by Ann Evans
Zack’s lips thinned a little and Alaina knew what he was thinking. That Jeffrey was long gone from her life and not likely to be in touch ever again. But she just couldn’t give in to that fear. Not yet.
She watched Zack flex his shoulders, as though trying to work out tension. “Come on, Al. You know it’s a solution for both of us. I get someone whose judgment I trust. Someone who loves Heron Cove and can help me whip it into shape. You get a better place to stay. Decent food and a way to pay a doctor. You have to admit, picking out bathroom fixtures is going to be a lot easier on the baby than being on your feet all day in some tourist trap in town.”
“We might both go into this with the best of intentions, but suppose—”
He came to her, took her shoulders in his hands until she was forced to meet his gaze. “There won’t be a repeat of the other night. I give you my word.”
He said that with such quiet, simple sincerity that it took Alaina a moment or two to realize what he had said. She found herself all tangled up in those dark brown eyes of his, wondering why the heck she couldn’t just show him the door. But the harsh reality was he was making her an offer she’d be foolish to refuse.
As long as she kept her head.
Which she could do.
Couldn’t she?
As though sensing her inner turmoil, Zack said, “So what do you say?”
She gave him a small, hopeful smile, and jumped in, heart and soul. “I say, when do you want to start?”
ALAINA MOVED BACK into Heron Cove and in no time was up to her elbows in books borrowed from Lake Harmony’s library and catalogs from the local home furnishings store. There were so many brochures and pamphlets on the kitchen table that she had been forced to start building towers of paper at one end, separating them into categories of paint, wallpaper, woodwork, furnishings, fixtures and miscellaneous decorating ideas.
It was hard to believe she’d been here four days. Hard to believe how easily she’d embraced the mission Zack had hired her for. He was right—as capable as she’d turned out to be in PR, her passion was interior design.
As Zack had promised, he left her to make most of the decisions regarding changes to the interior, while he spent the day working outside in the crisp autumn air. As much as she loved this project and the fact that it kept her so busy she had little opportunity to think about the errant Jeffrey, she liked the evenings best.
Sometimes she and Zack ate dinner together at the kitchen table, talking over the day’s accomplishments or revising to-do lists. Occasionally they drifted into the living room to spend the evening reading or watching television.
There were moments—just flickers of time—when Alaina felt as though she was living a domestic fantasy. A handsome husband she’d loved from childhood, a lovely home in the most peaceful place on earth, a baby on the way. All so perfect, a blueprint of countless teenage dreams.
But none of it was real, of course, and she was reminded of that every night when she went to bed. Alone.
She and Zack were polite to one another. But their agreement to keep the relationship strictly platonic made the hours they spent together feel a little unnatural, strained. As though there was an invisible line between them that neither one wanted to cross. Sometimes she felt a tension in the air as they experienced a slight shift in awareness. Murmuring the excuse that she was tired, she would often escape to her room—the same bedroom she had shared with her sister so long ago—but it would be hours before she fell asleep.
Many times she lay in the dark, breathless, her heart hammering, when she heard Zack’s tread upon the stairs. Once, she even imagined that he had stopped outside her door, but when she turned over to see if there were shadows moving in that hem of light from the hallway, there was nothing.
She wondered what she would have done if he had been out there. Invite him to open the door? Unthinkable.
She decided she must have imagined it and scolded herself for such a flight of fancy. Zack seemed perfectly capable of keeping a lid on his emotions and thoughts. Why couldn’t she?
Now, as she stood at the kitchen counter and put the finishing touches on the grilled lemon chicken and salad she was making for dinner, she heard Zack come in from outside after working on the porch all day. She knew his routine by now. He’d head straight up the stairs for a shower and clean clothes. Then he’d check to see what she’d been up to.
In a few minutes she heard water running through the pipes overhead. Immediately, images of Zack naked and wet zipped into her mind, and just as quickly she shook them loose. It was embarrassing how often she had such thoughts, and how infrequently she called up memories of Jeffrey.
A part of him was growing inside her, and while she didn’t have one moment of doubt or regret about the baby, she wondered how she could ever have thought of him as father material. Well…that had been part of the problem, hadn’t it? They hadn’t been thinking much at all that night.
Suppose she never saw him again? Then what—
“Something smells like it’s burning.”
Alaina jumped as Zack spoke behind her. How long had she been standing at the sink, drifting into daydreams? It always seemed as if her head was somewhere else these days.
She rushed to the stove and discovered that the water had boiled out from under the broccoli. She ran more into the pan, then checked out the damage. The pieces on the bottom were singed, but salvageable.
“How do you like your broccoli?” she asked, tilting the pan toward him.
“Well done?”
“Good answer.”
While Alaina finished preparing the meal, Zack filled iced tea glasses and set the table. He always placed their plates across from one another, as though establishing another invisible barrier between them.
He filled the silence with news from home. The Pinar del Lago bridge project in the Miramar subdivision where they had both once lived had been approved, and his building crew had been given the go-ahead to start the reconstruction. She wondered if that meant he’d have to go back to Miami sooner than she was prepared for.
Finally, dinner was ready, and they both sat down.
