“Maybe not.” Her gaze sharpened. “But you’re not planning ‘happily-ever-after’ for yourself?”
The lady had a way of getting to the heart of things. He turned the tables to make his escape. “Are you?”
She fell back against the pillows and put her arms over her eyes. “Not likely. I have lousy judgment when it comes to men.”
Zach decided to assume present company was excepted. “Hightower is a good guy.” He’d better be, since he was now married to Claire.
Lowering her arms again, Shelley sighed. “Dexter and I were terrible for each other. If Allyson hadn’t come along, we wouldn’t have stayed together at all.”
“You can’t count her as a mistake.”
“Oh, no. She’s the best thing I ever did.” The smile she’d started faded away. “I know she’s doing great in Wyoming, but I really miss having her with me.”
Zach put his free hand on her arm, stroked the soft skin on the inside of her elbow with his thumb. “Dex and Claire would probably bring her down even more often, if you asked.”
“My life’s so crazy, so…relentless.” She shrugged. “And Allyson’s happy on the ranch, or at their second home in Cheyenne. I’d feel bad to tear her away from her friends and life there.”
“That still doesn’t mean you have to be alone all the time.”
Her dark gaze hardened and she pulled her arm away. “So which wonderful candidate should I choose? The guy who steals my credit cards? Or the one who hits and threatens me and, incidentally, cost me custody of my daughter?”
“Shelley, those aren’t the only men who’d go out with you.” What the hell did she think he was doing here? Maybe she did put him in the same class with those jerks.
She wrenched away to the edge of the bed with what sounded like a snarl, found her robe and pulled it around her. Yanking the belt tight, she stalked to the window—a delicate, determined silhouette against the black sky outside. Zach waited out the tension.
Eventually, her shoulders drooped.
“Some women are just not cut out for happily-ever-after.” She rested her forehead against the glass. “My mom made a choice once, and he dumped us both when I was three months old.”
“That classifies him a bastard, but it doesn’t say anything about your mom, or you.”
“Yes, it does!” Her head came up and she turned, dark eyes glittering. “My mom built a life for us all by herself. The rest of her family helped out, but Mom worked two jobs and went to secretarial school, then spent twenty years taking orders from men with half her brains so that I could have clothes and a car and…and skiing. And a decent career.”
“I didn’t say—”
She lifted a hand. “I know. But she managed her life without a man, and did a damn good job. Now I’m doing the same. I mean it—some of us are better off alone.”
Zach pondered for a minute. Was that an invitation to exit? He was surprised by how much the prospect bothered him. Still, when a lady said no… “Well then, maybe I should leave.”
He rolled to the near side of the bed and sat up, feeling around on the floor for his robe. Just as he found it, Shelley’s scent reached him. Her small hands slid over his ribs and her soft breasts, bare and aroused, pressed against his back. His breath left him in a rush.
“You don’t want to go out in the middle of a cold, snowy night,” she whispered over his ear. “Do you?”
He chuckled. “I think the answer to that is pretty obvious.”
“So, don’t.” She laid kisses across his shoulder while her hands—her warm, clever hands—roamed south. “I don’t want you going anywhere right now.”
“That’s good,” Zach sighed, relaxing under her caress. “That’s really, really good.”
SUNDAY MORNING, the snow had stopped and the plows were out in droves. While Shelley called Allyson in Wyoming, Zach made a visit to the hotel shops and came back with clothes for them both. They ate lunch downstairs in the dining room.
“I’ll bet Allyson’s loving this snow.” He poured coffee into Shelley’s cup and then his own. “I went up last winter to visit Claire, and they had snow-maidens all over the lawn in Cheyenne.”
Shelley stirred in cream and artificial sweetener. “She could barely talk this morning for all the excitement. We E-mail several times a week—I’ve probably got hourly updates waiting in my mailbox.” Her smile was part sigh. “I can’t deny she’s happy where she is. Claire and Dex are doing a great job.”
