The Fix-It Man

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  On the Thursday afternoon before the band trip, she heard the girls even before they got inside the house, but their loud voices seemed to be pitched high in excitement, not anger.

  “Mom! You’ll never guess what!” Laurie cried, her cheeks flushed and her gray eyes sparkling.

  Diana stared at her, knowing without any explanation what had happened. For some last-minute reason, her oldest daughter was going on the band trip.

  Eleven

  The girls’ boisterous chatter during dinner provided a convenient screen behind which Zach studied Diana and tried to gauge her reaction to the turn of events. He could tell she was nervous from the way her fork trembled in her hand. She ate little.

  He knew that if matters were allowed to take their course he and Diana would make love when Allison and Laurie were in Champaign. He wanted her so much he could taste her lips on his, feel her taut ripeness under his fingertips. And she wanted him. In the past weeks he’d often caught her looking in his direction with hunger darkening her silver eyes. She fought against her emotions, but she couldn’t entirely suppress them.

  Lovemaking between them would be full and good. In one weekend they could blot out the yearning, pleasure each other in ways so long denied them. Once Diana took the girls to school the next morning, suitcases in hand, they would be gone until Sunday afternoon. Two nights and nearly three days. He knew the joy she could bring him. So why was he even questioning his next step? After dinner he should stock up on wine, tidy up his room and anticipate the weekend.

  As he helped her clear away the dishes, she spoke in a low voice. “I want to pay you for the concert tickets. Laurie’s forgotten about them, but I haven’t. I doubt you can get a refund at this late date.”

  He stacked the plates and smiled at her. “You don’t want to go?” Silly question. Weighing a rock concert against Saturday night alone with her, he didn’t want to go, either.

  “Not really. That was for Laurie.”

  Then how do you want to spend the evening, sweet Diana? He didn’t dare ask. “I may be able to get a refund first thing in the morning. Don’t worry about it.” I’ll clear my calendar, on the chance that you’ll let me hold you all night in my arms.

  “Zach, this development presents—”

  “Let’s talk about it later,” he said hastily, not wanting to hear what she had to say. “We both need some time to think.” He walked into the kitchen and deposited the plates on the counter. “I’ll call the girls down to do the dishes, and then I have a few errands to run.”

  “Zach, we’ve got to have an understanding about —”

  “Later. I’ll be back.”

  But he deliberately stayed out past the time when he thought she’d be in bed, and when he returned to the house everything was quiet. He put the bottle of wine in the back of the cupboard behind several boxes of cereal so the girls wouldn’t spy it, then climbed the stairs to his room.

  As he lay in bed, he tried to focus on the look in Diana’s eyes when he had been loving her, touching her in all the places that made her moan with desire. Instead all he could see was the fear in her eyes when he’d walked out on the porch and discovered the girls staring at the half-empty wine bottle.

  Dammit! Would he fall victim to an attack of nobility? What kind of a spell had she woven, that he’d seriously entertain the notion of denying himself? Hell, he’d be denying her, too! They’d both be fools not to take this second opportunity to be together, wouldn’t they?

  * * *

  Below him Diana lay awake and listened to Zach toss in his bed. She had to arrive at a decision before the girls left. Last time she had allowed herself to drift toward the idea of sleeping with Zach until the emotion he inspired propelled her into his bed. How easily that could happen again. Her hands clenched at her sides. How easily, indeed, considering the weakness that consumed her whenever she thought of his virile body, the magic of his hands.

  Now she knew the incredible joy to be found in his arms, and she yearned for him. But her misgivings about Allison and Laurie still plagued her. Tomorrow morning, after driving them to the school for the trip, she would return and face him. By then her decision would have to be made.

  When she walked into the kitchen the next morning after dropping off the girls, she found Zach at the table, sipping a cup of coffee.

  “Diana, we’ve got to talk.”

  “Yes.” She sat down at the Formica table.

