by Joanne Rock
“I have no desire to defend myself to Tiffany McCord.” She shuddered, falling into step with him as they strode away from the center of the fair. They walked toward the arena where the wood-cutting competition would occur. A two-rail fence had been set up to enclose the space, and a few of the lumberjacks were already on-site, directing trucks with huge logs for carving. Inside the arena, a couple of guys were cleaning chain-saw pieces. A few others stood around the newly delivered wood.
“I don’t recognize many locals,” Heather observed when Zach remained quiet. She’d forgotten her jacket, but she was still warm in the autumn sunshine, her sweater and long skirt keeping her comfortable.
“It was Quinton Lee who wanted to get the event this year.” Zach waved to the owner of Lucky’s Grocer as the guy directed a flatbed trailer into the arena. “He started competing a couple of years ago and thought the event would draw some newcomers.”
“I’m sure it will.” She peered at Zach, more interested in him and why he’d sought her out.
She realized they’d arrived at the Merchants Building, a permanent facility on the fair property where vendors could store their belongings or grab a bite to eat. Zach had a key, and he unlocked the front door to the small structure.
Stepping inside, Heather headed for the chairs in the lounge, but he gestured her toward the office in back. He unlocked another door and sealed them into a small, private room with a desk, an old television mounted on one wall and a wooden bench covered with boxes of flyers for the fair.
Heather couldn’t hold back the well of emotion any longer. She couldn’t let this conversation be solely about business. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you this week. I realized how stubborn I must have seemed about the whole illness thing, but I wasn’t sure if you’d want to hear from me after how we parted.”
Zach stared back with shocked eyes as he tossed the keys on the desk. “How could you not know?” He moved boxes to clear a spot for her to sit and extended a hand for her to join him. “Heather, it killed me not to pick up the phone this week, but the ball was in your court. You drew the line in the sand, not me.”
Hesitating for less than an instant, she took his hand, warm and strong. She sank onto the bench, her back to the wall, her leg pressed to his. Her heart ached. She wanted things to be easy between them, no investigations or chronic illness. Just two people free to explore their feelings unencumbered by baggage.
“I’ve got a problem taking risks.” That was part of the reason she’d never left Heartache to achieve her dreams. Sure, she’d been busy with her family and helping out her mom, but she was also scared. “Remember I told you I’ve never fallen in love? It helps that I don’t put myself on the line.”
His muscles bunched beneath his dress shirt.
“Maybe you should work on that before you go halfway across the country for a singing audition.” His tawny gaze locked on her. “Take a few smaller risks first.”
“I could do that.” Her heart beat faster as she took in the hard line of his jaw. The way his hair curled a little bit on one side, as if a greedy lover had pawed a hand through it.
The full, sensual shape of lips that could kiss her like no man ever had before.
“Do you need help coming up with some ideas?” His eyebrow arched, his thumb stroking the inside of her wrist.
“I have several excellent ideas. But I don’t want to preempt you since you said you wanted to talk to me. You wanted to ask me a question.” With her blood slowly starting to simmer, it took all her powers of concentration to dredge up that detail from her memory.
“Ah.” He nodded. “I wanted to ask you why the hell you haven’t called.”
She laughed. “Because I’m clueless and chicken, and I kept hoping I was just dreaming how much I liked you.”
He reached for her, but only to run two fingers down a strand of her hair. He pulled it taut for a moment before watching it fall back into place with the rest.
“How about now? What are you thinking?”
“I definitely wasn’t dreaming how much I liked you.” Could she shape her dreams the way Nina had, so that they could include Zach? She definitely felt herself falling harder for him.
Right this very moment.
“That’s good to hear. Because I like you a whole lot, too.” This time his finger brushed her cheek, and the touch was an electric jolt to her system. “Even if you are clueless and chicken.”
She couldn’t help a smile. He knew her so well. She might be unsure about many things, but she knew her feelings for this man ran deep. She couldn’t bear the thought of passing up the chance to be with him. Now. She’d missed him so much this past week. Denying herself a moment with him seemed like the ultimate foolishness.
“I’m going to fix the chicken part right now,” she assured him, pressing her leg hard against his. “By taking one of those risks we talked about.”
“Really?” Something flickered in his eyes. A spark of awareness that lit an answering flame in her.
“Really.” Her breath came so fast she thought she might hyperventilate, but she didn’t let that slow her down. Licking her lips for good measure—just to be sure she had his attention—she reached for the hem of her sweater.
Then pulled it up and over her head.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
WHEN ZACH HAD gone looking for Heather at the fairgrounds, he had wanted to ask her a legitimate question. And he had some important things to tell her, too.
But he couldn’t remember any of them after she’d said how much she missed him.
The woman had him wrapped around her finger, and that was long before the sweater came off.
Now?
He was putty in her hands. He knew it even as he clamped a palm on either side of her cheeks and held her still for his kiss. A long, slow, thorough meeting of the lips. She tasted like vanilla and promises, like a woman he wanted the right to kiss every day.
