by Ryanne Corey
“Why do you need to know where my room is?” she asked.
Oh-oh, Zack thought, inwardly wincing at the suspicion in her eyes. I’m on my best behavior here, but she isn’t in a mood to believe it. “Anna…I was just making conversation. Look, I’m sorry about the complications with your friend Kyle, but it isn’t my fault. I’m just here to help.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” She was more than a little depressed, worrying about Kyle and the threat to their friendship. He was family. The thought that she was the source of his pain was deeply disturbing. “It’s just…Kyle means a great deal to me. I lost my adoptive parents four years ago, and my friends became my family. I’m closer to Kyle than probably anyone else in the world. I couldn’t bear losing him.”
That was a double whammy for Zack. First she told him that she’d lost the family it had taken her so long to find, a bit of news that hit him in the stomach like a fist. How much should one person have to take, and where was her anger, her bitterness? She seemed to accept the loss with enormous grace and courage. Then she admitted to caring for Kyle a “great deal.” Just how much was a great deal? Had he read her wrong? “Look, if you’ve changed your mind, if I’m more of a complication than a solution, I’ll go. If you’ve decided you truly care for Kyle—”
“No,” Anna told him quickly, shaking her head. “I mean, yes, but not in that way. Why on earth did he have to mess things up? We used to be the best of friends. Now…now I don’t know what we are.”
“Well,” Zack said quietly, “if that’s true, if you care for him just as a friend…”
She looked away, biting down hard on her lip. “He’s just a friend. But a friend I don’t want to lose,” she said softly.
“Then I hope you won’t misunderstand what I’m going to say. When you told me about Kyle, I didn’t realize he was quite so hung up on you. The guy has it bad. Unless we do a better job of convincing him we’re falling in love, his wedding isn’t going to happen.”
Falling in love. Hearing those simple words from Zack was surprisingly powerful, distracting her from her depressing reverie. Looking at Zack, she couldn’t help but notice what a fetching picture he made, denim shirt hanging out over his jeans, the overhead light casting a deep-blue sheen over his black hair. There was a gentleness in his silvery eyes, along with something more personal she didn’t want to examine too closely. He looked strong, enticing and dangerously masculine. Anna felt the tiny sparks of a moment’s glance shiver up and down her spine. I’m becoming a predatory woman, she thought despairingly. I should be ashamed.
“I told you it was a pickle,” she managed. “What else can I do?”
“Just pretend you care,” Zack said very softly. This time there was no smile, no teasing, none of his customary humor. “About me. When you look at me, put your heart in your eyes. Act as if we’re two human beings who love each other because we looked at each other.”
Anna couldn’t look away from his eyes. The silence became louder and louder, if such a thing was possible. Finally she whispered, “You’re a romantic, Mr. Policeman.”
“Believe me, I’m only romantic with the right inspiration.”
She gave him a small, uncertain smile, then turned on her heel and walked out of the room, closing the door behind her.
Zack remained rooted to the spot for a long moment, staring at the door as if he could see Anna on the other side. His mind was going at warp speed. He was alone in the house with the most beautiful, intelligent and entertaining companion he had ever known. For a moment he let his libido off the leash, allowing it to revel in freedom. He happily fantasized about leaving his room in the deep of night, finding her standing in her bedroom doorway, waiting….
“Here, boy,” he called aloud to his libido. Time to get a grip on his wishful, wonderful imagination. Anna’s world was very complicated at the moment. Her old friend Kyle was suddenly looking at her with desire in his eyes. Her new friend Zack also looked at her with desire in his eyes. There was a wedding coming up and no one knew who was going to end up wedded to whom. Anything could happen.
And Zack loved the unpredictability of it all. This was almost as good as being back on the streets of Los Angeles looking for bad guys.
No, damn it…it was better.
