to know these things?

  “Hi, squirt,” Will said, reverting, in his concern, to the name he’d given her when she was a baby. He’d been twelve when Randi was born and had spent his entire life looking out for her. Protecting her.

  “Hey, Will, what’s up?”

  She sounded normal. Thank God again.

  “Not much. How are you?”

  “Fine.”

  “Good.” He had to go about this delicately. Randi was a bit touchy about her privacy.

  “How’s Bethany?”

  “Great,” he said, smiling at the collection of pictures on his desk. “Rolling over all the time now. I don’t think she’s ever going to crawl. Maybe not even walk. She’s just going to roll.”

  Randi laughed. “You just wait, brother. Six months from now you’ll wish rolling was all she could do.”

  Maybe. Probably not.

  Will picked up a pencil, flicked it repeatedly against the top folder on his desk. Lunch would be ready soon. “You having a good weekend?”

  “It’s only Saturday morning, but yes, so far it’s been good.”

  What was that note he heard in her voice? Or was there a note?

  “Do anything fun last night?”

  She paused. “Why don’t you tell me what
you think I did, and then I’m going to tell you to mind your own business,” she said, her voice no longer relaxed.

  Damn. He’d pissed her off.

  “Or better yet,” she said, “since we both know the drill, why don’t we just skip it altogether?”

  Why did the family always insist he be the one to call Randi? He couldn’t handle her any better than the rest of them, no matter what they said. He was probably just the only sucker who’d agree to do it.

  “Someone saw your Jeep outside Zack Foster’s house last night.”

  “We were watching The Sixth Sense. You ever see it?”

  “No.”

  “Oh, you should. You and Becca have to rent it first chance you get. But don’t watch it until Bethany’s asleep. It might upset her.”

  “She’s six months old.”

  “Yeah, but she’s at the impressionable age. You never know what she’s taking in.”

  Will inhaled a deep breath. He stared at Becca’s desk across the room. It was a mess, as usual, papers all over it. Thinking of his wife gave him courage.

  “Your Jeep was still there at four o’clock this morning.”

  “What the hell is anyone doing looking at my Jeep at four o’clock in the morning?”

  She hadn’t denied it. Damn. Randi was far too innocent to be playing these kinds of games with experienced men like Zack Foster. He wasn’t from Shelter Valley. Didn’t know how they worked.

  But he was damn well going to find out. Will made a mental note to kill the guy.

  “The family elected me to call and ask you to invite your friend to dinner tomorrow.”

  “Thank you, but no.”

  If Randi had to keep the bastard away from her family, Will really was going to kill him.

  “Why not?”

  “Because I wouldn’t wish that experience on my worst enemy.”

  “Mom’s cooking,” Will said, pretending he didn’t know what she meant. “The food will be great.”

  “With the family interrogating him, he either won’t get a chance to eat it or he won’t want to.”

 

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