Still, he forced himself to ease back, tipping his forehead to hers while they sat together on the bench. His breathing was ragged.
“This isn’t the right place. I didn’t bring you here for this—honestly.”
She pressed kisses along his jaw, her hands running back and forth across his shoulders, heating his skin through his shirt.
“I think it’s a great place,” she whispered against his skin, her tongue darting out to tease the spot below his ear. “Especially for a woman who wants to take a risk.”
“You should be comfortable.” He didn’t want her hurting herself. Couldn’t let that happen again.
“I’m going to be incredibly comfortable on your lap,” she said, her hand finding his thigh and rubbing a slow, torturous path up one leg. “And I’m on different medicine, so I’m not going to worry about my joints. It hurts more now simply wanting to be with you.”
It was killing him, too.
Vowing to be careful with her, he pulled her onto his lap, and her long pink skirt fell around his legs like a blanket. She had goose bumps on her chest. He breathed kisses along the tops of her breasts, spanning her shoulders with his palms. The soft sounds she made in the back of her throat urged him on, driving him a little crazy.
Everything else disappeared—the worries he’d had all week about where they’d go from here, the knowledge that she needed to leave here to be happy. This second, none of it mattered. What they were feeling was bigger than any of that. If this was all the time he had with her, he would make sure she remembered every moment.
Peeling the skinny gray bra straps off her shoulders, he tugged them down until the cups stripped away from her curves. The muted sunshine slipping through the blinds burnished her skin to a soft gold, the taut peaks to bronze. Cradling her hips with one arm, he brought her closer to capture one tight crest in his mouth. She arched her back, her fingers locking ar
ound his neck to hold on tighter while he stroked and laved and nipped at her. All the while her skin flushed to a deeper rose, her temperature rising right along with his. When he juggled his hold on her to find the other peak, she freed her hands to undo the buttons on his shirt.
She made slow work of the fastenings, her fingers pausing whenever he drew on her nipple, her breath coming faster. His blood surged hot, his body rock hard with want.
He found her bare ankle and circled it, sliding off her shoe. He followed the back of her calf beneath her long skirt, mesmerized by the softness of her skin as he touched the hollow behind her knee. She felt so warm, and each inch that he traveled with his palm only turned hotter. By the time he cupped her satin-covered bottom, she wriggled against him in earnest, yanking his shirt off.
“I want you inside me.” She lowered her mouth to his chest and pressed a kiss to one flat pectoral muscle. “Please say you have the necessary accessory to make that happen.”
Any other time he would have smiled at the word choice. Right now, he was too busy congratulating himself that he was an optimist and yes, carried a condom.
“Back pocket. But I’m not letting you go, so you’re on your own to find it.” He toyed with the satin hem of her panties, sliding one finger beneath it and then two, hardly able to tell where satin and silky skin began.
She skimmed a touch up the front of his pants, drawing a groan from him.
“Here?” she asked, teasing a touch back down the length of him.
“Wicked, wicked woman,” he breathed in her right ear, then gave the outer rim a gentle nip.
“Eager woman,” she corrected, sliding her skirt higher on her thigh.
Higher.
When he spotted a hint of gray satin panties, she shifted to straddle him.
“I might need help,” she admitted, rocking her core against him, right where he needed her most.
He was seeing stars behind his eyelids. Every time they touched, it just got better and better.
“Where?” he asked, skimming the back of his knuckles up the front of her underwear. And down again, landing in the hot, damp center of the fabric. “Here?”
Head thrown back, her chest heaved, her nipple right at mouth level. He sucked one into his mouth and slid a finger beneath the soft satin, stroking along the slick folds.
“Yes. There.” She lifted herself slightly, her hands on his shoulders to balance herself as she leaned forward. Then back, angling herself right where she wanted him.
He teased the nipple with his tongue. Flicked his thumb back and forth across the taut bud of her sex. When she went still, he touched her harder, a rush of power pumping through him at the thought of giving her pleasure.
She broke apart with a harsh cry, her body stiffening against him for a long, long moment while he sank two fingers inside her. Felt the sweet, gentle pulse of her feminine muscles around him.
He wanted to taste her more than he wanted his next breath, but he knew this wasn’t the place. Wasn’t sure he could get her comfortable. He reached into his back pocket with one hand, found his wallet and awkwardly dragged out a condom. She sagged against him, her hip resting against his chest while his fingers were still buried deep inside her. Her harsh breathing was sweet music in his ears. He ripped the condom packet with his teeth.
“Oh, let me.” Her eyelids fluttered, bright points of blue as she gazed down at him. “I can help.”
She unzipped his pants and yanked them down, then took the condom and rolled it onto him with trembling fingers. He gripped her hips to position her right where he needed her. When he looked up at her, she was still wide-eyed and fascinated, her gaze on him. Them.
He would never get tired of looking at her.
Never get tired of wanting her.
