Zander_Heroes at Heart

by Maryann Jordan

  Lifting his hand in protest, Pete argued, “I get it, Zan. I do. But we’ve got nothing to go on. What you’re telling me is good information and I promise to contact the manager of the restaurant to see if there is an employee who can give us more details about the man. However, right now, we don’t even have a photo of him to circulate. His description is too vague, even by you, to come up with more than a drawing of what he looks like.”

  “So, we’ve got nothin’,” Zander bit out.

  “We have the DNA from underneath Rosalie’s fingernails from the attack, but it doesn’t tell us who the assailant was. If we get someone, we can nail him with that, but it doesn’t lead us to anyone now.”

  “What if he’s still after her? What if he’s out there watching her right now?”

  “If he is, then he’s not making a show of it. The hospital reported that no one asked about her and they were on alert, since they knew she was a Jane Doe. When that happens, the hospital personnel are trained to be on alert if anyone calls in with a description that matches their Jane Doe. That’s often how they identify an accident patient who comes in with no identification—a relative or friend calls and starts describing the person with enough detail for there to be a tentative match, which is then verified.”

  Leaning back with a huff, Zander shook his head. “I thought it was just a guy with anger issues who had too much to drink, got rebuffed so he went ape-shit and attacked her. I never thought about it being someone who might have been after her.” Scrubbing his hand over his neck, he added, “I just feel like she’s a sitting duck.”

  “She with you most of the time?”

  “I’ve got her at my apartment…” Seeing Pete’s lifted brow, he added, “She’s in the guest room.”

  Throwing his hands up, Pete defended, “Hey, I know you’re a good man. But, I also know she looks at you like you’re the only man on earth.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t mind something happening, but only when the time is right. So, for now, I’m giving her a safe place to continue to heal.”

  Walking into his apartment that evening after visiting the police station, he smiled at Rosalie before his eyes slid to Jaxon, offering his friend a chin lift.

  “Jaxon came by and I told him I didn’t think you’d be too much longer,” she said, standing at the oven, pulling out a large pan of lasagna. “Look what Miss Ethel sent over.” Setting the pan on a folded dishrag on the counter, she invited, “Jaxon, will you stay and eat with us tonight?”

  “No thanks,” he replied affably, standing to leave.

  Rosalie cocked her head to the side, considering him carefully. “But I thought you needed to talk to Zander?”

  Blinking rapidly, he nodded. “Yeah…uh…yeah. It’s about his truck.” Shooting a glance at Zander, he said, “Can I take a look at it now?”

  “Sure,” he agreed, then turned to her. “Be right back.”

  Zander walked with Jaxon down the stairs, pausing at the bottom. “Thanks for coming, man.”

  “No problem, Zander. What did Pete say?”

  “Still a big, fat nothin’. We’ve got no picture, not from the night of the attack nor from the restaurant where she used to work. The description sounds like the same man, but who the hell knows.”

  Jaxon glanced up toward the apartment. “What are you going to do? I mean, me and the guys have no problem dropping by and checking on her when you’re out and you know Miss Ethel would love to have her around, but you can’t keep her locked in an ivory tower forever.”

  Blowing out his breath, he nodded his agreement.

  “And when you’re at work half the night?”

  “I don’t know. Hell, I’m flying by the seat of my pants, here. I’ve got no fuckin’ idea what I’m doing, other than I want her in my life and will die trying to protect her.”

  Slapping him on the shoulder, Jaxon said, “Well, let’s not have it come down to that. Go on and get your supper. Miss Ethel wanted to send something, so you know it’s good. She’d like a visit soon, you know.”

  “Rosalie got her security deposit back from her last rental, so I’m taking her to the bank tomorrow so she can get back into her account. We’ll stop by afterward.”

  Waving Jaxon off, he headed back up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

  Zander looked across the small table, seeing a small dab of sauce on the corner of Rosalie’s mouth. As her tongue darted out to lick it off, he shifted uncomfortably in his chair at the familiar hard-on he was constantly trying to hide.

