The beer from the fridge was cold, and he wanted to take the damn thing and roll it over his forehead. “Not nervous, just…you look beautiful, by the way. And tomorrow’s Christmas. You’ve got that thing in the morning.”
“I saw your friend today.” She changed the subject, throwing him for a loop.
“Friend?”
“Mark?” She took a pull from the beer he handed her. “I was dropping a pile of cards at the Post Office.”
“Oh.” Oh. Zack cleared his throat. “How’s he doing?”
“He’s fine, I guess. I never did get a chance to talk to him. He was busy, you know, working.”
The way she spoke was enough to break him, as if she knew. But she couldn’t… Mark wouldn’t have told her he’d been writing the letters. There had to be a Federal law against that or something.
“Anyway,” she went on with a smile. “It made me think of the letters again. Think about who had written them. Someone who knows me quite well. I was always surprised by the insight in those letters, the true depth of this man’s compassion for what I was going through. He seemed to know exactly what I needed.”
Zack circled the table and approached her. He was not going to give up his surprise so close to the end of the game. He didn’t care how silly it seemed now. She wasn’t going to force his hand.
Lena took a step back, but she came up short against the counter top. “Oops.”
Zack stopped and wrapped his hands around her small waist. He felt the soft flesh under his hands and ached. “Been a crazy week, hasn’t it?”
“Mmm,” she murmured, gazing into his eyes with an openness about to bring him to his knees. “Thank you, by the way.”
He frowned. “For what?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know yet.” Then she leaned in, pressing her lips softly to his. Her arms circled him, warming him with her embrace. He let her lead, and she took him down the road of no return, coaxing his mouth open with the wet glide of her tongue.
He drew her closer with trembling hands. Every perfect curve molded against him. His hands explored her rib cage, and he found the underside of her breasts with his thumbs. He softened his touch, caressing her as the kiss went deeper and deeper. The taste of her drove him on until he had to break free in order to breathe.
“Lena,” he whispered, tracing small kisses over her lips, her cheek, and down her neck. The need for her grew, every muscle tensed with the passion of her touch. He lifted her and set her on the counter at her back.
With the last thread of sanity, he held tightly to the edge of the counter and stepped back—taking the space he needed. He was already out of breath, already so far gone. He looked into her eyes and saw the same frantic desire mirrored there.
She placed her hands gently against his skin and ran cool, competent fingers over his forearms, the touch sending shivers through him.
“I never needed anyone like I need you,” he admitted.
“How did this happen?”
He laughed. “Is it so bad that we want each other?”
Slowly, she shook her head. “No. I never thought I had a chance with you, Zack. I—”
“What?”
“Did you write those letters?”
He shrugged, pulled the pins from her hair, and his breath caught in his throat as it spilled over his hands and covered her shoulders. He drove his hands through the thick, silky length. “I could tell you, but—”
“Then you’d have to kill me?”
He left more kisses from her ear to her shoulder. She didn’t object, merely tilted her head to one side to give him better access.
“Something like that.”
On her shoulder was a scar the size of a nickel. He placed his lips over it, remembering the call he’d gotten a month after she’d left. There had been an attack. She’d been struck by flying shrapnel. Even worse, she’d lost a patient, and the guilt of losing someone always cut deep.
His raging need for her eased, transforming into a profound depth of…hell, he didn’t even know what. She could have died. He thought back to what his father had said.
When he took her face in his hands, she covered the scar. “It’s so ugly. I was somewhere I wasn’t supposed to be. It was dumb. An uncooperative private wouldn’t stay in recovery. Kept trying to get back out. Sergeant Podolski was supposed to go get him, and then the attack happened. Everyone, defending our position, moving patients to the bunker below us.”
He let her talk. She probably hadn’t had a chance.
“I went after the private. He was out back, smoking, during the raid.” She shook her head with a laugh. “There was so much morphine in his system, he probably had no idea there was a raid going on. It only lasted ten, maybe twelve minutes. But Podolski was hit, and I—”
“No. No guilt in living.”
And he kissed her, brought life back to the desire by melding his lips to hers. Heartbeats pounded into each other as he held her as close as possible. She hooked her feet behind his back, and their tongues met. He tasted her and was consumed.
Her hands tugged at the hem of his shirt, pulling it from his waistband, and then they were on him, and oh, my God. She trailed those delicate fingers over his skin. He dragged her with him, back to the living room, always keeping his lips against her skin, his hands on her body.
Her hands dipped down into the back of his pants. He couldn’t think, couldn’t get beyond wanting her, wanting this stupid—gorgeous—dress off her.
“Zipper. Where is the damn zipper?” He wanted skin on skin, his hands on her.
Now.
Finally, he reached down, lifting the dress from her knees over her head. Relief filled him. “Thank God.”
She laughed—the most beautiful sound—and she was braless, the only thing between them a narrow strip of silk sitting at her hips. His pulse pounded in his ears and his heart slammed against his chest.
He wanted to get on his knees before her. “I—” I want to marry you. I want to give myself to you and be yours forever.
“Cat got your tongue?” She laughed at him as her hand disappeared into his pants, and she cupped him.
He shuddered at the touch. “Lena.”
