by Robyn Grady
For her own part…
Trinity tucked the wrap under Bonnie’s chin.
Well, she was feeling remarkably comfortable—with the baby at least. Whenever Zack was close, it was exactly the opposite. Her endorphin levels surged over the bar to a point where she felt giddy. Earlier today she’d toyed with the idea that he might have felt something similar when he was around her. But with her blinkers off, Trinity could see that last night’s kiss in front of the fire—this morning’s suggestion of the time out at the Bahamas—had meant nothing more to Zack than an opportunity to slough off some sexual tension and try his luck. His competitive male brain was programmed that way.
And now they would be here together another night… .
What would she do if he brought out the red wine and brandy and tried his charm on her again? Not that she wanted him to. But with the lights off and his magic switched on, the urges he brought out in her were difficult to deny. She could tell him she wasn’t interested.
But what if he cut her off with a mind-robbing penetrating kiss? She might not approve of his character, but his seduction techniques were certainly a force. Was he the type who preferred sex fast and furious, or did he craft every move, absorb every touch…savor every sip? How would it feel to have Zack Harrison’s hips grinding above hers, his mouth and tongue and teeth on her neck as she exploded and came apart in his arms?
Zack was at her side now, running a fingertip around the baby’s cheek. “She looks like she might go down again.”
Coming back to reality, Trinity scolded herself. Concentrate. He asked about the baby.
“I, eh, don’t think she’s ready yet.”
“Why don’t you sit for a while then?”
“She likes the movement.” The rocking.
“Even if your arms fall off?”
She tested him. “Care to take over?”
He studied the baby but eventually his hand dropped away. “You’re the expert.”
“Not where wearing people down are concerned.”
He looked at her sideways. “Do you want to explain that comment?”
“No.” She took a breath. “Except to say if we’re spending another night together, I’ll be sleeping in one room and you’ll be sleeping in another.”
His smiling eyes dropped to her mouth. “I thought you liked camping out.”
“What happened last night in front of the fire—” she walked back to the baby’s recliner “—it won’t happen again.”
“No?”
Her back to him, she confirmed, “No.”
“And if I decide to wear you down?”
His deep voice was at her ear, husky enough to send a wave of heat curling through her veins. In quick time, she tamped down the flame and turned to face him. But she hadn’t banked on just how close he’d be, his broad chest so near, the rugged angles of his face slanting over hers. At this range, his presence was phenomenal…larger than life.
With his dark gaze penetrating hers, she fought to straighten her thoughts.
“I’m the enemy, remember? Aren’t you afraid I’ll get too close and expose all your secrets?”
His gaze turned hard then cold. “You’re welcome to them.”
When he moved away, Trinity felt the adrenaline drain from her body. The sooner this time was over, the better. She just prayed the authorities found Bonnie’s mother soon.
He crossed to stoke the fire while she continued to sway with the baby. After a few more minutes, feeling confident Bonnie was about to nod off, Trinity eased the baby down onto the freshly laundered blanket on the recliner and bit by bit straightened.
When Bonnie shifted, Trinity thought she was merely getting comfortable. But then she moved again, blinked open her big blue eyes and, curious, Cruiser padded back from the fire to check. At the same time the baby gave a whimper, Trinity remembered her foster mother’s favorite saying: doesn’t hurt to let them cry.
And cry and cry and cry.
The short time Nora Earnshaw had looked after that baby so long ago was the best and worst time of Trinity’s childhood. Only young herself, Trinity had helped where she could, eager to fetch a diaper or a rattle if the baby got tired of her singing and stories of white unicorns with golden horns and wings. But bedtimes were strict. When 7:00 p.m. arrived and teeth were brushed, Trinity wasn’t allowed out of her room.
Maybe the baby cried because he’d wanted a bottle, but Trinity had always thought he’d simply wanted someone to sing to him. Lots of times she’d come close to taking the risk and sneaking out, but to her shame she never had. Instead she’d lain stiff while hot tears slid from the corners of her eyes and she’d stared, sick to her stomach, into the everlasting shadows. Into the dark.
