She gazed into his eyes. "A reckless one," she whispered.
"The best kind," he said as he leaned over and pressed his mouth against hers.
In an instant she was lost to a tidal wave of need and when Zach put his hand on the back of her neck and pulled her closer, she was more than happy to go along, to run her hands through his hair, to suck his tongue into her mouth, to press her body against his.
He groaned and rolled her on to her back, lifting his head to look at her. "I want do more than kiss you. I want to know you inside and out."
Her stomach flipped over at the intensity of his words, the promise in his eyes. "I want to know you, too, Zach." She sat up and unbuttoned his shirt with shaky, impatient fingers. As he tossed off the shirt, she delighted herself in running the palms of her hands across his broad chest, his dark hair, twirling the strands between her fingers as she stroked and caressed and brought a moan to his lips.
He returned the favor, pulling her top over her head, cupping her breasts with his hands, his fingers on fire against the black lace of her bra. Then he looked at her, his gaze drifting from her eyes to her mouth to her breasts. The action was so deliberate she felt like he'd branded her with each glance.
He pushed her on to her back, straddling her body, then reached out a rough thumb to trace the edge of her bra, teasing the valley between her breasts, until they began to ache with want. Finally he slid a finger beneath the material and touched the sensitive area around her nipple.
She gasped, the pleasure so pure, so deep, so unbelievably good.
He smiled at her. "You like this?" he asked, his voice low and husky.
"It's not bad," she said breathlessly.
"I could make it better -- if we get rid of this." He opened the clasp between her breasts and pushed her bra aside. "Very nice."
She felt her nipples harden just at the look in his eyes. But when he put his hands on her bare breasts, she felt like she was about to come undone.
"Oh, Zach," she murmured.
He leaned over and kissed her all the while his hands teased and tormented her breasts. She began to shift restlessly, feeling his body pressing against hers, but there were too many barriers between them.
Her restless movements drew his mouth away from her lips. But he didn't go far, sliding over to her earlobe, her neck, her collarbone. He seemed to know instinctively what she wanted and how to please her. His mouth dropped to her breasts and he tongued one nipple into a tight hard point. She shamelessly pressed his head against her breast, wanting more and more and more.
"Beautiful Kat," he murmured, lifting his head. She pulled at the snap on his jeans.
"Impatient Kat," he added.
"You're wearing too many clothes."
"So are you."
"I will if you will," she said recklessly.
"You first." He moved aside.
She licked her lips somewhat nervously, then unbuttoned her jeans and pushed them down her legs, wiggling to get them off of her ankles.
"Panties, too," he said, gazing down at the heat of her.
"I'm a little ahead of you," she said nervously.
"Oh, I don't think so," he murmured, as he slipped off his jeans and his briefs in one swift motion.
Naked, he was magnificent, muscle and bone, strength and power, so male, so handsome, so desirable. She would have taken her time just looking at him, but he pushed her back against the hay and pulled her panties down to her ankles.
He gazed at her with an expression in his eyes of pure unadulterated lust. She'd never had so much attention, so much focus, so much desire, directed at her. And she reveled in it. He made her feel like a woman, a very wanted woman.
Then he swore under his breath.
"What?" she asked. "What's wrong?"
"I don't have anything, dammit."
"Have anything?" she mumbled in confusion. "Oh. Birth control. Protection." She'd been so lost in the passion she hadn't even considered the need for that. It was completely irresponsible. Reckless and risky. She knew better. But she wanted Zach more than she'd ever wanted any man in her life.
"Wait," she said, suddenly inspired. "I have something." She reached for her purse and pulled out the package they'd gotten at Veronica's. "Remember these?" She ripped open the package and pulled out a bright green glow-in-the-dark condom.
Zach grinned at her and they both began to laugh. Zach laughed so hard he lay down on the hay and said, "I think I've lost some momentum here, Kat. I don't know if I can wear one of those without laughing."
