by Lexi Post
He took a swig of beer. “It’s March 26th and this warm spell is melting the ice pretty fast. All we need is a good rain and the lake will clear, as least enough for the boat.”
She nodded, her mouth full of roast beef.
He sat back in his chair. “Well, I have to admit it’s the strangest deadline I’ve ever had.”
She swallowed and licked her lips before she spoke. “I know it’s a bit unusual, but I’m sure the Larsens will pay top dollar if you can produce a carving in time.”
“I’m not worried about the money. It’s the time factor. However, I’ve never been one to shy away from a challenge and this one is definitely unique.” He smiled with anticipation.
Bea’s heart did a little sidestep. Oh no, this wasn’t good at all. Lusting for this man was bad enough, but liking him would be dangerous for both of them. The sooner she left his house the better. “So, what could you do for the inn? I have a brochure about it in my car.”
He pushed back from the table and walked into the living room where he grabbed a pad of paper and a pencil that sat on an end table. “I’ve actually seen the Lakeside Inn. Had drinks in the bar there once or twice.”
How could she have missed that? Her body reacted like radar to him.
He strode back to the table, a secret smile on his face. “Mostly during bike week, so I wasn’t there long, but I do remember it.”
That explained why she hadn’t seen him. She always took that week off to help her dad Gerry at his bar.
Zach nudged his empty plate aside.
As he began to sketch, her curiosity piqued. She finished half her sandwich and pushed her plate away so she could lean forward for a better view. “I saw a sketch of raccoons in your shop. Can you do something that nice?”
He didn’t look at her, his attention fixed on his drawing.
Her gaze wandered from the paper to his face. His brows moved inward, revealing deep lines of concentration. His eyes were a dark green and heavy-lidded, which to her mind was a winning bedroom combination. He had a straight nose, strong and masculine, but his lips were to die for. They were dark with a lot of stubble around them and supported by a square jaw. Thankfully, he had no cleft in his chin. She despised that model look.
He turned the pad toward her. “Here are a few options. If I stay with the lake theme, I could do fish jumping, or reeds, or a mermaid, though I admit to being less than stellar with female faces. The chainsaw doesn’t like them.”
His quick grin had warmth spreading from her neck to her toes. His eyes shone with good humor and she wanted to revel in their merriment. But he broke eye contact and pointed to a few other rough sketches.
“Or I could do beaver, black bear, or…” He hesitated.
She leaned closer to get a better look at the pad. The faint scent of musk floated toward her.
He met her gaze, their faces mere inches apart, and all she wanted was for him to kiss her.
His eyes were full of excitement, but for her or the carving? She couldn’t read him, which drove her crazy. Her own attraction overrode all her normal senses.
He grinned. “How about a birch tree? I could have a beaver at the bottom in the process of gnawing it down while a downy woodpecker yells at him from a branch above. I think it would blend well with the inn’s surroundings and yet stand out as a story in itself.”
Bea swallowed. His face glowed with energy and vitality. She couldn’t resist.
She leaned forward and kissed him.
Zach’s brain took a second to realize the gorgeous woman across from him had her lips firmly planted on his. But as soon as he did, he took control and wrapped his hand behind her neck to pull her closer.
Her soft lips parted at his movement.
He slipped his tongue inside and explored the sweetness of her mouth. The blood rushed from his slow brain to his groin. The need to bring her body against him grew so strong, he groaned.
She pushed herself away.
He let her go, but he wanted more, a lot more. His cock straining against his jeans attested to that fact.
She wouldn’t meet his gaze. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… I just thought your idea was so brilliant… I don’t usually… I mean—”
He smiled at the blush reddening her high cheeks. If he could capture that look in wood, he’d be famous. “No need to apologize. I didn’t mind a bit. In fact, anytime you feel the need, I’m at your disposal.”
It was the wrong thing to say. He realized his mistake two seconds too late. Her face went from pretty in pink to white.
