by Lori Wilde
Their clothes looked as if they’d been pulled out of the washer before the spin cycle. Her hair was streaming even more than his, and her shoes squished when the truck let them off by a service island at the gas station.
While Zack took care of pumping gas, she dashed inside to the ladies’ room where she stared at a drowned rat in a murky mirror. Only she was the water-soaked rodent, and there was no way she could go to Marsh Bailey’s house even if the Mustang could get them there.
She combed her hair until it stopped dripping and met Zack, who was coming in to pay.
“I’m soaked.”
“No kidding?”
His knit top was so wet it was plastered to his torso like wallpaper. The way his wet khakis stuck to him made his usual tight jeans seem baggy.
“I can’t possibly go to your grandfather’s.”
“I’ll call him as soon as I pay for the gas, then take you home to change. By the way, the car started. I’ve got to get a new gas gauge.”
“What wonderful foresight.”
She stood with her back to a tall rack of chips and snacks, hoping her panties didn’t show through the skirt clinging to her rear. She kept her arms crossed over her soaked front and watched Zack pay.
After she ran to the car, she needed wringing out again.
Zack made his call. It was short and cryptic.
“He’ll put our dinner on hold. After you change, we should be able to get there by the time they’re having dessert,” he said.
“Why not just cancel? You’re soaked, too.”
“I’ll dry.” He slicked back his hair, and water droplets ran down the back of his neck. “Or maybe you have a clothes dryer?” he asked hopefully. “Anyway, my mother is there, too, and Cole and Tess.”
She wanted to cry. How could she meet his whole family under false pretenses? The rain had washed away the last of her self-confidence, and she wanted to go home and hide under the covers.
The rain was still coming down in droves when they pulled up close to her car in the shelter of her apartment’s parking lot. She was shivering, and her air conditioner was still humming when they went inside. She shut it off with Zack hovering right behind her.
Teeth chattering, she directed him to the bathroom while she peeled off her wet clothes in the bedroom.
She came out in her terry-cloth robe to find Zack, bath towel around his waist, tossing his pile of wet clothes into the apartment-size dryer she’d bought to save time waiting for the communal one in the basement. He’d toweled dry, and his chest hair stood up in curly little whorls. She tried not to look.
“I’m going to take a hot shower while your clothes dry,” she said. “Help yourself to…whatever.”
“Want company?”
She’d never heard two words with so much invitation in them.
Her mouth went dry. Her brain went on hiatus. Of course, she wanted him to join her, but it was such a bad, bad, bad idea.
“You know,” he said, stepping so close she could see where every hair was rooted to his golden-bronze chest, “if we did what we’re both thinking of doing, maybe we could get it out of the way and not be so stressed about it.”
“I’m not thinking…”
That was true. She was all sensation with no sensible thoughts to put on the brakes.
“These aren’t bedroom eyes?” He took her in his arms and lightly kissed her lids. “Aren’t you just a tiny bit curious how we’d be together?”
“No. Anyway, I’m not prepared.”
“Glove compartments are handy things.”
“You drive around with…”
“They’re vintage like the Mustang, but thanks to the miracle of foil…”
“I don’t want to know. Anyway, it isn’t something you get out of the way.”
“No, it’s the natural thing when two people are attracted to each other.”
“I’m not attracted to you.” It was her all-time biggest lie.
“I’m not suggesting you like me, only that you want me as much as I want you.”
“In your dreams.” She was shivering from her lips to her knees and trying not to let him see. “It’s not my problem if you’re…”
“It’s crossed my mind we might be dynamite together away from the cameras.”
He loosened the tie on her robe and let it hang from the loops on either side. She took a little half step toward him and let her treacherous heart direct her into his arms.
He put his hands under her robe, encircled her waist, and drew her against him, soft breasts against firm chest.
They kissed until warmth flowed through her like steam heat, and she knew they had passed the point of no return.
“You need a warm shower,” he whispered close to her ear.
“Yes.”
“With me.”
“Yes.”
She needed him. He was as wrong for her as any man could be, but for once in her life, she was going to do something not on her list, not part of her agenda, not one of her goals.
She slipped her hand into Zack’s and led him to the shower. To think she’d once regretted not having a tub instead of the roomy tiled stall.
He helped her out of the robe, and she couldn’t quite believe she was standing in front of him with nothing on. The shock of her nakedness passed quickly, though, when he dropped the towel and stepped into the stall to turn on the water.
Her heart was going to shatter into a million broken fragments if she did this. She had feelings for him, feelings beyond sexual attraction. It was terrible but true, terrible because she feared he didn’t have the same kinds of feelings for her. But if she ever wanted to be with Zack, really with him, this moment might never come again.
And boy, did her body ache for his.
She stepped under the cascade of warm water and into his arms, hardly noticing when he closed the door behind her.
He reached beyond her to the hanging rack of shampoo and soap and pressed the pump on her shower scrub until his hands were enveloped in suds. Knowing what he was going to do didn’t make it any less pleasurable. He lathered her shoulders and throat and did each arm in turn with leisurely caresses, stopping to fill his hands with more bubbles.
