by Irene Hannon
Rebecca knew exactly where this was leading. Zach was going to kiss her. She ought to pull away before she freaked out. But for some strange reason she didn’t feel threatened. Yes, they were alone. Yes, Zach was a lot bigger and stronger than she was. Yes, he could easily overpower her. But Rebecca didn’t sense any ill intent in his touch. It was gentle and caring and tender. Still, she ought to back off, for all the reasons she’d mentally ticked off just moments before. Except that she suddenly couldn’t remember even one of them.
Zach studied her eyes, trying to decipher the conflicting emotions in them, attempting to determine if desire was stronger than uncertainty. He couldn’t tell for sure. And there was only one way to find out. Slowly, his gaze riveted on hers till the last possible moment, he leaned toward her, his eyes telegraphing a message that even in her agitated state Rebecca couldn’t miss. Don’t be afraid, they said. I won’t hurt you. Trust me. Everything will be all right. Then, letting his hand drift to her nape, he slowly lowered his mouth to meet hers.
It was a simple kiss, as light as a drifting leaf, a gentle, uncomplicated connecting of lips. But Rebecca’s reaction wasn’t uncomplicated in the least. A thousand sensations washed over her, and she felt caught in a riptide of sweeping emotion. There was so much to take in! Zach’s hand cradling her head, his touch sure and confident. His warm lips, undemanding and gentle, moving over hers, awakening a response that sent her world spinning out of orbit. The woodsy scent of his aftershave wafting around her, and the distant, plaintive echo of a train whistle.
Rebecca knew, deep in her heart, that every time she heard that mellow sound for the rest of her life she would remember this moment. Not just because of the sensory overload that left her breathless and trembling, but because she wasn’t afraid. For whatever reason, by some miracle, she didn’t panic! She felt shaky and off balance, true, but it was an unsteadiness born of yearning, not fear. It was a new, heady experience for Rebecca, and she did what she never thought she’d be able to do. She responded, returning his kiss as best she knew how.
Zach had imagined how Rebecca’s lips would feel against his. But nothing had prepared him for their innocent sweetness. At her age most women generally had plenty of practice in the art of romance. But not Rebecca, whose simple, straightforward kiss was that of a schoolgirl, reflecting absolute in-experience. Zach was stunned—but not displeased. He found her almost-timid shyness refreshing—and extremely appealing.
Other than the soft meeting of their lips and his hand on her neck, Zach didn’t touch her. He left his other hand in his pocket, somehow sensing that was the right thing to do. He just savored the moment. At last, with reluctance, he released her.
For several moments she kept her eyes closed, too lost in the magic of his touch to tolerate the intrusion of reality. But finally, with a wistful little sigh that caught at his heart, she opened her eyes and gazed up at him in wonder.
A tender smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Happy birthday, Rebecca,” he murmured, his voice strangely hoarse.
His hand was still at her nape, his fingers gently stroking the back of her neck, and she was finding it extremely difficult to breathe. “Th-thank you,” she stammered softly, her own voice uneven.
“You know, I have an idea,” he said softly. Actually, he had plenty of ideas at the moment, only one of which he intended to discuss. “Since you really didn’t get to do anything special for your birthday, how about having dinner with me Sunday? Sort of a belated celebration. We could drive up to St. Louis, maybe go to the Hill, if you like Italian. Do you?”
She was staring at him, mesmerized by the tender light in his deep brown eyes. “Do I what?” she asked, trying to follow the conversation, but having a difficult time concentrating on anything but his eyes.
“Like Italian food.”
“Oh. Sure.”
“Then you’ll go?”
Tell him no, her mind instructed firmly. Think, don’t feel. Be rational. But her heart had other ideas. “Uh-huh.”
His smile broadened, and the warmth in his eyes took her breath away. “Great! I’ll call to set it up, okay?”
“Okay.”
He hesitated for a moment, his eyes caressing her face. Then he leaned forward and once more brushed his lips over hers, the brief contact leaving her yearning for more.
