The Mating Game

by Melissa Snark

  She flashed a genuine smile. “None taken.”

  Zach ran a hand through his hair. Beneath her touch, he relaxed, and his heartbeat slowed. “Sorry,” he said, speaking to Robert. “I’m on edge.”

  “Not a problem,” Robert said, retreating toward the door. “Come on, Char. Let’s head home and grab some shuteye.”

  “Sounds good to me, but I have to be at work in two hours,” Charlaine said with a wry smile. Her hands brushed Theresa’s shoulders. “Call me if you need anything, honey.”

  Theresa smiled. “I will, I promise. Thank you both for coming over.”

  The door closed behind them with a final thud, and Zach blew out a long breath. He glanced at her and his expression shifted, betraying the turmoil in his thoughts. He looked torn between cracking a joke and saying something world-ending serious.

  Theresa launched herself at him, and he caught her out of the air. His arms engulfed her, holding her safe, protecting her from all of the bad things in the world. He was her strength, her anchor, her shelter from the storm. With a stifled sob, Theresa buried her face against his chest. She didn’t break down in tears, but she did emit a wet hiccup. Sniffling, she clung to him for a long time, taking comfort from the fact that he would be at her side no matter what bad thing happened next, and he held her in return.

  He hooked an arm beneath her knees and she settled her arms around his neck. Then he carried her into the family room and sat down on the small loveseat with her on his lap. He arranged her so she sat facing him and his hands stroked her long hair. “Do you feel up to talking?”

  She gave a nod, a quick jerk of her head. “Yes. I think so.”

  He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “Go ahead, I’m listening.”

  ****

  “And that’s pretty much everything.” Theresa concluded her tale of the prior evening’s events. It had taken the better part of an hour, but she had brought Zach up to speed. He knew everything about what had happened at the diner, and the confrontation that followed with Carl. He listened intently, interrupting with the occasional question, but otherwise gave her his undivided attention.

  Over the course of the conversation, their positions had shifted several times. At the moment, he lay stretched out across the loveseat with his head in her lap. The short couch wasn’t long enough to accommodate his frame, so his legs dangled over the side.

  Theresa combed her fingers through his blond hair, loving the silky texture, loving the intimacy even more. This was her daydream—them talking and touching. Together. She had other dreams as well, dark fantasies set against the backdrop of the bedroom, but also a wistful image of them spending time as a family—laughing and walking while Isabel played on a swing. When she truly dared indulge her heart’s desire, a vision filled her mind of a baby with the bluest eyes cradled to her breast.

  “I’m sorry, love, what an awful time you’ve had,” Zach said. “Thank God you and Isabel are safe.”

  “Yes, I’m grateful Isabel wasn’t with me last night.”

  Anger flashed in Zach’s eyes, and his grim expression alluded to dark thoughts. He had not made a secret of the fact that he was unhappy that Carl yet lived. “The pack will have to meet tonight before the full moon so he can be judged.”

  She shared his concerns as well, because she would be judged at that same meeting. As much as she might wish it, Adam would not forget about her infraction, showing her true strength to humans. Later, she would deal with it later. For the moment, she needed down time to recover from the last ordeal before she faced the next. Determined to distract him, she reached out and laid a hand on his arm.

  “It’ll be okay,” she said in a soothing tone. “You’ll see.”

  He grunted, and the stubborn set of his jaw remained but he appeared mollified. “I wish I’d been here last night to protect you.”

  Her lips curved in a coy smile, and she fluttered her lashes at him. “My hero…”

  “Right.” His ironic grin played well with her playfulness. “From what I hear,” he said, “you managed just fine without me.”

  “I was lucky,” Theresa said, dropping her flirtatious façade. Suddenly serious, she lost her smile and wrung her hands. The unresolved issue of Carl weighed on her. Adam and the other dominant males still might decide to kill him.

  Zach sat up and captured her hands between his own. A light entered his eyes, desire and pride shone with such intensity that her insides melted with pleasure. “You shifted on your own. I’m damn proud of you, Theresa.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. It was mostly luck,” she disagreed bashfully.

