by Judy Duarte
And as happy and relieved as she’d been to see that officer arrive, she’d also been mortified. She’d quickly adjusted her bra and straightened her blouse.
“Did the cop take you home?” Zack asked.
“No, but he followed us to my house.”
“Did your dad ever find out?”
“No, thank God. He would have killed me. And Travis, too.”
“Did you ever go out with that guy again?”
“No way. When the police officer drove off, Travis tried to talk me into partying with him and a couple of friends at a pool hall on the outskirts of town.”
“Did you go?”
She shook her head. “No. By that time, I was afraid of him. And I was so disappointed that the evening hadn’t turned out the way I’d expected, that he hadn’t turned out to be the hero I’d imagined, I refused to go.”
“It pissed him off, didn’t it?”
“How did you know?”
“Some guys don’t know how to treat a lady.”
Did Zack know how?
Something told her he did. And so did his resentment at being compared to a teenage hoodlum.
“Before he left, Travis swore at me again and called me a little tease—among other things. Then he tore off on that motorcycle like the demons of hell were on his tail.”
She’d never forget the way his rear tire had spun, as he sped away from her house, leaving her in the dust.
“You were lucky to be rid of him.”
She nodded in total agreement. “The next day I found out that while he and his buddies were at the pool hall, they’d gotten involved in a drunken brawl that turned violent. Travis was later convicted and sentenced to six months in jail.”
Zack tensed again, and his eye twitched.
Had he found fault with her teenage rebellion? Peter would have, which is why she’d never told him. But the fact that Zack might have judged her hurt in a way she hadn’t expected.
For a young woman who’d never been in trouble before, Diana realized how close she’d come to ruining her reputation and possibly her life.
“For weeks I walked on eggshells, afraid my father would find out I’d been with Travis, that I could have been at the pool hall when the fight broke out.” She blew out a shaky breath. “My dad was pretty demanding, even when I toed the mark. He would have completely blown his top if he’d learned what I’d done.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Zack said, as though he understood her need to absolve herself of the guilt she still carried.
“I snuck out of the house when I should have been watching my brother. I kissed a guy who didn’t respect me. And for goodness sake, if that policeman hadn’t shown up…”
But the officer had arrived in the nick of time, thank God. And for some reason—a whole lot of prayer and some divine intervention, most likely—her father had never found out.
“After that, I swore never to get involved with a guy like that again. And I didn’t.”
It had been a vow that had led to her marriage to Peter—another disappointment that left her feeling guilty. But that was a story she wouldn’t go into.
“So there you have it. My guilty secret is out.” She pushed her chair away from the table, stood and began picking up the dishes.
“Here, let me help.” Zack reached for a glass and his hand brushed against hers. A shimmy of heat surged though his bloodstream, kicking his heart into overdrive.
Diana must have felt something, too, because she froze, her gaze locking on his. Something strong—and intimidating—passed between them. Something they had no business messing around with.
If she knew that he’d been a guy just like Travis—a hard-ass who’d landed in prison—would she be feeling the same attraction?
Of course, unlike Travis, Zack would have respected her. He wouldn’t have laughed and called her a tease, just because she’d had a flash of conscience and a change of heart.
Nope. Even in his hell-bent, hormone-charged adolescence, he would have respected a girl like her.
She ran her tongue along the bottom of her lip—a nervous gesture, no doubt.
Did she have any idea how sexy it was? How it taunted him to touch her? To shove aside his common sense and what few manners he had and press her for a kiss?
His attraction soared into the danger zone, in spite of him knowing better, of knowing she deserved so much more than an ex-con like him.
Just how much of a rebel was he?
Or, better yet, how rehabilitated was he?
Let it go, Henderson.
Walk away.
Laugh it off.
But in spite of a spark of conscience, he lifted a hand and cupped her jaw. Brushed his thumb across the soft skin of her cheek. “Travis was a fool, Diana. He didn’t have any idea what he held in the palm of his hand. What he could have had.”
She reached up and placed her fingers on his knuckles, as though holding on to his touch. “Thank you. But I was the fool.”
“You have nothing to be ashamed of, nothing to feel guilty about. Everyone makes mistakes, especially teenagers.” Then he brushed a kiss upon her cheek. “Thanks for dinner.”
He slowly lowered his hand and took a step back, making damn sure she remained out of reach. Yet her faint, feminine scent lingered for a moment, before disappearing in the night air.
“You’re welcome,” she said, her voice whisper soft.
Then he turned and walked away, leaving their plates on the table, leaving her on the patio.
It might not have been the polite thing to do—getting the hell out of Mayberry—but it had been the safest.
And the smartest.
Chapter Six
Long after the dishes had been done and the girls had gone to sleep, Diana lay alone in a double bed that had never before seemed so empty.
The old-fashioned alarm clock tick-tocked on the bureau, reminding her that morning was closing in on her, and she hadn’t slept a wink.
She rolled to the side, taking the blanket with her, then she plumped the pillow again. But she couldn’t seem to find a comfortable spot to rest her head.