She didn’t look exactly happy, but she wasn’t bitter, either—she’d come a long way in two years. “Sounds like you’ve accepted the situation. That’s a big step.”
Her calculating gaze pinned him to the wall. “And you haven’t.”
Zach retreated behind his own coffee. “Don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.”
“At least I didn’t love Dex anymore. But you were still in love with Claire when they got married. Weren’t you?”
He stared into his cup for a speechless second. “I—”
“She’s an unforgettable woman. I don’t blame you for wanting her back.”
“Shelley—” Denial would be good, if he could get his mouth around the words. But he wasn’t used to lying.
“I realize I’m a substitute.” He glanced up to find her watching him with a calm, impersonal stare. “But that’s okay. This is just for kicks, right?”
Zach waited for the red haze to clear out of his vision before trusting his voice. “Are you finished?”
“With my lunch?”
“And your ridiculous…”
“It’s not—”
He got to his feet. “Coming back to the room?” No was on the tip of her tongue, he could see it. But she stood as well, and put her napkin on the table. “Why not?”
Upstairs, they faced each other across the newly made bed. Zach didn’t let the lady go first this time. “Have you decided this one’s over, too, Shelley? Time to move on?”
“I thought I’d say it before you had to.”
“Nice of you. What if I had other plans?”
“Do you?”
“Hell, I don’t know!” He shoved his hands into his pockets. His mother would kill him if she heard him swear in front of a woman. But then, his mother would kill him for almost everything he’d done since 7:00 p.m. Friday night.
And why was he thinking about his mother? “I thought we were enjoying the moment and each other, Shelley. I wasn’t making plans.”
She turned to look out the window at the cleared streets. “We were. But we both know this isn’t going anywhere. I just wanted to let you off the hook.”
“Gee, thanks.” He couldn’t think, couldn’t see how to turn the situation. She might relent if he touched her, but he would still be irritated, which wasn’t a good prelude to sex or anything else.
“So,” she said, in that same calm, impersonal tone. “I think I might be going, now that the streets are passable.”
Now he had her. “You came in my car.”
She stared at him, her eyes wide with panic. “I can get a cab.”
Another point for his side. “Good luck finding a driver who’ll take on a snow-covered interstate.”
She knew the truth when she heard it. “Great. Just great.” Her disappointment was so real, Zach almost laughed.
“So you can’t get away from me yet. Come sit down.” He pointed her to the chair on the other side of the table. She gazed at him with a question in her eyes and he repeated the motion. “Yes, sit down.”
He opened the dresser drawer and found a notepad and pen. Desperate situations called for desperate measures. “Did you ever play Battleship?”
THEY SHARED the pen through four games, when the ink ran dry. Zach called down to room service for a bottle of champagne, cheese and crackers, and a box of pens. The war escalated as the room darkened until they could hardly see their marks on the paper. Shelley finally stood up to turn on a lamp.
“That makes us even.” She looke
d across at Zach, sprawled in a chair with his head back and a half-full glass of champagne dangling from his hand over the arm of the chair. “Twenty games each.”
“We need a tiebreaker.”
“World War Three?”
“Or something like that.” His voice had gone back to the leonine purr she’d followed for two days now.
Her pulse jumped, but she fought to stay sane. “Zach, that’s not a good idea.”
“Why?”
Because I’m already in too deep, she wanted to say. “Let’s…let each other go easily.”
“Okay.”
Shelley took a deep breath of relief.
He stood up. “Tomorrow morning.”
The breath blew out in exasperation. “Zach—”
But he was already kissing her. He warmed her lips with his breath, filled her mouth with his taste, and she had no hope of anything except holding on and enjoying the ride. With Zach, she knew that’s all she could count on. The ride of her life.
MONDAY MORNING, the weather thawed. Shelley froze.
Zach didn’t attempt to break the ice. The next move, glacial or otherwise, would have to be hers. “Here’s my number.” He handed her a piece of paper. “Call me. I always return my messages.”