  “Such bollocks.” He said it with a grin, thus removing any sting from the words.

  Pleased, Theresa scooted closer to him so her toes touched his leg. In response, he reached down and drew her feet into his lap. His fingertips dug into her instep, creating a delicious sensation that caused her to shiver as he massaged her feet. They fell silent for a moment, him thoughtful, her rendered speechless by his touch.

  Her thoughts drifted, and she spoke without thinking. “The worst of it is that I lost my job.”

  “Good riddance,” Zach said. “Those bastards didn’t treat you right.”

  Annoyance made her tense up. Her desperate finances were never far from her mind, and his easy dismissal of her job wasn’t what she wanted to hear. “That’s easy for you to say, but not everyone is a best-selling author, Zach, or born rich.”

  His brow rose and he stopped rubbing her feet. “Money isn’t everything, Theresa.”

  “It is when you don’t have any.” She hadn’t meant to snap at him, to sound so accusing and envious, but the words just slipped out. There were times when she resented his privileged upbringing, even though the feelings of jealousy shamed her.

  He frowned, but his eyes were kind, despite the sharpness of her tone. “Love, I’ll give you however much you need.”

  Theresa’s jaw set, and she climbed to her feet. “I’m not taking money from you, Zach. I’ve worked hard to be independent. I shouldn’t lose everything because a couple jerks couldn’t keep their hands to themselves.”

  He remained seated, tilting his head to gaze up at her. “You’re making too much of this, love. It was a crap job, in a crap diner, working for crap people. You’ll do better. You are better.”

  Theresa’s exasperation hit a new high. “Zach,” she said, slow and soft. “I’d appreciate a little sympathy. I’ve got a child to think of. There’s rent, utilities, food…”

  “If you won’t accept my money, then move in with me.”

  Her jaw dropped, and her heart stopped before resuming with a staccato beat. She swallowed before recovering her voice. “I…I can’t! Zachary Hunter, I have a six-year-old daughter. How would that look?”

  Zach grinned. “Like you’re having a passionate and torrid affair with me?”

  Her eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint shone in her eyes. “I thought you wrote mysteries, not trashy romances.”

  “Ouch.” He pantomimed injury to his heart, but the smug smirk never left his lips. “I guess that’s a ‘no’ to you being my kept woman, eh?”

  She did her best to conceal her hurt feelings, but his cavalier attitude stung. She wanted empathy and support, not blatant insensitivity and jesting. Typically, he mocked everything, including himself, but his humor had never been intentionally cruel.

  Unable to keep the wounded expression from her face, she turned away from him. “No would be correct,” she said in a tight voice.

  Zach remained silent for what must have been a full minute, every second felt as a tiny eternity, dragging past so she almost stopped breathing with the anticipation of what he’d say next. When at last he spoke, his accent emerged very pronounced and extremely British.

  “You don’t want me fighting to protect you or to prove my worth as your mate. You won’t accept my help with your ex-husband, money you know I won’t miss, or even eat a meal that I’ve prepared. It’s starting to feel like you don�
��t want me in your life at all, Theresa.”

  She shuddered and blinked against hot tears. Her throat closed, and she had to shake her head to communicate the wrongness of what he’d just said. It took longer than she liked to find her voice. “That’s not true,” she said, speaking so low she whispered the denial.

  “Then what is true, love? Tell me, but I need to know what’s going through that mysterious head of yours.”

  The very idea that he’d called her mysterious was laughable. “Me? What about you? With your ambush attraction and your I-can’t-explain-myself courtship?”

  “Theresa, I realize my courtship caught you off guard, but is it really that much of a surprise? Three years…”

  She cut him off. “Three years of platonic friendship, Zach. At first, when you started coming around, I hoped…” She flushed with acute embarrassment.

  “I’ve been right here the whole time, waiting for you.”