She stood, overturning her chair. “I should go. Again, I’m very sorry.”
She made it to the top of the stairs before he caught her, grabbing her hand. “Hey, are you okay?”
Bea took a deep breath before she turned to meet his gaze.
When her moist brown eyes stared up at him, he cursed himself for a heel.
She attempted a smile, but failed miserably. “You’ve asked me that a lot since I got here, but yes, I’m fine. Just horrified at my behavior.”
Though her lashes were wet as she blinked to hold back her tears, he couldn’t ignore the beauty of her face, the silkiness of her hair, or the barely controlled need to take her in his arms and comfort her. He didn’t know what to say, but he had to see her again. “Listen, I’ll work on a few sketches. If you come by Wednesday, we can choose one so I can get started.”
She hesitated before she shook her head. “I’m sure whatever you decide will be fine. After all, you’re the artist.”
She tried to remove her hand, but he held tight. “No, actually, I’m a logger by trade. I started this whole carving thing for kicks. Really, I’ll need your help to decide what to carve.”
Her shoulders slumped and his gut twisted in response, but his groin tightened the moment she nodded.
“Very well. I’ll be back Wednesday after I go over the books with Mr. Larsen.”
He smiled and let her go. “Good. I’ll see you Wednesday.”
She started down the stairs.
Unwilling to lose sight of her yet, he leaned over the railing, watching until she reached the basement. Crossing to the windows, he waited to catch sight of her as she left the house. He heard the door close and she came into view as she picked her way through the trees in her ridiculous high-heeled boots, her hips swaying with each cautious step. How he’d love to see her naked except for those boots, sprawled across his bed, wrists tied above her head. The thought of her boot-clad legs wrapping around him while he pumped inside her had his cock hardening again. He wanted this woman.
He spoke to the windowpane. “Turn around and look up, Bea.”
She kept walking, but when she reached the edge of the clearing, she stopped.
He held his breath.
She took another step, looked back, then continued out of sight.
Zach smiled and strode into the kitchen. She was as attracted to him as he was to her and he couldn’t have been more surprised. He cracked open another beer and leaned on the counter. Professional women like Bea usually didn’t go for him. He was too rugged. But if she was interested, he certainly wouldn’t put up a fight. He’d never had a gorgeous woman kiss him the day he met her, but a fast-and-furious relationship would be perfect. He’d learned all too well, long-term with him was a death sentence, literally. Three times together and he would end it.
He grabbed his pad of paper off the table and sat in the living room. He sketched long, black flowing hair, a slim body and legs that went on forever. Detailing the face, he added almond-shaped eyes that tilted up slightly, erotically. A soft stroke added a slender nose that was followed by full, sensuous lips. He paused, remembering the feel of them on his own. His cock stirred as he drew full, naked breasts, the smallest of navels and a hint of shadow between her legs. Then he added the boots, filling in the black leather. Holding the paper up, he looked his fill. She would be delicious.
He closed his eyes. Was it Wednesday yet?
Ch
apter Two
“Bea, calm down. There has to be another way.” Her mom’s voice came through her cell phone and ascended another octave on the pitch scale.
“I am calm, Mom. I’ve thought this through. I’ve tried your way and it hasn’t worked. The only way I’m going to get pregnant is to have in vitro fertilization.”
“No, you haven’t tried ‘my way’. Did you ever think the reason you haven’t become pregnant is because you’re always with different men? I didn’t get pregnant with you until I was down to sleeping with the same six. That might be the answer.”
Bea’s attention was drawn by a customer with suitcases trudging into the lobby. “Mom, I have to go now. I’ll call you later.”
“Come over for dinner Saturday night. I think we need to talk more.”
“Okay, I’ll see you then.” Bea sighed as she ended the call. Ever since meeting Zach, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she had to do something and fast. She just wished she knew what it was she should do.