Moonlight peered through the slats of the mini-blinds, illuminating the undisturbed side of the bed. For some stupid reason, she tugged at the spread, pulling it away from the unused pillow as though she weren’t lying all alone.
Now how dumb had that been? In the morning, it would take more time to make the bed.
She grumbled, then rolled toward the nightstand and the edge of the mattress. And away from the pillow that no one had slept on since she’d moved into the completely furnished house.
Then she kicked at the covers in frustration.
She knew what was bothering her, what was making it so difficult to drift into a peaceful slumber.
It was Zack and that kiss they’d almost shared earlier this evening.
She wasn’t sure exactly what had happened between them, out on the patio and away from the rest of the world. She’d told him something she’d never told anyone—not even her husband. And that brief moment of intimacy had forged some kind of bond between them.
When he’d cupped her cheek and gazed at her, she could have sworn he was going to kiss her.
But he hadn’t, and she’d almost been disappointed.
Almost?
Who was she trying to kid? She had been disappointed. And to make matters worse, she couldn’t help wondering why he’d held back.
Was he afraid of getting involved with a single mom?
That was possible.
Maybe he was afraid of commitment—not that she wanted one, mind you. But by his own admission, he hadn’t married the woman who’d had his child.
She climbed out of bed, flipped on the light and made her way to the kitchen for a glass of water.
It really didn’t matter why he hadn’t kissed her. He’d actually done her a favor. After all, she didn’t need to complicate her life by entering into an awkward relationship with a stranger.
And
Zack probably had his own reasons for not taking a step like that.
She pulled a glass from the cupboard, then turned on the faucet and watched the water run from the spigot to the sink and down the drain.
So why couldn’t she let the issue rest? Why not just close her eyes and go to sleep?
Maybe because she feared the dreams that would surely come, if she let down her guard.
Dreams of Zack’s smile, his touch.
And of a kiss that almost was.
By the time the rest of the Bayside Construction crew began working at Mariposa Glen, Becky and Jessie had approached Zack daily during lunch, offering him peanuts, raisins, cookies or whatever. Then they would come up with one reason or another for him to stop by after work.
And each time, the guys razzed him.
Zack had thought about eating lunch in his car, away from the men he worked with, yet he couldn’t bring himself to ignore the girls.
More than once, he wondered whether they’d actually been sabotaging things at their house. After all, how the hell could they have accidentally flushed a fuzzy slipper down the toilet?
Most of the time he’d tried to get out of the house or yard before Diana arrived home. It was the only way he could think of to avoid making dinner a habit, especially since the girls seemed compelled to keep feeding him.
So then why, at a quarter to six on a Tuesday morning, was he standing on Diana’s porch holding a brown paper grocery bag in the crook of his arm and ringing the bell?
For a moment, he had second thoughts. He briefly considered leaving the sack on the porch and taking off, but that would be the coward’s way out. So he shifted his weight to one leg and waited.
She answered the door, wearing a faded blue robe and sleep-tousled hair. Her lips parted, and her breath caught.
“I…uh…” Ah, hell. He dragged a hand through his hair. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
Didn’t she have to go to work? Hadn’t her alarm gone off yet?
“That’s all right. I need to get up.” She tried to smile, but a yawn caught her off guard.
She looked heart-stoppingly sweet and so damn appealing. More so in flannel and chenille than in the prim and proper clothing she wore to work. And he realized raw attraction was at work here. Something that made her appear real. Attainable.
He handed her the bag. “Here. This is for you.”
“What is it?”
A care package, he guessed. “A pot roast, a pound of hamburger, a loaf of bread. A package of chocolate chip cookies. Snacks for the girls.”
“I don’t understand.” She held the sack in front of her, like a shield of some kind.
“It’s to repay you for fixing me dinner the past few nights.”
“This isn’t necessary. Really.”
“Yeah, it is. I’m not a mooch.”
She glanced at the bag again, then looked up at him with those emerald eyes. “I can’t take this.”
“You’re going to have to. I can’t keep it in my car all day long.” He flashed her a crooked grin. “It’ll rot.”
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, leaving him a glimpse of a long, slender neck made for nuzzling and kissing.
It hadn’t been a good idea to come here. But he paid his own way. He always had.
She peered inside the bag. “Oh, my gosh. That pot roast is big enough to feed an army.”
“Maybe you can cut it in two and freeze part of it?”
“No, I’ll just ask Megan to throw it in the oven this afternoon. That way, it will be ready about the time you and I get off work.”
“That’s not why I brought it to you.”
She slid him a pretty smile. “I’ll be home about four-thirty this evening.”
That really hadn’t been his intention. He was skating around those awkward dinners. But he couldn’t seem to come up with a reason why he shouldn’t accept the invitation—one she’d made without the girls prompting her.
Then an idea struck. One that meant she wouldn’t have to cook for him.
“Why don’t you save the roast for another time. I’ll come by after work and take you guys to Burger Bob’s instead.”
She fiddled with the frayed lapel of her robe, her fingers delicate, nails unpolished but filed neatly. Her expressive gaze nearly turned him inside out and shook the stuffing out of him. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I know. But the girls might enjoy getting out and doing something different.”
