She stared at him for a long tense second. She'd spent her lifetime being careful. She didn't want to do that anymore. She took a step forward, putting her hands on his shoulders. Gazing into his eyes, she said, "Do it, Zach. Make me scream."
His mouth was on hers in an instant, his tongue sweeping inside. His hands molded her breasts through her thin T-shirt. She made no protest when he lifted the shirt over her head. She helped him undo her bra, impatient to have his hands on her skin, his mouth on her breasts.
And he did exactly what she wanted, burying his face in the valley between her breasts, then sliding his tongue around her nipples in long, slow swirls that drew closer to the heart of her desire. She felt like she'd go mad with wanting him. Her whole body tingled at every stroke, every touch.
He pushed her down on to the sofa, seeking kiss after kiss as they threw off their clothes. He was faster at stripping her than she was. She'd gotten off his shirt but couldn't reach the zipper of his jeans because Zach was trailing kisses across her stomach.
"Zach, help me," she pleaded, wanting him to hurry, to bury himself inside her.
But Zach wasn't listening to her. He wasn't paying attention. Oh, Lord! His mouth had moved down to the juncture of her thighs. She felt his breath, a whisper of pure tantalizing torture. Then his tongue descended on the most private part of her.
She tried to fight the need, the desire to lose control, but the tension in her body reached a fever pitch as his hands held her in place, as his relentless tongue drove her higher and higher.
"Scream, Kat," he urged. "Scream,"
And with the next sweep of his tongue, she did exactly that, letting go of everything as her body convulsed over and over again, until she felt like she'd touched the moon and come back.
Zach crept back up her body, smiling down at her. "Very nice, very undignified, Miss Whitfield. You show great promise."
She stroked the side of his face. "You're very generous."
"Are you kidding? That was for me as much as for you."
"Liar."
She pushed him up so he was sitting on the couch, and then knelt in front of him, pulling his jeans down to his ankles. When he was as naked as she was, she climbed on top of him.
"You're very demanding," he complained as she straddled his legs with hers.
"Because I want you inside me, Zach. I want to feel you here." She put a hand over her heart.
"I'm not sure I'm that--”
"Oh, you are. Believe me, you are." She reached down to touch him, stroking the silky hot hardness that brought a golden glitter to his eyes. "Maybe I should torture you now."
"You already are," he murmured, locking his arms behind her waist as he pulled her down onto him with a deep groan of satisfaction.
She moved up and down on him, watching the emotions chase across his face, the honest need that he couldn't hide. When he drove into her one last time, he cried out her name. It wasn't a scream, but for a man like Zach, it was as close as she was going to get.
Chapter Eighteen
A short while later Katherine lay wrapped in Zach's arms on the long, narrow couch.
"Do you have a bed?" she asked.
Zach nibbled on her ear. "Mm-mm, I think so. Why?"
"Just wondering if we might ever make love there."
"That depends on how long you're planning to stick around."
She squirmed around in his arms so she was facing him. "Am I invited?"
He didn't say anything for a long moment. "I could kick you out, Kat, but somehow I think we'd find ourselves right back in this same position tomorrow night."
"Would that be so bad?"
"I guess not."
"That's what I like, a definite answer." She studied the hard lines of his face, noting the deep tan of his skin, honed by hours in the sun, the laugh lines around his eyes and mouth, and the tiny scar that cut across his chin. She traced it with her finger. "Where did you get this?"
"I don't remember."
"That's convenient."
"What can I say? I'm horribly flawed."
"You're not exactly a monster."
"Sometimes monsters come in pretty packages," Zach said somberly. "You can't let a nice face fool you."
"Then I'm safe, because you're not a very pretty package, especially with that perpetual scowl you wear."
"I don't scowl," he grumbled.
"Sure you do, especially when you look at me. I bet Rogue can recognize it, too."
"Rogue and I understand each other.”
"What are you going to do if Rogue wins the Derby?”
