by Davis, Jo
They got out and Zack retrieved his worldly possessions from her trunk. Gritting his teeth, he followed her onto the porch and waited as she unlocked the door.
Slowly, he followed her inside. Paused to drink in the haven he’d never thought to see again. The soothing earth tones that had succumbed to a more feminine flair along the lines of rugs, curtains, and a couple of floral arrangements. The familiar fresh scent of lemon oil and wood.
Home.
“Zack? Are you feeling all right?”
“Um, yes. I’m fine. Where should I put this?” He jiggled the cardboard box in his hands.
“Just sit it there, in the entry. We’ll get you settled in a bit.” She frowned and he belatedly realized he hadn’t complimented her home, something most people do automatically.
He set the box on the floor, then straightened, gesturing to the large, open space as though finally noticing. “Oh, wow. Awesome place you’ve got here.”
Cori bit her lip, appearing troubled for a second. He must’ve imagined it, because her expression cleared and the contentment returned. “Thanks. The previous owner must’ve put a lot of sweat into updating it.” Reaching out, she ran a palm lovingly over the polished oak stair rail. The one he’d spent hours shaping, sanding, and polishing with loving care.
“The custom woodwork and cabinetry throughout the house is incredible. You don’t get that quality of craftsmanship from a tract builder.”
No, you don’t.
“I’m thinking he might’ve designed and made it all in the shop out back,” she went on. “There are saws, sanders, umpteen kinds of wood and stains, and I don’t know what else. Probably enough to build an ark. Can’t believe it was all left behind.”
“What will you do with it?”
“I don’t know. Sell the equipment and clean it out, I suppose. Just haven’t gotten motivated yet.”
A shard of pain knifed his gut. “I see.”
“Say, are you any good with woodworking?”
“Fair,” he lied. He’d practically lived for the texture of rough wood in his hands. For taking raw, discarded material and creating something new and shiny.
Her pretty face became animated as she warmed to her idea. “You could use the shop if you’d like. Someone might as well make use of all that great stuff.”
“Oh, I don’t know—”
“You could make something for me. If you wanted.”
Aw, hell. How was he supposed to look into those sparkling, tawny eyes and say no? God help him if he had a houseful of little girls someday. “Did you have something special in mind?”
She grinned, obviously pleased. “Surprise me. Care for something to drink while we take a walk? If you’re up to it, that is.”
“Sounds good, on both counts. I’ve been cooped up for too long.” And not just because of the accident. He loved the outdoors and used to jog along Neptune Road on his days off, or simply go for a long stroll, enjoying the countryside. His most recent abode hadn’t exactly been conducive to outdoor activity. At least not the legal kind.
Zack trailed her into the kitchen and parked his butt on the counter while she fished in the fridge. “Got a beer?”
“Yep. Beer, wine, and soda.” She peered over her shoulder. “You really shouldn’t drink while you’re taking antibiotics.”
“I know.” He stuck out his lower lip in an exaggerated pout. “Just one?”
“Shame on you.” Turning, she arched a brow, waggling a can of diet soda. “This is better for you.”
“Yuck. Total carcinogen city. Beer is all-natural and way more nutritious. Besides, I deserve one after the week I’ve had.”
With an unladylike snort, she replaced the can and took out two longnecks, twisted the top off one, and handed it to him. “As a paramedic, you know that alcohol suppresses the body’s ability to effectively process—”
“There you go again.” Zack took a swig of his brew.
“There I go doing what?”
“Spouting off like a medical textbook. You sit around and watch the health channel all day or something?”
“When have I said anything medical?”
He gazed at her innocent expression, curious. “You were talking about Ativan with that nurse who almost sedated me. You knew your stuff—and you knew the nurse, too. I’d almost forgotten.”
She took a long draw of her beer, and he couldn’t help but eye the graceful column of her throat as she drank. Her plump lips hugging the bottle’s opening the way he’d love them wrapped around—
“Busted,” she said, wiping her mouth. “I do read medical textbooks. All the time.”
