Screw it. He didn't need anybody.
Zach came awake with a start, frowning as he stared at the shadowy outlines of the furniture across the room. Shit . What was it with all this dreaming lately? He nipped over in irritation, only to bump up against Lily's lushly rounded butt. She murmured a protest, but promptly wiggled close to spoon her back against his front, and he wrapped an arm around her waist. Burying his face in her hair, he breathed in her scent.
It was strangely soothing—if you were into that sort of thing, which he wasn't. It never paid to get too involved, and clearly this sudden spate of dreams was a wake-up call, a reminder of the hollowness he'd felt for too many years as a youth. They were a warning that he could easily feel that way again if he let things get out of hand with the curvy little blonde nestled against him.
The dread of losing his sister had forged a quick intimacy with Lily similar to what he'd experienced as a soldier in combat situations. Now that Glynnis's kidnapping had turned out to be a false alarm, he felt almost giddy with relief. But that didn't mean he should jump into a more serious involvement with Lily. She was every bit the keeper Coop had called her. Zach just wouldn't be the one keeping her. She deserved better than to be short-changed that way. Love, at least of the romantic variety, had never been part of his makeup.
The only bonds he'd ever had that lasted beyond a week or two were with Glynnie and the Corp. And face it, except for Coop and lohn, even his brothers in arms had come and gone in his life. He simply didn't possess the stuff tight relationships were made of.
But when Lily uttered a little hum of contentment in her sleep, Zach's arm automatically tightened around her waist and he snugged her a little closer. He blew out an impatient breath. Aw, hell. Why was he inventing problems where none existed?
So he didn't have a knack for relationships. Big deal—not all things were intended for all people. But that didn't mean he wasn't entitled to a little fling. He and Lily were adults; they knew the score. The two of them shared an eyes-wide-open, you-scratch-my-itch-and-I'll-scratch-yours type of arrangement. The fact it wasn't permanent was tacitly understood.
That wasn't to say he didn't care about her, though. Because he did—to his amazement, he realized he cared quite a bit. Somehow, of all the crazy, unlikely things, they'd ended up friends. But that's all they were, a couple of good friends looking to have a little fun while they could.
Having settled that to his satisfaction, he wrapped himself more tightly around Lily and sighed with the contentment of having her in his arms. Then, letting go of everything else, he allowed sleep to suck him back into its depths.
Things would work out fine, he thought hazily just before he drifted off. The only way matters could possibly get screwed up between them was if one of them were to go and do something stupid like fall in love.
And that wasn't likely to happen. He wouldn't let it. Should their relationship ever show signs of getting too serious, he'd do what was best for both of them and cut it off. And hell, chances were, if he wasn't quick enough to do it himself, Lily would do it for him.
Because if there was one thing he could count on, it was that practical, levelheaded Lily would never go all foolish and romantic on him.
Chapter 23
LEVELHEADED WAS THE LAST THING LILY FELT the next evening as she followed the Compass Room host across Rosario Resort's most elegant dining room. She couldn't seem to stop smiling, and when she glanced over her shoulder and caught Zach eyeing the swing of her hips, she grinned even wider. She flashed him an I saw that wag of her eyebrows when his gaze lifted to meet hers, then quickly composed her features as the host stopped at a window table overlooking the bay and pulled out a chair. She thanked him as he seated her, then dismissed him from her mind in almost the same breath and leaned toward her date as he took his own seat across the linen-draped table.
Her date . She rolled the word around in her mind, jazzed right down to her pointy-toed, stiletto-heeled shoes that Zach had gone to the trouble of arranging this evening for them. She pushed aside the charger and plate in front of her and leaned toward him. Ordinarily, she'd be all agog to check out every aspect of the restaurant from its artfully folded linen napkins to the way the traffic flowed throughout the room. But tonight her professional goals weren't foremost on her mind, and she gazed at Zach's smooth-shaven countenance. "This," she sighed happily, "is so nice."