As the customer approached the front desk, one of the bellmen offered to take his luggage. Bea stepped around the corner into the office and tapped Kayla on the shoulder. “You have a check-in.”
Kayla set down her cup of coffee and pasted on a smile. “Got it.”
As she sauntered past, Bea stopped her to brush away a little white powder near Kayla’s lips.
Kayla rolled her eyes. “Thanks.”
Bea took Kayla’s seat in the back and pushed aside the jelly donut on the desk. Blindly, she faced the window. Her mom didn’t understand, and Bea had no idea how to explain it to her. It wasn’t her biological clock. It was her need to stop hurting the men she had sex with, her “poison-release vessels” as her mom referred to them. But Bea couldn’t think of them like that, wouldn’t think of them like that. Every one of them had a life, and the sickness she caused them had started a self-loathing inside her that had grown beyond the bearable. She needed help.
Bea pulled her phone from the pocket of her jeans and punched number two. “Hello, Grandma.”
“Ah Bea, how nice to hear from you. Did you have a satisfying weekend? How many hunks did you shag?”
She flushed. “Grandma! Only one, but that’s partly why I’m calling. I can’t do this anymore.”
There was silence and a long sigh. ”I know how you feel, honey, but you have to. If you don’t, your poisons will build up inside and kill you.”
“Are you sure?” She knew she sounded desperate, but she didn’t care.
“That’s what happened to my mother.”
Bea leaned forward in her chair, her heart slowing. “I didn’t know that. I thought she died in prison.”
“Yes, she did, because she had no men available that she could release her poisons into. You were wondering if it was true, weren’t you? Even though you may have only felt lightheaded and drained sometimes, you wondered if the toxins in our bodies would really kill us. I’m sorry to say, they will.”
Bea swallowed. Her grandmother had leapt ahead of her own thought process. “I understand. Mom told me once that if I have a baby it would lessen the need for release. Is that true?”
“Absolutely. Before I had your mom I had to have sex at least seven times a week, but now I only need it four or five times.”
“Wait. How do you get that in the assisted living community where you are? I mean…don’t men start to lose… Isn’t it—”
Her grandmother laughed. “I can see you blushing from here, Bea. The short answer is I have my regulars and Viagra has done wonders for my health.”
“Oh gosh, I never thought about getting old. How did we survive all these generations?”
“We didn’t. I am the oldest Rappaccini so far. Aren’t you the lucky one?”
Though her grandmother said the words in jest, Bea felt her heart constrict. “I am lucky. If I didn’t have you, I wouldn’t know what was true. I just got off the phone with Mom. I told her I wanted to try in vitro fertilization.”
“Oh, I bet your mom was excited.”
Bea shook her head. “No, she wasn’t. In fact she freaked. I don’t get it.”
“Well, blow me over and sweep me under the rug. She’s still holding out for you to get married.”
“What? How can I marry when I need to have sex with multiple men?”
Her grandmother’s mumbled words didn’t quite make it through the phone.
“What did you say?”
“Never mind, dear, I’ll explain your mother to you another time. So you want to get pregnant to lessen the need to have sex?”
Her grandmother made it sound as if she’d just lost her mind. “I’m not looking to become a nun or anything. I just can’t keep making all these men sick. It’s wrong. But I also don’t want to have a child that must go through what I have to. I can’t do that. I just can’t. Is there any way to know if my child would have the same genetic poisoning? I mean, it’s been generations since Giacomo did this to us. Is there any chance my child could be normal?”
“There’s always a chance, honey. That’s why we’ve all had daughters. We keep hoping. So how many times do you need to orgasm on a man to make it a week?”
“Three.” It was her magic number and one she’d lived with since she’d hit puberty, or rather since Phillip.
“Oh, that’s good. Your mom only needed five, so there is a good chance your daughter would be none or one. She could definitely have a husband. Oh Lord, just thinking about having a great-granddaughter to cuddle has got my blood pumping. Are you serious about this, Bea?”