Even now she wanted to cover her ears to the memories.
Back firmly in the present, Trinity swooped to pick Bonnie up again. If she was spoiling her, too bad. She’d rather a child have too much than too little. Who could ever say they had too many cuddles?
From the corner of her eye, Trinity saw Zack taking in the scene but he didn’t offer an opinion. Slotting the poker away, he sauntered back to his laptop, which was open on the table, while she rocked the baby some more.
Twenty minutes later, when Bonnie finally looked completely gone and Trinity’s back was ready to break, she carefully, carefully lay her down. But no sooner had her fingers slipped away than the baby pulled a face and shifted again. Her heavy eyelids dragged opened, her precious bottom lip began to quiver and Trinity’s heart broke in two. What was she doing wrong?
She checked the baby’s satin brow. No temperature. Collecting Bonnie again, she glanced around. Light snow was still filtering down outside but, to a degree, daylight brightened the room.
She asked Zack, “Can you draw some blinds?”
Rather than spend all day in pj’s or change into business clothes, Zack had found her a pale blue cashmere sweater, which served wonderfully as a soft, comfy dress. He’d donned a sweater, too, dark slate in color to match his eyes. Coupled with a pair of well-loved jeans that hugged his buns and long athletic legs just right, he looked like every woman’s GQ dream come to life. Well, he was.
Now those broad cashmere-covered shoulders squared as he stood tall, ready for action.
“Those windows don’t have blinds.”
None at all? “Don’t you believe in privacy?”
“We’re in the middle of nowhere. No one’s going to peep unless it’s a bear.”
“I thought she might settle if it was dark. I’m going to try her in my room.” The one where she kept her overnighter and changed Bonnie. “It’ll be quieter in there, too.” No rattling of coffee cups or Cruiser’s claws clicking over the timber floor. They wouldn’t have to tiptoe around, holding their breath. “Can you get some pillows together?”
“I’m on it.” He strode ahead.
When she crept in the darkened room, he was retrieving extra pillows from a walk-in closet. Without her having to ask, to make it snug, he positioned the pillows in a rectangle on the bed then stuffed another quilt around the outside to keep the structure sound. Trinity lowered the baby and, checking inside the suit, made sure again her diaper was dry.
Seconds then minutes ticked by. The baby didn’t move. Maybe it was the lack of light; perhaps she was simply worn-out, poor love. Trinity only knew she felt so happy and relieved when Bonnie stayed asleep; she was torn between laughing and collapsing. But it only took Zack to approach her—to come near—for her senses to begin to stir in that different, R-rated kind of way.
His rumbling voice was extra low. “Success.”
She hugged herself. “Fingers crossed.”
“How long do babies’ lunchtime naps last?”
“Guess we’re about to find out. Hopefully a couple of hours.”
She gave Bonnie one last heartfelt look before she followed Zack out. When he moved to click shut the door, she automatically set a hand on his arm. Beneath the fine wool, that limb felt like a length
of warm steel, so inviting to the touch, despite it all, she found it difficult to let go.
Schooling her expression, she stepped back.
“Leave the door open a crack. I want to hear if she cries.”
A corner of his too-kissable mouth quirked up at one side at the same time he leaned an inch closer and her pulse began to thud.
“My guess,” he whispered, “is you’ll be going back to check every two minutes.”
She sighed. He was right. “Maybe we could set up some remote control audio device like a baby monitor so I don’t wear a track in your floor.”
“We might already have a monitor. One that comes with his own batteries.” Zack looked down.
Cruiser lay in front of the door, his head dropping onto crossed front paws, his tail as still as midnight. Only his eyes, and the soft folds on his brow, moved as he shared looks between them both. Trinity wanted to bend down and hug his neck.
