Surrender? As she drifted down from the heights, she wondered if she'd truly just considered surrender to be sweet. Ah, stupid. Sex with Zane apparently made her stupid. Who wanted to surrender?
With Zane's weight heavy on her, Pattie could only smile, however. Yep, even as she remembered she wasn't supposed to have done this, as recalled she should have sent him packing, she couldn't stop smiling.
In the back of her mind she knew she'd end up paying for this mistake, but right then she was feeling way too good to care.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Oh, boy. Oh, boy, did he feel good. Zane lay naked atop Pattie's bedcovers, Pattie herself curled against his side. He smiled lazily up at the ceiling. One of his hands played through the curls on her head, part in gratitude, and part to gauge any movement on her part.
He wasn't letting her run away from him. He wasn't letting her kick him out again, either. She'd get a fight if she tried either one. He was enjoying his post-coital bliss this time.
Pattie's chest expanded where she pressed against Zane's side. He tensed, but she only released a deep sigh.
Deliberately dimming his goofy smile, he turned toward her so he could rest his other arm on her hip. Echoes of the pleasure she'd given him continued to vibrate through every cell in his body.
God, it had been good. Way too good, he freely admitted, to have been mere physical release. More was going on here than that. A lot more.
Zane could feel his smile get big and silly again, but it felt terrific to admit the truth to himself: more was going on. Odd, really. Shouldn't the thought of being emotionally involved with a woman upset, or even frighten, him? It was, after all, the very thing he'd been avoiding so carefully. But instead, he felt a profound sense of relief.
He wasn't fighting himself any more, he supposed. It wasn't in his nature not to be involved. He was no island unto himself. Look at the way he chose to live in Cassie's bonus room over the garage, close to his sister and her family. He obviously liked relationships.
Gently, Zane squeezed Pattie's hip. "Hey."
She grunted in reply. Her eyes were closed, as if she didn't want to admit she was awake. Probably wanted to avoid whatever discussion Zane was about to start.
His smile softened. Poor woman. He could see the problem, now that they'd taken the edge off his sexual hunger. She liked to play tough, but she was actually scared. The same emotional connectedness he craved gave her the willies.
Zane smoothed his hand from her hip to her waist, wishing he knew how to reassure her. It would probably help to know what made her so fearful to begin with. It had to be something bigger and deeper than her crappy relationship with that deadbeat, Nick.
"Pattie," Zane said.
Squeezing her eyes tighter shut, she growled. "If you talk to me, Kincaid, you'll ruin my afterglow. Guaranteed."
A laugh burst from him. She could say what she liked—he knew what had happened while they'd made love. She'd given herself to him. In the throes of passion, true, but it had happened.
Evidently, she wanted to forget that now.
Biting the edge of his lip, Zane considered his next move. He ran his hand from her waist over her back, while thinking he had to be careful. She was like a wild animal he wanted to tame. If she was afraid of the connection growing between them, then he had to show her it was okay. Slowly, but surely, he had to teach her to trust him.
Meanwhile, he had to start somewhere. Zane's hand moved down Pattie's back and over her behind.
His eyes drifted closed with the simple pleasure of touching her there, and imagining...
Perhaps this was the place to start.
"Pattie." He gave her butt a pat. "I like making love to you."
Reluctantly, she responded, opening one eye. "Are you thinking I ought to return the compliment?"
"Oh." He grinned. "Only if it'd be sincere."
She rolled her eyes. "I already told you, Kincaid. You're top talent in this arena."
Her flippancy didn't bother him. She obviously felt compelled to treat their lovemaking as casual. That was fine, so long as he didn't leave the bed empty-handed. "So." He rubbed her butt again. "We're agreed we like sleeping together?"
She fixed him with a suspicious look. "I guess."
She guessed. Zane restrained laughter with difficulty. About ten minutes ago she'd made it very clear how much she adored making love to him. Teasingly, he pinched some of her luscious rear end. "Don't know about you, but I'd like to make love again." He smoothed with his hand where he'd pinched. "Soon."
She leaned back to look into his face. Her eyes were wide.
Zane chuckled. "Not that soon. Maybe..." He patted her. "...after dinner tonight?"
