by Ann Major
He was silent for a long time. “We do live in the real world, you know, an intrusive world.”
A world that would devour them all over again if it learned all their secrets.
“I know. But I want to try to keep our relationship a personal matter. There are things I need to share with you…. Personal things I’ve been afraid to share… .”
“You sound very mysterious all of a sudden.”
“I can’t talk about it over the phone. So, about tomorrow… Do we still have a date?”
When he hesitated for a heartbeat, he put her in an agony of suspense.
“I can’t wait,” he admitted in that low, husky tone she loved.
* * *
Friday afternoon came at last, and she rushed to LaGuardia in a chauffeured car with a single bag. Hours later, when his jet set her down on a deserted airstrip several miles from the one Bob usually used outside Bonne Terre, she saw him—and no press—waiting beside his Mercedes at the edge of the dark woods. A wild joy pierced her.
Stepping off the plane, she told herself to play it cool. But at the bottom of the stairway, she cried his name and flew into his arms.
“I missed you so much,” she admitted ruefully as she flung her arms around his neck.
He pulled her to him, folded her close.
“You smell so good,” she whispered.
He slanted a look down at her and smiled. “So do you.”
Feeling the fierce need to taste him, she pulled his mouth down to hers. Then he kissed her with a wonderful wild hunger that turned her blood to fire, the ferocity in him matching her own. Suddenly, it didn’t matter that he’d barely contacted her last week or that he’d had so many doubts about their very public relationship. Even the unbearable weight of her secret felt a tiny bit lighter on her heart. There was truth in his kiss, in his touch, a truth he couldn’t hide.
“I brought you something.”
Soft white flashed in the darkness as he handed her a bouquet of daisies.
“They’re gorgeous.” She jammed her nose into the middle of their petals and inhaled their sweetness. “Simply gorgeous. I love them.”
“It’s a cliché gift.”
“I don’t care.”
“You’ve got gold dust all over your nose now.”
“Pollen, they call it,” she whispered as she dabbed at her nose and giggled. “All gone?”
“Not quite.” He dusted the tip of her nose for her.
Then he wrapped his arms around her and held her close in the shadows of the trees. After another kiss, this one brief and undemanding and tender, he said, “Let’s go home, sweetheart.”
The press corps waiting for them at his pillared mansion were held at bay by a team of security guards, so Zach drove around back where they could run inside without having to face questions.
Locking the door of the little sitting room where they’d entered, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her hard. So urgent were his kisses as they skimmed her lips, her throat, her breasts. She began to tremble violently. Then he lifted her skirt and found that soft place in between her thighs.
“You’re not wearing panties, I see.”
His tongue made contact and she gasped.
“No… .”
She was wet and breathless and dying for more as he peeled off the rest of her clothes.
“Am I bad?” she whispered as he undid his belt and began tearing off his jeans and shirt.
“I like bad.”
When they were naked, he shoved her against the wall and held her close. “Wrap your legs around me, sweetheart.”
When she complied, he put on a condom and ground himself into her, scraping her back and shoulders against the wall in his eagerness. She didn’t mind. She cared only for him as he rode her fast and hard. Arching her pelvis to meet his thrusts, she cried out. Again, he took her to that strange, wild world that was theirs alone. Clinging to him fiercely, her heart pounded in mad unison with his.
Afterward, their bodies drenched in perspiration, they sank to the floor with their arms still wound around each other.
“I don’t know if I can ever stand up again,” Summer whispered breathlessly.
“Not to worry, sweetheart. You don’t have to.”
He lifted her and carried her through the house to the bed in the room she’d used that first weekend. Then he lay down beside her and stared at her hot, damp body gleaming in the moonlight.
When she was with him like this, she felt almost sick with pleasure and terror of losing him. She thought about her secret and how he might react when she confided in him. How, when could she tell him?
The long, lonely years without him had taught her what loss felt like, and she dreaded anything coming between them again. But something would. All it might take was her confession about the baby.
She’d been young when she’d loved him before. People like Thurman, who’d been wrong in all the advice they’d given her, had told her she’d been lucky to have lost their baby girl, lucky a lowlife like Zach was out of her life, lucky that she could start over. They’d said she would meet someone else, someone respectable, have another baby, that all would be just fine.
She’d learned better. Thurman had been wrong about almost everything, but he’d been especially wrong about how she felt about losing Zach’s baby and about losing Zach himself. Yes, she had her career, and she’d enjoyed national, even international, acclaim. But never once in all those years had she felt this alive.
Zach was special. When she’d been a foolish, naive girl, he’d lived in a shack. He’d been considered beneath her by the kids at school, and she’d still thought he was the one. Until Thurman and his cohorts had twisted and turned their love into something ugly and sordid and had driven them apart.
Now Zach rolled over, took her hand and interlocked his fingers with hers. When he looked at her, her blood beat with a mixture of desire and fear. When she kissed him, she realized she was going to take the easy way out…at least for now. They could talk in the morning. The happiness she felt was simply too precious to risk.