  He pushed his cup away as if he’d only used it as a prop, an excuse to be sitting there when she came home. “I’m probably a damn fool for suggesting this, but why don’t I stay in a motel this weekend? That would solve everything.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “What?”

  He smiled self-consciously. “I know. You expected the fast rush, didn’t you? Don’t think I’m not sorely tempted.” He gazed deeply into her eyes. “But it seems I’ve got a conscience that won’t let me make both of us temporarily happy and you miserable with guilt by Sunday.”

  Her heart wrenched. She hadn’t expected such compassion, and his understanding made what she was about to say a thousand times more difficult. “Thank you, Zach.”

  He pushed his chair back. “I’ll throw a few things in a suitcase and be off.”

  “Wait a minute.”

  He paused and sat back down, hope flickering in his eyes. She looked away, knowing that in another moment the hope would be dashed forever.

  “One weekend apart isn’t going to solve this problem,” she said, staring at a spot of dried milk on the linoleum. “We both know it.” She forced the next words out. “I’ve—I’ve decided you’ll have to leave.”

  He drew in his breath sharply. “You mean permanently, don’t you?”

  She twisted her hands in front of her and nodded. “By the time I pick up the girls on Sunday, you can be moved out. That would save them some trauma. I’d appreciate it if you’d let me tell them it was a mutual decision, but if you want me to take all the blame, I will.”

  “Diana, you don’t have to resort to this.” His voice was strained. “I’ve put the pressure on you recently, but that’s over. My ego wanted you to snap and come to me. The fact that you didn’t proved how much you want to protect those girls, and I’m ready to accept that.”

  Somewhere she found the courage to look at him. “You don’t know how many times I’ve nearly snapped. You may think we can go on this way for the rest of your stay here, but I don’t.”

  He pounded the table with his fist. “Dammit!”

  “I’m sorry. We’ve made a mess of this.”

  “Have you thought of how the girls will feel when they come home and I’ve disappeared without even saying goodbye?”

  “Yes. And it won’t be easy. But I’m afraid if they’re here when you leave, you won’t be able to go, and I won’t be able to force the issue.”

  He fiddled with his coffee cup. “You’re probably right.”

  “I’ll help you look for a place, if you like,” she ventured. “I know the area. I can probably find something not much more expensive than —”

  “I don’t give a damn about the money!” He leaped up and began pacing the kitchen floor. “I don’t want to be cut off from you, from the girls.”

  “You have no choice,” she said, struggling to keep calm. “This is my house.”

  He paced silently, and Diana fought the urge to reach out to him. She wanted him so much.

  At last he spoke. “You’re right, of course. I can’t live here unless you allow it. If you’re willing to risk the girls’ disappointment, I have no more arguments.” He stopped pacing and faced her. “I’ll begin looking this morning.”

  “Would you like me to help?”

  “No, I’ll take care of it.”

  She swallowed the lump in her throat. “All right.”

  “I’ll be in touch.” He strode to the front door and thumped down the steps. He was gone.

  She listened until she heard his Jeep pull away from the curb. Only
then did she put her head in her arms and let the tears come. She cried hard, berating herself the whole time for her emotionalism. What was wrong with her? He was only a hired handyman, and not much of a one, at that. She’d known him for a matter of a couple months. An adult woman didn’t cry over someone she’d met so recently. That was for a silly schoolgirl who fancied herself in love.

  Abruptly the tears stopped, and she slowly raised her head. Was she falling in love with Zach? Propping her chin in both hands, she stared with bloodshot eyes at the chair he had recently occupied. Zach of the sun-bleached hair and ocean-blue eyes. True, his lean bronzed body made her ache with longing, but he could also make her laugh. When a problem arose with the girls, he was quick to soothe hurt feelings, offer solutions. He was kind, generous and loving, even if he dripped paint everywhere and couldn’t repair the kitchen faucet. God, how she’d miss him!