“No,” she said, giggling when he made soapy whirls on her breasts and tummy, then lathered her back and bottom until she felt slippery and silly and very, very sexy.
He was hard—oh, my, was he—and his breath came in rasps, but her pleasure was only beginning.
He shampooed her hair, covering her eyes with one palm to protect them from the sudsy water streaming down her face, then knelt and lathered her legs. Picking up first one foot, then the other, he separated each toe and caressed while pleasure flowed through her.
“Your turn,” he said with a sheepish grin, even more endearing because he looked goofy with happiness.
She’d never washed a man, never even thought of how to go about it. She loved running her fingers over his face and outlining the sometimes fierce line of his brows. Filling her hands with tendrils of his hair was so erotic she pressed against him, parted her thighs, then shut them tight against his male hardness.
He moaned and kissed her, then emptied the last of the nearly depleted bottle of shower scrub into her palm.
“You’re nowhere near done,” he said.
“I couldn’t…”
She did, soaping in places her hand had never gone before. Was there anything as nice as round, firm, deeply clefted buns? She tickled his tailbone with a soapy nail and let the shower rinse away the lather.
“This is where I beg for mercy,” he softly teased, reaching up and shutting off the water.
He found a towel on the rack and gently rubbed her dry, combing her long wet hair with his fingers. She vigorously rubbed his chest and back, then grew shyer and more cautious until he impatiently took the towel and dried his legs.
“We still have to go to your grandfather’s,” she reluctantly reminded him.
He lifted her in his ar
ms, cradling her against his chest for the few steps it took to reach her bed.
She had an instant of embarrassment at the array of discarded outfits on the bedspread, but he peeled it away, clothes and all, before lowering her to the bed.
The sheets were cool on her back, but when he hovered over her, she scarcely noticed.
“No second thoughts?” he asked softly.
Plenty. But she wanted him so badly it wasn’t a choice anymore.
“You’re always trying to tell me how to do things,” she said. “This is your show—for now.”
“Whatever you’re expecting, darlin’, I want you to be very, very happy.”
“I’m ready…”
“You just think you are.”
“Oh.”
“Tell me what you like,” he said, lowering his head to nuzzle her throat and breasts. “Or don’t like.”
She didn’t have an agenda for something like this. She didn’t have a clue how to answer him. As if she weren’t speechless already, he took one nipple into his mouth and gently suckled while his hand explored the contours of her torso.
Wherever he touched, she tingled, and when he parted her thighs, she covered his hand and pushed it harder against her.
He was strong in ways that had nothing to do with hard muscles. He kissed her inner elbow, the back of her wrist, the crease between her torso and thigh. He was breathing hard, but his lovemaking was leisurely even when she touched him, then stroked him with increasing urgency but some trepidation.
“Relax,” he crooned, his lips as soothing as his words.
He moistened his finger on her tongue and slid it gently into her, caressing until she throbbed and urgently guided him toward her.
She was afraid, not of Zack, not of what they were doing, but because she might disappoint him.
“Easy, easy,” he murmured as if picking up on her apprehension. “You’re wonderful, wonderful.”
She opened her eyes and saw his face softened by passion, all the arrogance gone, so lovable she felt tears well in her eyes.
“Not yet, please, not yet.”
She didn’t know whether he was talking to himself or her, but she was melting, clutching Zack’s back to stay grounded.
He rose above her, his face a granite mask, plunged deep in a compelling rhythm, and continued until she lost herself in the most amazing way.
“Oh, Megan.” He shuddered and held her close.
This was how it was supposed to be. She went limp and hugged him against her.
“That was so good,” he said, softly kissing her swollen lips.
This was the first time she didn’t hate him for being right.
“You are incredibly beautiful,” he said.
Her hair was a damp tangle on the pillow, and if she was as flushed as she felt, she must be flamingo-pink from her forehead to the soles of her feet. If Zack noticed, it didn’t seem to matter. She was so content nothing mattered but the man beside her.
“Come here,” he said, pulling her into his arms again.
She snuggled closer.
“I like the second time best,” he whispered close to her ear. “No hurrying and lots of cuddling.”
Much later, when the room was the murky gray of dusk, he turned over on his stomach.
She was sitting cross-legged beside him, so happy she believed for the first time it was possible to levitate. How could this be? Why did she feel wonderful enough to float above the clouds? She’d met no goals and accomplished nothing.
Zack hadn’t committed himself to anything but a good time—a very, very good time. Yet she was sure she could soar to the ceiling and fly without wings.
“Bailey, are you going to sleep?” She switched on the lamp beside the bed and saw yellow eyes leering at her.
“What on earth?” She leaned over him. “A cat tattoo.”
“Panther,” he lazily drawled.
“When did you have it done?”
She ran her finger over the dark head that would’ve seemed sinister if it hadn’t been staring at her from his round, cute buttock.
