Teak was Jen’s favorite. She always thought the 60’s Scandinavian stuff was underrated, given its sleek lines and solid quality. She ran one hand over the arm of one chair in admiration before it struck her.
Zach had bought used furniture. And not from a fancy shop that refinished the past for the present. This looked as if he’d scored it at a garage sale or lucked out in a major way at the Salvation Army.
Jen felt a tingle. Did Zach intuitively know how to reduce, reuse and recycle, or was he taking a page from her book? She remembered his car, which he’d had longer than he’d known her, and couldn’t give herself credit. In fact, she had a growing suspicion that they had a lot more in common than she’d initially thought.
Which made her being here on this night even more perfect.
Jen sat in the chair with the polished arm and ran her fingers over the smooth wood. She sat in the flickering candlelight, watched the snow fall, watched the light play with the photograph he’d taken in Venice, and felt a weird mix of tranquility and excitement.
She was exactly where she needed to be. She couldn’t make sense of that conviction, and she didn’t really want to. She thought of her mother casting their astrological charts and declaring that their relationship was a fated one and knew it was true.
She knew it. She didn’t know where it was going or how it would end, but she knew that being here with Zach was right.
And Natalie’s youngest daughter had learned a long time ago that some things had to be taken on faith.
* * *
Zach was impatient with Roxie’s quest for the perfect spot, because he was pretty sure Jen wouldn’t be in his apartment when he got back upstairs. She’d be gone, having left a note on the fridge if he was lucky, and this would be the end of everything.
He couldn’t do Elvis again.
Well, he could, but it wouldn’t be as effective. Surprise wouldn’t be on his side.
He hadn’t even asked Jen about Christmas yet.
Neither of those was the real reason he was so anxious to get back upstairs.
Roxie seemed to sense his urgency—it could have been the way he tugged at her leash—because she headed back for the building in a power trot once she was done. She broke into a run once the elevator doors opened on his floor and Zach dropped the leash to keep from slipping on the wet tile. She went straight to the door of his condo, sniffled at the crack and whimpered.
Zach was afraid that that was a bad sign. He spoke to the dog quietly, then opened the door, fully expecting to find his apartment empty.
Instead, it was filled with candlelight. Zach froze on the threshold and felt for the first time as if he’d come home. Jen was sitting in one of his new chairs, as still as a statue.
She smiled at him and his heart stopped cold.
Roxie launched herself across the room for a second greeting, and Jen calmed her with enviable ease.
“She’s crazy for you,” Zach said as he shook the snow out of his hair and hung up his coat. “She dragged me back up here.”
Jen patted the dog, who wagged mightily, catching her head in her hands. “You’re so neglected, aren’t you?” Roxie licked her hands happily. “You still look shiny and happy to me, so I’m not convinced,” she said to the dog and Zach smiled.
Then Jen glanced up at him. “So, what’s this all about? Why the sudden influx of furniture?”
Zach shoved a hand through his hair, not really wanting to talk about decor. “Well, it kind of turned up…”
Jen seemed to be fighting a smile. “Turned up? Does furniture often leap into your path?”
“It’s been known to spontaneously manifest in my vicinity,” he joked and she laughed.
“Then maybe you should take up a career as a picker.”
“No, I’ve got a vocation. I think you can only have one.”
“At a time, anyway.” She regarded him warily. “You’re not hanging out with people who deck you again, are you?”
Zach shook his head. “No. That was only a passing hobby.”
“An infatuation.”
“A flirtation at best.”
She looked at the photograph. “But that’s the real thing?”
Zach smiled, liking that she understood his ambition—such as it was—so well. “Yes. How’d you know?”
“You’re good at it. Vocations are like that.”
Zach sat in the other chair and watched Jen, liking her easy manner. The candlelight made dancing highlights in her hair, and made her eyes seem darker and more mysterious. Her skin looked golden, and the shadows beneath her eyes seemed to have faded. She looked serene, yet curious. He wasn’t quite sure how to proceed, not knowing how spooked she would be about him seeing her missing breast.
And he really didn’t want to mess up.
“Well, the truth about the furniture is that I was in Rosemount—”
“You went home? To your family place?”
“No. Not Gray Gables.” Zach pretended to shudder.
“It can’t be that bad.”
“I don’t really want to go and find out.” Too late, Zach realized this bit of honesty would make the Christmas invite awkward. Rather than figuring that out, he continued his story. “I went to my sister Philippa’s place. She lives in Rosemount, in her husband’s aunt’s house.”
“Sounds complicated.”
“It can be. I went to talk to her, but ended up bouncing a baby and painting the kitchen.” He spread his hands. “See what I mean?”
Jen smiled, as if this confession pleased her. “I thought you didn’t get along with your family. You said you were all really good at avoiding each other.”
“We are. Usually.” Zach thought about this. “Maybe we’re getting over it. Anyway, someone on her street was having a garage sale and I stopped to look. The price was really good and I like it, so we made a deal.”
“Don’t say that you’re cheap, but you’re not easy,” Jen teased.
Zach smiled. “I won’t, because I’m feeling pretty easy right now.”