Zack made a noble attempt to sleep in the girly bed, up to his nose in floral-scented sheets, his head lost in the midst of a half dozen lacy pillows. This was far different from the largely undecorated apartment he had kept in Los Angeles for nearly six years now. He simply wasn’t home enough to worry about making a little nest for himself. He could have called in a decorator, but his buddies on the force would wonder where all the money came from for the new furnishings. Instead, he deliberately lived with an “early garage sale” motif, like most of the other unmarried cops. There had been the occasional girlfriend who had decided to save him from his spartan existence, showing up with vases of flowers and knickknacks for the coffee table. As they grew more comfortable, the refrigerator would suddenly fill to overflowing with orange juice, bacon, vegetables and milk. The appearance of the four food groups always signaled the beginning of the end for the relationship. Zack would gradually back off, the lady in question would find someone else to coddle and care for, and all would be right with his world. He was used to his bare walls, bare refrigerator and simple furniture. And his sheets were black cotton, which he considered very manly.
Tonight he was seriously out of his element in a tumble of pink lace and ivory crocheting. The shock had caused the sandman to “take a powder,” as the boys said at the precinct. It seemed that meeting Anna Smith had somehow transformed Zack into a permanent insomniac. His efforts to sleep were futile and frustrating, as his mind was seriously obsessed with her proximity. Eventually he gave up, wandering about the room and discovering interesting bits of Victoriana. On a marble-topped curio table he found a brass ostrich lamp he hadn’t noticed before, a startling bit of whimsy that gave him the willies. If he turned out the lights, that bird just might come alive and hunt him down. As he considered the ostrich’s googly eyes, which seemed to follow him about the room, a smile broke over Zack’s face. Wasn’t bird anxiety a good reason to go in search of some reassuring company?
Finding Anna would be wonderfully easy, as there were muffled sounds coming from the third floor. He quickly pulled on his jeans, then, barefoot and bare-chested, set off to have an adventure. He figured Anna was probably working in her studio. It had been nearly two hours since she’d left him alone with the spooky brass ostrich. He missed her face.
At the top of the stairs, he realized she had soft music playing. Zack had always been a sucker for classical guitar music. Again, this was something he usually kept private. One of these days he just might snap and turn into a schizophrenic, with all this hiding and pretending. If he’d chosen to be anything else besides a cop, he might not have had to worry quite so much about his reputation. Still, the satisfaction his job gave him put a respectable spin on the white lies he told along the way.
The door to the studio was open. Zack saw Anna before she saw him, which gave him a moment to take in the fascinating picture she made. She had changed into a paint-splattered men’s shirt and a pair of jeans ripped open at both knees. She was barefoot, and her hair was tied up on the top of her head in a loose ponytail. She was staring at the painting on her easel while chewing thoughtfully on the end of her paintbrush. Zack couldn’t see much of the painting itself, but he did notice the burst of radiant, eye-catching colors. He wasn’t surprised. Her home, her art and the artist herself were all radiant and eye-catching.
“Beautiful picture,” he said quietly, not referring to the painting.
Anna jumped, and the brush went flying. “Zack, you scared me to death. What are you doing still up? I thought you went to bed an hour ago.”
He smiled. “I did. I just didn’t go to sleep. You know that ostrich lamp in my room?”
“Yes…”
“It doesn’t like me. Besid
es, I’m pining away for my work.” It was yet another lie, but it used to be true. “I can’t sleep when I’m pining. Do you always paint this late at night?”
“Actually, it’s been a while since I’ve come up here. It’s not a calling, it’s just something I do when I’m bored or I need to work off excess energy. I can appreciate art—I just can’t create it.” As she looked at him leaning against the door frame, it occurred to Anna that she would like to paint him. It was a shame she had absolutely no talent whatsoever. She was fascinated with the miracles a brush could work on canvas; she simply wasn’t much of a miracle worker herself. And so she dabbled, always amused by her own astonishing lack of creativity.
Had she the talent, however, Zack Daniels would have definitely been her next subject.
His body was beautifully defined, his bare, bronzed skin shimmering in the fluorescent lights. His heavy-lidded eyes shone like a deep, wild sea, inviting and unpredictable at the same time. In a logical corner of her mind Anna knew she was tired and worried about Kyle and Carrie, and her resources were low. It was very hard to fight physical attraction when she was taken by surprise like this. She bought herself some time by going after her paintbrush, which had rolled beneath the easel. “Did I disturb you? I’m not used to sharing the house with anyone, so I pretty much wander around at will. I’m sorry if I woke you up.”
