Bachelor in Blue Jeans

by Lauren Nichols

  “No, nothing yet. The fire marshal hopes to be here in a few days.”

  “Good. I really need some answers.” She softened her tone, trying to banish his down-in-the-dumps mood. “How are you?”

  “Busy. Had another break-in at Anna Mae’s house last night.”

  That jolted her. “You’re joking.”

  “Unfortunately, no. One of the neighbors reported seeing lights on and called us, so Larry and I went over. We found Harlan Greene going through her knickknacks. He said he just wanted a frog or two to remember her by.”

  Recalling the sadness in Harlan’s eyes the day he came into her shop, Kristin felt a rush of sympathy. “Oh, Chad, you’re not planning to bring charges, are you?”

  “I don’t know,” he answered in a troubled voice. “Technically, it wasn’t breaking and entering. He had a key. But the house doesn’t belong to him. It belongs to Mrs. Arnett.”

  A sudden, unwelcome thought occurred to Kristin. “You don’t think Harlan was the one who—”

  “—broke in before? I considered it, but, no. He’s such a nice old coot, I suspect he would’ve stayed to give you first aid if he was the one who collided with you on the stairs. Besides, I asked him, and he said no. I think he was telling the truth.” The coolness returned to his voice as he changed the subject. “When are you coming home?”

  “In a day or two. As soon as Zach finishes his business here.”

  “Good,” he murmured, then added in an even gentler voice, “I miss you.”

  Kristin suppressed a sigh. She didn’t want him to miss her. “Have you seen Mary Alice since the auction?”

  “No. Why would I?”

  Obviously because she was his date for the dinner cruise next Saturday night. But if there was nothing there, there was nothing there. “Chad, I’ll see you when I get back. I’m sorry you were worried. Take care.”

  “You take care, too,” he replied, but his words carried a heavier meaning.

  Kristin hung up the phone, thoughts of Harlan overshadowing her frustration with Chad. Sometimes life was so unfair. It made her sad to think of the old, bow-tied gentleman choosing a frog from Anna Mae’s collection…a small remembrance of a woman he’d loved and would never see again.

  Her gaze slid to the coffee table where Anna Mae’s journals were stacked. She felt their pull. Moments later, she was in a chair on the deck, sunglasses on, and reading.

  The first entry was penned midway through Anna Mae’s tour in the tropics, though it wasn’t with the Peace Corps as Chad had said. She’d been with missionary friends in the jungles of Panama. And the reason she’d begun writing was…Paul. Another of the volunteers, he was a few years older than she, and was “…the most extraordinary man I’ve ever known. Dedicated and caring, even when he’s exhausted from the heat and the brutality of what we see here. I am completely in love with him.”

  A sentimental warmth filled her heart as Kristin continued to read, filling her mind with the lovers’ adventures. Her throat knotted when Anna Mae and Paul lost some of the “friends” they’d come to help to fevers and other illnesses. But it was also wonderful seeing Anna Mae for the first time as a vibrant young woman in her twenties, so full of caring and compassion as she worked in the oppressive heat alongside doctors and nurses. The love in Anna Mae’s lyrical prose was never so apparent as when she mentioned Paul. He was her world, her soul mate. And from the simple gifts he gave her—a jungle flower, a colorful feather, butterscotch candies from home—Kristin knew that he’d loved Anna Mae as well.

  But as Kristin continued to read, a feeling of dread crept over her. Anna Mae had died in her late-sixties, never having married. What had happened? Why hadn’t she and Paul had the life they’d dreamed of? Why had there been no babies with blue eyes and cornsilk hair?

  She flipped through the pages. When she reached the terrible entry that answered her questions, tears welled in her eyes.

  Cancer. Inoperable. Terminal.

  Chapter 9

  F ootsteps sounded on the wooden stairs. Snapping the journal shut, Kristin set it aside and wiped her eyes. She rose as a slender woman with shoulder-length, pale-blond hair reached the top step, then abruptly halted on the deck. Her startled look said Kristin was a surprise.

