by Devine,Carol
The neck he'd wanted to strangle more than once these past two weeks.
She was driving him crazy. He hadn't abandoned his plan to seduce her, although he was taking more time than he usually did on courtship rituals. This was a campaign, after all, and campaigns required the occasional concession. But she was just as bent on having her way with him, and her campaign involved a different type of seduction.
Every day, she wanted to show him something of what she was doing. Every day, she invited him into the house.
She was so earnest about it, proud of her progress, brimming with excitement. He always politely refused, having no desire to revisit the place he associated with the worst years of his life. But he wanted her. By God, he wanted her. And a disagreement about the house was not going to stop him from having her.
Since he knew Sarah would not be easily persuaded to his bed, he sought her out at odd times of the day, just to ensure they could be alone and have time to get to know one another. He made himself indispensable, driving her to the grocery store for supplies, to the library for books about renovation, and to the bank to deposit her paycheck in the savings account he'd helped her open. At night, in the mellow hour or two after supper but before turn-in time, they often watched old movies on TV. He liked to chose romantic comedies because they made her laugh but also made her blush.
Not the hottest way to seduce a woman but what else could he do? Pounce when she least expected? He'd tried that already and look what he'd gotten. A live-in ranch housekeeper who made him wish he could stay stateside for a few more weeks. Make that months.
She turned every negative into a positive. The men raved about her cooking. She worked like a demon in the garden, harvesting what was edible and clearing the rest away, readying the soil for winter sleep and spring planting, applying mulch to encourage the earliest possible signs of life.
She'd strung up a new clothesline on the aluminum posts on the south side of the house and every sunny morning freshly washed linens appeared on it, flapping in the fall breeze. From the day the electrician had restored power to the house, baking smells had drifted across the yard. Fresh muffins appeared on the breakfast table and she served the crustiest bread this side of San Francisco. For dessert after supper, there were pies, cookies, cakes. The men had never been so well fed.
And he had never felt so starved.
With a vigor that matched hers, he threw himself into the work of preparing the place to sell, telling her in every way he knew how that her work ethic impressed the hell out of him, especially since it might all be for naught. There was still no guarantee the owner would even want the house or keep the other outbuildings as is, much as his brothers and sisters might require it.
And still she asked him to see the results of it, hope in her eyes. Armed with her snack tray, she was going to ask again, here and now, and he wanted it to stop. Needed it to stop. And there was one sure way Zach knew of to make it stop. Make a blatantly indecent proposal.
He ducked out of sight and slid down the shingles to the gutter. Butcher would be his biggest problem. The dog still treated him with suspicion at times even when Sarah wasn't around. Why Butcher continued to be slow to warm up, Zach didn't bother to guess, but he wasn't above using it to his advantage in getting Sarah off by herself.
When she entered the barnyard, he made the jump from roof to ground in one leap, landing on his feet right in front of her.
"Oh," she said, nearly dropping the tray. "You frightened me."
Butcher barked but Zach was already standing next to Sarah. She shushed the dog. "Is this for me?" he asked, reaching for a glass.
"Hush, Butcher. Yes. Lemonade. I thought you might be thirsty. Cookies, too. I thought you might be hungry."
"You thought right. Lately it seems like I'm always hungry." Looking the part, he made sure he brushed her fingers as he reached for a cookie and picked up a glass. Watching her steadily as he drank, he gulped quickly so that some of the liquid spilled and sluiced down his chin and neck. She watched, half fascinated, half concerned that he must be dying of thirst.
Or dying of something.
"There's something I want to show you in the barn," he said. He wiped his bare arm across his mouth and gestured toward the barn door with his lemonade glass.
She put down the tray on a nearby hay bale. Butcher tried to follow her inside and Zach jerked his thumb. "Get lost."
Sarah held her hand up to the dog. "Stay," she said and moved past Zach to enter the barn. "Close the door after us," she said. "Then he'll stay outside."
He did, making sure that it remained unlatched. He didn't want to scare her too badly.
The barn was cool compared to the sun warmed air outside. "What did you want to show me?" She stood in the middle of the concrete floor, looking around.
He jiggled his glass so the ice inside it clinked loudly. "I fixed the hole in the roof."
She smiled a little. "I saw it from the outside. You did a most wonderful job."
Nodding, he sipped and got very creative with the ice. He took one cube between his teeth and sucked it while he smiled back at her. The rest he poured out in his hand, letting them drip and melt enough through his fingers as he rubbed them on his bare chest, directing her attention there. "Hot out there," he said.
She shook herself, working to raise her gaze to his face. "I thought it rather cool, actually."
"I noticed. You're wearing your long skirts again."
"I don't like to wear my new clothes when I'm cleaning. There's no use in--"
"Throwing good after bad," he finished for her. "So you've told me before. But have you ever stopped to think how I would feel about it?"
"I can assure you, I always wear the proper undergarments now as well as an apron."
"That's not what I meant." He raised the glass high, upending it a good ten inches above his head so the bit of liquid that was left rained on his hair. It was a rather obvious gesture but with Sarah, he decided to pull out all the stops. He shook himself like a wet dog. She stepped out of the line of fire and stared at his face, her pretty eyes made wide by his sexually stimulating behavior.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"That you're ungrateful. I spent my hard-earned money on those clothes. I think I'm entitled to see you in them."