As Alaina unfolded her napkin, she looked up and offered Zack a vague smile. She saw him rub his fingers along his knee. He’d told her about his car accident. He’d been on the ladder earlier, and no doubt his ankle ached. He looked tired.
“How did it go today?” she asked.
“Good. I finished replacing the back steps that were rotted, and rescreened the porch.”
“No problem managing the ladder with your ankle?”
“You get very inventive when you have to,” he replied, forking up a piece of the lemon chicken.
Her gaze dropped to his mouth as he chewed. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach. She forced her eyes up, hoping for distraction.
No luck.
Zack’s hair, still slightly damp from his shower, had caught the light. It was so thick, so luxurious. Alaina could almost feel the silky wet texture of it against her fingers. The tanned skin of his neck would be smooth and enticingly warm if she were to place her hand to the back of his head….
She pushed the unsettling image away. Concentrating on cutting her salad into smaller bites, she said in a stilted voice, “I think I’ve nailed down the right look you need for the downstairs bathroom. And you wouldn’t have to replace the sink or toilet, just the mirror and lighting.”
“Great. I’m all for easy.” He motioned toward his plate with his fork. “The broccoli is a goner, but you make a mean lemon chicken. But then, you always were a pretty good cook.”
“Thanks,” she said softly, and then spent a ridiculous amount of time pouring on more salad dressing as a way to keep from making eye contact.
The silence spun out uncomfortably. There was the clank of silverware, the clink of ice melting in the glasses, but no other sound. This wouldn’t do. This wouldn’t do at all.
Desperately, Alaina pulled a paint brochure from the nearby stack.
She unfolded it, then twisted it around so that Zack could see the samples she’d circled.
“What do you think of using one of these three colors for the downstairs bathroom? Which do you like? Moss Green, Woodland Forest or Sage Glen?”
Zack tilted his head, reviewing the colors several long moments. Then he grimaced. “They’re green. Would you be offended if I said I couldn’t tell the difference between the three?”
“No, but I’d have to ask if you were color-blind.”
He jabbed his finger down to indicate his choice. “I like that one.”
Alaina leaned across the table, then looked up at him in surprise. “Really? I was sure you’d pick Woodland Forest.”
“Then go with that.”
“You’re not helping.”
“I trust you to know what would work best,” he said with a shrug. Flipping through the brochure, he stopped and frowned down at one of the pages. “Unless you pick something like this.” He swung the pamphlet around so that she could see it. “These I hate.”
She saw instantly that he had found the section of paint samples meant for a little girl’s room—Bubblegum Pink, Strawberry Fields. Leaning back in her chair, she had to laugh. “I love those colors! They’re sweet and sentimental and—”
“I am not painting a single room in this cottage anything called…” he squinted at the paint names “…Cotton Candy Summer. Don’t even think about it.”
She pretended to give it real consideration. “I don’t know, I think it’s light and fun….”
“Perfect if you want to paint a dollhouse.”
“That’s what it reminds me of!” she said, clapping her hands together. “The dream house I had for my dolls. Gosh, I loved that place.” She gave him a narrowed glance. “Until a certain someone decided to desecrate it for Halloween.”
Growing up with Zack next door had been terrific, exciting, fun. Most of the time. But the year Alaina and he were eight, he’d been an absolute devil, tormenting her for becoming obsessed with her dolls. For being what he considered “too girlie.”
“I gave it character,” he claimed.
The day before Halloween, Zack had slipped into her bedroom and covered the dollhouse with black theatrical makeup and fake cobwebs. He’d hidden tiny rubber spiders everywhere, even under Barbie’s pillow.
“It was vandalism,” Alaina said with a shake of her head. “Mom worked all afternoon to scrub off the black, and I cried the whole time. When Dad found out what you’d done, he wanted to march over to your house and make your dad buy me a new dollhouse. Lucky for you I begged him not to.” She cocked her head, scrutinizing him. “Why did you do such a horrible thing?”
He set down his iced tea glass. He didn’t seem contrite at all. “Because you were ignoring me,” he said simply. “I wanted you to come outside and do guy stuff with me, and all you wanted to do was play Barbies.”
“All you had to do was ask,” she said lightly. “No Barbie I ever had could take your place.” The words were out before she could stop them. Heat rushed to her cheeks because she knew how that had sounded. She turned her attention back to her plate. “I mean, you had all the cool boy junk—the kinds of things little girls never get to play with.”
She flicked one quick glance his way and saw that he knew exactly what she was thinking. He gave her that lazy one-sided smile that any woman would find irresistible. She made a determined effort to be immune to it, even though the nervous twitch along her insides told her she was not.
After that, the silence between them got worse, unbearable. The meal she’d prepared was good, but she couldn’t take any enjoyment in it, and spent the next ten minutes pushing the food around on her plate. As for Zack, he found sudden interest in some of the decorating pamphlets that lay nearby. Alaina suspected he was faking it just to keep from talking to her anymore.
Finally, she scraped her chair back and carried her plate to the kitchen counter. While she ran water into the sink, Zack sat at the table, seemingly absorbed in creating some list. When he got up to bring her his dirty dishes, she had to find a reason to move away. He was just so darn close.