“Let’s make love,” she whispered.
And he could do no less.
Chapter Ten
Lena woke with the weight of Zack’s arm and leg pinning her. Pressed into the over-sized couch, a sheen of sweat dried on her skin, she dragged her fingers up the small of his back and back down over the slope of his cheeks. She had no idea what time it was, no idea how long they’d been lying like this, completely spent.
And there was her mother’s voice in her head, chastising her because they weren’t married. But she pushed aside the thought. This was the man she was going to spend the rest of her life with. She didn’t know how yet. Maybe there were details that would need to be worked into the plan later. All she knew was that he’d had her heart since they were kids.
Had he written the letters? He hadn’t admitted it, but he hadn’t denied it, either. All that really mattered was that they belonged together. A thousand letters couldn’t break the bond they shared. “Stop thinking so much.” Zack pegged her with a sleepy-eyed, satisfied look.
“I thought you were sleeping.”
“Your energy woke me.” He kissed her, making her moan and dive in, making her want to start all over again. But he rolled them over, scooted back on the couch, and rolled again so that she was on top of him, her bare ass exposed to the air.
“Maybe we should find a bed, because now I’m cold.”
He hummed in response as the heel of his hands massaged her lower back, the counter stroke covering her rear with his fingers—downward stroke of his palms, upward stroke of his fingers. “Are you cold now?”
She rested her forehead against his chest and sighed. “Yes, but I don’t care. Don’t stop doing that.”
His laugh rumbled through his chest. She turned her ear to listen, and Zack wrapped his arms a
round her.
“I was serious. Don’t stop.”
But he sat up, brought her legs across his lap, then stood, lifting her into his arms.
“Now my ass is really cold.” She nipped at his neck.
He carried her to his room, threw back the covers, and laid her gently against the sheets. “It’s ten o’clock.”
“What?” She sat up, covering herself with the blankets at the same time. “We slept for three hours on the couch? No wonder my ass is numb.”
“Ha! Doesn’t feel too numb to me…” Zack went through a doorway into the small bathroom.
She heard the toilet flush. The light went out, and it was dark again.
Excitement ran through her. Anticipation. She wanted him again.
But there was an edge of panic as well. They had so little time. Her brain wanted to work out all the details, get everything set and straight in her head.
Zack crawled under the covers and pulled her against him—her back to his front. She relaxed in his arms.
“Let’s not worry about tomorrow just yet.”
“Hey, how did—”
“Because I know you, Lena. I’ve known you almost my whole life.” He paused, and she couldn’t help but hold her breath. “And I love you. I don’t want you to worry about what’s going to happen between us. We’ll make it work—your career, my job…no matter what. Okay?”
She nodded, turning her head to kiss him.
His hands found her breasts, felt their weight, and her nipples tightened against his palms.
The thrill of his touch sang through her. He roamed, leaving traces on her ribs, abdomen, and down, until he was at the very center of her.
He deepened their kiss, opening his mouth to her as his fingers played her.
The coil of need drew up against her breastbone. Sensations bombarded her.
“Come on, babe,” he whispered against her ear.
She did, with sparks flashing behind closed eyelids.
They loved again, taking each touch deeper, and every stroke more desperately than the last. He was everywhere, touching her, kneading her.
Lena let go of practicality, let go of reason. She wasn’t going to lose another day, another hour or minute. She gripped his sides, opened to him, and stared into eyes brimming with flames of love.
With one swift thrust, he filled her, and a tear fell down her cheek. She was truly home, finally. He wiped the tear and smiled, as if he knew what she was thinking.
Maybe he did. It wasn’t that long ago that he’d come home as well.
Lena woke out of a sound sleep, her heart pounding. She listened to the stillness and remembered—she was at Zack’s. Zack’s house. Zack’s bed, where she’d made love to him with complete abandon.
He was sprawled across the sheets, obviously used to a little more room than a second person allowed, and naked. Light came through a window and left a tracing glow down his back and over his beautiful behind. Her hands itched to touch him, run her fingers over the smooth slope and down his legs. She bit her lip, clenched her fists, and carefully shifted to the edge of the bed.
In the clarity of the moonlight, her conscience got to her. She should be home. She hadn’t meant to stay overnight. Her parents would be worried if she didn’t come home. Besides, she had a man to meet at seven. Her own Hallmark movie playing in real life.
A pencil sat on the nightstand. She wrote a note on the scrap of paper next to the alarm clock, quietly dressed in the dark, and grabbed her shoes.
Zack stirred, and she froze. But he merely rolled onto his side and dropped back into sleep. Her Zack. She wanted to crawl back under the covers. Instead, she gave in to the urge to touch and ran a hand through his hair. Lightly, she kissed his temple and whispered, “I love you.”
Her feet made almost no noise on the stairs, and the door clicked shut behind her.
The walk home was short and easy. She’d done it a million times as a kid. She even knew which cracks to avoid and where all the holes were.
The house was dark except for one square on the side, which glowed from the bathroom upstairs. Lena hurried up the porch steps and…well, snuck in. She hated to admit it, but that was the truth. She was finally going to sneak into her parents’ home and hope they didn’t notice. As a teenager, she’d never had time. Her studies had consumed her, and she’d never thought to step outside that box.