  “Diana Thatcher, you’re a complete idiot!” she ranted, smacking the table with both palms. “Not only do you lust after his body, you’ve fallen in love with him! Of all the dumb stunts you’ve pulled, this is the dumbest.”

  She paced frantically up and down the kitchen, until she realized Zach had done the same thing. “Now you even act like him,” she muttered to herself. She stomped into the living room and vented her frustration with crashing piano chords.

  The day was empty and difficult until after school when the Bad News Brass arrived for their lesson. For the first time Diana rejoiced in the rambunctious behavior of the three boys who distracted her from endless thoughts of Zach.

  All day she wondered what he was doing and whether he’d been successful in his search for living quarters. He’d have to come back sometime, if only to gather his belongings. Could she face him, knowing the extent of her feelings?

  After the boys left she grabbed her purse and a light jacket from her bedroom closet. Then she heard the front door open and close. Footsteps approached her room and he stood in the doorway, blocking her escape.

  “Going somewhere?”

  I love you, she wanted to cry out at the sight of him. Today his T-shirt was tucked into faded jeans instead of shorts, in deference to the cooler fall weather, but his arms and face still glowed with healthy color. “I—yes, as a matter of fact.”

  “Must have made some quick plans.”

  Her heart pounded. Should she insist on moving past him and leaving? “Did you find a place?” she asked, hoping to distract him into stepping aside.

  “Yes.”

  Why did his answer plunge her into despair? This was what she wanted, had demanded. Speaking became difficult as her throat constricted. “Then you’re here to pick up your things?”

  “No. I move in Sunday.” His blue eyes focused intently on her.

  “Oh,” she said weakly.

  “So where are you off to?” He leaned against the door frame.

  She lifted her chin and took a deep breath. “Dinner and a movie.”

  His expression hardened. “With someone else?”

  “No. By myself.”

  The look on his face softened to one of understanding. “Diana, you don’t have to do that. I won’t bother you.”

  “It’s not you I’m worried about.” She could have bitten her tongue as desire leaped in his blue eyes.

  “That’s nice to hear,” he said gently, moving into the bedroom.

  “Zach.” She backed away a step. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have been so honest.”

  “Perhaps you shouldn’t.” He watched her carefully. “And I won’t play cat and mouse. However, the thought occurred to me that on Sunday you and I are making the noble sacrifice of separating. I wonder if we don’t deserve something for ourselves in the meantime?”

  She stood in the middle of her bedroom, transfixed by his bold suggestion.

  “Think about it,” he said. “I’ll be in the kitchen, pouring myself a glass of the wine I bought last night.”

  She raised her eyebrows in surprise.

  “Oh, yes,” he said. “I was preparing for the big seduction number, tried to talk myself into it until the wee small hours of the morning. But I couldn’t go through with the plan. At first I figured that for long-term gain I’d give up a short-term pleasure.” He shrugged. “But now that I’ve accepted that the long-term gain is out the window, I’m ready to find that pleasure. But only if the lady is willing.” He turned and sauntered into the kitchen.

  Diana licked dry lips. Already her body clamored in answer to his proposition. Try as she might, she couldn’t find a more glamorous word for it. A proposition for pleasure. Love didn’t figure in it, nor did commitment, nor even friendship. On Sunday Zach would leave her house, never to return, and people didn’t become emotionally involved when they were about to end a relationship.

  Unfortunately for her, she was already emotionally involved. And now she had a choice—to throw away her last chance to be with him, perhaps minimizing the pain on Sunday, or crowd the remaining hours with memories that held the power to hurt or comfort her for years to come.

  As she stood, torn by indecision, the telephone rang in the kitchen. She heard Zach’s baritone then his measured tread toward the bedroom.

  “Mrs. Eckstrom wants to know if one of the girls would like to come over this evening and pick a few of her chrysanthemums for our Sunday dinner table.”

  She and Zach exchanged a long look.