“Do you want some help cleaning up?”
“No,” she said a little too quickly. Definitely not a good idea. “I can manage.”
“Then if you don’t mind, I think I’ll sit on the porch awhile. It’s cool out, and the stars should be good tonight. It would be a shame to waste them.”
Was he hinting that she should join him? She searched his face, but could find no invitation there. Better not take any foolish chances.
“All right,” she said, doing her best to stifle a phony yawn. “I’ll probably go to bed early.”
“Sleep well, then.”
She heard him head down the hallway, then the squeal of the front door as it opened. Remembering that she still had a small favor to ask before he could disappear completely, Alaina hurried to stop him.
“Zack,” she called from the kitchen doorway. “One more thing…”
With his hand on the knob, he swung back around.
“Do you mind if I take the car into town tomorrow?” she asked.
“Are you picking up supplies?”
“No. Actually…I have my first doctor’s appointment.”
“Oh.” After a long hesitation, he nodded. “Then you have to go. In fact, I’ll drive you.”
“That isn’t necessary.”
“No sweat. I need to make a run to the hardware store, anyway. What time?”
“Eight.” Inexplicably, she felt awkward discussing this with him. “Since it’s my first visit, it may take a little longer. But I need to get on a regular schedule of appointments while I’m here.”
“Of course you do,” he agreed quickly, and something in his tone told her that he was choosing his words carefully. “The baby. That’s the only thing that should matter right now.”
Grabbing a jacket off the coat tree, he turned to head out the door. In another instant, the night had swallowed him whole.
CHAPTER EIGHT
ZACK SAT AT A CORNER table in the crowded Creekside Diner, toying with his coffee cup. It was almost ten, and the large room was nearly full of tourists looking for a late breakfast. Lake Harmony’s annual fall festival had brought a lot of people into town. The season was in full swing.
He was waiting for Alaina to join him after her appointment with the doctor, and he was getting hungry. His gaze traveled around the room, returning every few seconds to the front door. Anticipation hummed through him, but it had nothing to do with his appetite. At least, not his appetite for food.
He could still see her striding away from the car this morning as he had dropped her off at Dr. Linderman’s office. The curves of her body were beautifully molded by the cut of her slacks. The peasant blouse she wore made her look as graceful and free-spirited as a woodland nymph. He hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her.
Zack’s lips quirked briefly in a self-mocking grimace. It had been naive to expect that being around Alaina would be manageable. Working most of the day on the outside of the cottage helped, but damn, those hours after the sun went down were tough.
There were evenings when everything seemed normal. But there were also times when the air felt charged, filled with tension, making even the most mundane conversations, the simplest shared look seem dangerous.
At night, he lay awake long hours, trying not to remember that evening in the living room. But it didn’t matter. He only had to close his eyes to recall the way it had been—Alaina’s flesh silky and warm as he had aroused her, until tiny ripples moved through her body under his hand. How clearly he had committed to memory the matching hunger in her eyes.
Every day he told himself that it was enough to have her close to him again. It was true that he longed for their old friendship. They didn’t have to be lovers. But now that she was back at Heron Cove, he knew his need for her was stronger than ever. Stronger maybe than he could handle.
But what—if
anything—could he do about it?
He shifted restlessly in his seat, sending another glance toward the door. As though his thoughts had summoned her, Alaina stood at the diner’s entrance. He raised his hand to catch her attention, and she began weaving her way among the densely packed tables.
“Sorry I’m late,” she said in a rush as she joined him.
She settled in the chair beside him to keep from blocking the aisle. The sharp-eyed waitress named Becky appeared at their table, offering to fill her coffee cup. Alaina shook her head. The woman topped off Zack’s, left them menus and scurried away to see to other tables.
“How did it go?” he asked.
He thought he knew the answer to that. Alaina’s cheeks were flushed with excitement. Her smile was the brightest he’d seen since they’d reconnected.
She leaned closer, as though passing on secrets. “Oh, Zack, it was wonderful. Dr. Linderman was very kind and thorough. He made me feel so good. And his office staff seems really efficient and nice.”
“And how are you?”
“I’m fine, and so is the baby. There are a million things I have to start doing differently, of course. Like the vitamins I’ll need to take. A, B12, K. I don’t even know what folic acid is, but I’m supposed to start taking it. And the food! No more caffeine if I can help it. But there are no restrictions I can’t live with.”
“What about the nausea? Did you tell him you’ve thrown up every day this week?”
She sat back, giving him a surprised look. “How do you know that?”
He smiled. “I’m starting to think of it as my morning wake-up call.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine, Al,” he said, dismissing the need for an apology. “I just hate to see you feeling so miserable.”
“He says it should start tapering off soon. I’m almost three months along.” She dug into a small plastic sack that carried the name of the doctor’s office on it. “He gave me so many pamphlets to read, and a book about what I can expect these next few months.” She made a soft exclamation of delight as she grabbed something in the bag. “Oh, I almost forgot the sonogram! Do you want—” She released her hold on the object and tapped her menu instead as she made a face. “Never mind. Let’s order breakfast.”
