Yet throughout it all, Zoe murmured her acquiescence.
It was nothing like his wedding to Daisy, and yet Jake found himself hesitating as he reached down to take Zoe’s hand. It was time to slip a plain gold ring on her finger, but the depth and meaning of the powerful symbolism was tarnished by the loss of equality. The ring seemed far more imprisoning as she knelt slightly behind him, as he tagged her as if she were some kind of pet or possession.
Taking a deep breath, he pushed the ring onto her finger. If she could kneel and bow her head, he could do this.
There was no ring for his finger—he was grateful at least for that.
Finally, at last, Zoe was allowed to rise.
It was time to kiss the bride.
She looked at him then, and there were tears in her eyes. And he knew that as hard as this had been for him, it had been a million times harder for Zoe—Zoe, who’d probably never knelt for anyone before in her entire life.
He kissed her softly, gently, trying to reassure himself as well as her that none of this was real.
She clung to him then, and he closed his eyes and held her close. Wishing…what? He didn’t even know.
“I’m sorry,” she breathed into his ear, barely loud enough for him to hear. “I’m so sorry, Jake. I know how hard this must be for you.”
He pulled back to look at her in surprise as he realized that the tears in her eyes were for him.
The crowd in the bar was applauding. Carol and her friend Monica threw rice. And Jake stood there watching a tear escape from Zoe’s eyes and slide down her cheek.
And he couldn’t help himself.
He kissed her.
Not because he had to.
But because he wanted to.
Her lips were so soft, and she tasted impossibly sweet. How could someone as tough and strong as Zoe taste that sweet?
He gently coaxed her mouth open, taking his time, kissing her slowly, completely, deeply. Very, very deeply.
Time ground to a halt and the noise in the room faded to a dull roar. Nothing mattered, nothing existed but the woman in his arms.
He wanted to kiss her forever. He wanted this moment to go on and on, endlessly.
He felt her melt against him, felt heat pool in the pit of his stomach, felt his knees grow weak.
God, if a single kiss could be this good…
He pulled back, breathing hard.
Zoe’s eyes were wide as she looked at him.
And then Chris and some of the other men from the CRO were slapping him on the back, shaking his hand, buying him a drink.
He looked at Zoe, surrounded now by Carol and Monica, old Roy and Lonnie, and she was still gazing at him, a question in her eyes.
He nodded. Yes. But she still didn’t get it. Or maybe she didn’t believe him.
“That was me kissing you,” he told her silently, knowing she could read his lips.
She smiled, but her eyes welled with fresh tears. And this time he wasn’t surprised.
Chapter 10
It was definitely weird.
Walking into the CRO fort was like walking onto the set of her favorite television show.
Zoe had seen it, in complete detail, on the surveillance video screens many times before.
She’d studied the entire former factory while in the team trailer. She knew the layout nearly as well as Bobby Taylor now.
She could find the main kitchen in a blackout with her eyes closed if she had to. She knew where all the cameras and microphones were located in the compound yard. She knew the shortest route to Jake’s quarters from any given point in the place.
But she hung back, letting Jake lead the way.
She would have to remember to let him walk several paces in front of her. A CRO rule.
He’d left his room unlocked—apparently everyone did. He opened the door, holding it politely, the way her father might have done for her mother, to let her go in first.
She knew this room well, too. The colors were slightly different than they’d appeared on the video monitors, though, the red-orange of the shag carpeting a little more brassy, the paneling a little more nicked and worn.
She looked into the mirror, wondering who was watching them right now. Were Bobby and Wes pulling a shift? Or Harvard? Or was it Luke O’Donlon? The entire team knew that everything said and done in this room was purely for the benefit of the cameras. They knew that nothing was real, but still…
She turned to face Jake. “Well. This is…. At least it’s nicer than my trailer.”
Jake set her bags down on the long, low dresser top. He forced a smile. “It’ll do for now.”
Holy Mike, could they sound any more uptight? They were supposed to be newlyweds, on their wedding night. They’d both been pretending they were eager to get back here, that they were hot to be alone, but now what?
Jake had definitely been right—this was not going to be any fun. Not while knowing three cameras and God knows how many people would be watching them.
He came toward her, slipping off the jacket he’d put over her shoulders during the ride to the factory. He carefully hung it on the back of a chair, then smiled at her again.
“Mind if I…?” He reached for her hairpins, starting to take them out without really waiting for her reply.
“No, I don’t mind.” She helped him, and her hair tumbled around her shoulders.
“I love your hair,” he said.
Zoe closed her eyes as Jake ran his fingers through it.
“It’s so soft,” he murmured. “Like a baby’s.”
He was touching more than her hair, touching her neck, her throat, her shoulders, her arms.
She opened her eyes, and the sight of herself in the mirror caught her off guard. She looked completely enthralled, her eyes half closed, her lips slightly parted, each breath she took making her breasts press even farther out of this two-sizes-too-small dress Carol had pulled out of the back of her daughter’s closet.
“Are you cold?” Jake whispered, his hands warm against her arms.