"Drink a magnum of champagne."
"After that," she said with a smile.
"I'm going to keep him in training and try for the Triple Crown."
"And after that?"
"Jesus, Kat, I don't know. What are you asking me?"
"What's your long-term goal, Zach -- to have your own stud farm, to travel around the world, what?"
"I'd like to take over this place," he said slowly. "Eventually. If that's what Harry wanted."
Katherine stiffened. She didn't want to hear Zach talk about Stanton Farms. She didn't want to talk about the Stantons or even think about them. She never should have brought the subject up. Of the course the one time she wanted Zach to go silent, he didn't.
"Harry is one of the best people I've ever known," Zach continued. "He saved me, Kat, saved me as if he'd gone into a burning building and pulled me out. Before I met him I thought everyone was bad, liars, thieves, cheats. I had no one to look up to, but he showed me a different world. He and Sam. They kicked my ass into shape. If I could run this ranch for Harry, if I could make his legacy into something special, it wouldn't be nearly enough of a thank you."
"You're very loyal."
"To the people who deserve it."
"How do you know who really deserves it?" she asked, a hard note in her voice as she thought about Harry Stanton sending her mother away, alone and pregnant. How could she tell Zach about that? He had so few heroes in his life. How could she take away the last one he had?
"Are you referring to someone in particular?" Zach asked curiously.
"Never mind." She rested her head on his chest. "Maybe we should go back to talking about that magnum of champagne and whether or not you'd be willing to share it with a city girl."
"I might be convinced."
She lifted her head and sent him a wry smile. "As long as I don't go getting any ideas, right?"
His gaze darkened. "I don't want to hurt you, Kat. But I can't give you what you need."
"What I need right now is a kiss."
"What about later?"
"We'll worry about later -- later."
She cupped his face in her hands and kissed him again and again and again, until he groaned deep in his throat. He grasped her waist with his big strong hands and rolled over, attempting to pin her beneath his body. Unfortunately, his sudden movement landed them flat on the floor instead.
"Oops," Zach said with a wicked smile, as his leg parted her thighs.
"Nice move. Did you practice that one?"
"How do you know I didn't want you here on the floor?" he growled, tickling the side of her neck with his tongue.
"The bed, remember? You have one, right?”
"Too far away," he murmured.
And as his body covered hers, she could only agree that the bed was much too far away.
* * *
In the early dawn, Zach pulled Katherine's body close against him as they slept together in the bed he'd finally gotten her into just after midnight. The sheets and blankets were a tangled mess around them, but Zach had never slept better, never felt so warm, so complete, so satisfied. Even as he breathed, he could smell Katherine -- lilacs, lavender, and gardenias. She smelled like a garden. She smelled like a woman -- his woman.
He rested his head on her hair, feeling the silky strands beneath his rough chin. He splayed his fingers across her bare stomach and felt her muscles clench
even as she slept. He shouldn't want her again. They'd already made love three times. It should have been enough, but it wasn't. And the thought terrified him. He'd always been able to walk away from a woman, always been able to say good-bye. Since Crystal, he'd been able to divorce sex from every other emotion, especially love. Now the line seemed blurry, especially with this warm, soft, fragrant woman's ass pressed right up against his...
He felt an immediate response, a hardening, a need that he couldn't hide. Getting naked with Katherine Whitfield took away all his defenses. If she woke up now, if she felt how much he wanted her, he'd never be able to convince her to go home. And maybe he didn't want to.
Maybe he wanted her to stay here, in his arms, in his bed, in his life. Maybe he wanted to let down his guard. It was exhausting trying to keep everyone out of his heart. Maybe he could trust her. Maybe he could love her.
The thought shocked him to the core. He hadn't thought about loving anyone in a very long time. But he wanted her. He wanted her so bad he ached. It reminded him of the times he'd gone to bed hungry with a hole in his stomach that tortured him through the long, lonely hours of the night. It had been a very long time since he'd felt so hungry, so needy. And it scared the shit out of him.