She leaned over and put a finger over his mouth. "I'll help you get back in the mood."
"Oh, yeah? What are you going to do?”
She kissed his mouth, stroking his tongue with hers, then running her mouth down the side of his cheek, the corner of his neck, until he groaned and tossed her on her back.
"Okay, I'm back in the game."
"That was fast," she murmured as he kissed her lips, her face, her jaw, working his way down to her breasts, drawing on each one until she was gasping for release. "Zach, you're driving me crazy."
"I want you crazy," he murmured. "I want you wild."
She looked into his eyes. "I am wild -- for you." Her words seemed to disturb him.
"Before we go any further, you should remember I'm not a long-term kind of guy. I don't want to pretend. I don't want to make promises I can't keep."
"Shh." She put a finger over his lips. "Love me, Zach, even if it's only for the next five minutes.”
"Well, it's going to take a hell of a lot longer than five minutes."
"Prove it."
He did exactly that, kissing her senseless, running his hands up and down her body until she thought she would catch fire, arousing a need in her so great, she welcomed him into her body with a deep groan of satisfaction. He filled all the empty places in her heart. They fit perfectly. She was no longer alone, but a part of someone else. It had never felt so right.
She wrapped her arms around his waist and moved her body with his, the friction building with each thrust, each kiss, each touch, until she cried out his name, until her body shook and trembled with sweet release.
When he tried to move off of her, she tightened her arms around him.
"I'm too heavy," he protested.
"Not yet. Don't leave me." She knew she was pleading for more than just the next thirty seconds. Thankfully, Zach didn't take it that way.
"Come with me then," he said, as he rolled over on his back, pulling her astride him.
She loved the way the hair on his legs grazed her thighs, the hard planes of his body meshing so perfectly with hers. As she smiled down at him, her long blond hair drifted against his face. He pulled a piece of hay out of it with a grin.
"Ever had a roll in the hay before, Miss Whitfield?"
"This was a first. How about you? How many other girls have gone home with straw in their hair?"
"Oh, a couple dozen."
She laughingly slapped him on the cheek. "You're not that good."
"Hey, I think I did pretty well. So did you." He dropped his voice down to a sexy whisper that made her want to do it again, even better this time.
"Not bad for a city girl, huh?"
"Not bad for any girl." He drew the strand of her hair across his lips. "You smell like flowers.”
"My shampoo."
"No, it's you. Every time you come around, I smell lavender."
She caught her breath. "The lavender is in my chest, in my quilt. It seems to surround me. And when I went to the garden today, it was incredibly strong. I almost feel like the scent is telling me where to go. Strange, huh?"
"Did it tell you to come here?"
"No, that was all me. I've never gone to bed with a man I've known less than a week."
"We're not exactly in bed," he pointed out.
"You know what I mean. Be serious."
"With you wriggling your butt like that? Impossible."
She traced a finger along his j
awline, then followed it with her mouth, delighted to feel him growing hard beneath her. Lifting her head, she smiled down at him. "So soon, Mr. Tyler? You're quite a stallion, aren't you?"
He laughed. "Want to take me out for a ride?"
"Mm-mm, not a bad idea," she said, pressing her lips against his chest, trailing her mouth over to one nipple and flicking the tiny point with her tongue.
"Uh, Kat, I think this horse is ready to go.”
"Hey, I'm the rider, I'll decide when we're ready to leave the barn."
"I'm in big trouble, aren't I?”
She laughed. "You better believe it. I want to go fast this time. Show me what you can do.”
"You better hang on."
"Believe me, I don't intend to let go."
Chapter Fifteen
Half an hour later Katherine was still hanging on to Zach, one arm thrown across his waist, her head resting on his shoulder. Despite their cozy position, she sensed that he was pulling away. He hadn't said anything for a while, and although the silence had initially been filled with satisfaction, it was now beginning to feel tense.
She caressed the taut muscles of his abdomen, willing him to relax, to stop thinking about what was next. Because she was afraid of those thoughts, afraid that he'd pull away from her now that they'd made love, now that the chemistry between them had been explored.