Now that she’d summoned a cab, she wouldn’t even look at him. “Sure.” She gathered up her clothes and lingerie and folded each item carefully into a shopping bag. “You can reach me anytime at the office. I have call forwarding.”
“Okay.”
He watched as she put her blue dress shoes on top of the clothes and folded the handles of the bag together. When she looked over, her eyes were wide and bright. Was she trying not to cry?
She succeeded. “Thanks, Zach, for…for everything. I’m not being very graceful, but this was a wonderful weekend.”
“For me, too. Kiss me goodbye?”
“Of course.” She meant to give him a buss on the cheek and run off. But Zach turned as she reached him, slipped his arms around her and gathered her close. Her body pressed into his and their mouths touched.
When Shelley pushed at his arms, he forced himself to release her. “Bye,” she whispered. Without another glance, she hurried out the door.
“Bye, lady,” Zach murmured after her. Alone again, he looked around the room, at a loss…and caught sight of the giant plaque. He grabbed it and shot out the door. “Shelley? Shelley!”
She stopped in the process of getting on the elevator and looked his way. “Oh.” Pulling her foot back, she let the doors close. “I—I forgot.” Her hand came up to grasp the award.
Zach let go, reluctantly. “Are you sure you can manage? I could carry it down for you.”
“No!” She glanced into his face and quickly away. “No, thanks. I’ll be fine.”
He relinquished the plaque. “Well, then. Goodbye.” Retreating toward the room, he lifted a hand. “See you.”
Shelley pressed the down button and sent him another cool smile. “Sure.” Then she turned her back on him, which left her facing a wall. But the message came through loud and clear.
With a sigh, Zach returned to the room and waited a meticulous thirty minutes to give her time to get away. Then he picked up his wrinkled tux and headed for home.
CHAPTER THREE
THREE MONTHS LATER, Shelley stared across a tidy desk at the woman facing her. “What did you say?”
Dr. Deb Bryant didn’t blink. “I said your pregnancy test is positive. You’re going to have a baby.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Does that mean you’re considering an abortion?”
“No!” The idea made her sick. But then, she’d been sick a lot lately—that’s why she’d come to the doctor. “How could this have happened?”
“The usual way, I imagine. What were you doing around the first week in March?”
“Working myself to death as…oh.” All except for one weekend. That weekend. The awards banquet. The blizzard. Zach.
She took a deep breath. “But I… we… used protection. Every time.” Not that she could remember how many times they’d made love between Friday night and Monday morning.
“All methods have a failure rate. Now, what do you plan to do?”
Staring at the doctor across the desk, Shelley tried to think and failed. She could only give a gut reaction. “Have a baby, I guess.”
“Then we should choose an obstetrician. Since you’re close to thirty-five, I’d like to recommend a specialist in high-risk pregnancies, just to be on the safe side. We need to get you on iron tablets and vitamins, improve your diet…”
Shelley walked out to her car half an hour later, shaken to the very roots of her soul.
A baby. Zach Harmon’s child.
She went so far as to pick up the car phone, punching out the number she’d memorized twelve weeks ago. But with her finger on “send” she stopped, then ended the call.
They hadn’t seen each other since that Monday morning when she’d rushed off to work, promising to get in touch. She’d never worked up the nerve to call him. Zach hadn’t made contact, either…hadn’t wanted to, she assumed.
Was she going to phone him now and start a chorus of “Hello, Daddy?”
With a moan, Shelley put her head back and blinked away tears. Whatever memories of that weekend remained a blur, Zach’s comments on family had been clear. He emphatically did not want children.
“Oh, baby.” She put a hand low on her stomach. “What in the world am I going to do about you?”
That question became even more crucial when the phone rang about nine that night. Caught in the middle of cleaning out her refrigerator, Shelley answered the phone with some impatience. “Hello?”
“A little tense, aren’t we?”