  Recovering, she came forward, poised, slim and extremely pretty in crisp khaki slacks and a white designer top that showed off her tan. Sunlight touched her hair and the fine gold necklace at her throat.

  “Hi,” she said warmly. “I didn’t expect to find anyone here.” She glanced toward the door. “Is Zach in? I phoned the trailer a few days ago, and Dan said he’d be out of town for a while.”

  Her easy familiarity brought a faint twinge of jealousy. Kristin mustered a smile. “He came back to take care of a problem, but he’ll be leaving again soon. I’d be glad to take a message, Ms.—?”

  “Michaels.” Shifting the trendy plastic bag she carried to her left hand, she extended her right one to briefly clasp Kristin’s. “But, please, call me Stephanie.”

  “Kristin. I’m a friend of Zach’s.”

  The woman took in Kristin’s auburn hair and dark eyes, then her swimsuit and bare feet. “That’s nice,” she said with what looked like a resigned smile. “Everyone needs friends.” She handed Kristin the bag with the designer logo. “Would you see that Zach gets this? When I was packing and cleaning out my apartment, I found a sweatshirt he left there a few months ago. Guess he never got around to missing it.”

  The disconcerting image of Zach and Stephanie together made it difficult to keep smiling, but Kristin managed. “Sounds like you’re moving.”

  “Actually, I’m on my way to the airport now.” Her gaze clouded. “My dad’s not doing very well, so I asked for a transfer back to San Diego. The airline I work for has offices there.”

  Kristin experienced a swell of sympathy. She could relate. “It’s great that your company can do that for you. I remember how important it was for me to be with my mom during her illness.”

  “Is she all right now?”

  Kristin shook her head. “No. She passed away.”

  “Oh. I’m so sorry,” Stephanie murmured, and Kristin knew she meant it.

  “Me, too. I hope your dad will be okay.”

  “He has to be,” she said working up a new smile. “He’s my best friend.” She glanced behind her. “I’d better go before I miss my plane.”

  “Bye. Have a safe flight.”

  “Thanks. And thanks for giving Zach the package.” She hadn’t descended more than two steps when she turned around again. “Kristin?” she said hesitantly. “I…I want to say something, but I’m not sure I should.”

  A feeling of apprehension moved through her. It was obvious that what Stephanie had to say would be upsetting—and the only subject they had in common was Zach. “What is it?”

  “Don’t fall for him.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Don’t fall for Zach. After a few dates, he’ll back away and you’ll end up wondering what you did to scare him off. The second any woman tries to get too close—and I’ve known a few—he buries himself in his work.”

  The weight on her chest made it hard for Kristin to affect a careless tone. “Thanks for the warning, but I’m just an old friend from Pennsylvania who’s taking advantage of his hospitality for a few days.”

  “Good.” Brow lining, Stephanie nodded to the bag she’d given Kristen. “To be honest, I’ve known I had that for a very long time. I’d just hoped that he’d come back sometime to pick it up.”

  Kristin didn’t know what to say, other than to echo the woman’s “goodbye.” She couldn’t lie and say that she, too, wished Zach had returned for the shirt. Because then he might have looked more closely at Stephanie Michaels’s beautiful face and wide, clear eyes, and…

  And he might have reconsidered a relationship with Stephanie that would’ve made Kristin’s visit here impossible.

  Blocking out everything that thought implied, Kristin hu
rried out of the sunshine and into the air-conditioned house. She went to Zach’s room.

  Though she’d glanced inside the night she’d arrived, she hadn’t actually gone in. Now as she looked around, it struck her that the bed’s heavily bolstered, cherry head-and footboard and matching bureaus were vastly different from the generic groupings in the rest of the house. This wasn’t part of his rental package. Navy, white and burgundy drapes in a muted leaf design were pulled back from the patio door leading to the deck, and a rectangle of sunlight spilled onto the coordinating spread covering his king-size bed. A photo of Zach and his aunt Etta sat on his dresser beside one of two brass lamps, and a bold geometric print hung over the bed.

  It was a beautiful room, strikingly masculine and well suited to Zach’s personality. But something else in the room commanded Kristin’s attention even more than the furnishings.