It was the only thought in his head as he eased inside her, sinking himself as deep as he could go. She froze, her hands balanced on his chest, her teeth clamped on the soft fullness of her lower lip.
When he began to move, she met him thrust for thrust, each slick stroke taking him higher. Her forehead fell forward, trailing long red hair along the side of his cheek like a curtain unfurling. The silky strands teased his jaw, snagging on the rough edge of his whiskers, casting her face in shadow.
He captured her chin and kissed her hard. Holding her there, he pressed deeper into her. Again. And again.
When she started to move with him, he broke the kiss, the tension so high his chest burned. He reached between them to find the tender bud between her legs and rubbed it slowly, plucking at the swollen dampness.
She hit her peak again seconds before he did, her body slick with sweat, her hair sticking to her neck as she bit his shoulder and cried out against his flesh.
His release went on and on, wringing him out until he twitched with the aftershocks. He slumped on the bench, not sure he remembered his name. Not sure he needed to know it anyhow.
He stroked Heather’s shoulder. Her back.
“We should move you,” he said. “It’s not good for your joints to stay in an awkward position.”
“You’re right. Thank you for the reminder. For caring.” She levered back gently as they disentangled. “It’s nice that you know that about me.”
He’d like to know so much more about her, but he didn’t think now was the moment to press his luck. His time with her might be limited, but he would spend the rest of it making her happy and not pushing for more.
A rap on the outer door made them both go still.
“Zach!” a woman’s voice shouted. “Are you in there?”
“Who is that?” Heather asked, already straightening her skirt.
He closed his eyes and pressed a thumb to his temple. Of all the times for his sister to show up. He needed to help her, but God, if he could have had ten more minutes to hold Heather.
He picked up her sweater and passed it to her. “Did I mention my sister is in town?”
“Really?” Heather squeaked, yanking the sweater over her head.
“Unfortunately.” He zipped up his pants.
“Why unfortunately?” She tossed his shirt at him. “I thought you two were close.”
“We are.” He jammed his wallet into his back pocket and slid the shirt on while Heather found her shoes. “But I worry about her being back in town since her stalker has never been caught.”
“Zach?” Another shout came through the front door, followed by more banging.
“Then we’d better make sure we keep her safe.” Heather opened the office door and hurried toward the main entrance of the Merchants Building.
Zach braced himself as he locked the office behind them.
When he heard the front door open, he heard his sister squeal like a teenager.
“Heather Finley!” she shouted, stepping into the lounge area in a jingle of bracelets and beads. Even her earrings were decorated with tiny crystals. “So good to see you again!”
“Gabriella?” Heather said softly, perhaps confused what name to call her.
Zach nodded as Ellie reached behind her to close the door. Except that Sam barreled in right after her.
“Sorry, Zach,” he muttered. “I tried to keep her occupied.” Sam closed the outer door so the four of them were inside the Merchants Building alone.
“Too bad he refuses to occupy me the way I’d like to be distracted.” Ellie made a pretty pout at Sam, but he hardly noticed.
“Heather, my sister is back in town briefly in case we find out Megan Bryer’s stalker is the same guy who attacked Gabriella ten years ago.”
Heather’s jaw dropped, her expression stunned before she shook her head and refocused.
“And we call her Gabriella?” she clarified.
“Definitely.” Sam pulled off his aviator shades now that they were indoors. He pr
owled around the room, checking the blinds and making sure the windows were locked. “Everyone in this town knows her by her birth name. We’ll have a better chance of her stalker contacting her if we all call her Gabriella. Plus, it will keep her West Coast identity more secure.”
Zach had several choice words to say about that, since he considered her security well and truly compromised now that she’d come here. He would not debate it with Ellie for the tenth time, though. Not in front of Heather, when he didn’t have much time left with her.
“I was under the impression that Megan’s ex-boyfriend was hassling her?” Heather combed through her hair with her fingers, making him realize how tousled she looked.
And beautiful.
And how much he wanted her again.
“Did she tell you that?” Zach asked, frustrated with how hard it had been to draw information from Megan.
She’d finally started cooperating with one of Sam’s deputies, but she’d been so embarrassed about the social media page that she had refused to discuss it with her father, slowing down the law enforcement response.
“No.” Heather’s cheeks changed to a deeper shade of pink, reminding him how she’d looked just a little while ago when he’d been deep inside her. “That’s the consensus of the Heartache rumor mill as related at the Tastee-Freez on Saturday night.”
“Have you seen her since the news came out?” Ellie asked, sliding a purple crystal pendant back and forth along a silver chain. She settled onto a lopsided futon in the lounge area.
Heather shook her head. “No. But I’ve heard she’s still working her hours at the Owl’s Roost and going to school, so she hasn’t been hiding.”
“That’s good.” Ellie nodded, but Zach knew his sister well enough to know she didn’t think it meant much. “But I head up a bullying victims’ support group online, and I’ve seen a lot of people go through the motions of everyday life while they’re growing more and more depressed. It always helps if girls in these situations have friends and mentors checking on them.”