“Are you?”
“Go ahead; have your way with me.”
Jen laughed a little and blushed, then stroked the arm of the chair he’d cleaned. “Are you going to reupholster them?”
“What’s wrong with the orange?” he asked, pretending to be oblivious to its splendid ugliness.
“It looks like you stole it from a dorm…” Jen started before she glanced up and saw his smile.
“Gotcha.” He leaned closer, flicked his fingertip across her nose. She sobered and caught her breath, but didn’t pull away. He knew he had to go slowly. He smiled to reassure her, then caught her hand in his, interlacing their fingers and pulling her to her feet. “Let’s dance.”
“There’s no music,” she protested but she moved into his arms all the same.
“Didn’t stop us before. Do you want me to sing?”
“I kind of like the snow and the candlelight,” she breathed into his shoulder and he had to agree. They moved around the room slowly, waltzing to no music. Zach closed his eyes and leaned his cheek against the side of her head, pulling her a little closer.
She caught her breath but she moved closer, one hand on his shoulder, one trapped within his. Her face was against his neck, her nose was cold. He ran his hand down her back to put his hand on her waist, letting his thumb slide down the vertebrae. She shivered.
“What kind of upholstery?” she asked.
Zach’s eyes opened in surprise. He forced himself to think of something other than how Jen felt and struggled to remember their conversation.
Upholstery.
Chairs.
Right. “I’ll guess leather is out,” he said, frowning. “Although it would look good.”
“Nothing should die for the sake of appearances,” Jen said sternly.
He caught her chin in his fingertips and forced her to meet his gaze. “My point exactly.” Sensing that he’d wandered close to dangerous ground, he switched gears to make he
r smile. “On the other hand, the nauga lobby is pretty scary. I don’t want to be answerable for dead naugas, do you?”
“Naugahyde isn’t made of dead naugas,” Jen chided, a smile in her voice.
“How many innocent polyesters should I see slaughtered for my upholstery? As a responsible human, concerned with my environmental footprint, I was thinking cotton.”
“You’re just trying to have your way with me, by talking about renewable resources.”
Zach grinned. “You don’t seem to have an issue with it.”
“True.” Jen stretched up and kissed him, surprising him to silence. “Go ahead, consider undyed hemp and you can have your way with me.”
“Deal,” Zach said. He kissed her before she could argue with that.
He’d been prepared to cajole her, but Jen surprised him again. She arched against him immediately and twined her hands into his hair, participating in the embrace as she never had before. She felt long and lithe and strong. Her kiss was demanding and his circuit board was melting faster than he’d ever anticipated it could.
Or would.
He swung her up into his arms and caught her against his chest. The twinkle in her eyes told him that their tempo was exactly right. He took his time, not wanting to spook her. “And you haven’t even seen the bedroom suite yet.”
Jen blinked. “You bought a bed?”
“Roxie was complaining about the futon’s effects on her back.”
“More garage sale stuff?” Jen was swinging her feet, her expression playful and seductive. Zach wished yet again that he had his camera.
On the other hand, he had his arms full and, given the choice, Jen was better to hold than a camera. “The same sale. I’m not a real power hunter. Yet.”
She granted him a playful look through her bangs. “You’re not going to promise to show me your etchings?”
“I have photos, and you’ve seen the only one I’m showing.”
Jen glanced toward the Venice shot and smiled. “If you’re only going to have one, it might as well be a beauty.”
Zach was flattered and pleased that she liked the shot that well. “Applies to women as well as art.”
“Should I take that to mean that you’ve been a collector in the past?”
“No, not me. A serial monogamist, maybe.”
“You and my sister, Cin. I knew you were twins separated tragically at birth.” She smiled up at him, then arched a brow. “So, is this bedroom suite teak?”
Zach nodded. “With a bookcase in the headboard.” He carried her across the room and blew out the flame on a candle. Jen blew out another and between the two of them, the candles were quickly extinguished. The light changed from gold to cooler blues, but Jen’s smile and the welcome in her eyes didn’t waver.
Zach strolled into the bedroom, watching Jen check out his acquisition. He kicked the door shut behind them, saying goodnight to Roxie, who settled on the floor outside the door with a thump of bones on the hardwood.
“Nice,” she said, and reached out a hand to stroke the headboard.
“A person could put her knitting on that bookshelf, come to think of it.”
“Any particular person?”
“I only know one who knits.”
Jen was pleased by that, Zach could see it in her smile. “I thought you’d say that a person would have better things to do in bed than knit.”
“Good point. I should have said that.”
“I’ll forgive you this time.”
“Provided I show you what better things people can do in bed,” he teased.
“Be still, my heart,” Jen said. “There’s nothing sexier than a man who knows what a woman wants.” Before Zach could comment on that, she pulled his head down for another searing kiss.
When they stopped for breath, he heaved a sigh. “If I walk into the wall and give us both a concussion, it’ll be your fault,” he teased.
Jen laughed. “You won’t.”
“You’re trusting me a lot already.”
“I wouldn’t be getting naked in your bedroom otherwise.”
