Gazing up at his towering height, Becca didn’t plan on telling him anything, She’d wandered into a land of giants. “I’m not exactly sure—”
“I’m Zach,” the first guy interrupted. “We’re up. Listen, we don’t run a lot of quick sets, us guys prefer the hut/go. Charlie likes the pipe set while I’m always up for back row attacks. Watch out for those overpasses.”
“Sure,” she muttered, “if I knew what one looked like.”
One of the other guys slapped her on the shoulder, leaving her arm number. “I’m Alex. When you’re in the front, don’t forget to call the numbers on the Spread O or X Series.”
She nodded, but no one was paying attention to her. Dazed by the flow of incomprehensible instructions, Becca blinked at the volleyball in the hands of the man at her side. She didn’t see any numbers.
There was a brief captains’ meeting at the net. Things were moving too swiftly for a beginner’s lesson. She crossed her fingers, hoping fervently that they’d split into smaller groups for instruction.
Idly, she admired the trimly muscled thighs visible beneath Zach’s navy blue shorts, remembering how his eyes were almost a perfect match to the color of his outfit. As her gaze roved over the others present, she felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Everyone else appeared to be bursting with athleticism, the type of obnoxiously fit people who, whenever conversation lags, might drop to the floor and do twenty push-ups.
Where were the uncoordinated architects, short-order cooks, dentists and art teachers seeking fun and relaxation? A man nearby picked up a ball and began slamming it against the wall, using his cupped hand to drive the volleyball forward. These people looked as though they should be marching behind their country’s flag in the Olympics, not beginners at The Fitness Studio.
Zach’s return interrupted her agitated thoughts.
“First serve!” he gloated. “Let’s cream these guys and you,” the navy blue gaze pierced Becca’s soul, “relax and let us feast on their feeble attempts at blocking. We’ll try to cover until you’re into the flow.”
Which wouldn’t be for at least another ten years at least, Becca realized, but gamely followed her teammates. The girl in the server’s position tossed the ball into the air and hammered it over the net, thus putting in motion the longest night of Becca’s life.
Shocked, she heard a whistling sound as the ball screamed back over the net. Charlie popped it up to a girl, who, in turn, flicked the ball upwards for Zach’s smashing spike.
Her teammates applauded the play enthusiastically, with Alex saying, “That was nearly a Six-Pack, Zach, he didn’t see it coming.”
Zach turned to her, those amazing eyes sparking with excitement. “What did I say? We’ll cover for you and let you work into the play. Get ready for a storm, cause we’re gonna bring the thunder!”
He faced the net again while Becca gulped in horror, struggling with the urge to run but judging from the velocity of the ball and eight teams playing simultaneously, she feared she’d never make it out alive.
She’d also never been much for storms. Shaking her head, Becca realized she had barely been able to follow the path of the volleyball, much less make a play on it. Once again she’d jumped into failure with both feet.
Without a doubt, she was out of her league. The inevitable moment of truth managed to be delayed, however, until the third serve of the match when the ball roared at Becca. She ducked.
“What’s the matter? Afraid of the ball?” jeered one of the other girls, a brunette with a frosty eye and sturdy calves, crouching as the other team prepared to serve.
“You got that right,” Becca muttered and gasped as the aforementioned object came whizzing at her again.
Zach immediately called time out and helped Becca up from her sprawled position on the floor. “Do I still have my ear?” she asked in plaintive tones.
Her teammates all groaned in unison and Zach winced. “You’re not quite up to this level of play, are you?” he asked, his voice quiet amid the mutters from the others.
Becca could only offer a feeble smile If only she were Alice in Wonderland and simply by eating a magic cake, she could shrink down to invisibility and escape the hostile glares of those around her.
Zach whirled and called the other team captain over for a conference. Becca stood apart from the others and watched as they discussed her fate.
“Either she plays or you forfeit.” The man sent a malicious grin in Becca’s direction as he spoke.
