“Thanks, but no.” The second Rachel heard his voice, not only would she be certain Zach started the fire, she’d be calling the local psychiatric ward to have Kristin committed for even speaking to him again. For a psychologist who was supposed to have an open mind, Rachel’s was shut, locked and manacled where Zach was concerned. She’d held Kristin while she cried on too many occasions to be forgiving of the man responsible for the tears.
“I’ll phone her in the morning,” she said as they reached his truck. “Maybe I’ll have more news by then.”
Only a dozen firefighters and three trucks remained when they returned an hour later and pulled into the bookstore’s lot. They’d ended up sitting outside the convenience store in Zach’s truck to drink their coffees, the coward in Kristin in no hurry to return once she’d left.
Now, most of the onlookers and linemen from the electric company had gone, too. While the last tendrils of ash and smoke dissipated into the air, firemen hung close to the trucks, drinking from foam cups and speaking in subdued tones.
Zach spoke soberly. “Want to stay here for a minute while I speak to the firemen? Or would you rather do it?”
“No, you go ahead. I’m feeling a little too beaten to ask again if anything survived.”
His gentle look said he understood. “I won’t be long.”
And he wasn’t. When he returned a few minutes later, his eyes were soft and sympathetic. “It’s pretty much finished,” he said. “They’re just hanging around to make sure there are no flare-ups. Someone said it looks like the roof might stay up. That’ll make it easier for the fire marshal to determine the cause. Less rubble to sift through.”
Kristin swallowed. Everything she’d worked for, everything she’d built and treasured was gone. Her pretty shop had replaced so many things over the years. It had replaced family. It had replaced love and marriage and children. It had replaced Zach.
Now what?
Tears she’d kept at bay for the past several hours slid down her cheeks.
Zach pushed the black leather bench seat as far back from the steering wheel as it would go and gathered her close. She came to him without reservation and clung tightly.
“It’ll be okay,” he murmured. “It might not seem that way now, but you’re a strong woman, and you’ll find a way to make it okay.”
“Strong?” she sobbed. “Just look at me! I’m not strong.”
“Yes, you are. Look what you’ve done so far—not the least of which is putting yourself through college and building a thriving business out of a trinket shop. You’re going to be fine.”
Would she? She had her doubts. Even in the cab of the truck with the windows rolled up, she could smell the fire and it hurt. It overshadowed the masculine smell of leather, overshadowed the faint scent of soap that still clung to Zach’s skin. She drove her nose into his shirt, trying to replace the smell of loss with the smell of life.
“Hey,” he murmured, and tipped her face up to his.
“What?”
“Just this.” His kiss was gentle and compassionate and tender, a brief brushing of lips, a brief meeting of gray eyes full of caring and understanding.
“Thank you for being with me,” she whispered when they’d parted. “When I was standing with Eli and the others I felt like I was coming apart at the seams. But I couldn’t let them see that.” She tried to smile. “Thanks for letting me come apart at the seams.”
Zach untangled a few long strands of her bangs from her lashes. “I owe you this much. There was a time when you needed me and I wasn’t there for you.”
It wasn’t an admission of guilt, only an admission that he had regrets and wanted to repay a debt. But tonight, unlike his apology the day of her mother’s funeral, she believed what he said.
Time sighed and stretched out like a weary dog that was too tired to fight anymore. Kristin put that old hurt behind her for now, letting the hollow canyon in her chest begin to shrink a little.
She didn’t know who eased into the kiss first, Zach or herself. But it was as welcome as a warm spring rain, comforting her heart, filling those empty spots burned out by the fire, and waking her to the magic of emotional connection. She deepened the kiss, taking more of his strength and caring and using them to restore herself.
She never noticed the subtle difference in the kiss, never noticed that it had somehow shifted from compassion to wanting until it was too late to stop it.
By then she didn’t want to.