  His implicit message left her stunned. Yes, it was true, he had been there the whole time. Three years of friendship dates to movies and restaurants, picnics at the park with Isabel, Fourth of July evenings under the stars watching fireworks, Thanksgiving dinners and Christmas mornings together. He maintained her car and fixed her leaky pipes. He made her laugh so hard she cried, and he held her tight when she wept.

  Her mouth went dry. She turned back to face him. “You’re saying I only had to reach out and take what I wanted this whole time?”

  Zach tipped his head in a slight nod.

  Theresa felt like a fool, as if he’d played some vast, cruel joke at her expense. She crossed her arms and fought for a semblance of composure. “Tuesday, I went shopping with Charlaine, and she told me you’ve chased off every other male that’s even come near me. Is that true?”

  His features worked with protest, but the truth of it was in his eyes. “Bloody hell, Theresa, you make it sound like I was marking my territory. I don’t treat you like a possession. I respect you as a person.”

  “That’s not an answer,” she said. “What about Mark?”

  His brow knit. “Who?”

  “The pilot I dated two years ago,” she said. “He took me out twice and then just stopped calling. At the time, I thought he was just another jerk. Did you have something to do with that?”

  Zach’s lips compressed, giving Theresa her answer.

  “My God, Zach! You’ve got some nerve!” She threw up her hands. Keeping his attraction to her a secret for three years was one thing, but driving off other suitors behind her back was too much.

  She’d had more than enough of his close-lipped behavior, which seemed to be at the root of every misunderstanding and disagreement they’d had. Of course, on some level she was also to blame—with her deep-seated insecurity and her fear of losing her independence. It took two to tango.

  “I’m going upstairs to take a shower,” she said. The time alone would do her good and give her an opportunity to cool down and think. Without waiting for his reply, she started for the stairs.

  Zach sprang to his feet. He stepped into her path, cutting off her escape. He moved with strength and grace. Purely masculine. Masterful. His distinct aroma, heat and musk, flooded her nostrils. An adrenaline rush left Theresa trembling with excitement and arousal.

  “Theresa, you can fault me for having waited too long,” he said, “but if I let you walk up those stairs then I’m committing the same mistake twice. There are two sides to every story, and you’re going to hear mine.”

  He advanced then, encroaching on her personal space, and his power blew across her skin, hot and dry like a desert tempest. He stood head high, shoulders square, adopting an authoritative stance. Theresa tilted her head back, assessing her options—advance or retreat. Without a doubt, she wasn’t getting past him. Her entire being vibrated with anticipation, the thrill of confrontation and maybe, finally, consummation.

  Head lowered so their eyes locked, Zach waited on her decision. A snarl issued from her throat, and she bared her teeth in a display of aggression. Bristling, Theresa darted in, closing the inches separating them, and shot onto her tiptoes. Her fingers grasped the front of his shirt and then dug into the muscular wall of his chest for support.

  In a real fight, he’d have maintained a close guard on his throat, but courtship skirmishes required the male to take certain risks. She slipped right past his defenses, her throat rumbling the whole time. She pressed her lips to his neck and her white teeth flashed. She nipped just below his ear, opening a nick and drawing a trickle of blood. He growled in response, so deep that his chest reverberated with the lusty sound. Nostrils flaring, she tasted his flesh, ran her tongue along the side his throat to lap up the salty blood, as his beard stubble abraded her tongue. Almost as soon as she tasted him, the small wound healed, thanks to his accelerated healing.

  Just in case he wasn’t paying attention, she bit him again, nipping his earlobe. This time she took care not to break skin, closing her teeth over the meaty tidbit of flesh. She chomped once, twice, and then gave it a quick lick and a kiss. She felt his body convulse with silent laughter, and they separated enough to allow their gazes to meet. His eyes, the brightest blue of sea or sky, shone with carefree humor. His arms closed about her, and she giggled as he swept her off her feet.

  “Well played. Your feminine wiles have won this round.”

  Theresa laughed. “I submit and you accuse me of subterfuge. I’m wounded.”