"As I recall, I didn't want you to spend so much. You were the one who insisted."
"So I did. Did you ever think why, Sarah?"
"You told me you would feel like a better employer if I was well-clothed. I am grateful for your generosity."
"Don't think I was being generous, Sarah. I was telling the truth, but it certainly wasn't the whole truth. I wanted you even then."
"Wanted me?"
"Ever since I first saw you, I've wanted you." He noticed the pulse beating at the base of her throat and toasted her with the empty glass, adding, "In the biblical sense. Do you need a more graphic description?"
She folded her arms. "You speak of fornication."
"Is that what you call it?" Shaking his head, he set down the glass on the door of an empty stall. "Such an ugly word, Sarah. Making love is much more descriptive."
"Yet hardly accurate. There is no love between us."
He ambled over and touched her face, brushing some wisps of fine hair back from her forehead. "Speak for yourself."
"What are you saying?"
"It's a word, Sarah. People throw it around so much it's lost its meaning. For me, anyway. You want to use it, go right ahead."
She simply stared at him, dumbstruck.
"See what happens when you say it out loud? Traps you every time."
"You are speaking of something sacred, something holy. Love is patient and kind. It does not envy or boast. It casts out pride, selfishness and anger. It keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. It never fails."
"Maybe for you it doesn't. I prefer the more physical variety."
He caught her hand, kissed her palm.
"No," she said, wrenching her arm away. "This is wrong."
"Then why does it feel so right?" he asked. "Like…" he paused dramatically. "Heaven."
"Heaven is the Kingdom of God."
"Exactly."
"You exalt me, sir. I am not your savior."
"How do you know? Maybe God sent you here on purpose."
"I believe He did but hardly for the purpose you seem to think."
"Why not?"
"Because fornication out of wedlock is against God's law. Are you so depraved that you know nothing of His word?"
"Maybe I am. Maybe that's why God sent you here. Educate me, Sarah. Evangelize me."
His smile was very wicked now. She retreated, out of reach. "No."
"Doesn't it say somewhere in the Bible that you're supposed to be winning converts left and right? Win me, Sarah."
"You must have taken leave of your senses."
"I'm obsessed, yes. I'll concede that. Obsessed with you. Isn't that what temptation is? Aren't you here to tempt me?"
"I rather think it's the other way around."
"I tempt you? Why, Sarah, what a revelation. I had no idea."
Realizing her tactical mistake, Sarah retreated in denial. But he would have none of that. He took her hands, the softening of his smile indulgent.
"How do I tempt you?" he asked, his tone smooth like strained honey.
"This conversation for one," she said, summoning her most sanctimonious tone. "It's is unseemly for a man and woman to speak so frankly."
"Unseemly?" He cocked his head, considering her with humor. "I certainly wouldn't want to be accused of that. Maybe we should let our bodies do the talking for us."
The devils were back in his eyes, beckoning her. Cheeks burning, she looked down at their joined hands. His were browner, much larger, and the warmth of them laced her palms. "Please, Zach. Don't say such things. I am just as human as you are."
"Are you, Sarah?" He squeezed her fingers in a gesture of sympathy.
"Yes," she whispered, daring to look at him. He was smiling a smile both tender and hungry.
"Good," he said. "That means I have a chance." He leaned towards her and his breath whispered against his lips. She turned her face away.
"No, Zach. You must understand. I am chaste and wish to remain so."
"Are you trying to tell me you're a virgin?" He chuckled and stroked her cheek with a finger. "Believe me, I figured that out a while ago."
"Then you understand why what you ask is impossible."
Both his hands came up to cradle her face. "Sarah, all I understand is that you're drawing a line you don't want me to cross. Don't you know what a challenge that is for someone like me? I've been crossing those lines for as long as I can remember. Don't you know what a temptation you are?"
He nuzzled her lips, his mouth very warm on her skin. No, she thought, and closed her eyes. But I know what a temptation you are to me.
Sarah called for her will but instead of strength she felt a drugging weakness. Like Satan himself, Zach was very skilled. He seduced with subtlety. He held her lightly, rubbing her jaw with his thumbs. He didn't push the kiss or encourage her to part her mouth. He simply caressed, touching in soft ways. There was no tree to hold her still, no corner to pen her in, no wall to prevent her escape. She could break away instantly.
Then why didn't she?
He lifted his head and smiled at her but she did not smile back. She couldn't. Not when she stood shock-still, allowing him to do what he wanted. She lowered her head as if to pray, burning inside, looking for answers.
Yes, he was handsome. Any woman would think so. This was a darkly appealing man equal to the male models she'd seen on billboards advertising products. His face spoke of rugged living, of challenges met and overcome. His hands, his body were equally eloquent. But it wasn't merely his physical looks that attracted her. It was the devils in his eyes, devils both mischievous and haunting. He had such spirit, even depraved and restless as he was turning out to be. But strangely enough, it beckoned her. In him she sensed such promise.