Chapter 6
T he kiss was intoxicating…tantalizing, a whirlpool of sensation dragging her down into an undertow of forgotten passion.
Kristin drew his scent deep into her lungs, drove her hands through his thick black hair, opened to him as he ground his hot, hard mouth over hers and plunged his tongue inside.
The trembling low in her abdomen spread like wildfire as Zach slid his hand under her sweatshirt. His breathing was labored, his kiss bottomless as his fingertips slid languidly over her exposed skin, stealing her breath and easing upward. Then he was smoothing his warm hand over lace-edged cotton, and murmuring that it had been so long. When callused fingers slid inside to cup her softness and he claimed her mouth again, Kristin was lost.
She worked her eager hands up under his shirt, her nerves on fire as she encountered chest hair and hard muscle.
Zach broke from the kiss to bury his face in her neck, reached behind her to unhook her bra.
Hurry, hurry, Kristin’s mind repeated as he fumbled with the catch. She wanted him, wanted all of him.
But Zach’s continued tugs when hooks and eyes wouldn’t budge broke through her haze.
Kristin stopped his hands as alarm bells went off in her head, and she forced herself to breathe, to think.
She couldn’t do this. Not here. Not anywhere. She’d lost her shop. Was she losing her mind as well? They weren’t lovers anymore, they were…
What? Was there a term for old lovers who couldn’t keep their hands to themselves?
Sighing raggedly, Zach rolled away to settle back against the black leather upholstery and stare through the windshield. Kristin inched closer to her door.
Faint, outside sounds found their way inside the truck through Zach’s partially-open window as their breathing struggled for a sensible rhythm. An occasional car motor as the fire police rerouted light traffic…the quiet conversation of volunteers who’d brought food and beverages to the firefighters. Even the low gurgle of water still running down the street and into storm drains.
“Should I say I’m sorry?” he murmured after a while.
Kristin swallowed, training her attention on the fire trucks below because it was too painful to look at her shop, and too uncomfortable to look at Zach. “Are you?”
“No. I enjoyed it. I think you did, too.”
“Old habits die hard,” she admitted, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. She found the courage to meet his eyes. “Thank you for holding me. I needed that just then. But the other…well, that was…”
“Just something that happened? Too much emotion in one night? Another lapse in judgment?”
“It was probably all of those things.” But it was more, too. Not lingering feelings of love, but something. A flush of arousal moved through her as she relived the heat of his kisses, the raw masculine taste and touch of him. But despite the pleasure she’d felt, they’d made another mistake, and mistakes carried consequences. She didn’t even want to think what they might be.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
“I’m getting there.”
She hoped so. One of them should be, and it certainly wasn’t her. “I think I’d like to rest my eyes for a while if you don’t mind,” she said hesitantly, then realized with regret that he might prefer that she do it elsewhere. Passion eased more quickly if the participants didn’t have to deal with one another’s closeness.
She motioned to her white van, only a few yards away. “Maybe I should rest over there. Then you could go back to the farmhouse
and get some sleep.”
“If you’ll be more comfortable resting in your van, go ahead. But I’m not going anywhere. Do you want to be alone?”
Kristin shook her head. “No,” she admitted. “I just want being here with you to be less…stressful.” Less exciting. Less needy. Less dangerous.
“Okay.” Zach reached behind him to grab a thick blanket from the back seat, and Kristin stilled as he slid close. She was nearly pressed against the door, but there was room for him to tuck the blanket behind her back. The heat of his body, his very nearness, brought back those feelings of attraction again, and she almost reconsidered going to her van.
“Sleep if you want. If the fire chief or any of his men need to talk to you, they know where we’re parked.” He tapped the split backs on the truck’s bench seat. “These recline if you want to be more comfortable.”
Recline? That’s all they needed. “No, I don’t need to sleep,” she answered quickly. “I just need to close my eyes for a few minutes.” And distance myself from you.
But she did sleep. In a matter of minutes, her head was lolling against the window and she was completely out.