“Good night, Rebecca. Sweet dreams.”
She slid into her car, then turned to watch him stride toward his as she sighed contentedly. No problem, Mr. Wright, she thought. Sweet dreams are a guarantee.
“My goodness!” Rose said, glancing around the kitchen in surprise. “We came in extra early to help you get ready for that shower, but you’ve got everything done!”
“Yes. It didn’t take as long as I thought,” Rebecca replied vaguely, turning to Frances. “How are you feeling?”
“Right as rain,” she declared. “Nasty bug, though. I’m glad it’s over. Did you work late last night?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Say, what’s this?” Frances asked in surprise.
Rebecca turned. The woman was examining a ring—Zach’s ring, to be exact. He must have taken it off when he was helping last night and then left without it, she realized in dismay. Rebecca’s face turned bright pink, and she reached for it, dropping it into the pocket of her apron. “It’s Zach’s. He stopped by last night while I was working,” she said shortly.
Rose sent Frances a knowing glance, which Rebecca intercepted. “Now don’t you two get any matchmaking ideas,” she warned.
Rose smiled at her innocently. “Of course not, dear. Just because the man sends you flowers, comes in three times a week for lunch and happens to drop by late at night—why would we get any ideas?”
Rebecca’s flush deepened. “Well, it doesn’t mean anything,” she stated dismissively. “He’s new in town and he doesn’t know that many people yet. I’m just a familiar face.”
“I’d say that ‘familiar’ is exactly what he’d like to be,” Frances remarked pertly.
“For heaven’s sake, you two are hopeless!” Rebecca declared in exasperation.
“Well, that young man is going to start feeling pretty hopeless himself, if you don’t give in and go out with him soon,” Rose told her.
Rebecca turned away and stirred the soup. It was useless to try and hide the fact that she’d accepted his dinner invitation. People would find out somehow. They always did in a small town. So she might as well be up-front about it, pretend it was no big deal. “Actually, I’m having dinner with him Sunday,” she informed the sisters, striving to keep her tone light, hoping to make the date sound inconsequential. But the dead silence that met her revelation told her that she wasn’t fooling anyone. Taking a deep breath, she looked over her shoulder to find them both beaming at her approvingly.
“Well, it’s about time!” Frances declared. “I’m glad that poor boy’s persistence finally paid off. Such a nice young man!”
Rebecca set down the ladle and turned to face Rose and Frances, her hands on her hips, her gaze stern. She needed to stop any rumors before they even started. “Before you get too carried away, remember that Zach and I are just acquaintances. Period. So you better just get these romantic notions out of your heads right now.”
“Of course, dear. We certainly will,” Rose promised agreeably.
Rebecca congratulated herself, convinced that she’d succeeded in dampening their enthusiasm—until Rose stopped to toss a prediction over her shoulder as she headed for the dining room. “But I don’t think it will be easy to convince that young man to do the same.”
Rebecca didn’t reply. What was the point—when she knew Rose was right?
Chapter Five
Rebecca eyed her reflection critically in the full-length mirror behind her bedroom door and frowned. Was she overdressed? she wondered worriedly. Except for the night in the fog, when he’d been wearing a suit, she’d never seen Zach in anything more formal than khaki slacks and a cotton shirt. He hadn’t told
her where they were going on the Hill, St. Louis’s well-known Italian neighborhood, and the restaurants ranged from corner pizza parlors to elegant gourmet eateries. If they ended up at the pizza end of the spectrum, her beaded white angora sweater and slim wool burgundy skirt were definitely going to be out of place. But worrying wasn’t going to solve the dilemma, she thought with a sigh as she reached up to tuck a couple of stray strands of hair into her French twist. If she was dressed inappropriately, she’d find out soon enough.