  “I’ll talk to her,” she said and walked by him into the kitchen. Her hand trembled slightly as she picked up the receiver from the kitchen counter. “Mrs. Eckstrom? Zach told me you’re offering some of your flowers to us. That’s really nice.”

  Zach walked into the kitchen and leaned against the counter. She gazed unflinchingly into his blue eyes as Mrs. Eckstrom explained her overabundance of chrysanthemums.

  “We’d love to have them,” she said evenly, “but all of us are glued to the television set right now, and the program will be on very late. The girls will be quite busy tomorrow, too, but I could do it then.”

  A soft light glowed in Zach’s eyes. He straightened and walked to the cupboard containing the wine goblets.

  “You won’t? Then perhaps Sunday,” Diana said. She watched Zach set an empty wineglass next to his full one. Wine splashed ruby-red into the second goblet and arched up its sides, until he lifted the bottle away and the wine quivered an inch or two below the rim. His strong fingers curved around each delicate stem as he lifted both glasses from the table and walked toward her.

  “Thank you for thinking of us, Mrs. Eckstrom. Have fun at the bazaar tomorrow, and I’ll send the girls over on Sunday.” The click of the receiver sounded incredibly loud as she hung up the telephone and turned to Zach. Silently he handed her the goblet of wine and touched the rim of her glass with his in a wordless salute. As they each brought the wine to their lips, their eyes spoke a primitive message that needed no words.

  Slowly she lowered her glass and smiled provocatively. “My place this time,” she murmured, turning toward her bedroom.

  “I’ll need to make a slight detour.”

  “That’s okay,” she said over her shoulder. “But be sure to bring the wine.”

  * * *

  Zach’s gaze lingered on the sway of her hips under her tailored forest-green slacks. Why did her body, always demurely covered, excite him more than those of all the bikini-clad beauties of the California beaches?

  Would he spend the rest of his life longing for the sight of her lustrous alabaster skin?

  He feared he might, and that Sunday would begin a stretch of hell unknown before. Most of all, he feared he was in love—in love with a lady who wanted nothing more than one short weekend of fun and games before she sent him on his way.

  She’d even told a white lie in order to have this time with him. He couldn’t have predicted that, wasn’t sure how deep her passions ran. But she was all woman, and at least for now, she was all his. He made a record-breaking trip upstairs to grab some condoms and shoved them in his pocket. Then,
wine bottle in one hand and wine glass in the other, he descended the stairs and walked into her bedroom.

  The shades were lowered to the sill, and her bedside lamp cast a circle of light on snow-white sheets scattered with a pattern of tiny violets. Still fully clothed, she sat just outside the circle of light, sipping her wine.

  Zach walked to the bedside table and set down both his glass and the bottle before reaching for her goblet. She took another sip of the burgundy liquid and handed the glass to him.

  He placed it beside his and turned to look at her. “You’re constantly amazing me,” he said quietly.

  “Am I?”

  “My suggestion was a shot in the dark. I didn’t think—”

  “Let’s not think,” she said, lifting her face and exposing the ivory column of her neck to the light.

  “If that’s what you want.” He searched the luminous depths of her eyes. Passion lurked just under the surface, but was there another emotion, less fierce, yet more compelling? He couldn’t be sure.

  “Yes, that’s what I want.”

  “All right.” He reached out, curved his hand around the white satin of her throat and bent to taste the lips she parted in welcome. His knee found the edge of the bed, and he guided her gently backward until she lay across the smooth flowered sheets and he half covered her with his body.

  Her lips, flavored with red wine, moved sensuously against his, and her tongue teased and withdrew in a coquettish way he’d never known her to have. He lifted his head and gazed at her. “You do know how to play, after all,” he said, his breathing labored.

  “You’re helping me remember how.” Her eyes sparkled with desire. “You’ve shown me how to enjoy myself again.” She slipped her delicate hand under his shirt and circled his nipple with the smooth edge of her fingernail, tickling him softly.