Zach spent a few minutes in futile argument before returning to his team. “You heard the verdict. They’re going to hardnose it.” He looked at Becca. “I know you lack the experience at this level of play, so are you going give it a try or shall we all go home? I warn you, it’s very easy for an inexperienced player to get hurt. These guys and gals play rough.”
Zach had taken the noble route, leaving the decision up to her. Becca gritted her teeth with determination. If she’d only stuck to one form of exercise instead of flitting around like a butterfly, she wouldn’t be in this mess.
“I’ll play,” she announced with false bravado, adding under her breath, “Then I’ll hunt down the woman who let me sign up to be a duck in a shooting gallery and ask for a refund.”
The games were a nightmarish hail of volleyballs as big as basketballs with all serves and spikes aimed at Becca. She ducked and lunged while her teammates performed miraculous leaps and dives around her cringing form. Her only attempt at hitting the ball resulted in two painfully jammed fingers.
Sheer terror sent perspiration running down her face and plastered her tee-shirt against her torso. She knew the eye make-up she’d applied with such care must be a streaky mess. The hands of the huge clock on the wall crept while her own hands did their best to protect her from a Six-Pack, which she’d learned meant getting a volleyball spike in the face and had nothing to do with Zach’s abdomen.
Zach stood the hero test, never once adding to the jeers or scowls aimed in her direction, doing his best to keep her from getting hit and deflecting the ball even though it often appeared out of his reach.
At last the ordeal ended. Stumbling off the court on shaky legs, Becca gathered from her teammates’ comments as they changed shoes and packed up their gear that they had managed to win only one game. No one said good-bye.
The women’s locker room did not offer an escape from the hostile atmosphere. Becca stayed only long enough to wash the make-up from her face and winced at her reflection. Skin still blotchy from the combination of exercise and embarrassment, wisps of sweat soaked hair plastered to her face. Ugh! An inventory of her bruised hands also disclosed several broken fingernails. Wondering what other disaster could strike to end such a perfect evening, Becca shoved the locker room door open and into a solid object.
“Excuse me,” she snapped to the man standing there and stalked off to locate a garbage disposal and shred her membership card.
He followed. “Wait a minute, please. It’s Becca, not Becky, isn’t it?”
She whirled to see Zach offering a sweet smile. So he knows who you are. But folks also remember the Titanic and the Hindenburg, she cautioned herself and nodded without stopping.
“Hey, Becca, wait up! I just wanted to tell you how much I admire your courage in playing. We’d have had to swallow every game as a loss if you’d left when you had the chance. We need every win to keep us in competition for our division.”
Courage? Since when was ducking, quivering and sweating defined as bravery? Becca found herself smiling back. He really had the most gorgeous navy blue eyes ...
Fifteen minutes later found Becca and Zach in the juice bar of The Fitness Studio. Zach had selected a carrot and tomato swirl while Becca sipped a banana-apricot fizz.
Zach chuckled when he learned the meager extent of Becca’s volleyball experience. “Despite everything, you showed promise,” he assured her. “You stayed in the rotation and even tried to hit one or two. It’ll just take a little proper in
struction before you could play on a team.”
Shuddering from the thought of even going near a volleyball court again, she balanced that terror against the fear of never seeing Zach again. “Proper instruction?”
“Proper private instruction.” Zach grinned wickedly. “Our team needs an alternate. Why don’t we discuss ways to get you up to speed over dinner on Sunday?”
Becca choked on the fizz in her drink. “Dinner?”
‘Hey, I’ve still got to shower and change before they start turning off the lights and we’ve a lot left to talk about. As we haven’t been properly introduced, I could bring references to my trustworthy character, if it would favorably influence your decision.”
“People can be bribed to lie,” Becca said with a smile.
“I’m great with mothers—you could introduce me to yours.”
Beeca raised an eyebrow. “She’s on a ten day cruise to Alaska.”
Zach flicked a napkin across the table and it landed in Becca’s lap. “New plan—if you want to play it cautious, we could meet at the restaurant.”