In the doorway to the living room, she stopped. The glow of the Christmas tree sent a thrill through her heart. Little white lights blinked away the seconds. So many memories in this room. So much love.
Zack had been here, too. They’d grown up together. Now, she hoped they would grow old together. But maybe, in the years ahead, they would still come back.
“Chica,” her sister Maria whispered as she came down the stairs. “What are you doing out so late? And on Christmas Eve? Do you know how often we get victims in the ER over the holidays? Accidents, crazy people overwhelmed by whatever crap landed in their lap over the past year.”
Lena felt the kick of change in her chest. She’d grown up a long time ago, but tonight…
“What happened?” Maria came to her, studied her with knowing eyes. “Are you okay?”
Even as she hesitated, she knew she couldn’t keep secrets from Maria. She never had before. “I was with Zack tonight.”
Maria’s eyes narrowed then widened. “Oh, my God—”
Lena shrugged. “I love him.”
Maria grabbed and lifted Lena’s hand. “No ring and you slept with him? Elena—”
“It’s Christmas, Maria, and in less than a week, I go back to Texas. We both know what it means to have to wait. To be separated again. Zack’s a good man.”
“Zack would never hurt you intentionally, but…” she trailed off.
“He would never hurt me, period.” Lena led her sister up the stairs, leaving the happy glow of Christmas behind them. “You’re being too serious.”
Maria hesitated.
Lena tugged on her arm. “Stop worrying so much. Soon I will have that ring on my finger, and Zack and I will be together—forever.”
“You sound young, in love, and completamente tonta. So stupid in love. But you are right about one thing. Zack is a good man.”
He loved her, after years of being friends. But this was better. And if he wasn’t the letter writer, well, then…too bad love letter guy.
Tomorrow she would go to the park.
And she’d see…
Chapter Eleven
“Dad, you don’t have to go with me.”
He snaked his arm through his old flannel-lined jean jacket. “I’ve kept my mouth shut through this whole thing. Now, I’ll have my say.” The rumble of his accent was as familiar as her own voice. He kept his tone down, and Lena knew it was so he didn’t wake the family. “Not even a grown woman should go meet a stranger in a park, alone.”
He patted his breast pockets, pulled a cigar, unwrapped it, and tucked it between his lips.
“I’m ninety-nine percent sure of who it is.”
“Then I’ll go for the one percent.”
She opened her mouth to object again, but he’d opened the front door and was already outside. Catalina snickered from her spot at the top of the steps. She wanted to go, too, but Lena had put her foot down. “Good luck,” her sister called out. Lena had the urge to slam the door as she left, but managed to keep her head.
It didn’t matter who was there. The whole town could be there. But her stomach messed with her, sending signals of nervous anticipation through her blood.
She glanced at her dad, the unlit cigar now in the corner of his mouth. He wasn’t exactly the silent partner in her parents’ marriage, but mom had always been more vocal. Unless it was a matter of safety and protection. She should have known. Yet even thrown for a loop by his presence this morning, she loved him for it.
“Do you think I’m being stupid?”
He grunted a response with a shrug.
“Is that a y
es or a no?”
“No.”
Lena nodded, but she knew there was more he wasn’t saying.
He pulled the truck into the parking lot and found a spot where he could see the gazebo. “I’ll wait here.”
Lena checked her phone as she walked the short distance to the wooden structure. She’d wondered if Zack would call her when he woke and found her gone. So far, no. She faced south. Main Street headed north on her right, curving by the park toward the east, giving her a perfect view of whomever she was about to meet. Her phone stayed quiet. She stood, closing her eyes. The smell of cigar drifted on the morning air, comforting her.
Traffic rumbled up and down the street, even though it was Christmas Day. Off to her left a pair of birds fluttered and chirped, welcoming the morning sun. Lena opened her eyes and saw him.
Zack.
Her heart pounded. She’d known it. How could it have been anyone else? And she’d been right. Zack was here for her. She grinned, forcing herself to stay at the gazebo. The right hand blinker of his sporty little car came on.
Dad laid on the horn, opened his door, and stood on the running board. But he wasn’t watching Zack’s car. He had his eye on a truck, baring down from the north, swerving back and forth on the road. The thwap of uneven rubber on the black top—a flat tire.
Zack pulled to the right and slowed almost to a stop in the turning lane, but the truck was moving too fast. Her grin crumbled as she realized the driver was slumped over his steering wheel.
“Zack!” she screamed even as she ran toward the two vehicles.
It happened so fast, the ungodly clash of metal filling her head as the truck slammed into Zack’s car. Glass fell to the ground in a symphony of bell-like sounds, followed by the screech of Zack’s car sliding over the concrete.
“Stay back,” her dad yelled.
She was almost there. Almost to him. “Zack!” she cried. A hand on her arm stopped her. She shook it off, intent on getting to the man she loved.
“Call 9-1-1. Lena!” Papi grabbed her. Shook her by her shoulders. She realized she was crying. But a crowd had started forming, and other people had their phones out, too.
Letters from Home (Entangled Flirts) Page 7