“No, you’re fine. I couldn’t sleep, anyway, so I came to find you. Insomnia is always much more fun when you share it with someone.” He slowly walked into the room, his eyes focused curiously on her painting. He saw a field of blinding yellow sunflowers with a bright Crayola rainbow arching above. A childish figure with corkscrew curls was half-buried in the flowers. “Is that you?”
Anna gave a nervous little giggle, then quickly covered up the canvas with a sheet. “No. I don’t ever worry about who or what I paint. I just work out my frustrations up here. I’ve let very few people witness my extraordinary lack of talent. You just caught me off guard.”
“Good. That means we’re even.” When she stared at him curiously, his expressive mouth tucked up into a self-conscious, one-sided comma. “You’ve been catching me off guard since the minute I saw you. And for your information, it’s usually very difficult to throw me for a loop. I hope you’re proud of yourself.”
“So tell me what else I don’t know about you,” Anna said. “I know you’re a cop, you play a killer game of chess and it’s difficult for anyone to throw you for a loop. And that’s pretty much all I know.”
Zack took his time answering. For whatever reason, he didn’t feel like joking or teasing. Before he met Anna, he never worried too much about letting anyone know him. Life was less complicated that way, and he didn’t like complications. Now, however, he found himself wanting her to understand him. “There are a lot of things you don’t know. I love reading. I like to pack up a tuna sandwich and take a book down to the beach. I don’t like doing dishes, so I eat a lot of take-out Chinese out of the carton. I won my junior high school spelling bee. I’m knocked off my feet by a pair of beautiful blue eyes. Oh, and I hate veterinarians. It stems from a terrible childhood trauma. I had a poodle named Precious when I was a kid, and when I took it to the vet for her shots, she up and died from pure terror.”
“You’re making up every word of that story,” Anna accused him.
“Not the part about hating vets, I didn’t,” Zack threw right back, his eyes daring her to argue. “And it definitely stems from a trauma, and the trauma is named Kyle. Did I tell you that I didn’t like him?”
She smiled a little. “You mentioned it. You don’t seem to be the kind of man who keeps his emotions to himself.”
“Believe me,” Zack said with feeling, “sometimes I have to keep my emotions to myself.”
He didn’t bother to hide the look in his eyes that gave very intimate meaning to his words. For a moment they locked gazes, then Anna looked away, suddenly dry-mouthed and uncomfortable. She felt like a swimmer, holding her breath as she thrashed her way through the ocean in search of blue sky and life-giving oxygen. Everything within her was on pause. And she couldn’t think of a thing to say.
“Did I make you nervous?” he asked gently. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. Like you said, I’m not good at disguising my thoughts. But you can trust me. You know that by now, don’t you?”
Her big eyes skittered to his face, yet avoided directly meeting his gaze. “We barely know each other.”
Zack waited until she finally met his eyes, a slight smile tipping his mouth. He took a step forward, standing so close to her that he could smell the faintest trace of her perfume. She also smelled like turpentine, and somehow the odd combination was sweetly endearing, every bit as unique as Anna herself. “You’re right, Anna. We’ve known each other for only a little more than a day. I have no idea what your favorite color is, I don’t know if you like red roses in a crystal vase or a big armful of wildflowers. I have no idea if you played with dolls when you were a kid, or if you were a tomboy with skinned knees. But I do know that your eyes are the same color as robins’ eggs, and they dance when you smile. I know you chew on your lip when you’re worried.” An almost imperceptible pause. “And I know that last night’s kiss was magic.”
At that, she immediately bit down on her lip. Her gaze shimmered with a deep-water blue, softly unfocused and hypnotic. Zack was right, then: she did do that when she was nervous. Before she’d been reluctant to look in his eyes; now she couldn’t look away. His words caught her straight in the heart. Last night was magic. And she knew from firsthand experience that magic was terribly hard to come by in the world.
“I know,” she whispered. “I know.”