"After dinner?" Her head tilted. "That's a long way— Oh. Are you asking me out, Kincaid?"
"Um..." He gave her a lopsided smile. "Maybe I'm on the old-fashioned side. After...? Well, I feel like I owe you a meal."
Her dubious expression turned into a laugh. "Very sweet and considerate, soldier. But while you're giving me this old-fashioned meal, what do you intend to do with Tristan?"
She hadn't turned him down flat. Zane's heart thumped as he looked down at her grin. "I intend to take him along. Of course."
After a moment's stare, Pattie guffawed. "Oh, you would," she choked.
She might laugh, but he could tell she was actually pleased. Deep down, she wanted connection, too. He was almost sure of it. Why else would she look so happy at the idea of the three of them going out together, like a family?
A lovely warmth splashed inside him at the idea: a family. But he was getting ahead of himself. She hadn't yet agreed to dinner.
"Is that a 'yes?'" he asked.
Pattie's laughter dimmed but her eyes still sparkled with mirth. "Tell you what, Zane. If you can find a restaurant where Tris can behave, I'll be happy to join you for dinner."
"That means 'yes,'" Zane translated. "Now I'd better get dressed. His royal highness could wake up any minute now." He leaned over to kiss Pattie. Taking a chance, he gave the kiss a more tender than carnal intent.
She immediately sensed that, pulling back to give him an uncertain look.
He smiled reassuringly, as if he hadn't done anything to alarm. "Something to tide you over." Let her make of that what she would.
Judging by her confused expression as he rose from the bed, she didn't know what to make of it.
Zane chuckled to himself. Oh, but she would. If he had anything to say about it, she definitely would learn how to interpret his ever-deepening feelings for her. And if he could, he'd convince her to share them.
~~~
At least one thing about her dinner date with Zane didn't concern Pattie. The buffet style restaurant he'd chosen could easily handle Tristan, and vice versa. The kid was bouncing up and down in his upholstered seat, thrilled by all his choices.
"Zane's gonna get me macencheese 'n muffins," Tristan bragged to Pattie. "Bel—oo—bewy muffins." His satisfied smile said he was quite sure he'd wrapped this particular adult around his finger.
While Zane negotiated the various food stations, fetching Tristan the desired items, Pattie sat in a booth with her nephew and wished she could share in the kid's simple joy. She'd deliberately delayed worrying over what had happened to her while making love to Zane.
She couldn't delay any longer.
For heaven's sake, they were on a date. Zane was acting like they'd begun a relationship.
On some level, Pattie could understand him coming to this conclusion. They'd made love. Again. She'd given in. Completely. She'd totally let him...have her.
She certainly hadn't said no like she'd planned. On the contrary, she'd fallen into bed with him in the most submissive manner and then agreed to go on this dinner date afterward. As if they were in some way together.
They weren't, of course...were they?
On top of everything else, she'd had no luck this afternoon in finding Ted Cranston on the Internet. Out of half-a-million hits
, she'd barely narrowed the field. Having the guy's name wasn't even helping to find him!
Now, seeing Zane heading back toward them with a tray full of food, Pattie hastily picked up her fork and stuck it into her plate of green salad. It seemed best to act like this date was no big deal.
Zane smiled as he came to the table. "One bowl of macaroni and cheese, for you, sir." He took a bowl from his tray and placed it before Tristan with a flourish.
Tristan's pleased expression vanished. He gazed at the bowl of macaroni and cheese as if it were live eels. Pattie could almost hear what he was thinking. This wasn't pasta. This wasn't white and pristine and slippery. It was sticky and gooey and orange.
"I don' like macencheese," Tristan decided. His gaze moved to the food remaining on Zane's tray. "Where's my bel—oo—bewy muffin?"
"No muffin, champ, not until you eat that mac 'n cheese." Zane seated himself next to Tristan, across from Pattie.
Tristan's disgust threatened to storm into something much worse. Pattie braced herself. If Zane could get them out of this one, it'd be a miracle.
"I don' like macencheese," Tristan reminded Zane.