“He wants to take the first watch.”
“This dog has experience.” Zack ruffled one floppy ear. “Before he gets too entrenched, maybe we ought to tell him this posting is strictly temporary.”
Trinity hid her wince. It hurt to hear what she already knew. As far as she and Zack went, they were proverbial ships passing on a stormy Colorado night, and hopefully the baby and Cruiser would be reunited with people who cared about them. Soon they’d all be separated with no reason to meet again. Like her and that baby so many years ago.
Back in the main area a few minutes later, Zack was checking out the contents of his fridge.
“After those leftover steaks, the dog won’t need anything for a while.” Hands on knees, the fridge light casting shadows over the chiseled planes of his face, he glanced at her. “You hungry?”
They’d had cereal earlier and nibbled cookies throughout the morning. Exhaling until her lungs were completely empty, she eased down into a recliner.
“I’m more tired than anything. I might just spread out for a while.”
“Get a proper rest. There are a couple of bedrooms upstairs.”
Yes, she knew. One of them was his. Safer to stay here.
“This’ll do fine.” She grabbed a quilt. “Cruiser won’t have to go far looking for me when the baby wakes.”
“The baby can cope for a couple of minutes without you.”
“Doesn’t hurt to be close.”
Really wouldn’t hurt to grab a few winks, either.
She closed her eyes…let her muscles and tendons relax and float. While a series of snapshots and snippets of conversation from these past hours wound through her mind, she snuggled down more.
She might have been drifting when a strange sensation began to niggle and take hold. In a heartbeat she was hyperaware of a scent and muffled sound at the same time she felt something shift around her shoulder.
Her stomach jumped and eyes snapped open. Zack stood over her. His hand was on the quilt, lifting it higher.
“Your cover slipped.” He finished tucking the edge in around the back of her neck before drawing away. “I thought you were asleep.”
She exhaled a groan and stretched an arm high. “Trying to.”
When he turned on his heel, Trinity fought the urge to call him back. She knew what he was. Knew that he used people to get what he required.
But not in this case. With no thought of personal gain, he’d offered his help with Bonnie, and while she didn’t need to fall into his arms and pretend she was special to him, neither did she have to be rude. This was his house, after all.
She shifted up a little. “I’m really just resting. It feels good to lounge around but…”
Zack prodded. “It’s great to lounge around, but what…?”
“It’s weird,” she confessed, “but after taking care of Bonnie for so long, now, without her right here with me, it almost feels like a part of me is missing.”
“It’s a motherly thing.”
She had to grin. “How would you know?”
“My sister-in-law said something the same the first time their eldest had a sleepover. She said it felt like a limb was cut off.”
Trinity considered that and nodded. Made sense. A child was such an integral part of her mother. Or she should be.
He glanced toward that downstairs bedroom. “Cruiser’s still on duty.”
She angled up. The dog was in the exact same position as they’d left him and now Zack was taking a seat at the foot of her chair.
With her huddled up and Zack resting back against a neighboring recliner, one arm balanced on a bent knee, she forced herself to accept his proximity and they watched the fire’s sleepy flames dance and curl. Listening to the faint snap and occasional tumble of ash, inhaling the aroma of fresh coffee, knowing the snow was falling gentler now… She tried to put all the negatives out of her mind and focus on this perfect peaceful moment.
She was nowhere near ready for Zack’s somber question when it came.
“Trinity, what happened to your parents?”
A terrible ice-cold then burning heat flooded her middle. He’d caught her off guard… . She didn’t talk about the past. She’d worked to put it behind her where the pain or numbness belonged. But she and Zack would never meet again and, while he might be curious now, it was a sure bet he’d forget her and their conversations much sooner than she ever would.
And, after thinking about her foster years just now, she felt an odd niggling need to share.
“I’d like to believe my mother loved me,” she finally said, “even though I wasn’t a product of love. My foster mother told me when I should have been too young to know that my mother was raped.”