“For kicks? And I’m weird, huh?”
“I can think of more titillating things to do for fun than reading.” Her mischievous smirk, and the implication of her words, almost gave him blue balls. Before he could respond, she lowered a double whammy. “I study the books for my classes.”
He blinked, his brain still stuck on titillating endeavors. “You’re taking classes?”
“Don’t sound so surprised, hot stuff. Exotic dancers can go to school, you know.” Advancing on him, she poked him in the chest with her beer bottle. “In fact, dancing is what allows most of the girls I know to pay their tuition. Many of them are going for an education.”
God, for a guy with a so-called genius IQ, he was a total dumbass when it came to women. Why hadn’t it occurred to him that a smart, fiery babe like Cori had more going on than showing off her smokin’ bod? “Like you?”
“Like me. I graduate from nursing school in May.” Her beaming smile warmed him like a solar flare.
“Oh, wow! Major congrats, beautiful.” He pulled her into a bear hug, and loved how she burrowed her face into the curve of his neck, the tickle of her hair against his cheek. Her arms snaked around his waist under his coat, and he thought what a lucky man he was to hold her twice in one day. And on the heels of that . . .
With most of her income funneled into books and tuition, how on earth had she afforded to buy his property?
None of his business. The idea took him places he’d rather not go, so he shoved it aside. Nothing could be allowed to spoil this. Having a woman’s body—this woman’s—against his was as close to heaven as he’d ever come.
Being dead for several minutes notwithstanding.
And even then, there had been no fabled brilliant light. No sense of belonging at last. Of real peace.
“That’s quite an accomplishment, working so hard to put yourself through school. I’m proud of you,” he said, kissing her temple. Immediately, he felt sheepish. Cori wasn’t his, and didn’t need his approval. Might not even appreciate it.
“Nobody’s ever told me that before. Not even my brothers.” She tipped her face up to his, her lashes wet, mouth trembling. “You don’t know how much it means to me, hearing someone validate my efforts. Thank you.”
Ah, God. Tears. He was so toasted. “Actually, I have a very good idea.”
“Hmm. You’re lucky you had your father to guide you in finding the right path. To encourage you.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
Pulling back, she frowned at him, hesitant. “But when you mentioned your father raising you . . .”
“You pictured a Norman Rockwell painting of a doting all-American dad, teaching his boy to play wide receiver?” The question came out sharper than he intended, colored with bitterness. “My father was a self-important bastard. He never—” Loved me.
Whoa, TMI. Too late, the words died in his throat. Didn’t matter that he’d managed to strangle them. Whether they were unspoken or not, Cori heard the truth that still had the power to make him bleed.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, searching his face with tentative fingers. His lips. “Seems we have even more in common than I believed.”
Sweet Christ, he couldn’t gaze into her lovely eyes, so full of compassion, and not fall. Fast. Hard.
Nothing had ever felt so right as Cori in his arms. When he’
d first held and kissed her . . . it was as though her lips moving against his had awakened his soul from a twenty-six-year sleep. He’d known her mere days.
Had known her forever.
“Why don’t we take that walk?” Clasping his hand, she led him outside, onto the deck.
For a moment they stood enjoying the view in companionable silence. The small creek bisected the gentle slope of the land, and the woods on the other side were broken only by a trail leading up the opposite slope. His—no, Cori’s—property ended about thirty yards beyond the tree line, bordering hundreds of acres of undeveloped, pristine Tennessee valley.
Her nearness and the welcome sight kept the yawning emptiness at bay as they used the steps at the side of the deck and struck out for the creek. The day was chilly but sunny and the dead, brown grass crunched under their shoes. The water was swollen from the runoff of all the freezing rain last week, though the depth wouldn’t reach his knees.
They drew up short on the bank, simply listening for a moment to the gurgle of the stream flowing over the rocks. Cori linked one arm around his and pointed to a wooden plank laid across a narrow section of the creek.