That night they made love several more times, but early Saturday morning, when they might have talked, Zach had to go to the site because his contractor had encountered a new challenge. Then he wanted to see Nick. He said they’d had a minor quarrel earlier in the week and he wanted to make things right on his way home.
“I hope you didn’t quarrel about me.”
His eyes narrowed, and she knew that they had.
“I see. Okay, then,” she agreed, feeling a little relief at the reprieve, deciding it was probably best for him to handle Nick as he saw fit. “You’d better stop by. Last week I was terrible in rehearsals, so I really need to go over the script.”
But no sooner was he gone than her whirling emotions centered on her secret and him and she was unable to concentrate. Her need to confess made her as uncertain as a young girl in the throes of first love, and she could do nothing except worry about what Nick might say against her.
Hours passed. Unable to focus, she stared at the daisies and her script.
Her phone rang. When she saw it was Gram, she answered it, glad of the distraction.
“I’ve got some news. I was calling to invite you and Zach over to dinner. I could tell you then.”
“I’ll ask Zach…. See what he says.” If they went out to dinner, it would be more difficult to find the perfect moment to confess.
“Tell Zach I’m cooking chicken and Andouille gumbo, crawfish étoufée and a shrimp salad. Oh, and those chocolate-chip cookies he loves so much. Maybe after dinner we could play Hearts.”
When Gram hung up, Summer remained as unfocused as ever, even as she comforted herself that it was all right not to work, that sometimes procrastination was part of any actress’s process.
Finally, Zach’s car roared into the drive out back. Jumping up, breathing hard, she ran to a tall window where she stood until she saw a reporter. Only with the greatest effort did she ti
ptoe back to the table, pick up a pen and sit down before her script. But when Zach walked through the front door and called to her, she answered with her next breath.
“In here! Working!” She giggled at that last.
He strode inside the kitchen and kissed her. “Sorry it took so long. I hope you got something done.”
“I tried,” she said evasively.
Her frustration must have shown because he ran his knuckles up the curve of her neck. “Sounds like somebody needs a holiday.”
“Right… . It’s your fault I couldn’t work. I was thinking about you the whole time you were gone.”
“Ditto.” He swept her into his arms and devoured her mouth in a dizzying kiss.
As eager as he, she tore off her clothes while watching him do the same. They ended up making love on the kitchen table—but only after she’d removed the precious daisies for safekeeping.
“Oh,” she said, while they were dressing afterward. “I almost forgot and Gram would have killed me… .”
“What?”
“She said she had something to tell us, and she invited us over for dinner tonight.”
“It must be nice, having family to share things with,” he said.
She realized it was, even if Gram had her own ideas about how Summer’s life should be and never stopped pushing for her own agenda.
“I take it that’s a yes,” she said.
* * *
Zach would never know exactly at what point that night he knew for sure that no matter what she’d done in the past, no matter what the masses believed, Summer was the one woman who was essential to his happiness. Nothing spectacular happened; it was simply a very special evening.
To elude the paparazzi, he had a pair of doubles drive away in his Mercedes so he and Summer could slip out the back to the dock and take his airboat. As they sped along the glassy water, laughing like children, the sun glowed like gold in the cypress trees, turning the bayou into a gilded ribbon of flashing darkness and light.
Summer’s hair whipped back from her pale face, and her heavily lashed blue eyes shone every time she glanced at him as if she were as exhilarated by his nearness as he was by hers. She wore a navy dress with tiny white buttons and held the filmy skirt down with hands pressed against her knees.
Why had he thought he couldn’t get beyond their past and her fame? Despite the betrayals, when they were together, he forgave her everything and felt as comfortable around her as he had as a kid. Upon reaching Viola’s rambling old plantation house, he followed Summer around the yard as she stooped in the tall grasses to pick wild violets for the dinner table while amusing him with tales about her funniest roles. In turn, he talked about all the various disasters that could befall a construction project.
“I can’t believe a giant crane costing millions can actually topple over,” she said, sounding amazed.
“Yes, we were so lucky nobody was killed, we didn’t even care about the money.”
They smiled and laughed together. Holding hands, they carried armfuls of violets into the house, which was redolent with the smell of Cajun spices. Together they looked for a vase and finished setting the table while Tuck followed them around like a lost puppy.
“Tuck’s very good at looking like he’s doing something when he isn’t,” Summer whispered when steaming dishes needed to be carried to the table and her brother chose that moment to say he had to go to the bathroom.
“He’ll grow up. You’ll see.”
“We keep hoping… .”
Zach enjoyed the simple dinner party. When Viola started tapping her crystal goblet filled with ruby-red wine, Zach felt Summer tense beside him.
“Careful, Gram. Mama’s crystal,” she chided.
Gram shot her a look. “I’m always careful with dear Anna’s crystal. I was only trying to get your attention, dear.” She took a deep breath. “And now that you’re all listening—I have something to tell you, something I couldn’t be more thrilled about.” Her sharp blue eyes sparkled like a naughty child’s.
“Oh, no, now what have you gone and done?” Summer asked.
In the flattering candlelight and in her soft gray dress with those sharp, mischievous eyes dancing, Viola looked years younger than her age.