  Placing the bag at the foot of his bed, she crossed to the easel standing in a corner to the right of his nightstand—an easel holding a large, detailed charcoal drawing of a dramatic beach house on stilts. Surrounded on three sides by a wraparound deck, it featured additional, multileveled descending decks, a steeply pitched roof and a front fashioned entirely of wood beams and glass.

  She stroked the textured paper, her heart beginning to beat fast again. If this home were for someone else, wouldn’t it be in his office with the other drawings and blueprints she’d seen?

  This had to be Zach’s dream house…a home he would build here in the Carolinas, further cementing his roots here. She felt her chest tighten. It was such a large house for a man Stephanie had implied would spend his life alone. Without a wife, without children…without love.

  “Like it?”

  Kristin turned in surprise to see Zach braced against the doorway, and she flushed guiltily at being caught in his room. It amazed her that she hadn’t sensed him there. Now that she knew, the air seemed to crackle with energy. Maybe because his slow, silent appraisal of her said he liked what he saw. Her face, her bathing suit…her legs. The temperature inched up several degrees.

  “Yes, I like it very much,” she answered, her pulse quickening. “You’re early.”

  “I’m not staying. I just stopped in to pick up a file from my office.”

  Zach pushed away from the door frame, and Kristin motioned to the shopping bag at the foot of his bed. “I wasn’t being nosy. I just came in to drop off your package and couldn’t leave without taking a closer look at the house. Yours?”

  “Someday,” he said, picking up the bag. His black hair was attractively wind-tossed, the dark green T-shirt and soft jeans he wore hugging his shoulders and hips.

  He frowned curiously as he pulled a navy blue hooded sweatshirt from the bag. “Where’d this come from?”

  She should move, Kristin told herself. She should leave this quickly heating, slowly shrinking room. “Isn’t it yours?”

  “Yes, but I haven’t seen it for a while.” He tossed the sweatshirt back on the bed and looked up, silently questioning.

  “You left it at Stephanie Michaels’s apartment. She tried to reach you at the trailer but you were out of town.” Kristin paused, gauging his reaction. “She’s leaving for San Diego today.”

  “Oh.” Was that a flicker of regret she saw in his eyes? “Dan said someone had called. Guess that clears up the mystery.”

  “She seems nice. I think she liked you a lot.”

  “She is nice, and I liked her, too.” He picked up the sweatshirt and walked to his closet.

  “Can I ask what happened?” Kristin asked, wondering if he would answer. He hadn’t shared anything of a personal nature since they’d reconnected.

  Zach located a stray hanger among the neatly hung clothing in his closet and slid the sweatshirt onto it. “She was looking for something permanent. I wasn’t. There’s no room in my life for that right now.”

  “So you’ve said,” Kristin replied soberly. “I’m still surprised that you didn’t give it a chance. I suspect most men would have a hard time walking away from a woman that beautiful.”

  He hung the shirt and shut the louvered door. “I’m not most men,” he said, turning back to her.

  No argument there.

  Something flickered through his expression, something that mimicked the air between them. Warm, thick, electric. He walked toward her.

  “You’re right,” he said quietly. “She is beautiful. She’s also polished, intelligent and witty. But…I’ve always been partial to women with auburn hair. Women with a more relaxed approach to life. Stephanie’s too…perfect. Maybe it’s because of her job with the airline. But it’s important to her that her nails, hair, jewelry, clothes are all perfect, all the time.”

  They were only inches apart now, the walls closing in on them. “Perfection is a turnoff?”

  Zach shook his head, his gray eyes dark and his voice low as he held her gaze. “No, it wasn’t a turnoff. The truth is, there was no turn-on. There was no snap, no sizzle. No bells ringing, no blood rushing…”

  She stopped breathing as Zach took her hand and pressed it to his chest. “Feel that?” he whispered. His warm fingers stroked the back of her hand while his heart thudded solidly beneath her palm.

  Oh, yes, she felt that. With every scrape of his callused fingers, her nerve endings pulsed crazily beneath her skin.