  Rosalie looked over, noting Zander’s eyes were on her lips. Lifting her napkin, she wiped her mouth. “Do I have more sauce on my mouth?”

  Blinking, his gaze jumped from her lips to her eyes, widely staring back at him. Clearing his throat, he said, “No, no. Sorry…must have had my mind somewhere else.”

  “Oh,” she said, chastising herself for wishing his mind was on her.

  Standing, they reached for the platter at the same time, their hands touching, sending a tingle zipping up her arm. From his quick intake of breath, she wondered if he felt it too.

  Insisting she sit down while he cleaned, she sat on the sofa, watching as he finished washing the plates and putting the lasagna leftovers in the refrigerator. His body moved with a natural grace she admired. His black t-shirt strained over the muscles in his chest and the sleeves were tight against his arms. The ink on his left arm only accentuated his tone and her eyes followed his every move. His hair, shorter on the sides, looked like he casually ran his hands through the top, leaving it messy and oh, so sexy. Suddenly, he tossed the dishrag on the counter and turned around to face her. His light-colored eyes landed on hers, causing her breath to catch in her throat.

  “You keep staring at me like that and…” he drifted off, his voice like gravel.

  “And what?” She stood, taking a step toward him, wondering what she was doing.

  Stalking around the corner, Zander headed toward her, stopping a few feet from her. Not letting go of her gaze, he battled the desire to take her in his arms. “Rosalie, I’m trying to do the right thing here. I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

  “Take advantage? You’ve cared for me since we first met.”

  “You’ve been injured,” he added, his hand twitching at his hips, longing to reach out and touch her.

  “My injuries are healing. I feel fine.”

  Sucking in a deep breath before letting it out slowly, he said, “You don’t have all of your memories back.”

  “We know I’m not involved with anyone.” She took a small step forward, stopping with her bare toes right in front of his socked feet, her head tilted back to peer into his face. Placing her hands on his warm chest, she said, “I want you. I want this.”

  Her hands seared his skin as he let go of his last inhibitions. Lifting her up by her waist, her legs wrapped around his hips, her body pressing tightly against his. The feel of her in his arms was the last puzzle piece falling into place. It was right…and right where he wanted her to be. Her hair, like silk, flowed over his arms and he lifted one hand to thread his fingers through the tresses.

  His mouth slanted onto hers, molding their lips together, sucking, nipping, tasting. The evidence of his need was pressed against her core and she moaned into his mouth. The sound reverberated through him, making all thoughts of slowing things down almost impossible.

  Carrying her down the hall, he entered his bedroom, maneuvering their bodies so they were both lying on the bed, she on top of him. Lips still attached, he slid his hands to her ass, molding the flesh with his fingers.

  Sliding up on her knees, Rosalie straddled his hips, her hands on his hard chest, her breathing ragged. Staring down at his face, his eyes pierced into hers and he opened his mouth to speak. Knowing he was about to say they should stop, she pressed her fingers against his lips, stilling them. His eyes widened as she reached to the bottom of her t-shirt and pulled it up slowly over her head.

  Zander watched as the pale skin
of her stomach was exposed and the material snagged for a second at the bottom of her breasts. With a deft move, she sent the material over her head and down onto the floor. Wearing a simple, white cotton bra, his gaze focused momentarily on her full breasts before sliding upward, latching once more on her face.

  Rosalie reached back, unfastening her bra, letting it slide down her arms. Dropping it to the side, she suddenly became unsure, crossing her arms over her breasts.

  Reaching up, he gently pulled her arms away, saying, “You’re so beautiful. Please don’t feel embarrassed. If anyone should be embarrassed, it’s me. You’re way too beautiful to be with me.”

  A giggle slipped out as she rolled her eyes. “That’s ridiculous. You? Mr. Gorgeous, muscles, tattoos, and kind heart and—”

  “Now who’s being ridiculous?” he grinned.

  Sucking in her lips as the pleasure of his hands gliding over her breasts threatened to take away all thought, she whispered, “Maybe we’re just perfect for each other.”

  With a deft maneuver, Zander rolled them over, looming above her, his penetrating gaze roaming over her face. “Can’t think of anything better anyone’s ever said to me. To be someone’s perfect.” Leaning down, he kissed her lips, slow and sweet, savoring every taste.