"It's getting late," Zach said.
She stiffened, hearing the coolness in his voice. Damn him. She didn't want it to end -- not yet.
"Kat? Are you asleep?"
For a moment she let her eyes drift closed. She'd like to be asleep and she probably could be, if the pounding of his heart beneath her cheek had not suddenly begun to race, if he'd stayed relaxed and loving in her arms.
"Come on," he said, sitting up, gently forcing her to sit up, too.
She looked at him with a wistful smile, seeing the straws of hay caught in his hair, and the smudges of her lipstick on his mouth. She ran one finger against his lips, wiping away the last trace of herself.
Zach caught her hand and pulled it away. "Don't go starting that again."
"Lipstick," she said. "I was getting it off for you." Actually, she'd been hoping to distract him from his current goal of getting rid of her as fast as possible.
He reached for his jeans and his shirt, slipping into them with quiet efficiency. "You should get dressed.”
Katherine would have hurried to cover her nakedness if he'd shown any interest in looking at her, but his gaze seemed to be everywhere but on her body. Finally, she reached for her bra and panties. "Why the hurry?" she asked as they dressed.
"It's late."
"It's not even ten."
"I get up early. There's a lot to do."
"That's not why you're rushing me out of here.”
He ran a hand through his hair and frowned. "What do you want me to say?"
"Nothing in particular. But a few minutes ago we were as close as two people can be and now there's a huge distance between us. It's a little hard to keep up."
"It was great, Katherine. Great sex.”
His curt words were a lie. But she wasn't sure who he was lying to -- her or himself?
"It was good," she agreed. "But it was more than sex, whether you want to admit it or not."
"Women always think it's more than sex. Especially women like you."
"Like me?"
"The kind who believe in fairy tales. I'm no Prince Charming. I've never pretended to be.”
"What if I said I was just looking for an ordinary man who wanted to love me?"
He looked straight into her eyes. "I'd tell you he was probably in California."
His words stung, but they also made her angry. "Okay. Got it. Message received. I'm leaving just like you want." She moved past him and climbed down the ladder, blinking back a few unacceptable tears. She would not let him see that he'd hurt her. She would not let him think that she was an emotional, softhearted, romantic fool.
He caught up to her at the door of the barn. "I'm sorry, Kat."
"No, you're not. Making love to me and shoving me out the door just gives you one more reason to call yourself a bastard. Well, congratulations. You've finally convinced me, too. Are you happy now?"
* * *
Are you happy now? Katherine's words rang through Zach's head for the rest of the night and half the next day. As he sat at the computer Wednesday afternoon, mulling over the farm budget, his mind kept returning to her words.
He hadn't meant to hurt her, but the sex between them had been more than he'd expected, more than he'd wanted. It had made him think of love, and love was messy and emotional and complicated and hopeless.
It was best to end things now. He never should have taken Katherine up to the loft, never should have made love to her, never should have let her get inside his head, under his skin, into his soul.
It wouldn't happen again. It couldn't. Katherine would be an easy habit to acquire and a difficult one to break.
The phone rang, and he reached for it eagerly, grateful for the interruption. "Tyler," he barked into the phone.
"Hello, Zach."
His stomach twisted into an immediate, familiar, sickening knot. "What do you want?"
"I hear you had a little chat with Veronica," Jackson said.
"I told you I wouldn't let you con Katherine into thinking you were her father."
"We could have made a nice run, Zach. Katherine Whitfield has all kinds of money backing her up, and we could have gotten some before she figured out the truth. But no, you had to get in my way. After all I did for you."
"All you did for me?" Zach asked in disbelief. "You almost ruined me."
"I saved you from an orphanage."
"So you could use me, like you're trying to use me now.”
"Everyone uses everybody. That's the way of the world."
"Your world," Zach said tightly. "Not mine.”