Zane appeared oblivious to the coming tempest. "Look over there, Tristan." He nodded to the right. "See people pulling that lever? See the goo squeezing out?"
Tristan looked. He frowned.
Zane pointed at the bowl of macaroni. "Eat that up, my boy, and you'll get to squeeze out some ice cream, too."
"Tha's ice kweem?" Tristan's mouth opened in awe. He gazed down at his macaroni and picked up a spoon.
Zane glanced over at Pattie and winked.
She rolled her eyes while choking back a bark of amusement. It wouldn't do to encourage the man. He already seemed to think there was more than there actually was between the two of them.
At least it would be a short meal. Tristan didn't wait long before pushing his macaroni bowl toward Zane. "Can I have my muffin now?"
Raising his eyebrows, Zane turned to Pattie. "What do you think? Did he eat enough for a muffin?"
Mr. Expert was letting her decide? Stupidly pleased, Pattie peered over to inspect Tristan's macaroni progress. It wasn't much, frankly, but she took pity on the kid. "Sure. Looks muffin-worthy to me."
Tristan beamed while Zane handed over the goods. Zane then sent an approving grin in Pattie's direction.
So much for playing it cool. She felt immediately suffused with joy. Because Zane endorsed her muffin decision. Oh, boy. Quickly, Pattie gave her salad plate her immediate and undivided attention. The last thing she wanted was for Zane to guess her weird state of mind.
Meanwhile, Tristan took approximately two bites of his hard-won muffin, then set it down. "I'm weddy for ice kweem now!" he announced.
Zane laughed. "Bud, you wanted that muffin bad."
It was such a small, simple thing, Tristan's high-pitched request and Zane's spontaneous affection, but the short interchange put a lump in Pattie's throat.
"I'll take him for the ice cream." She coughed to clear her hoarseness. She needed to get away from Zane, regain some perspective. Just then, however, an electronic bugle call trilled from her purse.
"Your phone," Zane recognized. "It's not even six yet. Could be a client. Why don't you take the call while I help Tristan with his ice cream?"
Pattie nodded. Zane was right about the possibility of a client, and taking the call would accomplish the same end as helping Tristan get his ice cream: give her some space. "Go ahead."
"Come on then, kiddo." Zane got up. "I'll be your ice cream partner."
Pattie fished her phone from her purse while Zane led Tristan toward the ice cream machine. She pressed the answer button.
Norman Debbert's nasal accents greeted her. Leaning back in her seat, Pattie winced guiltily. She was supposed to have looked for Savannah's signature locket to give to the devoted fan. "Oh, hello, Norman. Sorry, sorry, sorry. I haven't had a minute to look for that locket."
"Oh, it's not a big deal." Somehow, the way Norman breathed this out told Pattie he actually found it a major calamity. "I'm just a nobody, after all." Genuine sorrow rang through his voice.
Feeling terrible, Pattie tried to help. "Tell you what, Norman, I've got a box of Savannah's stuff. 'Memorabilia' I wrote on the outside of it when I was packing up the house. Why don't you come over—" She paused while her gaze picked out Tristan at the ice cream machine. The child was actually Savannah's biggest memorial, but so far Norman had exhibited zero interest in him. Pattie realized she'd like to keep it that way. "I mean, why don't I take the box over to your place?" she revised. She knew Norman's apartment in Venice, having visited him there soon after Savannah's death. "You can look through it. If you find the locket, great. If you can't, then find something else to keep."
"I doubt I'll find her locket." Norman sounded sunk in despair.
"Don't give up before you've even tried," Pattie urged.
Meanwhile, Zane was holding Tristan, who used all his might to push the lever that squeezed out ice cream. Zane ended up putting a hand over Tristan's to move the process along.
"I won't find it. I won't find anything," Norman gusted.
"I'll bring the box. You'll have a ball with it." Pattie felt as though she were trying to prop up a sack of wet feathers. Meanwhile, she saw Zane and Tristan start back toward the table. "I'm pretty busy the next few days—how about next week on Tuesday? I'll bring it over then."
Norman gave another deep sigh. "Oh, all right. I'll be here. I'll be here all week."