"Yeah, Jessica was sure you'd like it."
"Oh, well, yes. The restaurant, too." She planted her chin in her palm and her elbow on the table, and gazed dreamily past the small vase of fresh yellow rosebuds at the man sitting so straight and tall across the table. "But I meant this." She indicated the two of them. "You and me—having an honest-to-gosh date. We've sort of gone about this relationship backwards."
A look of what in any other guy she might have termed alarm flashed across his face. But his expression just as quickly cleared, and since he was hardly the type to panic regardless of the cause—let alone show it—she decided it must have been a trick of light from the tiny lamp next to the roses. A deduction that seemed validated by the easy shrug he gave her.
"You've been cooking up a storm and handling all the KP since we got here." He flashed her a smile that was all gleaming white teeth. "And with the missing-link Ernestine back in the kitchen now that Darling David's been restored to the throne, I thought it was time to give you a break. You've waited on everyone else. Let someone wait on you for a change."
So it wasn't poetry. She didn't care. It was the kind of autocratic-protective thing he usually reserved for Glynnis, his I-take-care-of-what's-mine attitude, and she gave him a crooked smile. "Works for me."
He sprawled back in his chair and gazed at her, his eyes roaming to the hint of cleavage that showed above her scooped neckline before raising to meet her own. He gave her a lazy, carnal smile, and when she felt his big feet encroaching on her territory under the table, she deftly unbuckled the ankle strap on her right shoe, slipped the pump off, and ran her toe up beneath the cuff of his slacks. Stroking him from ankle to shin, she enjoyed seeing his eyes darken, and continued to tease him even after the waitress arrived with the menus. The minute the young woman had taken their drink order and left, Zach leaned forward.
"You're playing with fire there, honey chile."
"Um-hmm." She stropped her toe up and down, up and down. "Don'tcha just love fires? They make a person feel so nice and"—she dropped her voice to a breathy murmur—"hot."
"Keep it up and I'll show you hot." His voice was a deep rasp that licked its way down her spine. "Right here on the table, in front of all these fine folk."
She made a moue but slid her foot out from under his pant leg and worked it back into her shoe. "Party pooper."
"Hey, I'm just trying to spare the other diners' sensibilities."
"Yeah, right." A laugh purled out of her throat. "I could tell that by your proposed demonstration on the tabletop."
"Honey, I've got a pole tenting the front of my trousers large enough to support a Big Top. The fire alarm goes off because of all this heat you're generating, and I'm going to give that blue-haired lady over there a heart attack."
Lily grinned. "Maybe. But it'd be from sheer envy."
The waitress returned with Zach's beer and her Chardonnay and offered to take their orders. Flushed by the sheer amount of raw sexuality she'd sparked, Lily hurriedly picked up her menu and made her selection. When the young woman departed, she made a conscious effort to dial back the tension by turning the conversation to less inflammatory matters.
Zach gave her a knowing smile, but fell in with the subject change. Over salads he challenged her to describe her ideal restaurant. Absorbed in trying to relate all her ideas, it wasn't until a seaplane's arrival in the harbor made hearing momentarily difficult that she realized she'd dominated the conversation throughout most of the meal. As the plane cut back its engines and taxied to the dock, she waved her fork and gave Zach a crooked smile.
; "My, how I do go on. So now it's my turn to eat and your turn to talk. You said you're on leave." She sliced off a bite of salmon and studied him across the table. "What happens when you go back? Are you immediately off on an exotic new adventure?"
For just a second he stilled. Then his shoulders shifted in the faintest of shrugs. "Funny you should ask. I've been trying to decide that very thing."
"Whether or not you'll be sent on another mission?"
"No, what happens to my career when I go back." He pushed his plate away and leaned toward her. "You see, I've got two years left in the service, and I always thought I'd spend them the same way I spent the first eighteen. But lately a couple of my COs have been agitating for me to give up field work."