  Zach snickered. “My arse. I take it you’re listening?”

  She ran her fingers up the front of his shirt until she reached the collar, and then tightened the two sides of the V-neckline, tugging playfully. “I’m listening.”

  He took a seat and set her on his lap. Theresa scooted back so her bottom rested on a couch cushion; her legs remained across the top of Zach’s thighs. She fell against the throw pillows, gazing up at him, and he held her hand.

  Silence reigned. Zach exhaled audibly.

  “Zach?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Is it really that hard for you to put your feelings into words? Isn’t this what you do for a living? Use words to express emotions?”

  He snorted and gently squeezed her fingers. “I write crime novels, love. No one talks about their feelings but the bad guy.”

  Theresa laughed and shook her head. “Zach, do you remember last year when your father passed away?”

  “Hard to forget.”

  “At the funeral, you talked about what a great guy he was and how you always knew you were loved because he never let a day pass without saying it.”

  The lines of his face contorted into a harsh mask of sorrow. Abruptly, he looked exhausted. “Great story, wasn’t it? Not a dry eye in the house. Course, I made the whole thing up. The bastard never said it once my entire life, not even as he lay dying. But I made them believe it. I sold it.”

  “It was a great story, Zach. You always tell the best stories.” Theresa met and held his eyes, staring soul deep. She hated reminding him of the painful event, but it was necessary to get her point across. “Afterward, I held you when you cried. Do you remember that, too?”

  “I’ll never forget.” His gaze never wavered. He faced her without a hint of evasion or fear, comfortable with her knowing his feelings in the most intimate ways.

  She wished that he would always demonstrate such openness with her. If only she could get past his aversion to emotional intimacy and then overcome her own distrustful nature, and maybe all of their problems would just disappear.

  “Zach, don’t tell me any stories. You don’t need to tell me stories. Just tell me the truth.”

  His jaw worked and he nodded, obviously thinking it through. Wetting her lips, Theresa gave him the time he needed and didn’t interrupt. He’d come to her or he wouldn’t, but it had to be his choice.

  “The first time I saw you at the market, I just knew. I felt you here.” He placed his closed fist over his breast. “It was as if I felt my heart for first time ever. I ached for
you.”

  Theresa’s blush burned her face. His confession pleased her so much she squelched the impulse to squirm. At the same time, it left her confused. “Zach, we met for the first time at Adam’s house.”

  With a small shake of his head, he flashed a wry smile. “I saw you, love. It was that corner market down the street from your house. Isabel was with you—pitching an absolute fit—and you had your hands full trying to manage her and the cart. You didn’t even notice me watching.”

  “The terrible twos,” she said with a surreal sense of disbelief. She didn’t recall the precise incident, but it had been a common enough occurrence that she could envision it. “Isabel was a handful. I can’t believe you saw that and didn’t head in the opposite direction.”

  “She wasn’t all that terrifying,” Zach said with a quick grin. He squeezed her fingers, providing her with a rock steady strength to cling to in her turmoil. “At the time, I assumed you already had a mate, or I’d have introduced myself right then and there.”

  Theresa winced, but she had no choice but to acknowledge the truth of the matter. The vast majority of wolves mated for life. It would have been logical for him to think her already committed to another man. “That would’ve been a reasonable assumption,” she said.

  “I asked some discreet questions and found out about your ex-husband,” he said. “By the time we were officially introduced, I knew I had to win you.”

  The boldness of his declaration shocked but also pleased her. She flushed and sat up straighter. “And yet here we are three years later…”

  “Theresa, you were so shy and uncertain then, especially around me. I knew you’d been abused and there was Isabel to consider.”

  “So you waited.” The enormity of his investment in courting her began to sink in, but it was more than she could process. More than could be believed.

  He inclined his head, a slight tip, eyes bright. “And so I waited.”

  “You didn’t want me submitting,” Theresa said and looked away. “You assumed I’d accept a dominant male even if I didn’t want him.”