Zach stared at her delicate profile in the dusky light, his mind wandering down paths and trails he had no business visiting. She was so beautiful, and so wounded, and there was nothing he could do to make any of it right for her. She didn’t deserve this, not after everything she’d already been through.
What would have happened if she’d told him the truth about her mother’s condition all those years ago? he wondered. Would they be together now? Married? Maybe with a couple of kids?
Without conscious direction, his gaze fell to her flat stomach and he imagined her carrying his child. Then, in the way that one thought triggers another and another, he envisioned her chasing a tiny, giggling replica of herself along the shell-studded sand below his Nags Head beach house. He could hear frothy breakers crashing on the evening shore…hear the mocking cries of the gulls winging overhead. He smiled, seeing Kris overtake the little girl. Then, laughing, she scooped the wriggling toddler up and lifted her high against a painted sky.
Zach broke free of the image and scowled. Well, wasn’t that dramatic? Why, he should call Hollywood. Hey, Spielberg, Zach Davis has a can’t-miss screenplay for you.
Shaking his head, he rolled down the window a little, letting in some cool air and a whiff of stale smoke. Why was he wondering about things he didn’t want—didn’t have time for? His life was phoning for estimates, bidding on jobs, butting heads with unions, overseeing his crews and pouring over his books. Most days, he even ended up working beside his men. He barely had time for a casual date and some no-strings sex, let alone anything long-term. The absolute last thing he needed was the responsibility of a wife and family.
Not that he hadn’t thought about it a night or two when sleep wouldn’t come…
But not now. Not until his business was firmly established and he had something to offer his kids. He’d never hand them the legacy of poverty and shame his father had left him.
Zach stretched a hand back to flip up the back seat, then reached past Kristin to release the lever beside her door. Gently, he eased her seat back as far at it would go and draped the blanket over her lap. A moment later, his seat was tilted back, too.
Stacking his hands behind his head, he looked up at the sky, stars once hidden by smoke finally visible through the windshield. The possibility of having a family gathered shape in his mind. He’d love to have a little girl one day—a couple of boys, too. Boys who could carry on the business when he was too old to swing a hammer and finally bring some honor to the family name.
Although, he thought wryly, he didn’t see how he could father any child—boy or girl—if he couldn’t even unhook a damn bra.
A sharp crack shattered their sleep. Zach’s eyes flew open to sunlight streaming through his windshield at the same time Kris’s did. They lay there, nearly flat on their backs beneath the blanket, nose to nose and tangled in each other’s arms. Unless he was still dreaming, his left hand under the blanket was cupping Kristin’s nicely rounded bottom.
Vaulting upright, she skittered away like a startled fiddler crab, her flustered expression telling him she wasn’t pleased with the way they’d ended up.
The tall, blond man peering down through Kristin’s window—and probably the source of that jarring noise—didn’t look happy, either.
Hiding a smile, Zach decided that his day was made.
“Chad!” Kristin said in a relieved rush. Tossing the blanket on the floor, she left the truck, finger-combing her tousled hair.
Zach’s stomach clenched as Hollister set a take-out bag on the hood of Zach’s truck and took her in his arms. Her voice rose as she blurted out everything she knew about the fire, every upsetting scrap of information she had.
“I know,” Hollister crooned, rocking her close. “I saw the police report Larry put on my desk. Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.”
Zach yanked the low lever beside him, catapulted his seat straight up, and went outside.
“I’m so sorry I wasn’t here,” Hollister murmured into her hair. “What can I do to make this easier for you?”
Kristin eased away to look down on the charred remains of her shop, her shoulders slumping dejectedly. “Nothing. There’s nothing anyone can do, but knowing you want to helps. Thank you.”
Zach looked at the shop, too. Night and billowing smoke had hidden the horrific damage the fire had inflicted. Now, in the light of day, there was no denying that she’d lost everything. Her once pretty shop lay shapeless and ruined. Even part of the roof had come down in the night. The firefighters and fire police who’d stayed stood talking somberly, like mourners at a wake.