“Well, your Gram has bought herself a condo in Plantation Alley.”
“Without even telling me,” Summer said, shocked.
“I told you I was thinking about it, didn’t I? It was such a good deal. I had to snap it up. Besides, you’re never here, dear. If you lived closer, maybe I’d form the habit of confiding in you.”
“Well, I’m here now,” Summer said. “I’ve been here all weekend.”
“I wouldn’t dream of disturbing you, child,” her grandmother replied innocently, slanting a pointed glance at Zach. “And you didn’t drop by…not till I invited you.”
“Zing,” Summer murmured in Zach’s ear.
“Stop whispering, you two! I want to hear everything that’s said at my table.”
He squeezed Summer’s hand.
“Do you want to hear about my new condo or not?” Viola asked peevishly.
“We want to hear,” Summer soothed.
Viola brought them a folder that contained a colorful brochure spelling out the amenities of the complex as well as a contract and a copy of the deposit she’d put down. Then she described the condo she’d bought in detail. Several of her friends already lived in the complex, so she’d have lots of company for playing Hearts. The clincher was that Silas approved. He simply adored the cozy window with the view of the bayou where he could sit and watch birds.
“The girls and I sort of thought that if we lived in the same complex we could look after each other, call one another every day, you know.”
“The girls are her Friday Lunch Bunch,” Summer explained. “They eat together every Friday at a restaurant another friend owns. That’s where they hatch their mischief, which mainly has to do with thinking up schemes to meddle in my and Tuck’s lives.”
“We do not!”
Zach picked up the contract and scratched a few things out, added a sentence or two, explaining why he’d made the changes.
“I’m not sure I understand,” Gram said.
“Just take this to Davis first thing Monday. Tell him I sent you. He’ll take care of you.”
Gram nodded. “It has three bedrooms, so there’ll be room for you and Tuck to stay anytime.”
“Well, that’s a relief. I’m glad you’re not kicking me out,” Tuck said.
“You won’t have to move out on your own, until you’re ready, dear. And, Zach, you’re always welcome. Silas is so fond of playing Hearts with you.”
“Gram! I’m sure Zach’s had enough of Silas’s opinions for one evening,” Summer teased.
“Well, who’s going to speak for him, since dear Silas won’t speak for himself?”
“Exactly,” Summer said.
Tuck hadn’t said much during dinner, but he’d come to the table with his hair combed and had answered all Zach’s questions about his classes. The small changes in him pleased everyone since he was mildly enthusiastic for a change.
The gumbo and spicy étoufée were delicious.
All in all, it was one of those rare, pleasant evenings, a family evening, the kind of evening Zach hadn’t experienced since his Uncle Zach’s death. He felt like he belonged—with Summer, with all of them. Suddenly, the past and its pain didn’t matter quite so much.
Suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to start over with Summer.
Realizing that thanks to Tuck’s misbehavior, they had already started over, Zach took Summer’s hand, turned it over in his own, drew it to his lips. For a second he caught a haunted expression in her eyes, but when she flashed him a dazzling smile, he forgot where he was. He would have planted a quick kiss on her cheek if he hadn’t caught a very pleased Gram watching his every move. Not in the habit of public displays of affection, he let go of Summer’s hand in the next instant.
&
nbsp; When dinner was over, they retired to the card table where Gram’s three guests conspired to let her win more than her fair share of the games.
“It was a perfect evening,” Gram said after they’d helped her clear the table. As they stepped out onto the porch, the black, misty darkness was filled with the cloying scent of honeysuckle and the glorious roar of cicadas. They were saying their goodbyes, and Summer’s beautiful face was aglow beneath the porch light.
He loved her, Zach realized.
Love. He hated the word. He’d sworn never to fall under its dark power again, but here he was, lost in its grip. After everything she’d put him through, it was stupid of him, terrifying for him, but he wanted to claim her—to marry her.
When her beaming grandmother read the emotion in his eyes, she closed the door and wisely left them alone. Like a fool, the minute they were alone, he wanted to get down on bended knee in the damp St. Augustine grass and propose.
Luckily, he caught himself, opting to proceed with caution. If this new relationship with Summer was to work, he’d need to reorganize his business, his entire life. He’d need an office in Manhattan for starters. That was okay. He’d worked all over the world; he could work anywhere.
He would have his people contact several knowledgeable Realtors in Manhattan. He’d tell them he wanted to shift the focus of Torr Enterprises, that they were to start searching for opportunities in the northeast. He’d buy Summer a penthouse with a view of Central Park.
Not that he would want to live there all year. But surely she’d meet him halfway by living in Houston or even Louisiana for at least part of the year.
* * *
As they sped home across the black, glassy waters of the bayou, Zach seemed quieter, more withdrawn, and yet content.
Their speed wasn’t as fast as it had been earlier, since it was dark now and there were patches of ground fog, but there was no way she could speak to him over the roar of the airboat.
Arriving home without incident, she watched as Zach secured the boat quickly and efficiently with the easy expertise of a man who knew exactly what he was doing. Nick had taught him all of that, she thought.