“I slipped and fell in not long ago crossing that thing. You should’ve seen me on my butt, soaking wet and madder than a spitting cat.”
Zack’s gaze snapped to hers. “Were you hurt?” Dammit, he’d meant to come up with something better than that old board long ago.
She grimaced, wrinkling her cute nose. “Just my pride, and trust me, I’ve got plenty of padding to protect the rest.”
Oh, he’d love to test that claim.
His leggy goddess wasn’t a bag of bones by any stretch. Nope, she put the “voom” in “vavoooom”. He wondered whether her ass would fill his hands, soft and pillowy, as he plunged his cock deep inside her.
While she screamed his name.
Leapin’ Jesus. Glad his coat hid his rather volatile reaction to the naughty direction of his thoughts for about the third time today, he nodded his head toward the plank. “Shall we brave the raging rapids?”
“Sure. But we won’t go far. You don’t need to get winded and have a relapse,” she said crisply.
“Bossy nurses.” In truth, he liked being fussed over. A whole damned lot.
He took the lead this time, treading the board carefully. The wood was slippery, the stream lapping over the surface when it would normally be out of the water. When he reached the middle, he held out his hand for her. “Slowly.”
She grasped his hand and they crossed without incident. As they walked toward the path leading up the slope and into the woods, Zack was disturbed by the idea of Cori out here alone. Isolated. What if she’d hit her head on a rock when she slipped? A person could drown in less than an inch of water. Didn’t have to be like what had happened to him when her Explorer went into the Cumberland.
As they started up the trail, he glanced back at the creek and the makeshift crossing. Far up on the rise, near the road, a glimpse of metal through the trees drew his eye. A car? Too far off to tell, especially without his glasses. He returned his attention to the creek.
Surprise me.
An idea that had been simmering in the back of his mind since he’d bought the place more than a year ago bloomed into full, living color.
A grin teased his lips, excitement charging his tired body. It would take weeks of planning and hard work in his old shop, but he’d surprise her all right.
And maybe—just maybe—by then, he’d find a way to convince Cori that she couldn’t live without him.
About a mile away on a curve in Neptune Road, Lionel gripped the van’s steering wheel and seethed. Hand in hand, the couple disappeared over the ridge and were swallowed by the trees. Out for a nice, carefree hike.
“Goddammit,” he hissed. The firefighter was in the picture now. Possibly intended to stay.
Unexpected. Unfortunate—for Zack Knight.
This changed everything.
They needed to stop dicking around with their scheme and just take the bitch outright. If his stupid shit partner had listened, they wouldn’t have this extra fucking complication to deal with. Correction—Lionel wouldn’t have to deal with it while Mr. Worship My Cock gave orders from his throne on the mountaintop.
No, if they’d done it Lionel’s way, he’d already have everything that should’ve belonged to him before Corrine hightailed it and hid in Podunk, USA. He’d own her by now, body and soul.
For what she’d done, the whore would submit to his will in every delicious way. Then he’d break her.
Surprise, asshole, change of plans. He could taste his soon-to-be ex-partner’s impotent rage, too late to stop Lionel from gaining all the power. Arrogant sonofabitch to believe he was running the show. That he had equal rights to the spoils.
Oh, he’d play along for a bit longer. But only until he’d worked out his next move and how to accomplish it with a minimum of fanfare. Cori’s rescuer was about to discover that meeting her was the unluckiest day of his life. Choosing to hang around, the worst mistake he’d ever made.
His very last mistake.
8
Zack was coughing when they reached the house again, his face pale. Worried, Cori led him into the living room, rubbed her hands together to warm them, and felt his forehead. He blinked at her, his blue eyes tired.
“Verdict, Nurse Ratched?”
“Your ass is going to bed for a nap,” she scolded. “I can’t believe I fell for your bull, pretending to be fine when you’re about to keel over! Upstairs. Now.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
His lips curved into a slight smile and she suspected he was humoring her, but she didn’t care as long as the fool rested. She didn’t blame him for itching to be outdoors after lying in the hospital for almost a week, but their trek had been too much, too soon.