The more important question was why she’d even agreed to this date in the first place. Logically, it was the wrong thing to do. She knew that. But somehow, in her heart, it seemed right. And her heart, rather than her mind, had guided her decision, she admitted. Even now, as she recalled the tender feel of Zach’s lips on hers, his hand cradling her neck as he kissed her, a surprisingly intense surge of longing swept over her. She closed her eyes and slowly exhaled a shaky breath. Yes, accepting the date felt right. Because for some reason his touch hadn’t frightened her. It was almost like a sign, she thought, an indication that she should give this relationship a chance. Maybe the Lord was trying to nudge her forward. She had asked for His help, after all. Perhaps Zach was—
The sudden ringing of the doorbell made her eyes fly open, and she turned with a start toward the sound, her pulse accelerating as she reached up with trembling fingers to nervously smooth her hair one final time. With a silent plea for courage, she drew a long, steadying breath and moved toward the door, turning the dead bolt and unhooking the security guards at the top and bottom with trembling hands.
As she swung the door open, she realized instantly that she was not overdressed. Zach wore a charcoal gray suit, which sat well on his broad shoulders and emphasized his muscular physique, and a burgundy-and-silver-striped tie rested against the crisply starched white shirt that hugged his broad chest. He looked impressive, distinguished, suave, incredibly handsome—in other words, absolutely fantastic, she thought appreciatively, her heart banging against her rib cage as she gripped the edge of the door.
While Rebecca completed her perusal, Zach did his own in one swift, comprehensive glance that missed nothing—the glitter of beads on her sweater; the pulse beating in the delicate hollow at the base of her throat; her beautiful eyes, wider than usual tonight as they gazed up at him with a touch of trepidation; and the classic bone structure of her face, highlighted by her sophisticated French twist.
His gaze lingered for a moment on her hair. The style suited her, but he’d love to see what her hair looked like loose and free, the russet highlights glinting as the waves tumbled around her shoulders. He imagined what it would be like to run his hands through those burnished tresses, feel their softness against his fingertips…
“Hi,” Rebecca said timidly, abruptly interrupting his fantasy.
“Hi,” he returned huskily, firmly reining in his wayward thoughts. He let his gaze travel over her once more, not even attempting to hide the appreciation in his eyes. “Has anyone told you lately that you look lovely?”
She flushed and turned away on the pretext of retrieving her purse. “Not that I recall,” she replied, striving for a light tone yet secretly pleased by his compliment. “You look very nice tonight, too.”
“I don’t wear suits often,” he admitted as he strolled into the tiny foyer behind her. “Only on special occasions.”
So he considered tonight a special occasion, she thought, a delicious tingle running down her spine. But it could be just a line, she reminded herself. Don’t get carried away. She knew he was smooth, practiced, probably very accomplished in the art of seduction. He was the type of man who would know exactly what to say to please a woman. She shouldn’t take it too personally.
“Nice apartment,” he commented, his gaze traveling around the living room. Chintz-covered couches and chairs, lace curtains, a heart-shaped dried flower wreath on the wall and family pictures artfully arranged in a collection of frames on an end table all combined to give the room a warm, homey feel.
“Thanks. It will do for a while, but eventually I’d like to get a house with some land at the edge of town. My dad is a great gardener, and he got me hooked on the hobby. I miss not being able to work with flowers.”
“It doesn’t seem as if you have much time for that sort of thing, anyway.”
She gave him a rueful smile. “That’s true. The restaurant is pretty demanding.”
“Speaking of food,” he said with a smile. “I have reservations for seven-thirty, so if you’re ready we might as well head out.”
“Okay. Is it cool enough for a coat?” The weather had been unseasonably mild for the past day or so, providing a much-needed glimpse of spring to the winter-weary, flood-exhausted residents.
“I don’t think so. It’s a nice night, and that sweater looks pretty warm.” And very attractive, he acknowledged silently. But he needed to keep such thoughts on ice, he told himself firmly as he stepped aside for her to pass. Later, if things went well, maybe he could allow them to resurface. And perhaps even pursue them.