She studied him for a moment. "I'm guessing that doesn't sit too well with you. Do you love it that much?"
"Yes!" Then he frowned. "Well, no—not really. I mean, it's a lot more exhausting and not as much fun as it used to be. But it's what I know—and what I'm good at it. And it's not frigging teaching !'
He sounded so affronted by the idea, she had to grab her chair to keep from climbing straight over the table to give him a great big hug. "Is that what they're suggesting you do instead?" At his terse nod, she loosened her grip on the seat in order to reach across the space separating them, touching gentle fingertips to the big hand fisted around his napkin. "This is not something you care to do, I gather."
"Are you kidding, Lily? Can you honestly see me as anyone's instructor?"
"Well… yes. Actually, I can." When he stared at her as if she were certifiable, she stroked the white knuckles beneath her fingers. "Zach, isn't that already part of what you do now? I mean, I know it's much more seat-of-the-pants and dangerous than any classroom situation could ever be. But you said your men are mostly in their late teens and early twenties—I would think dealing with that age group day in and day out must be an ongoing teaching process. I can't honestly envision you lecturing from behind a podium. But if you're talking about teaching practical application of the things they've learned in a class in more reality-based settings, then I can definitely see you doing that."
He looked startled. But he also looked thoughtful, and to her satisfaction his knuckles stopped displaying so much bone as his fingers relaxed beneath her hand.
He sat back in his chair and simply stared at her for a moment. Then he turned his hand beneath hers and enfolded her fingers in his warm grasp. Looking down, he seemed fascinated by the sight of his thumb smoothing over the back of her hand. "I think you're the one who'd make a good teacher," he said to the skin beneath his rough-tipped fingers. "I don't think it's escaped anyone's attention the way you transformed Jessica."
It was Lily's turn to be startled. "Oh, no. Really. I mean, we talked, of course, but Jess did all the work herself."
"Thanks to some major guidance and motivation from you." His pale, charcoal-rimmed eyes rose to pin her in place. "I don't think I've ever met anyone as patient or nice as you are."
" Oh . Oh, Zach." Her insides melted. She'd known since first realizing the depth of her feelings for him that sooner or later she'd slip and give them away. But she had always suspected it would be the mind-frying sex they shared that would undermine her defenses. Never once had she dreamed that hearing him call her nice while they were both fully clothed might be the agent to bring all her walls tumbling down. Yet her entire body yearned toward him as she felt every safeguard she'd ever placed on her heart crumble to dust. She squeezed the fingers wrapped around hers. "Oh, gawd, Zach. I am so in love with you."
His entire body stilled. "Yeah?" The tilt of his mouth looked pleasantly amused, but his eyes were suddenly guarded. "Well, if a little compliment like that floats your boat, I can hardly wait to see what kind of reaction dessert gets." His hand slid out from under hers, and he leaned back in his chair. Way back.
For about two seconds she was tempted to just let it go. She knew that's what he wanted—to pretend the elephant hadn't entered the room with them. But when she looked from her now-empty hand curled limply in the middle of the linen tablecloth to the man leaning as far away from her as he could get and still remain at the same table, she felt something cool trickle through the warm fuzzies she'd been immersed in all evening. And she knew she couldn't let it go—not after having just bared her soul. "Okay," she said slowly. "Not exactly the reaction I'd hoped for."
For a moment he looked downright panicked, but then he straightened, his face wiped free of all emotion. "What do you want me to say, Lily—that I love you, too; let's start looking for a rose-covered cottage?"
She kept her expression every bit as neutral as his while the cool trickle turned to an icy torrent. "Yes. I can't think of anything I'd rather hear."
"I'm sorry, but I can't. I don't do love."
Oh boy , did she disagree, but she merely said, "You do a first-class imitation of it, then."
"It's a pipedream, Lily—a concept invented by greeting card companies. There's lust, and like, and excitement, and that's no doubt what you feel too." Crossing his arms over his chest, he gave her an authoritative look. "Trust me. You're not in love with me."