In the foyer, he retrieved his box of belongings and followed her upstairs to the guest bedroom. She stepped inside and gestured to the open, airy space. “You’ll stay in here, across the hall from me. The bed isn’t made up because you’re my first real guest. I’ll take care of that while you take a shower,” she said, pointing to the adjoining bathroom. When he didn’t immediately respond, she glanced at him to see him staring at his surroundings, the oddest expression on his face. “Zack?”
“Oh . . . a shower. Right. I took one at the hospital,” he murmured, his voice strange. Distant.
“All the more reason to take another. A person can leave the hospital with more germs than when they entered. Besides, you need to get warm and stand under the steam for a while. Loosen the gunk in your lungs.”
He sighed. “Okay. Sure.”
What on earth was wrong with him? Before they’d come inside, he’d seemed to be enjoying himself. She couldn’t think of anything she’d said or done to change that.
“Make yourself at home and I’ll bring you a bar of soap and some shampoo.” She snapped her fingers. “Oh, I almost forgot. There’s another Wal-Mart sack in the car with more underwear, socks, a couple of T-shirts, pajama bottoms, and a pair of sweats. I’d picked up some extra things in case what I got didn’t fit, but those will hold you until we go shopping.”
“More happy-face boxers?” His lips twitched in humor, whatever had been bothering him banished.
“SpongeBob and lipstick kisses.”
“You’re an evil woman.”
“Anytime you want a true demonstration, let me know, hot stuff.” She paused, giving him a teasing grin. “I’ll get that soap now.”
Cori turned and sauntered out, but not before she caught the hungry look in his eyes. Pure, blue fire. Tempted beyond endurance, ready to call her dare.
He didn’t. She wasn’t sure whether to be relieved. If she didn’t know for a fact that their attraction was mutual, she’d feel like an idiot for blatantly hitting on him. He might not have responded out loud, but the sizable bulge in his jeans said plenty.
Heartened, she went out to the car and snagged the Wal-Mar
t bag, then fetched the soap and shampoo from her bathroom. She returned to find him gazing out the window, his expression so sad a lump formed in her throat. She knew how difficult it was to start over after your life had been decimated, knew firsthand the hurt he held inside.
“Here you go,” she said.
Jerking his head around, he smiled. Hid his pain as she suspected he always did, beneath a layer of sunshine. “Thanks. I really appreciate this.”
Oh, she wanted more than his appreciation. Scary territory. “Forget it. Everybody requires a hand at some point. If it weren’t for Shea, I wouldn’t have made it when I first arrived in Sugarland.”
“Yeah, well . . .” He forked his fingers through his black hair, floundering. A crack in the plastic veneer.
Good. “Look, this sucks, Zack. You don’t have to pretend otherwise, not with me.”
“My situation sucks, but being here with you doesn’t.” A small curve of the lips. Genuine, no shadows.
“Ditto. So get over yourself before I’m forced to trank you after all.” She shooed him toward the bathroom. “Go on. You’ll feel tons better once you’re warm and rested.”
Grinning, he shrugged out of his coat, tossed it onto the bed, and went without argument. He pulled the door to, leaving it cracked open about an inch. Rustling, followed by the telltale sound of his zipper, sent her into retreat mode, for all her bravado.
Maybe the stinker had left the door cracked as an answering dare?
Humming, she took his coat and hung it with hers in the hall closet downstairs. In the kitchen, she dug in the freezer for something nutritious to fix for dinner. Firefighters were extremely fit as a rule—Zack’s hunk-a-licious teammates all prime examples of melt-your-panties goodness—but fireboy hadn’t been taking care of himself. Nothing brought that home like seeing the dung heap where he’d been living.
He needs a friend to care, to give him a swift kick in his very fine butt and propel him right out of the doldrums , she mused, removing a package of chicken breasts and setting it on the counter. Might as well be me.