Zach looked pointedly at her clothing. “I don’t see you getting naked. Yet.”
“You could help.” She smiled and looked at him through her lashes, as provocative as he’d ever seen her. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips swollen, her hair tousled. Her expression was even more seductive because he knew she didn’t realize how she looked.
“I’m taking that as an invitation,” he said, then rolled backward onto the bed, carrying her with him. Jen gasped, then laughed as they tumbled together across the mattress.
Zach rolled her beneath him, his hand on her shoulder, and her laughter stopped as she looked up at him.
There was a beat when they eyed each other, when he saw her trepidation and wanted nothing more than to make it go away.
Jen swallowed and Zach kissed her again. It was a gentle, lingering kiss, but he knew he didn’t imagine the electricity thrumming beneath it. He unfastened the top button of her blouse, then kissed her temple, her ear, her throat.
She was gorgeous and her uncertainty of that tore at his heart. He worked each button loose, leaving the shirt closed until they were all unfastened. Jen stared up at him, her breath coming fast, his hand rested on the indent of her waist beneath her shirt. The light of the snow poured through the window, painting her vulnerable expression with silvery light.
He smiled at her, wanting only to reassure her. “You could, you know, just be giving me a cover story here.” She snorted and would have argued, but he dropped a finger over her lips. He replaced his finger with his mouth, finding that a much better solution. Jen seemed to like it too.
“No story,” she said when he lifted his head.
“I don’t know. You’re always putting people on, with this deadpan expression.” He eased the top of her shirt apart with one fingertip, revealing her collarbone to his view. The light played in its curves lovingly. He bent and kissed it, liking how she caught her breath and arched against him. “I mean, Amazon warriors are a mythic race and all that, but there’s nothing saying that they didn’t really exist. Or even that they don’t continue to exist. You hear stories, you know, about an underground society of women…”
“Living in the dark?” Jen demanded. “With spiders? I don’t think so.”
Zach chuckled. “Work with me here. What if there were Amazon warrior princesses still? They’d be tall and athletic and gorgeous. They’d keep their hair short.” He shoved a hand through her cropped curls, swept his hand down her throat and eased the shirt open a bit more. “And they’d kiss like goddesses, for sure.” He ran a line of kisses along her bared shoulder, then kissed her mouth again. “I’ll bet they could really sing, too.”
She was smiling. “You’re making this up.”
“But it sounds good, doesn’t it? They’d face any obstacle fearlessly, they’d spit in the eye of Death.” He pushed back the shirt and exposed her left breast.
Or where her left breast should have been. The pink and purple striped knitted ball was in her bra cup. It was a simple bra, a plain white one with underwires, no lace or frills. The cup was solid fabric so he could only see the edge of the knitted ball.
Something clenched deep within Zach, because he didn’t expect what was beneath the prosthesis to be pretty. He felt Jen watching him and knew he had to be really careful.
He met her gaze. “They’d be independent and noble and opinionated,” he murmured, then reached beneath her to unfasten her bra clasp. “They’d keep their steely gazes focused on what was really important.” She seemed to be holding her breath, even as she arched her back a bit to give him access.
She wanted him to see, or more accurately, she wanted him to see her and not be revolted. Zach hoped he could do it. He eased the strap from her shoulder, lifted away the knitted prosthesis and put it on the bookshelf above them.
He looked down at her, seeing her uncertainty and fear. “And they’d ruthlessly use men for pleas
ure, kind of like an inverse harem.”
She tried to smile. “Is that what you think I’m doing?”
“It’s a risk. I’ll just have to do my best, so you don’t throw me back. You could give me a hint or two, you know, maybe out of pity.”
“You don’t need any hints.”
“Good.”
Jen almost laughed, then Zach swept her bra aside. She caught her breath and froze. He looked down at her scar, knowing she was watching, schooling himself to not flinch at the sight of it.
It wasn’t as bad as he’d expected, but then, he had a ferocious imagination. It was odd, though, to see this roughly horizontal line where her breast and nipple should have been. The scar curled toward her armpit, smoothly healed but an inescapable reminder all the same. It looked savage and wrong, and he wished on some level that he’d seen her whole first.
But then, it was part of her, part of where she’d been and who she was. The cancer had reshaped her, as surely as the scar reshaped her chest. And when he thought of it that way, as a symbol of her strength, he could see beauty in its harsh line.
“Still think it was worth it?” she asked, her voice catching on the words.
He nodded. “I wouldn’t miss your being here for the world.” He met her gaze. “What about you?”
She swallowed again, then nodded quickly. “I’m glad, too.”
“Does it hurt?” he asked and she shook her head.
“Not anymore.” Her brow puckered. “Not physically, anyway.”
He ran his fingertip gently along its length and she shivered. This was part of Jen. He wanted to know it, as he wanted to know everything about her.
“Don’t pretend it isn’t gross.”
“It isn’t.”
“Don’t lie to me. You chase beauty.”
“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Maybe you’ve heard that.”
“Was that yours?”
He grinned, letting his fingers gently learn the shape of her wound. “You know, most warriors consider scars to be honorable.”
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