Unfortunately, she was. But she didn't particularly like him right this minute. "And what makes you such an authority on how I feel?"
"Common sense." His arms dropped away from his chest and he leaned forward earnestly. "Look, you and I are really… compatible… in some ways. But in the long run we're interested in different things."
"That's funny, because despite the obvious differences between us, I could have sworn we had more in common than not. So what is it that interests me that scares you so much?"
"Opening the restaurant you've been saving a lifetime to buy, for starters. And it doesn't scare me. I'm just pointing out that you're ready to settle down in one place—and I'm in an occupation that has me constantly on the move."
"Yes, for two more years. That's nothing compared to how long I've already waited." But nausea roiled in her stomach at the look on his face. "I can see, though, that the last thing you want to hear is that I'm willing to postpone opening my place until you're out of the service." A chill raised the flesh on her arms and she rubbed her hands up and down them. "Gawd, this is almost funny. Not that long ago, I would have thought following a soldier around the country was the last thing I'd be willing to do too. But then I went and fell in love with you. I think we could have a phenomenal future together. You obviously don't feel the same." He didn't deny it, and she died just a little. "You said we're really compatible in some ways. You want to define what those are?"
He merely looked at her and the sickness increased. " Sexually" ? That's all I mean to you? Someone to fuck?"
He jerked. "Jesus, Lily. Don't talk like that."
A crack of bitter laughter escaped her. "Oh. That's beautiful. You virtually tell me it's all you want from me, but I shouldn't say the word?"
"That's not what I meant. I've just never heard you swear." He shook his head impatiently. "But that's not important. You're not just someone to fuck—we're friends, you and I."
"But only as long as we're in the sack, apparently. Or—what? Were you thinking that when you've had your fill of me sexually, we oughtta get together every now and then for a beer?" Her voice wobbled embarrassingly on the last word and, feeling tears rising perilously near the surface, she shoved back from the table and snatched up her purse. "Excuse me. I've got to use the restroom."
He was hot on her heels when she pushed open the door of the ladies' room a moment later, but she turned with her hand on the knob to stare up at him. "Do you mind?" she asked. "If you're truly my friend , you'll give me a moment of privacy."
Dark brows gathering like thunderclouds over his nose, he stared down at her as if he had X-ray vision that would get to the truth of her emotions. But she refused him access to her thoughts, and with a sound of frustration he turned on his heel and stalked back to the hotel dining room.
She rushed to the restroom sink.
Her dinner stayed down, but barely, and every time she thought of the way he'd said they were friends when he obviously believed their only real compatibility was in bed, the gorge rose anew. Standing with her hands braced on the counter-top, and her head hanging low, she drew deep, steadying breaths and fought it down.
Finally, she raised her head and looked at her reflection in the mirror. When they'd arrived here this evening, she'd felt treasured and pretty. Now she thought she looked like a woman men only wanted for one thing, and she turned away from the sight. How on earth had she gone from Princess of the Night to Queen Slut in the space of so few heartbeats?
When she felt her composure was about as good as it was going to get, she walked out of the restroom and looked toward the dining room. Then she turned in the opposite direction and headed for the resort's front door.
The air was soft when she stepped outside and, had she not been wearing shoes so impractical as to make the notion laughable, she might have been tempted simply to start walking back to the Beaumonts'. Alternately, she wished for a moment, as she stared out over the parking lot, that her skills ran to hot-wiring cars. It would serve Zach right if she took the Jeep and left him high and dry.
But, no. Vindictiveness was all very warming to contemplate, but more often than not it only ended up biting the butt of the person who harbored it. Besides, running away was immature and ultimately wouldn't solve a darn thing. So she'd take a loop or two around the hotel to get her emotions in check. Then she might as well resign herself to heading back inside to face Zach like an adult.
Sometimes, though, being a grown-up bit.
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