  Finally, dragging himself off the bed, he stood, sliding her pants down her legs, taking her white panties with them. Peering down at her, stunned that she was in his bed, giving herself to him, he wondered if it were a dream.

  “Perfect,” he agreed. “You’re my perfect.”

  He grabbed the back of his t-shirt and pulled it over his head. His hands went to his jeans, unbuttoning them as quickly as he could.

  As he shucked his jeans, Rosalie’s eyes traveled down from his wide shoulders to his naked chest. A tattoo was inked from his left shoulder, extending down his arm, the flowers and patterns creating a mesmerizing piece of art. She could not wait to trace the intricate design with her fingers, memorizing it as she went. He was powerfully built with thick chest muscles, chiseled abs, and a tight stomach that ended in a perfect V that traveled downwards. By the time her eyes had moved to the end of the V, his jeans and boxers were off and her eyes feasted on his cock. Blowing out her breath, nerves threatened to overwhelm her.

  I don’t know if I’ve had sex…or with whom…or how many—

  “Whoa, come back to me,” he said gently, seeing the panic in her eyes. “We don’t have to do anything but just lay here and hold each other. And we can do that dressed, if it would make you more comfortable.” He bent over to snag his jeans off the floor, but she leaned up on her elbows and stopped him.

  “No, no,” she protested. “I don’t want to stop. I just got scared.” He moved to sit next to her on the bed, rubbing his large hand over her leg. Soothed by the motion, she continued, “I don’t know when the last time I had sex was. Or if I’ve had sex. Or who—”

  “Shhh, it’s all right,” Zander nodded, her expression searing him. She looked so lost. “I hadn’t thought about how this would seem to you. Are you sure you want to go ahead?” Gaining her enthusiastic smile, he said, “Okay, here’s what we’ll do. We’ll go slow…we’ll go easy. If at any time you feel uncomfortable, you just tell me. Part of our being perfect together means that even stopping will be perfect.”

  He saw the second of hesitation and made the decision for her. Maneuvering her gently, he pulled the covers down before tucking them both into bed.

  Curling his body around hers, he whispered, “Sleep, babe. That’s all we need to do tonight…just sleep in each other’s arms.”

  He heard a long sigh, but she did not protest. With her pressed against him, he felt her body become heavy as sleep claimed her. The light from the hall created a halo of blonde, silken hair, sifting through his fingers as Rosalie lay with her head on his chest. His heart full, Zander tucked her closer as his hand drifted near the scar running at the edge of her hairline. A flash of memory came to him, reminding him of what she looked like when he first found her…battered, lying in the dirt. Closing his eyes, he willed the remembrance away, focusing instead on the soft breath caressing his chest and her small hand resting on his stomach.

  Not sorry they stopped, he strengthened his resolve to take care of her, in all ways. Tucking the covers up higher around her shoulders, he drifted to sleep, a smile on his lips.

  23

  A porch swing. A front porch swing…Mom and I would sit, swing, and sing songs as we waited for Dad to come home. Cookies on the counter when I got home from school. My dad teaching me to ride my bike when I was six years old. My parents reading fairy tales to me when it was time for bed, in a bedroom decorated in pastels like a fairy castle. Holding Mom’s hand while standing in the cemetery, wondering who would slay my dragons now. Mom and I sitting on the porch swing, no longer singing, but just talking…holding on to memories. Professor Mullins telling me I had a gift for understanding and loving literature. Pure imagination. A phone call…this time leading to standing alone in a cemetery. It’s up to me to slay my dragons.

  Now the way is dark, lost and I’m running but my feet feel like lead. I turn to look behind me and can see the fiery breath as it blasts all around. The sound, like thunder, crashes and I can feel the ground shake. It’s coming…coming for me. Suddenly, the dragon is almost upon me. I open my mouth to scream, but nothing comes out. Ahhhhh—

  “Rosalie. Rosalie. Wake up.”