  “There was none of this with her. If I ever do commit to another woman, I want it all. Every bit of it. I want to look at her and feel the floodgates open.” His next sentence was barely audible. “I want to look at her and feel my belly turn to Jell-O.”

  Kristin nodded, half-afraid that the scant movement would break the moment—more afraid that it wouldn’t. When she spoke, her voice was so low and shaky she scarcely recognized it. “I suppose once you’ve known that kind of chemistry, it’s…it’s difficult to settle for less.”

  “It’s not difficult,” Zach rasped. “It’s impossible.”

  Floodgates opened everywhere. Zach descended upon her hungrily, his kiss all pent-up passion and earthy need. In a flash, Kristin’s arms were round his neck, and she was answering his kiss with a need of her own. She reveled in the stroking of his tongue, in the wonderful feel of him in her arms. And it must have been right, because those nagging voices that had once warned her away from him allowed her to float on pure sensation without interrupting.

  Kristin felt him grow hard against her, felt the heat of his breath as he continued to gulp harsh kisses from her and work her straps down over her shoulders, work black Lycra down over her breasts.

  She expelled a tattered sigh as he filled his hands with her softness, then slid her suit down farther, stealing her breath and her will. Slowly, heated lips drinking eagerly from each other again, they moved toward his bed, knees bumping, even that small contact thrilling their senses.

  Kristin moved her hands to the waistband of his jeans and found his belt buckle. They were older now. There would be no juvenile fumbling. They would link and love and explore every avenue of pleasure they’d denied themselves since that tingling kiss in his truck.

  Fingers trembling, she dispensed with the buckle and turned her attention to the metal button behind it.

  “Yo, Zach! You ’bout ready? It’s hot in that damn truck!”

  Stunned they sprang back from each other, Kristin drawing a sharp breath, and Zach’s eyes widening in shock.

  “Thought you were comin’ right back out!”

  Zach’s mind swam. “I—I am!” he shouted back, astonished that he’d forgotten Dan was waiting. “Grab a Pepsi from the fridge! I’m still looking for those prints!”

  Galvanized into action, he grabbed the stretchy fabric at Kristin’s waist and tried to tug it back up. He flushed when the neckline got stuck under her breasts, and she shoved his hands away.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered in a rush. “I have to go.”

  “I know.” She slid her arms through her straps and pulled her suit up. “I’ll see you for dinner.”

&n
bsp; Pecking a quick kiss on her forehead, Zach hurried to his office, hoping to God that Dan wouldn’t walk into the hall before he pulled himself together.

  Dear God, he was losing his mind. One look at her standing beside his bed in that swimsuit that hid nothing, and all he could think of was peeling her out of it and pinning her to his mattress. Then another thought occurred to him, and it was a bad one.

  He’d just told her that he’d see her for dinner. And dinner was off.

  Dan glanced up from popping the tab on his soft drink when Zach entered the living room, finger combing his hair with his free hand. His big, burly foreman paused in the act of bringing the Pepsi to his lips, stared for a long second, then started to chuckle. Zach felt himself color all over again.

  “So vaulted ceilings and hardwood floors are the only things that turn you on, huh, Romeo?”

  Zach stabbed an index finger toward him as he stalked past to snatch his keys from the bar. “Not another word if you want a paycheck this week.”

  Dan’s green eyes twinkled beneath his bushy brows. “Fine by me, but if I were you, I’d do somethin’ about that danglin’ belt buckle.”

  Zach glanced down in irritation, then scowled as he hitched his belt tight and buckled himself up again. He swore beneath his breath when he realized there was also a slowly departing lump in his jeans that hadn’t been there when he walked inside a few minutes ago. Wonderful.

  Suddenly, Dan’s attention moved to a spot behind Zach, and his look grew respectful. When Zach turned around, he was startled to see Kristin enter the room. He would’ve thought she’d hide out until Dan left to avoid any more embarrassment.

  “Afternoon, ma’am,” Dan said deferentially.

  Now chastely covered by a white beach robe, Kristin mustered a smile and returned the greeting. But her cheeks were pink, and there was a raw-looking red spot beside her mouth that could only be whisker burn. Zach damned himself all over again.