Swinging around, Zack swore under his breath. “Please tell me that woman’s child-minding days are over.”
“I keep in touch with a couple of people where I grew up. They assure me that she’s long since retired.”
He rolled back one shoulder and a measure of the distaste dragging on his mouth eased. “Did you have other family?”
“Apparently my grandparents wanted my mother to give me up. She fought to keep me, but one night, not long after I was born, I was taken away. To this day I don’t know how the legalities were handled—I think some forging must have gone on—but it seems my grandparents thought she’d get over it. That eventually my mother would get on with her life…or, rather, the life they’d prescribed for her. She didn’t, or couldn’t. My mother left her home and set out to find me.”
Trinity always smiled when she remembered that part of her story, but never for long.
“With no money or support,” she went on, “my mom ended up on the streets. I found that all out when I hired a P.I. a couple of years back. He also learned that my mother died a day before her twentieth birthday.”
Zack’s jaw was thrust forward but his eyes were glistening enough for Trinity to see her own reflection. “Your grandparents?”
“They’ve both passed away. As far as that P.I. could ascertain, they never tried to find me. My mother was an only child so there are no uncles or aunts, either.”
He bowed his head, shook it once and murmured, “I’m sorry. I can understand why you made that decision.”
“Which decision?”
“Not to have a family of your own. That’s a lot to cope with. A lot to forgive.”
Forgiveness was a strange concept, Trinity thought now, gazing into the fire. She’d heard a person needed to forgive a wrong committed against them in order to get on with their lives. But she’d gotten on with hers without needing to forgive. She could stem the tears. She could logically plan for the future. That’s why she’d made that promise not to have children of her own and, since that time, had never second-guessed it. Had never thought differently.
Until today.
Taking care of Bonnie was so rewarding. Felt so worthwhile. Of course she didn’t plan to run off and get pregnant or anything as crazy as that. But for the first time, she truly understood why, in times so full of uncertainty, people took the r
isk and brought innocent defenseless lives into this world.
Why people took a chance on falling in love.
* * *
Trinity had been asleep for an hour when Cruiser padded over to where Zack stood, hands slotted into the back pockets of his jeans, studying the vast panorama of snow. The dog knocked his nose against Zack’s leg and gave a barely audible gruff. It took one-point-five seconds to interpret. Bonnie was stirring.
He wondered why Cruiser hadn’t gone to Trinity instead. Most likely because the mistress was sound asleep while the master was whiling away the time, daydreaming about how different, peaceful—lonely?—the place would be tomorrow after the snow had started to melt and everyone had gone their respective ways.
Be that as it may, he was the “fetch it” guy. Trinity took care of the baby.
He could always steer Cruiser over to where she lay curled up on that recliner. But he’d used up that card this morning when the baby was wet and he’d cleared his throat hoping Trinity would wake and take the pressure off. Of course, that had been before he’d heard the rest of her story.
Good Lord. What an eye-opener. He’d known his life was blessed a hundred different ways. A great family. A terrific childhood, even if his father hadn’t been around half as much as he should. When Trinity had admitted her mother had been a victim of rape then had suffered such injustice at the hands of her own parents…
Zack grimaced.
Who in the name of God could scheme to get rid of their own blood? To his mind, a child conceived through such a violent act deserved consideration, protection, all the more. It was surreal to know that same child was the woman asleep on his lounge now.
He couldn’t hope to grasp how she must feel. How she dealt with that past brewing in the back of her brain every day. Or perhaps she’d succeeded in blocking it out most of the time. Isn’t that what survivors sometimes did?
Probably good those grandparents were deceased. Since Trinity’s confession, he’d needed to tamp down the urge to form a plan to seek them out, and not to host a family reunion. His own Gran and Pap were the backbone of the Harrison clan. Where family was concerned, no sacrifice was too big for either one. Never having known that kind of bond, would Trinity feel alien in his family’s company?