  Blinking, she sat up quickly, bumping her head on something, her arms and legs flailing out as she tried to escape. “No, no!” she screamed, fighting the invisible danger.

  “Rosalie, babe. Wake up,” Zander called, shifting quickly to throw off the sheet, untangling her legs. Grabbing her shoulders, he lowered his face directly in front of hers, chanting, “It’s okay, I’m here. You’re okay, I’m here.”

  Her wild eyes slowly focused on his, her chest heaving as she sucked in great gulps of air. Her hand grasped his shoulders in return, her fingers digging into the muscles. Understanding flowed over her and tears filled her eyes.

  “Zander,” she cried, falling forward, planting her face into his chest.

  “Babe, shhh, babe, I’ve got you,” he soothed, feeling her body shivering. Uncertain if it was from fright or cold, he reached back, snagging a hoodie sweatshirt he had tossed on the floor. Managing to slide it over her head, he maneuvered her arms through with difficulty as she clung to him. Once she was partially covered, he leaned back against the pillows, pulling her with him, before grabbing the covers.

  Rosalie felt the iciness slowly subside as he cocooned her in his embrace. She felt the warmth from his hand as it moved up and down her back, the motion bringing a modicum of peace. Leaning back, she turned her gaze to his, seeing no condemnation in his eyes.

  “Nightmare?” he asked, still rubbing her back.

  Nodding, she worked to steady her breathing. “Yeah…I remembered my parents. Not everything but, a lot.”

  “Tell me,” he encouraged.

  She rested her weight on him, her cheek against his heartbeat, drawing strength from him. Allowing her mind to drift back, she said, “My mom used to have homemade cookies for me when I got home from school. She taught kindergarten in a private school and it was only half-day, so she was always there for me. We had a front porch swing…God, I loved that swing. My dad used to read me bedtime stories…fairy tales when I was little. He taught English Literature at the local college, but I never knew much about that since he died when I was young.”

  Sighing, she remained quiet for a moment, her fingers splaying on his chest. He was about to prompt her for more memories, but she began to speak again.

  “I remember my dad’s funeral. Not too much about it…just standing there with Mom. I remember hearing her cry at night in her bedroom when I was supposed to be asleep. When I got older, I understood they shared one of those amazing loves…the kind that lasts through all time. I remember living at home my first year of college, just so Mom wouldn’t be al
one. But when she died, I couldn’t bear to be in the house any longer. I sold it and put the money in my bank account, using some to pay for college and some just to save for the future.”

  Looking up, she pierced him with her big, blue eyes, holding him captive.

  “You know what? I remember that when I was little, I thought my dad could slay all my dragons. But then, when he died, I knew I would have to slay them myself.”

  “Babe, listening to your former friends yesterday confirmed what I already knew. You’re smart, driven, hard-working, dedicated, independent—”

  “I haven’t been very independent since meeting you.”

  Sitting up, with her still in his arms, he said, “Rosalie, just because you were hurt, doesn’t mean you’re not independent. It just means you needed some help. You had a life full of friends, people who cared about you because of the beautiful person you are…inside. I witnessed that caring yesterday, but like I said, it only confirmed what I already knew.”

  Holding her gaze, he continued, desperate for her to accept how strong she was. “You don’t remember, and I’m glad…but you fought that night. You were fighting a dragon. Babe, I promise that, from now on, I want to be the one to slay them. If you’ll have me.”

  Rosalie lifted her head the inch needed to touch her lips to his. Cupping his face in her hand, she slid her fingers over his beard-stubbled jaw. She felt his hesitation, allowing her to lead the kiss.

  Mumbling against his lips, she said, “I know who I am now. I know what I want. And what I want…is you.”

  Taking over the kiss, Zander molded his lips against hers, the slow-building fire flaming higher with each taste. His hands skimmed over her skin, exploring every delicious curve.

  Rosalie felt the shock from her nipples to her womb and down to her sex as he cupped her breasts. Deciding to explore on her own, her fingers drifted from his shoulders over his chest, and glided over every muscle defined in his abs. She heard the sharp intake of his breath when her fingers moved lower and grinned against his lips at the power she held over his body.