He would? Didn't he have to go to work? What kind of work did Norman do, anyway? But Pattie didn't get a chance to ask for Norman abruptly hung up, and the boys had returned to the table.
Her viscera turned on with Zane's proximity, all sorts of engines humming. Deliberately, Pattie concentrated on Tristan. "Boy, that ice cream looks terrific," she told him, while putting away her phone. "Bet it makes eating all that macaroni and cheese worth it."
Tristan licked his spoon. "Yep."
Pattie chuckled.
"You seemed thoughtful when we came back," Zane remarked softly. "Problem on the phone?"
Pattie shook her head. "No, not really." But she frowned, and heard herself explaining. "I'm pretty sure I've mentioned Norman to you. He was a big fan of Savannah's. Anyway, he's looking for a particular locket Savannah always used to wear. I promised him I'd bring over a box of her memorabilia next Tuesday."
Zane cocked an eyebrow. "Bring it over—to his place?"
"He doesn't live all that far away," Pattie claimed, but frowned harder. She couldn't say she was thrilled about an appointment to see the lugubrious Norman...alone.
Zane must have seen the reservation on her face, for he said, "I'll come with you."
Pattie's gaze flew toward him. "Oh." Had she been fishing for that? God knew, she didn't feel like dealing with Norman by herself, but had she angled to get Zane's help?
"I will come with you." Zane's jaw briefly set, and then he smiled.
Pattie tilted her head at him. On the other hand, maybe it wasn't so much Pattie angling to get Zane's help as Zane being determined to supply it. In fact, he seemed to consider the idea beyond a simple favor. He seemed to consider it an imperative. As if she belonged to him and by hook or by crook, he'd take care of her.
He'd take care of her.
The idea made Pattie feel hot and cold by turns. Nobody, ever, had taken care of her. She'd always taken care of herself. Even as a child, she'd been a tough and independent operator. At this point in her life, she took the situation for granted.
On the other hand, she'd let Zane seduce her this afternoon. And she knew very well what he was all about.
Now as she regarded Zane's determined smile, she produced a shaky smile of her own in return. The truth knocked the breath out of her.
Maybe, on some level, she did want what Zane was offering. Maybe a tiny part of her wasn't satisfied with lonely independence any more. Maybe she didn't mind having someone around who care
d.
"Um, sure," Pattie said, and cleared her throat. "Why don't you come along?"
Zane thought the two of them were together and now...she wasn't sure what she thought any more, or what she even wanted. She liked Zane's caring, but God—to want something like that—it was incredibly foolhardy.
Oh, boy.
What had she gotten herself into?
~~~
Norman's apartment was in Venice in a sagging rent-control complex off Beethoven Street. On the corner, several scruffy individuals loitered under a sign announcing help for the homeless.
As Zane shut Pattie's car door, he was glad she'd let him come along. Not only was the neighborhood crap, but also they'd made no headway in finding the right 'Ted Cranston,' the one who'd owned Savannah's house. Zane couldn't consider Pattie and Tristan completely safe until they'd nailed Savannah's killer.
Outside the car, Pattie frowned vaguely up at the apartment building. "I keep thinking about Tristan, spending the morning with that woman I don't even know."
Zane stifled a smile. "Sasha Kazankov lived next door to my last client. I know her. And Tristan knows her son. The two boys have been getting along great together for the past three days at the park. A play date is perfectly age-appropriate." And Tristan's behavior had improved so much since Zane had started the job that he felt confident about using other caregivers.
Pattie bit her lower lip. "Still."
"He's fine." Zane wanted Pattie to reconcile herself to babysitters other than himself for Tristan. That way the two of them could spend some time alone together. With such quality time, Zane hoped to turn this relationship down the path he wanted it to go, toward something serious.
So far, getting closer to Pattie hadn't been easy. After nearly a week, he still had to jockey every evening over being allowed to stay and warm Pattie's bed.
Now, he opened the back door of the car and hauled out the box of Savannah's memorabilia that Pattie had promised Norman. With a grunt, he perched the box on one shoulder.
"Let me lock the car and then I'll take the box," Pattie said. "It looks heavy."
If I Loved You Page 20