“When I was young, foolish, and more than a little drunk.” He propped himself on one elbow and grinned sheepishly.
“Did it hurt?”
“Let’s say it wasn’t especially pleasant, not to mention lying bare ass up on a hard table while my buddies watched and commented wasn’t a treat.”
“I love it.” She tweaked the inky beast’s nose and laughed. “It’s adorable.”
“I did it just for you.”
“You didn’t even know me then.”
“Do I know you now?”
He sprang up suddenly and toppled her down beside him, kissing her lightly and teasing her toes with his.
“Shouldn’t you call your grandfather again?” she reluctantly asked.
“And say what?”
“Sorry?”
He looked at her bedside clock, the luminous letters showing just how late they were.
“After nine. Sounds like it’s stopped raining.”
“You can blame it on the car.”
“Tell my grandfather I ran out of gas because the gauge isn’t working in a car he’s told me to get rid of dozens of times?”
“You could make up an excuse.”
“Haven’t I made up enough already?” He sounded soul weary, not physically tired from his recent exertions. “Marsh thinks we’re serious. How long do you think we can pull this off? Life has gotten damn complicated lately.”
“I’m still uncomfortable about not showing up. Your family…”
“Will get over it.”
“Your grandfather has a right to be mad if you don’t even call.”
“His being mad is nothing new.” He sat up and moved to the edge of the bed, his back to her. “If he knew we were doing this, he’d be elated.”
“You won’t tell him?” She couldn’t imagine anything more embarrassing.
“It’s something couples do,” he said, walking to the window and looking out the side of the plastic-slatted blind. “Nothing to be ashamed of.”
“But using it as an excuse to your grandfather.”
“Don’t sound so upset. We had fun, didn’t we?”
“Fun?” Suddenly, she felt incredibly let down.
“You don’t need to worry. I won’t give my grandfather a blow by blow, much as I’d like to see him green with envy that I was with such a beautiful woman. Next time I hear from him—and it’s sure to be soon—I’ll mention we came back to your place because your dress was wet, and we got distracted. It will only confirm we’re serious about each other.”
“Well, we won’t get distracted again.”
She said it as a fact, not an ultimatum. Zack hadn’t wanted to go to his grandfather’s, so he’d found something else to do. Why had she thought it was as special to him as it was to her? She felt humiliated by her earlier enthusiasm.
“I guess not,” he agreed in a flat tone. “Think I’ll go. My clothes should be dry.”
“Yeah, dry.”
“I’ll see you Wednesday at the studio. What are we doing for next week’s show? I haven’t gotten my copy of the script yet.”
“I don’t remember,” she lied, wanting him to leave—immediately.
She didn’t even expect him to make the one obligatory after-sex phone call.
He walked out of the bedroom. The panther leered at her with evil yellow eyes, and she sat motionless until her apartment door closed after him.
10
Megan didn’t have any of her usual enthusiasm when she went to work the morning after the night that shouldn’t have been. Usually she liked Monday—a new beginning, a fresh start, a new list of things to accomplish. Not today.
Trouble was, she’d had the best encounter imaginable with the worst possible man. It would be funny if it didn’t hurt so damn much.
She never should have allowed herself to become involved with a man who thought marriage was a prison sentence. She wanted a for
ever relationship, one that would nourish a family. Zack was the exact opposite of the man she wanted.
“Megan, I’ve been waiting for you.”
Ed charged at her in the lobby of the station. She braced herself for bad news but not for the big bear hug that nearly knocked her off her feet.
“Have I got good news for you,” he said.
“What?”
“In my office.”
He hadn’t moved this fast since the University of Michigan clobbered Michigan State in his senior year.
“Shut the door,” he said.
“What’s up?” She couldn’t help remembering some of his other brilliant ideas—bringing Bailey on the show, delivering flowers to the construction site…
“The Good Living Network is scouting the show Wednesday.”
She looked at him blankly.
“They’re sending a couple of people to watch the taping,” he said.
“Why—how?”
“I sent them copies of a couple of shows. You’ll never be in a better position to move up. Local sponsors are clamoring to buy airtime on Do It Herself. Mr. G. is thrilled, and our ratings have soared.”
“You did that for me? What about your job?”
He shuffled uncomfortably. She’d caught him being nice.
“Hey, I would miss producing your show. We’re a good team. But they’ll find something else for me here now that I’ve produced a hit.”
He grinned, and this time she hugged him.
“Georgia doesn’t know how lucky she is.”
“I’ll tell her you said so. Now about today’s episode…”
The Good Living Network was coming to see her show. She couldn’t believe fulfilling her number one goal was a real possibility. She’d go over Wednesday’s script and make sure every detail was perfect. Taking Do It Herself to a national cable network would be a dream come true.
She went to her office and concentrated on the day’s show, but she was too excited to stay focused.
Maybe at last her career would go into high gear and she could have room to make headway on her other plans—meeting and marrying Mr. Right and having a family.
Unfortunately, Bailey was hanging around in her head, coloring everything she did and dulling her happiness at the prospect of going big-time.