“Zach?” She held the phone in front of her and stared at it, half hoping she’d conjured his voice out of her imagination. Putting down a bottle of salad dressing, she brought the phone back to her ear. “Zach, is that you?”
“In the fiber optically transmitted flesh. How are you?”
She choked back a hysterical laugh. “Fine, just fine. How are…things?” Why was he calling? He couldn’t possibly know about the baby. She’d just found out. Right?
“Great. But I woke up this morning and realized that June had arrived and I hadn’t heard from you, so I thought I’d see if you were free for dinner.”
“Tonight?” She couldn’t possibly face him tonight.
“Actually, I’m on duty in a couple of hours. I was thinking about the weekend, if that works for you.”
“Um…” How was she supposed to think? What should she say? Could she sit through a meal with him and not blurt out the truth? “I don’t know…”
“Okay.” His voice took on a cooler tint. “I probably caught you at a bad time. Maybe later—”
“No, Zach, wait.” Shelley drew a deep breath. “How about Saturday? I’ve got appointments all week, and I was saving Saturday night for a break.”
“Sounds good to me. I’ll pick you up about seven-thirty. Wear the pink slippers, if you want. They were cute.”
He disconnected before she could think of a clever retort.
SATURDAY MORNING, the Crushers baseball team went into the final inning ahead of Zach’s Falcons, six-two. But the Falcons loaded the bases. With one more good hit, they could win.
Zach squatted beside his star batter as she waited on deck. “Okay, Cinda. AU you gotta do is relax and keep your eye on the ball. Cool?”
“Cool, Coach.” The beads on the ten-year-old’s many braids clicked as Cinda nodded her head. “I’m ready.”
“Go for it.” He stood up and backed into the dugout, just as Tim Johnson swung for his third strike. “Good job, Tim! Way to swing!” Zach ruffled the boy’s hair as he dropped onto the bench to pout. “Can’t hit a homer every time.”
“Cinda does.”
“Just seems like it, Tim.” The pitcher stretched and threw. Cinda swung and missed. “See?” But with the bases loa
ded, he really wouldn’t mind if this were one of the times she hit big.
Another pitch and another strike for Cinda brought the Falcons one swing away from a loss—or a win.
Beside him in the dugout, the Falcons had set up a cheering squad. Zach joined them. “Good try, Cinda. Keep swinging!”
He heard the crack of the bat before he saw the hit. The ball sailed in a beautiful arc over the pitcher’s head, beyond the second baseman. Cinda galloped toward first, rounded and touched the base, headed for second. Their runner on third crossed home.
The center fielder ran backward, glove high. Cinda’s tremendous hit began a downward curve.
Zach held his breath. The Falcons grew silent, the crowd waited in suspended animation, while the ball fell and the fielder backed up.
With the definitive smack of leather against leather, ball hit glove. The fielder juggled a second, brought his other hand in for help and held up the captured prize. Not a home run—a fly ball, making the third and final out.
The Falcon bench groaned. Zach let out his breath. “Okay, guys, line up for handshakes.” He glanced at one of the more disappointed players. “When you throw that glove in the dirt, Joey, you’re the one who has to clean it.”
Cinda ran in from third with tears in her eyes. “Great hit,” Zach said, clapping her on the shoulder. “Too bad he didn’t step in any of the holes I dug out there before the game.”
She smiled tremulously. “You’re such a goof, Coach.” Then she ran to take her place in line to congratulate the other team.
“Tough break,” said a voice behind him. He swung around to see Jimmy Falcon, their team sponsor, standing behind the fence.
Jimmy had been Zach’s first partner on the police force. Three years ago, they’d been caught in the middle of a gang fight that had left Jimmy with a shattered leg and a stalled career. “We appreciate your support, though. Those shirts are great.”
“Hey, these games get me out of bed on Saturday morning. What’s the record now?”
Zach picked up bats and helmets. “We’re three and four. This was the team to beat from last year. I’m hoping for an easy win next week against the Terminators.”
Expecting the Best (Harlequin Superromance) Page 3