He took several deep, calming breaths and tried to relax. He could control his feelings, his needs. He could take what he wanted and let the rest go.
"Zach," Katherine murmured. "Are you awake?"
"Yes."
"I can feel you." She rolled over to face him, opening her sweet blue eyes, dusty with sleep and desire. "Do you always wake up this way? Or is it me?"
"What do you think?"
"I think," she said, pausing to kiss him on the lips, "that we should do something about your little problem."
He smiled against her mouth. "It's not so little, sweetheart."
She slipped her hand between them and stroked. "You're right. I underestimated you."
"A big mistake."
She dropped kisses all over his chest, her tongue tracing circles around his nipples as she pressed him against the mattress. He ran his hands up and down her bare back, the curve of her buttocks, impatient to sink into all that warm softness. He could fill this one need right now. And maybe it would be enough -- at least for a little while.
He urged her on top of him, and she willingly complied, but instead of spreading her legs for him, she moved lower down his body. He tensed as she cupped him, as he felt her warm breath, her mouth, her tongue. She was somewhat awkward in her movements but incredibly willing, incredibly generous. His body turned rigid as she brought him to a peak, a peak that he didn't want to reach without her.
"Kat," he murmured. "No."
She looked up at him in surprise, her eyes anticipating rejection.
"I don't want to be alone," he confessed, not having any idea where the words had come from. He'd never meant to say them. Never.
"You don't have to be alone," she promised as she slid back up his body, straddled his legs, and pulled him into her warmth.
He wrapped his arms around her and moved deeper and deeper within her, seeking a satisfaction, a filling, a completeness that only she could give him. He heard her cry out, "Zach," then whisper, "I love you," as a thousand tiny lights exploded in his brain.
Katherine lay sprawled on top of him for long, breathless minutes, then rolled off of him onto her back. He turned on his side, throwing his arm once more across her waist. He wanted to reassure her, but he couldn't find the words, couldn't relay the "I love you" back at her, not yet, not now, not when he wasn't even sure her words had truly come from her heart. Maybe she'd just thrown them out in the heat of the moment.
He'd only said "I love you" once to Crystal, the night before their wedding. And she'd said it back to him, probably knowing even then she wasn't going to show up.
His mind continued to grapple with the situation. Finally he knew what he wanted to say. Only then he realized that Katherine was asleep, her breathing deep and heavy.
"Kat?"
She didn't respond.
He sighed. His timing, as always, was impeccable. Oh, well, he'd tell her later. They had time.
Zach didn't know when he fell asleep, but the next sound he heard was the ringing of the phone. He grabbed for it, knocking it onto the floor. He swore as he bent over the bed, found the receiver, and grumbled, "Hello."
"Zachary."
Zach woke up abruptly. Only one man called him that. "What do you want?"
"You shouldn't have slept with her," Jackson said.
Zach immediately looked over to the other side of the bed, suddenly realizing that Katherine was no longer tangled in his sheets. His gaze crossed to the digital clock. Seven-thirty. Jesus! He should have been down at the training track an hour ago.
"Zach? Are you there?"
"I'm here."
"I saw her go to your house last night. Is she still there?"
"Are you spying on me?"
"I was coming over to tell you something, but I didn't want to interrupt."
"Tell me what?"
"She's not who you think she is."
"She's not my sister. Nothing you can say would convince me of that. I want you to end this little game right now. Do you understand? You are not to mess with Katherine. Leave her alone or else."
"Are you threatening me?"
The hard edge in Jackson's voice gave Zach a momentary pause, reminding him of all the times he'd looked the other way. He wouldn't do that this time, not with Katherine's welfare at stake. "I'll do whatever it takes to stop you."
"Well, that's a touching show of family loyalty, son, but you're wasting your breath. I'm afraid it's no longer my move."
"What does that mean?"