They agreed to meet at the Doodlebug, which attempted to recreate the ambiance of the dance clubs of the 30’s and 40’s, complete with movie posters and a jukebox filled with vintage big band tunes.
Becca changed her mind about keeping the date on the average of ten times an hour over the next two days. Only the fact she’d failed to get his phone number kept her from cancelling.
As Becca entered the Doodlebug, her stomach flip-flopped with nerves. Three agonizing hours of standing in her walk-in closet had resulted in the choice of a pleated skirt and a pink flowered blouse.
Zach waited just inside the door, appropriately enough, under a poster for the movie, “Casablanca”. The dark blue shirt under his sports jacket matched his amazing eyes. Becca made the snap judgment that she’d take Zach’s warm smile over Humphrey Bogart’s smoldering stare at Ingrid any day.
Even with reservations, they had a long wait but were finally seated near the raised dance floor. On the way to their table, Zach and Becca pointed out their favorite posters. Becca favored Fred and Ginger floating in each other’s arms in “Top Hart”, while Zach leaned toward “The Thin Man” with William Powell and Myrna Loy menaced by a trench coated figure. As they studied the posters for “42nd Street”, “Gone with the Wind” and “Gaslight”, the couples on the dance floor spun past to the toe-tapping beat of Benny Goodman.
Neither could resist the tantalizing rhythm of “Swing, Swing, Swing” when it blared from the jukebox. Zach held out his hand and Becca took it with confidence. Although clumsy on the volleyball court, she was at home on the dance floor and the two kept it up until their food arrived, whirling back to the table, breathless with laughter.
The waiter’s frown seemed to indicate disapproval that they were more absorbed in each other than in the food served. As the conversation continued, they discovered common interests in black and white movies, photography and the St. Paul Saints baseball team.
Becca had never felt so at ease with and yet so attracted to a man. The little frown between his brows as he pondered a response had her struggling with the urge to reach out and smooth it away with her fingertips.
The question currently on the table was Becca’s. “Do you believe the theory that people who enjoy black and white movies are escapists? Wanting to move back to a simpler, more uncomplicated time?”
The adorable frown appeared again. “No, I don’t agree,” Zach replied. “Many of the black and white films did address relevant social problems, such as child abuse, racial prejudice, poverty and war. Even though for the most part they featured happy endings, it doesn’t make their points any less valid. It’s only human to want everything to come up roses.”
The waiter coughed apologetically as he presented the bill. “Excuse me, sir. I hate to interrupt, but there are other people who have reservations for this table.”
Zach looked at his watch in disbelief. “We’ve been sitting here for nearly three hours!”
“There’s a bridge over the stream behind the restaurant,” the waiter, who apparently concealed a romantic soul under a bushy white moustache, offered in discreet whisper. “Perhaps a stroll in the moonlight would help settle the meal ...”
Water murmured over the stones in the streambed as Zach and Becca walked out onto the wooden planks. The moon made its promised appearance from behind the clouds, casting shadows across Zach’s rugged features and dappling the leaves of a nearby birch tree. Mallard ducks, connecting humans with bread crumbs, paddled gently below, craning their necks upward for the first hint of food.
Zach put his hands on Becca’s arms and turned her to face him. As they gazed into each other’s eyes, she wondered if Zach could hear her heart beating over the sound of the rushing water.
An impatient quack sounded from below. Zach grinned. “Keep your tail feathers on, fella,” he murmured. “I’m going to kiss the lady.”
The kiss and his embrace felt marvelously sweet, but Becca drew back. Things seemed to be moving too swiftly—new passions gripped her, tugged at her heart like the current below. She clutched the material of Zach’s jacket for support, feeling the muscles in his arms tense at her touch.
He broke the spell, turning to lean on the railing of the bridge. “You overwhelm me, Becca. When I hold you, I can feel the breath in your body. I have the feeling that I want to hold you forever—let you live in my arms. They feel so empty without you.”
Becca placed her hand on his shoulder. “I want to try that kiss again before committing myself,” she whispered back.