As they drove into the city, Zach purposely kept the banter light. He knew Rebecca was uncomfortable with this date, had half expected her to cancel. His goal for the moment was to get her to relax, to enjoy his company. Because he didn’t want this to be a one-time event.
By the time they arrived in St. Louis, she did seem to be more at ease, but as they pulled up in front of the restaurant her voice died in mid-sentence even as her eyes widened in surprise. He had chosen one of the finest, priciest restaurants on the Hill for tonight’s dinner date.
“Zach! I never expected anything like this,” she exclaimed, completely taken aback.
He smiled, pleased at her reaction. “I hoped you would like it.”
“Like it! That’s an understatement! I only know this place by reputation, but I’ve always wanted to eat here. It’s just too expensive.” Suddenly she frowned and turned to him. “Zach, this will cost a fortune! I can’t let you spend that kind of money on me. We hardly know each other!” she protested.
“Well, I intend to remedy that. Starting tonight. Just think of this as a birthday gift, Rebecca. And I’ll let you in on a little secret,” he added with a smile, leaning closer to drape an arm casually across the back of her seat, his fingers brushing her shoulder. “It may not be my birthday, but I definitely consider this date a gift. Thank you for coming tonight.”
Rebecca was too stunned by his candor to reply. Fortunately she didn’t have to. Just then the valet opened her door. Zach winked at her before removing his arm from the back of her seat, and it was all she could do to keep her thoughts coherent as she stepped from the car. He joined her immediately, his hand resting lightly but proprietarily against the small of her back as they walked toward the restaurant, and somehow she knew that no matter what happened in the future between them, she’d always remember this birthday celebration as one of the most special of her life.
The dinner was everything Rebecca had expected—and more—and she even drank a little wine, a rare indulgence for her. But tonight it seemed appropriate, and as the meal progressed she grew mellow and relaxed, smiling and laughing freely. Zach was an ideal dinner companion—witty, well-read, an excellent conversationalist, moving with ease from one topic to another. She found herself telling him about her home-town, about Brad and Sam and their new daughter, about the satisfaction of making her dreams of owning her own restaurant a reality. Zach skillfully drew her out, asking all the right questions, until finally she paused to laugh.
“What’s so funny?” he asked with a smile, his fingers idly playing with the stem of his wineglass as he gazed at her quizzically.
She shook her head and grinned ruefully. “I have a feeling you’re very good at your job.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve managed to find out an awful lot about me in a very short time. That skill must come in handy in your work.”
He grinned. “I suppose so. But tonig
ht my questions are motivated purely by personal interest,” he replied candidly. What he didn’t tell her was that he hadn’t found out the one thing he was most interested in—why she rarely dated. He’d tried a couple of subtle probes, but she’d adeptly sidestepped them. And he didn’t think pressing the issue was a good idea.
“So tell me about you, Zach,” she said, interrupting his thoughts.
He shrugged. “Not much to tell, really. I grew up in Kansas City, and my mom still lives there. So does my older brother and his family. I went to Mizzou, became a journalist and voilà! Here I am.”
“Talk about a condensed version of a life story!” she protested. “I guess I’ll just have to ask a few questions of my own. What brought you to St. Genevieve? I don’t know much about the newspaper business, but a flood doesn’t seem like the usual sort of thing an investigative reporter would cover.”
“You’re right,” he acknowledged. “I’ve been working on a series on corruption in city government, and a couple of the people implicated got wind of it. They claimed I was using falsified documents as a basis for my coverage and threatened to sue the paper if the series ran. So the publisher put a hold on the story while they look into the charges, and sent me off to St. Genevieve for the duration. Mostly to keep me out of the way, I assume.”
Rebecca frowned. “No wonder you sounded so burned out about reporting when we talked the other night.”
He shrugged. “It wasn’t just that. There have been lots of instances through the years when a piece has blown up in my face, or people have found a way to work around the system and get away with murder. Sometimes literally. I think this was just the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back. To be honest, my editor actually realized before I did that a break from investigative work would be good for me,” he admitted.