"You better ask Mrs. Stanton."
"Mrs. Stanton? What does she have to do with this?"
"I hope you haven't gotten too cozy and secure thinking you're going to inherit the old homestead, son. Because it isn't going to happen."
"Why wouldn't it?" Zach felt the anger turn to fear as Jackson toyed with his lifelong dream.
"I told you, Zachary. You'll have to ask Mrs. Stanton. You know, we didn't have to play it this way. I didn't like what you did the other night. You could have helped me. I could have helped you. It's a shame, really. But you had to be stubborn."
"What have you done?"
"I've simply enlightened Mrs. Stanton. Everyone has a secret, you know. And finding it is the key to success, my boy. You'd do well to remember that."
Zach hung up the phone on his father's taunting voice, refusing to listen to any more vague innuendos. But he was shaken. What did Jackson have up his sleeve? Damn him.
Zach looked over at the empty side of his bed wondering where the hell Katherine had gone. He got up from bed, slipped on his jeans, then walked into the living room. For a brief second he let himself think that Katherine was in the kitchen or on the porch, but one look out his living room window confirmed the fact that she had indeed left.
The question was why? Why leave without a word of good-bye?
Because he hadn't said 'I love you.' It had to be that. She'd wanted something he couldn't give.
The phone rang again and Zach rushed to the kitchen. He grabbed the phone hanging on the wall by the refrigerator. "Kat?"
"It's Sam. I guess I don't have to ask why you're an hour late to work."
Zach let out a shaky breath. "I'll be down in a few minutes."
"All right. Did you hear about J.T.?"
"No, what?”
"He had a heart attack yesterday. He's over at Memorial Hospital. Mrs. Stanton just left to go see him."
Zach leaned against the wall. "Is it serious?"
"Don't know. Harry seemed really upset when I spoke to him. Said he wouldn't be down to the barn today at all. Oh, and he said to tell you to stop by after lunch. He has something he wants to talk to you about."
He wondered what that was all about.
"Fine. I'll see you in a few mi
nutes.”
Zach hung up the phone and hurried into the bathroom. He turned on the shower and jumped in before the water began to heat up. The stinging cold water on his head and shoulders helped to wake him up. And he needed to wake up. He needed to figure out why Katherine had stolen out like a thief in the night, why his father had called to taunt him, and why Harry was upset about J.T. having a heart attack when, as far as Zach knew, the two men barely liked each other.
His mind kept rearranging the facts while he finished dressing. The pieces of the puzzle were all there, only they didn't fit together. He was struck by the disturbing feeling that all hell was breaking loose in Paradise, and Katherine was somehow in the middle of it.
Chapter Nineteen
Mary Jo paced around the hospital waiting room feeling like a caged animal. She wanted to leave, but she couldn't. She wasn't bound by bars or locks but by personal responsibility and loyalty to the man she'd married twenty-seven years ago.
John Thomas had had a heart attack. The doctors had warned her that sometimes second heart attacks could follow the first and that she needed to be prepared.
Prepared? How could she be prepared? J.T. was too damn young to die, and she wasn't prepared to watch him do so. As much hate as there was between them, he was still her husband.
Sitting down, she drew in a deep breath, knowing she had to stay strong. People in Paradise thought she was a quiet warrior who could weather every storm. But today she felt weak. She wanted a man's shoulder to rest her head on, a man's arms to lift her up, a man's confidence to reassure her that everything would be all right. That this time the worst would not happen.
But the only man she'd ever had in her life was J.T., and he'd never been good at lending comfort and support. In fact, he'd been horrible. And she couldn't keep on pretending otherwise.
He'd hurt her over the years. Taken her love and stomped on it. He'd done everything he could to make her hate him. And yet -- God! She didn't want him to die.
She didn't want to let go of him, even though her conscience, her soul, told her to do exactly that. She couldn't still love him, not after everything he'd done. To love him would be absolute proof that she was certifiably crazy.
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