Their lips met and the moon shivered in delight.
Only a heartbeat later, Zach glanced at his watch. “Do you realize it’s nearly midnight? And as much as I hate to leave you, my alarm is going to ring in six hours.”
“Let it ring. What about your empty arms?” Becca murmured, kissing his ear lobe.
He chuckled. “One more kiss, darling. One more to sustain me through the hard day’s night.”
Several kisses later, as he escorted Becca to her car, Zach brought up the reason for their first meeting. “Are you interested in a couple of volleyball lessons?”
She shook her head. “I’ve learned my lesson, thank you!”
He took her hand in a warm, possessive clasp. “Forget volleyball, but I want to see you again, Becca. You’re so different from any other woman I’ve dated.”
Different? Different as in chubby—out of shape? Images of the tanned and trim women who lived at the Fitness Studio shimmered before Becca’s eyes. She yanked her hand free and slid behind the wheel, leaving the door and her options open.
“What’s wrong, darling?” It would have taken a man with the hide of a rhinoceros not to feel the sudden chill.
She decided to be blunt. If honesty scared Zach off, she didn’t want to pursue the relationship any further and she needed an answer. “Exactly why do you want to see me again? Let’s face it, this is not the body of an athlete and it probably never will be. Why don’t you go after the other women at the Fitness Studio—some pretty terrific bodies hang out there.”
“Let’s not complicate matters. I want to see you again because I’m attracted to you.”
Becca looked down at the hands folded in her lap. Traitorous hands, aching to ruffle the smoothness of Zach’s hair. “Thank you for dinner. I had a lovely time.”
“Don’t give me that ‘lovely time’ stuff! We had a definite spark going—if not a full-scale blaze. Look me in the eye and deny it if you can!”
He tilted up her chin in an abrupt movement, but his voice softened. “Becca, where did you get the idea I’d only be attracted by the outer wrappings? Hasn’t the fact that we’ve talked non-stop for hours meant anything to you? I want more in a relationship than someone who works out three times a day and can beat me in arm wrestling whenever she feels like it.”
Her look of disbelief goaded him on. “I’m thirty years old and it’s time to get mar
ried and raise a family. I want to spend the rest of my life with a woman who can talk intelligently about world hunger, her career—anything but the number of laps she swims daily or her calorie count.”
His impassioned response frightened Becca into taking refuge in flippancy. “Marriage? Aren’t you’re rushing things a little?”
“Perhaps, but I don’t want your insecurities standing between us Haven’t you felt the electricity? We fit—we generate the same excitement as the great screen couples, Bogart and Bacall, Gable and Lombard, Tracy and Hepburn ...”
Becca couldn’t help herself. “Laurel and Hardy?”
Zach’s jaw dropped. Bowing his head into his hands, he slumped against the car, shaking with helpless laughter. “Need you ask what I see in you, Becca?” Sobering, he brushed a curl back from her cheek. “Give us a chance, please?”
The tender appeal in his voice melted the protective barrier of reserve she had kept between them. “I guess I don’t know what I’m searching for in a relationship, Zach. Do you?”
“I want something spontaneous, one where our lives don’t revolve around workouts and tanning booths. I want someone who can drop everything for a picnic in the country, laugh at a silly riddle or sit down with me and enjoy The Maltese Falcon without worrying about missing her aerobics class. I want to be part of a couple—a couple whose two parts make a perfect whole.”
All of Becca’s worries and theories about needing a great body to attract a great man had been left splintered on the pavement of the parking lot. This man, this gorgeous, thoughtful man, was telling her it was her inner self who mattered to him.
Bending to kiss her again, Zach said, “Let me tell you that I’m also a guy who appreciates beauty. Tonight I walked in the moonlight and kissed a beautiful woman. Moonlight becomes you, Becca. You’re perfect, just the way you are. If a guy doesn’t appreciate the real you, he’s not worth trying to change yourself for him.” His lips brushed her cheek. “Drive carefully, sweetheart.”
Love Has The Best Intentions Page 3