"Please?" he asked.
Seeing his grin made her feel light inside. He inspired a certain confidence, inducing in her a powerful wish to buy what he was selling. She wanted him to kiss her, stroke her, hold her. But deep in her heart she also knew he wanted only her body. She couldn't give that without risking her soul.
"Why me?" she asked.
"You know what?" he kissed her forehead, speaking against it. "I've asked myself the same question. You're exactly the type of woman I usually avoid. The kind who's going to make some guy, some day, really happy."
"You compliment me, Zach. Thank you. I was afraid you didn't understand. I want to save myself for marriage."
"That's hardly fair." She felt him brush his lips against the hair at her temple, making her shiver. "What if you were to die tomorrow? Wouldn't you want to have made love just once to have had the experience?"
"Only God knows when the hour of death shall come. There is little use in anticipating it."
"Sure there is. You ever wonder why death was invented? I'm convinced it's because people need to have some incentive to live life to the fullest. Let me show you how." Boldly her touched her breast with a wayward finger, grazing her nipple as though to prove how instantly he could turn it into an aching knot.
"No," she whispered and caught his hand, stopping him. "My virginity is a gift I can give only once. I will give it to the man I marry. I will not have it taken away. I would die first."
"How dramatic, Sarah. But what if you don’t marry? What if you die an old maid?"
"Then I shall be a virtuous old maid. Please, Zach."
He channeled her strong push by catching her hands and guiding them to his hips. "Just a kiss, Sarah. What harm could come from a kiss?"
Plenty, she thought and retreated, taking her hands with her. But not before the warmth of his jeans was indelibly printed in the sensitive skin of her palms. She made two fists and shoved them into the pockets of her skirt, recalling how she had touched him the time they kissed in the store and it had made her palms sweat then just as they were doing now.
Still he pursued her, reaching out to stoke the tip of her nose with his little finger. "A kiss here, Sarah. What harm, really?"
He leaned in and touched his nose to hers, then pulled away before she could protest. She was reminded of a sighting she'd once had of two wolves, the touching of noses, the way the smaller one ran, while the larger pursued in a simulated hunt. A mating ritual.
She shook her head emphatically. "I'd best get back to work."
"Fine by me," he said but didn't move, blocking her way to the door. When she stepped around him, he darted in front of her again and continued the game with every step she took, making her skin tingle with each teasing brush of his body.
She wanted to laugh but didn't dare encourage him. When she finally made it to the door, he reached over her shoulder and braced his hand against the door so she couldn't open it. "What's the secret password, Sarah?"
The husky timbre of his voice weakened her knees. She knew he was right behind her, close enough to touch if she only dared. "I don't know," she said, aware of the ambivalence in her own voice.
"Guess."
"I can't." I can't think, she wanted to stay. Not when you're clever and endearing and bullheaded in your attempts to lead me astray.
"Let me give you a hint."
Suddenly his lips were under her coiled hair at the back of her neck. She shoved aside the hand holding the door but she was clumsy and she couldn't remember if she needed to push or pull to get out. It was as though all the blood had rushed from her head, leaving her dizzy and overcome by blood rushing to the most hidden places in her body, her heart and lungs and lower, too. Her womb and the secrets between her legs.
In that moment of confusion, his hands slid around her waist. His tongue was on the nape of her neck, licking her like
a flicker of moist flame. She had never felt anything quite like it. It made her feel giddy inside, something he may have sensed for his hands left her waist to cup her breasts, making the giddiness soar into a pleasure so intense she caught her breath.
He turned her around expertly, taking advantage of her surprise and took her mouth with his own. Only this wasn't a kiss. This was an open exploration of tongue and teeth and the fit of a male mouth against a female one. She felt it down to her toes. She grabbed his arms, his shoulders, the shaggy hair at the nape of his neck, seeking an anchor in this sudden storm of overwhelming feelings. The danger was exhilarating and she wanted more, invited more in soundless communication. Her feet rose on tiptoe. Her body swayed, rocked against his. He answered by pushing her against the wall next to the door.
A minute ago she would have been alarmed by the violence of his reaction. But what she felt now was just as violent. It tore through her with the suddenness of a flash flood. She wanted him closer. Needed him closer.
He had pulled her blouse out of the waistband of her skirt without her feeling it but his hands she did feel, underneath the fabric, searching against her skin. He touched everywhere but her aching breasts, making them ache more, ache for the way he'd cupped them before, kneading them with his palms and circling fingers. She pressed her breasts against his chest, needful of the body contact but it wasn't enough. The forward motion of her mouth echoed the push of her hips against his. She learned how the area below his belt buckle reacted to such contact. She learned how instinctually her hips rocked forward to meet him, how his hardness fit within her softness.
Oh, Lord. She wanted him so badly.
She tore her mouth away from his and stared into his eyes. He did, too, looking as aroused as she felt. His blue eyes were keen with it and called to her with a hunger she couldn't ignore. The tugging of her heart was hard to resist. But this body tugging was worse, shaking her to her bones. A terrible, wonderful temptation. She suddenly understood the lesson in a verse from the Song of Solomon.