My…budget is a bit tight right now.” She offered him a wistful smile. “Maybe next week?”
“This is my treat. I owe you, remember?”
She glanced at the bag of groceries. “I thought this was the payback.”
He shrugged. “That and a couple of hamburgers at Bob’s. What do you say?”
“What time do you want to go?”
“How about six?” That would give him time to shower and change clothes. She’d never seen him when he wasn’t dirty and dusty.
And for some dumb reason, what she saw mattered.
It had been ages since Diana had stewed over what to wear anywhere, let alone a burger place that catered to families with children. But stew was what she’d done from the moment she’d gotten home from work.
At a quarter to six, she finally settled on a pair of blue jeans and a white cotton blouse. This wasn’t a date, for goodness sake.
She slipped into the pants, realizing they were a bit tighter than she remembered. She wasn’t sure why she’d bought them during that closeout sale. Maybe because they made her feel pretty.
They fit stylishly snug and low at the hips. If she were a younger woman on the prowl, it wouldn’t be a problem, but now, as she prepared to face Zack, a case of buyer’s remorse settled over her. Oh, she still felt pretty when she glanced into the mirror, but she also felt sexy, which is why she almost changed her mind about wearing the jeans.
Then she scolded herself for being so self-conscious. It wasn’t as though she and Zack were going somewhere alone. They were taking the girls to a fast-food restaurant, for goodness sake, a come-as-you-are sort of place.
But as she put on the blouse, her fingers stumbled with the buttons. Should she leave the top couple undone? It actually looked better that way. More casual. More relaxed.
She dressed pretty conservatively for work. But this was different. What would it hurt to let her hair down, now that she was off the clock?
And speaking of hair, she’d fussed with that, too, sweeping it up, which had seemed too sophisticated. Then she’d pulled it into a ponytail, which was too young and playful. So she’d finally decided to let it hang loose on her shoulders—like a typical soccer mom might.
The girls had been thrilled that Zack had invited them to Burger Bob’s. But not just because going out, even for fast food, was a real treat. Or because the burger joint had a big, colorful indoor climbing structure.
For some reason, they were especially excited about riding in Zack’s car. The old Camaro didn’t look much better than Diana’s Plymouth on the outside. And even though it was considered a vintage model, she doubted that the girls saw the value in that.
Maybe they merely thought the world of Zack.
“Mom, he’s here!” Becky called from the living room.
“I’ll be out in a minute,” Diana responded, before glancing one last time in the bathroom mirror and swiping her finger against a black speckle of mascara that rested under her eye.
Then she grabbed the bottle of pear-and-melon lotion from the counter, nearly knocking it into the sink.
She scolded herself for being so nervous. Tonight was no big deal. Just burgers and fries. A low-key outing with the kids, that’s all. And that’s all she wanted it to be.
So why on earth did it feel like a date?
She quickly squeezed a dollop of the creamy lotion into her hands and rubbed it into her skin. After taking a deep, calming breath, she left the bathroom and headed for the living room, where she spott
ed Zack before he caught sight of her.
He wore a pair of black jeans and a gray T-shirt—both looked new. His hair was still damp from the shower.
When he realized she’d entered the room, he shot her a one-dimpled grin that sent her heart cartwheeling through her chest.
His gaze caressed her, as a warm glimmer in his eyes suggested that he appreciated her efforts to find just the right thing to wear.
Had he dressed with her in mind, too? She couldn’t help wishing he had, as crazy as that was.
She ran her moist hands—from the lotion she’d used, and surely not from nerves—over her denim-clad hips. For a moment, a sexually charged silence settled over them. Or over her, anyway.
“Hey.” His square-cut jaw bobbed up in a greeting. “You sure look nice in that.”
Pride and nerves tangled in her throat, making it difficult to respond without falling all over herself and acting goofy.
“Thanks.” She glanced down at her pants. “It’s just a pair of jeans.”
“They look great.”
Somehow, she got the feeling he was talking about the fit. And she had a sudden urge to run back to her room and put on a pair of sweatpants. She hadn’t meant to dress in a way that would entice him. Well, not so that he’d suspect she’d done it on purpose.
“Thanks for taking us to dinner tonight,” Becky said, relieving some of Diana’s self-inflicted pressure. “Jessie and I love Burger Bob’s.”
“That’s what I figured,” Zack told the girl.
“I’m really, really hungry,” Jessie said. “When do we get to go?”
“If it’s okay with your mom,” Zack said, turning his attention back to Diana, “we can go now. I’ve been craving Bob’s Triple Beef and Bacon Burger all day.”
“That’s fine with me.” Diana reached for her purse and took out the keys. After they’d all stepped onto the porch and her daughters skipped along the sidewalk toward Zack’s car, she locked the house.
Zack stood by the passenger door, holding it open for her. And the fact that he’d done so nearly brought tears to her eyes. No one, not even Peter—back when they’d first dated—had done something so thoughtful, so polite.
She slid into the car, and when he’d made sure her legs were in, he closed the door.