Was she? “I don’t know. It’s a lot to think about.”
“I think— Hold on, honey, there’s someone at my door.”
Bea leaned back in her chair again as she listened. A male voice could be heard along with her grandmother’s.
“Honey, I have to go. Why don’t you start processing this and come for a visit so we can talk this out some more. Okay?”
She raised her brow. Since when had her grandmother started talking like a psychiatrist? Must be one of those lectures they provided for the people in the retirement community. “Okay, I will. You have fun, Grandma.”
“I plan to, honey.”
Bea smiled as she ended the call. She may not have all the answers she had hoped for, but talking with her grandmother always made her day brighter. She couldn’t imagine what it must have been like growing up in the fifties and sixties with the Rappaccini poison, but Grandma Beatrice had managed and her mom had too. So did that make her a wimp for feeling bad about the men she used to survive?
She glanced at the half-eaten donut and on impulse took a bite. Kayla wouldn’t mind. The sweet grape jelly slid across her tongue like thick Chambord, reminding her of Zach’s tongue exploring her mouth. She shook her head to dispel the memory. Since Monday when she met him, she’d been torn. Her attraction to him had nothing to do with the poisons in her body and everything to do with him as a person. At least that was her best guess since she’d never been attracted to a man in that way. Usually she assessed the available men, eliminated any who had wedding rings and determined who would be the easiest to get into bed and last the longest. But with Zach, she wanted to be with him in a way she couldn’t because she didn’t want to hurt him. The fact was, she didn’t want to hurt anyone anymore.
Every man she had sex with became sick, though she’d never witnessed the extent of the illness since they were men only in the big city for conferences. That’s why she traveled so far. She wasn’t anxious to run into them again after making them ill. Still, she was careful to have no more than three orgasms with one man. There had to be a way around her predicament. If there was, she would find it.
With her determination in place, she focused on the scene outside the inn. She didn’t like what she saw. The sky had turned a stormy gray, and despite it being just after noon, it looked as if it were dusk. Her stomach knotted. She had to get up to Tamwick and back before the snow began to fall.
“Beatrice?�
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She started and looked around to find her boss behind her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.” Craig Larsen dropped a printout on the desk. “I think you’re right. I forgot to add the plowing expense for the last month. It’s been so warm lately, it’s hard to believe we were buried in four feet of snow a couple weeks ago.”
She pointed to the window and the thickening clouds. “And it looks as if we might get buried again. I really should head up to the artist’s place before it gets too bad. This might help delay Ice-Out, but it could also delay his work on the carving. His tool of choice is a chainsaw.”
“A chainsaw?” Craig’s thin red eyebrows rose in disbelief, reminding her of a squirrel with an empty nutshell.
“Yes, and I don’t think he’d be willing to start work on it in the middle of a storm.”
Craig picked up the paper again. “You’re right. Why don’t you get going? You found the biggest mistake I made with the books. I’m sure I can find the smaller ones. Thank you for your help with this. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Okay. And don’t forget to tell Kayla she can have Friday off.”
“Right. Will do.”
No sooner had he left the office than Bea hit the car starter on her key chain, threw on her wool coat and stuffed her hands into her black gloves. Grabbing her purse, she strode out the door. She was torn between her wish to see Zach and her fear of giving in to her attraction for him, which would only hurt him. She shouldn’t go, but it was her job, at least that’s what she told herself.
Once the car warmed, she pulled onto the road and headed north. She glanced up at the darkening sky and gritted her teeth. “Please don’t snow. Please don’t snow. Please don’t snow.”
She tightened her hands around the steering wheel as she inspected the windshield for small flakes that might be the harbingers of larger ones. Though no white dots appeared, the sky was almost dark when she pulled into Zach’s driveway. Her heart rate sped at the sight of him, causing her palms to sweat in her warm gloves. The man could only be described as a work of art in the flesh.