"You'll be sorry, son. Sorry you ever crossed me.”
"You had a vasectomy. You refuse to take a blood test. The game is over."
"There's always another game."
"Not with Katherine," Zach said, feeling fiercely protective, an emotion he was not entirely comfortable with. In fact, he couldn't remember having felt it before. Maybe a few twinges of guilt for one of the nice ladies his father had conned into bed or out of a savings account. But never this overwhelming determination to save someone from his father's clutches. "Leave her alone," he added forcefully.
"You're hardly in a position to call the shots, Zach. Your appalling amount of integrity has left you vulnerable."
"I don't care what you tell the Stantons. It doesn't matter anymore. Why don't you go back to wherever you were and leave us all alone?"
"Us?" Jackson said, sounding amused by the idea of Zach having friends.
"Go to--” His words were cut off by the dial tone, and as he hung up the phone, he had a bad feeling. His father didn't like a double cross. Never had, never would. But what else could he possibly do to Katherine?
Jackson could still go to the Stantons with the wedding ring story and discredit him, but there was nothing his father could do to hurt Katherine. That was all that mattered. Unless...
Jackson wasn't Katherine's father, but maybe he knew who was. Jackson knew far more than he should about a woman who'd only come to town a few days earlier. But what did he know? And more important, what was he going to do with the information?
* * *
Claire Stanton was shocked to see Jackson Tyler sitting on a bench in front of the Hastings Grill, where she was meeting Leeanne and Mary Jo for a late lunch. Dressed in a navy blue pinstripe suit, his face cleanly shaven, his brown hair cut short and styled around his face, Jackson almost looked like a decent human being, but Claire knew otherwise. She'd seen him con hardworking people out of their life savings. Charming, he might be, but decent and honest, he was not.
She wondered what he was doing in town. His appearance seemed to have an
uncanny correlation with Harry's private investigation. She hoped Jackson hadn't come to Paradise to cause Zach more trouble. The boy deserved a life of his own.
Jackson stood up as soon as he saw her and tipped his head. "Mrs. Stanton, it's a pleasure."
"Mr. Tyler." She kept her voice deliberately cool. "I thought we'd seen the back of you a long time ago..."
"I have a son living in Paradise. Surely I'm allowed to visit him."
"Zach isn't in town. He's at the farm. But you already know that, don't you?"
He inclined his head. "I always liked you, Mrs. Stanton. Sharp as a tack, but not quite as nearsighted as your husband. You have the ability to see the big picture."
She didn't like the look of glee in his eyes, as if he knew something she didn't. "I have to be on my way."
"I'd like a word with you before you go."
"We don't have anything to talk about.”
"On the contrary, I think you'll find our conversation most interesting."
She wondered what secret he thought he'd found out about her. It would do him no good to blackmail her. She was almost seventy years old, too old to care about her reputation. She'd learned a long time ago there were far more important things in life than a clean name.
"It's about Margaret," he added.
She felt her pulse quicken in spite of her resolve not to rise to the bait. "Margaret has been dead for twenty years."
"Has she?" Jackson rubbed his jaw with one hand.
Her heart skipped a beat, but she silently counted to ten. Jackson Tyler was a born liar. She wouldn't let him get to her.
"No comment?" he asked.
"Why don't you just say whatever you have to say and stop beating around the bush?"
"Have you met Miss Whitfield?"
A chill came over her body. "Yes."
"You don't think she looks -- familiar?"
"I don't know what you're implying, and I don't want to know." As she tried to move around him, Jackson stepped in front of her, his amusement turning to determination.
"Katherine Whitfield was born in Los Angeles, California, six months after Margaret left Paradise -- pregnant."
She gasped, a shock wave running through her body. "You don't know that." He couldn't know that. No one but Margaret and possibly the father of her baby had known that. The father? Jackson Tyler? She felt nauseated at the thought of her daughter and this slimy man. But it wasn't totally impossible. Margaret had always been impulsive where men were concerned.
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