He seemed to still. As he stared at her, he projected an unmistakable intensity that was as beguiling and powerful as the man himself. There was an immense appeal in the way his jeans hung precariously low around his narrow hips, in the smooth brown skin of his chest and the way his thick hair tangled across his forehead. The flat plane of his stomach was lean, hard and tight, each abdominal muscle very well-defined. Beneath her shirt, Anna’s stomach also felt suddenly hard and tight, like a clenched fist. Her mouth went dry, and her eyelids felt curiously weighted. Drowsy-eyed, she forgot to hang on to her smile as her gaze spread like warm honey from his stomach to his chest. She was captivated by the erotic, shaded curves of bone and sinew, by the fluid, powerful muscles that enhanced his masculinity. And his lips—they were elegantly carved with the sweetest symmetry, the corners tipped permanently upward. His silvery eyes locked with hers, bottomless and dark, the outside edges framed with curling lines. His face carried the telltale signs of a lifetime of smiles, as well as the unmistakable dark glitter of sensual yearning.
Mesmerized, Anna felt herself tumble right into his eyes, falling as deep as she could go. She wasn’t certain if she was floating up to him, or if he was drifting down to her, but they came together by slow, dragging inches. And when his lips closed gently over hers, she felt as if she was being fed after years of starvation. Her hands reached out instinctively for support, hands gliding over the satin-smooth flesh of his chest. She could feel the warm throbbing of his lifeblood beneath her palms, a rapid meter that matched her own hectic pulse.
His lips were deliciously coaxing, while at the same time sweetly hesitant. Strangely, Anna felt no need to control the situation, no fear he would try and take the kiss too far. Zack seemed just as tangled in unfamiliar emotions as she was. Her body felt ultrasensitive beneath the moist surface of her skin, and she truly felt she could almost taste him where they touched flesh to flesh. Her breasts felt lush with a delicious weight, softly aching to be touched. The first time this man had kissed her, the sensations had been impulsive, fiery and frantic, tinged with a forbidden recklessness. Anna had felt scorched when that first kiss was over, half-crazed by the intensity and surprise of it all. This time was so very different. He opened up his soul to her, revealing himself to be a gentle weaver of sensual spells that left her
dazed. She thought she could feel pleasure tears behind her closed eyelids.
Magic. And all from a single kiss.
When Zack reluctantly broke from the kiss, his eyes were glazed with the soft heat of passion. He slowly lifted his hand, pulling at the small ribbon holding her hair. His expression was intense, as if he was completely mesmerized by this insignificant action. Anna’s hair tumbled free in a weighted cloud over her shoulders and back. So feminine, so beautiful. Zack let the featherlight ribbon drop from his fingers, watching it float to the floor between them.
He surprised her then, slowly sinking to the floor on his haunches, hands dangling loosely between his legs as he tipped his head back to study her face. His gaze moved over her delicate features as if he had never seen her before. Her skin was flushed, her blue-sky eyes shining with sensuality and a woman’s desire. Her luscious, wet-cherry lips were curved in a sweet, self-conscious smile. She made no effort to gloss over the moment until she had herself cool and composed. Zack found her simple honesty endearing. How many women had he known who deliberately disguised their emotions, to the point where they weren’t sure themselves what they were feeling? Pride was more important than being candid and open.
Anna was different from anyone he’d ever met. She was still drifting, still breathless and shaky and reveling in it.
“Something’s happening to us,” he said quietly. His eyes were so dark, they had no color beyond the hectic glitter of sensuality. “Can you feel it?”
Anna tilted her head sideways, her damp lips softly parted. She knew in these circumstances, men and women usually protected themselves with nonchalance. Oddly, she discovered she had no more desire for pretense than Zack did. “I feel it,” she said on a wispy ribbon of breath.
A sudden smile swept over Zack’s face. Damn, but he was happy. “Unbelievable. I gave up on feeling like this when I stopped believing in Santa Claus.” And then he stood up, knowing far better than she did how close he was to losing control. The last thing he wanted to do was to erase that soft look of trust in her eyes. “Merry Christmas to me, and to you a good-night. Unfortunately, it’s time for me to be a gentleman.”