“No, I’m—”
“Yes, you are,” he said, silently ordering her to agree. “Your arms feel a little cold.”
What was he doing? “I am,” she said. “A little.”
He kissed her jaw, her throat, the tops of her breasts. The sensation nearly made her burst into flames. Cold was the complete last thing that she was.
“Why don’t you climb into bed—under the covers?” He smiled. “We’ll see what we can do to get you warmed up.”
Ah. That was what he was doing. Once they were beneath the covers, no one would be able to tell if they were making love or simply trying on each other’s underwear. Especially if they turned off the lights.
Zoe turned her back to him. “Will you unzip me?”
He hesitated slightly, and she knew that he’d been hoping she’d just keep the dress on. But that would seem odd—too odd. She glanced over her shoulder at him. “Please?”
He touched her then, fumbling slightly with the tiny zipper pull. She felt his fingers trail down the entire expanse of her back as she held the dress on in front.
He kissed her neck, his voice suddenly husky. “I’ll be right out.”
Jake turned out one of the lights as he went into the attached bathroom and closed the door behind him.
God, his heart was pounding. Without a doubt, this was going to be the longest night of his life. He washed his hands, stalling, trying to get his heart rate down to near normal, splashed water onto his face.
But when he closed his eyes, he could see only Zoe’s smooth, bare back. All that perfect skin beneath his fingers.
She wasn’t wearing a bra.
He laughed aloud.
He was going to have to climb into that bed with her and pretend to make love to her—oh, and while he did that, she would be half-naked in his arms.
He gazed at his dripping wet face in the bathroom mirror.
Maybe he could keep his clothes on.
Yeah, right. That would look very unsuspicious. After he’d been drooling after her for weeks, he’s suddenly Mr. Shy?
God, maybe he should just give up and make love to her.
Jake looked hard into his own eyes, recognizing the truth, recognizing that that was what he really, really wanted tonight. Sex purely for the sake of sex. No strings. No responsibilities. Just Zoe’s legs locked around him as he lost himself inside of her.
As he lost himself.
Lost. Himself.
And he would lose himself. He’d wake up in the morning, and everything he valued most would be gone. His integrity. His honor. His profound sense of what was good and right.
And how would he be able to look himself in this mirror then?
He wasn’t ready for that. Not now. God, maybe not ever.
Jake took off his shirt, stepped out of his shoes and his pants and turned on the shower.
He knew what he had to do.
But he wasn’t done stalling.
Zoe heard the shower go off as she lay in the dark, waiting for Jake.
She heard the rattle of the shower curtain being pulled back, and then silence.
God, her heart was pounding.
She waited and…
The bathroom door finally opened, flooding the room with light. And there was Jake, a dark silhouette with broad shoulders, a towel slung casually around his waist.
She couldn’t tell if he was smiling. She kind of suspected he wasn’t. But God, if there were ever a time she could have used one of his reassuring smiles, it was now.
He flipped the switch for the bathroom light, and the room again was dark. But not completely dark. The searchlights that illuminated the grounds of the compound shone in through the ancient blinds.
She could see Jake as he walked toward her, as he sat down on the edge of the bed.
“Sorry I took so long,” he said. “It’s been kind of a long day, and I thought you might appreciate it if I had a quick shower.”
“I’m a little nervous,” she whispered. Honestly. Not just for the benefit of the microphones.
Her eyes had adjusted to the dark, and she could see his face clearly. “I am, too, Zoe,” he said quietly. Also honestly.
He smiled at her then. It was a smile that held an apology, a smile that was charmingly embarrassed, yet still self-assured enough to broadcast his awareness of the dark humor of this completely bizarre situation.
Zoe smiled back at him. “I think you’re sitting out there because you want to hear me beg.”
Something sparked in his eyes. “Begging usually works nicely for me. But tonight it’s not necessary.”
He dropped his towel on the floor as he slipped beneath the covers.
His skin was cool and smooth as he reached for her, as he kissed her. He pulled her close, his legs deliciously solid against hers as he intertwined them, his chest exquisitely solid against her breasts as his hands slid along the satiny back of her nightgown.
She could sense his surprise and then his relief. Oh, brother, had he really thought she would just be naked beneath these covers?
He had. He pulled back slightly to look at her, to check out the clingy black satin and lace that barely covered her breasts and swept all the way down to her thighs.
“Nice.” His voice was husky; his eyes were warm. “Very nice. Very, very, very nice.”
Zoe giggled. She couldn’t help it.
Then Jake started laughing, too, and she laughed harder.
And once she started, she couldn’t stop. This was just too absurd. She was finally in bed with this man that she wanted more than anyone in the world. She finally had him exactly where she wanted him, only she couldn’t do anything about it because everyone and their right-wing, racist twin brothers were watching on their surveillance video screens.
Welcome to the Jake and Zoe Show.
It was completely insane. They were pretending to be lovers who’d waited to be married before making love, except they weren’t really married, at least not in the eyes of the law, and they weren’t really going to make love. Reality and pretense were all twisted in an enormously tangled, ridiculous knot.
Jake was fighting it. He was trying not to laugh, but that just made it worse.