Kristin blinked to clear the glaze from her eyes. “Thank heaven someone had the presence of mind to move the wooden gliders and swings I sell for the Stoltzfus family away from the building. They made it through, at least.”
She sighed, then, and turned toward the yellow tape roping off the street. “Excuse me for a minute. Maybe there’s news—something they learned during the night.”
Chad pulled her back. “Kristin, don’t go down there. It’ll just make you feel worse. I’ve already spoken to them, and there’s nothing new to report.”
Defiance flashed in her eyes as she pulled away. “But I haven’t spoken to them yet, and it was my shop. I’ll be right back.”
Obviously startled, Chad released her, watched her leave, then turned to finally acknowledge Zach’s presence. “Morning, Davis,” he said.
“Morning,” Zach replied curtly.
Hollister went to the take-out bag on the truck’s hood, retrieved a large foam cup of coffee for himself, then stunned Zach by handing him a cup. “Here. Figured you’d need an eye-opener this morning, too.”
Zach wasn’t often struck speechless, but Hollister’s unexpected consideration did it for him. He didn’t stay speechless long. “Thanks. But why?”
Chad’s reply was grudgingly polite. “It’s the least I could do after you stood in for me last night. I was sick when I got back and heard about the fire.”
Every nerve in Zach’s body jerked at being labeled Hollister’s “stand in,” and it took every ounce of his self-control to keep him from telling Chad just how well he’d stood in for him. The only thing that kept his lips sealed was the knowledge that mouthing off would put Kris in an awkward spot. She was dealing with enough right now.
Besides, in his own asinine way, Chad was being decent, despite the little scene he’d walked up on this morning. Hollister’s bringing three cups of coffee made it clear that he’d either seen them in the truck earlier, or had learned from his deputy that Kristin had spent the night in Zach’s truck.
They drank for a while, both of their gazes locked on Kris as she spoke with the firefighters. Then Chad took another sip and said, out of the blue, “You left, I stayed. She needed someone to hold on to, and I was there.”
“Are you looking f
or my thanks, or are you trying to make a point?”
“Making a point.” The sun glinted off Hollister’s mirrored sunglasses as his gaze remained fixed on Kristin. “I love her. She’ll be my wife one day, you know.”
Not if she has a brain in her head. “To be honest, Chad, I doubt that. Mrs. Chase died over nine years ago. What’s taken you so long to put a ring on her finger?”
Hollister finished his coffee and stuck the empty cup into the bag. “She needed time after her mother died to find out who she was. From high school graduation on, she was basically a nurse. Her sister helped, but Rachel was finishing college, so most of Mrs. Chase’s care came from Kristin. Afterward, she went to school, came back and started the shop.” He paused. “She needed to gain some confidence—build a life of her own before she was ready to share it with someone else.”
He removed his glasses and tucked them in his breast pocket. “I wanted her,” he went on. “I’ve always wanted her. But a man has to do what’s right. It would’ve been wrong to rush her.”
Zach couldn’t disagree.
Chad slipped his hands into the pockets of his uniform trousers, his gaze back on Kristin. “But now, it’s time we started making plans for our future. When are you going back home?”
Zach’s first inclination was to tell him it was none of his business. But what was the point? “Two weeks, give or take a day.”
Hollister nodded complacently, then turned to Zach. “Let us know where to reach you. We’ll see that you get an invitation to the wedding.”
Zach bristled, his hands aching to curl into fists. The son of a bitch really enjoyed putting it to him—even when there was no reason to consider him a rival anymore.
Kristin’s approach broke the clash of their gazes, her sneakers moving briskly and purposefully up the grassy hill to the lot. She shoved the sleeves of her gray sweatshirt back, her dark eyes flashing, her color high.
Bachelor in Blue Jeans Page 7