Zoe clung to him giddily. Their sudden unexplained laughter would be considered extremely strange, but there was nothing either of them could do to stop.
Jake tried to kiss her, but couldn’t do it. He buried his face in her hair, laughing so hard he was crying.
They had to do something to make it look as if they were getting it on. Zoe pulled him more completely on top of her, cradling him with her body, linking her legs around him and—
Jake tried to pull back, but he couldn’t move quickly enough.
He was completely aroused. He’d been lying beside her in such a way that had kept her from knowing that, but now the hard truth—as it were—was unavoidable.
And just like that, they both froze, both stopped laughing.
“Oh, God, I’m sorry,” he breathed. He was beyond embarrassed. He was mortified.
“No,” she said. “No, Jake, because I want—”
“Don’t,” he rasped, and kissed her to keep her from saying it.
Zoe kissed him hungrily, telling him without words what he already knew.
I want you, too.
He groaned as she pressed herself up against him, groaned as she kissed him harder, sweeping her tongue more deeply into his mouth.
But then he pulled back. He stopped kissing her and started rocking the bed, his movements obvious from the squeaks of the springs, the way the mattress bumped the wall. But it so lacked finesse, Zoe struggled not to laugh again. Or cry. She was so overwhelmed with emotion and desire, she wasn’t sure what would come out if she opened her mouth.
He collapsed on top of her with a shout, pretending it was over far too quickly, pretending he’d found release. They lay there, both breathing hard for many long seconds.
Jake was still rock solid against her thigh, and Zoe wondered if, like her, he was ready to weep from sheer frustration.
But then he rolled off her, swearing softly, and she turned to look at him.
He lay on his back, one arm thrown up and over his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said. His words were for the microphones—they were back in pretend mode. “It’s been a long time for me and—”
“Sh.” Zoe didn’t dare reach for him, didn’t dare touch him. “It’s okay. We’ve got the entire rest of our lives to get it right.”
“I’m just…embarrassed.” He looked at her, lowering his voice. “I am sorry.”
“It’s okay.” There was nothing else she could say, not without fear of blowing their cover, not without making Jake even more tense.
He’d kissed her this evening, for real, back in Mel’s bar, but clearly he wasn’t ready yet for anything more, despite his body’s obvious betrayal.
She ached for him to hold her, ached for them to finish what they’d started, ached because she knew it wasn’t going to happen. Maybe not ever.
She lay beside him, far too warm beneath the blanket, afraid to move for fear she might brush against him.
“Thank you for marrying me,” she whispered, knowing how terribly hard all of this was for him.
Jake just laughed. “Yeah,” he said. “Sure.”
Chapter 11
Jake stood in the shower with his eyes closed, letting the water drum down onto his head.
He’d gotten maybe an hour of sleep last night.
He’d lain awake for hours, hyperaware of Zoe lying next to him in that bed.
It was only a double, not as big as the queen-size mattress he was used to, and it had a big, broken-down valley right in the center, to boot. Every time he tried to get comfortable, he sank toward the middle of the bed and ended up brushing against Zoe.
The smoothness of her legs.
The softness of her shoulder.
The cool satin of her barely there black ni
ghtgown.
Dear God. He’d been so glad at first that she’d put something on. But as the night had dragged on, he’d found himself thinking about the way that slinky texture had felt beneath his fingers, the warm firmness of her body beneath that, the black lace against the creamy fullness of her breasts….
Dear God.
Dear God.
She’d slept about as well as he had.
He’d sensed her, lying awake, tensely clinging to her side of the bed.
At one point, he’d heard her breathing deepen, heard her finally fall asleep. But as she’d relaxed, she’d turned toward him, nestling against him, her hand on his chest, her legs against his.
He’d tried gently to push her legs back, knowing he’d never sleep with her there like that, afraid of what might happen if he pushed his way between her thighs while they both slept. But as gentle as he’d tried to be, he’d woken her up. She’d stared at him, stared at her hand placed so possessively on him, and she’d retreated to her side of the bed with a murmured apology.
He’d finally slept fitfully, waking himself up every few minutes with a start, trying to police himself.
This last time, exhaustion had overtaken him. He’d slept for at least an hour.
And had woken up with Zoe wrapped tightly in his arms. Her soft rear end pressed against him, his face buried in her sweet-smelling hair, his right hand securely cupping her breast.
He’d extracted himself from her this time without waking her. Morning light was finally streaming in through the cracks in the blinds, and he’d gotten out of bed, aching in every way imaginable.
He’d gone for a run, pushing himself far beyond his usual five miles, and by the time he’d come back to the room, the bed was neatly made and Zoe was gone.
With luck, she was as good as Pat Sullivan had said she was, and she’d return to the room with the six missing canisters of Triple X in hand.
Jake laughed aloud, knowing how completely ridiculous it was to think Zoe could simply find the Trip X by walking the halls of the CRO compound on her first morning here, but irrationally hoping just the same. It was about time something in this op came easily.
“Hey,” Zoe said, pulling back the shower curtain and stepping into the tub. “What are you laughing about in here all by yourself?”
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