Bachelor in Blue Jeans

by Lauren Nichols

  A shrill sound that didn’t belong there startled them both.

  Quickly, Zach yanked their kicked-aside blanket back over them and froze in a semi-upright position. Then he shook his head and chuckled softly as his cell phone continued to ring somewhere in their pile of clothing.

  He groped through the tangle of cotton and denim and shook it out of his shirt pocket.

  Kristin stared numbly as he flipped it open on the third ring. He’d brought his phone down here with them?

  “Davis. Yeah, Dan, how did it go?”

  The words were barely out of his mouth when he seemed to switch gears and he looked back at Kristin. For a long moment, he stared at her in the dwindling light of the fire, his gaze flickering through a series of unreadable thoughts. Then without so much as a smile or a “just give me a minute,” he turned back to his conversation and…and shut her out?

  What was that look all about? What had happened in those few short moments to put distance between them? Why hadn’t he continued to hold her while he’d talked? And why hadn’t he told Dan that he’d call him back later? She listened, continuing to measure him in uneasy confusion.

  “That’s great. How soon do we need to start?” He paused. “No, the first team’s promised to Mrs. Hart. We’ll put the other crew on it. They should finish up at the mall in a few weeks.”

  Kristin pushed away her concerns. Everything was fine. He just needed to take the call, then they’d snuggle in their blanket again…talk about where they would go from here.

  But as he became more deeply entrenched in his conversation and the ocean breezes grew cool, she had the sinking feeling that that wasn’t going to happen. Something was wrong.

  Kristin reached for her clothes.

  He didn’t even realize that she’d dressed until she touched his shoulder and pointed toward the beach house. The fire’s embers and moonlight on white sand shed enough light to see his shadowy expression. Her heart began to pound. It was all business.

  “Hang on a second, Dan,” he said, cupping his hand over the phone. “You’re going to the house?”

  She forced a smile, hoping he’d return it. “I just realized I have sand in places where sand shouldn’t be. I need a shower.”

  Reluctance, regret—something she couldn’t place—touched his voice, but there was no smile. “Okay. I’ll see you when I’m through here.”

  Tears stung her eyes. “Sure. I’ll take some of our gear with me.”

  When he nodded and brought the phone to his ear again, the only clear thought in Kristin’s mind was of Stephanie Michaels. Don’t fall for him, she’d said. You’ll end up wondering what you did to scare him off.

  Suddenly she couldn’t get away from him fast enough.

  Zach watched her leave, then sighed raggedly and spoke into the phone again. “Dan, let’s finish tomorrow at the trailer. It’ll be easier with all the prints and specs in front of us.”

  “Okay.” Dan paused, humor entering his voice. “Did you get your other business taken care of?”

  “What other business?”

  He was laughing softly now. “Well, considerin’ what I walked in on this afternoon, and the way you tore out of the meetin’ tonight, I figured it was woman business. Pete and Joe couldn’t get over it. Kept sayin’ it wasn’t like you to skip out like that. They wondered if you were sick.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” Zach grumbled, stopping the conversation before it had a chance to start. “At 6:00 a.m.”

  “Didn’t go too good, huh?”

  “Six,” Zach repeated tersely, then snapped the phone shut. So his men were talking already. Great.

  Scowling, he shook the sand out of his underwear and jeans and pulled them on, his mind already pondering new problems.

  Okay, she was upset, and she had every reason to be. What he’d done was unforgivable. Dammit, he hadn’t wanted to hurt her. But the second he’d heard Dan’s voice, reality had smacked him right between the eyes.

  He picked up his gritty sneakers and yanked them on without socks. For days, she’d owned his mind, and all he could think about was making love to her—in the bedroom, in the bathroom, in the kitchen, on the damn deck! And it was obvious that the attraction was mutual. Now they’d given in to it, and he was in trouble.

  Zach snatched up the blanket and rolled it into a ball. He cared about her, but there could be nothing beyond that. It was too soon for a commitment to any woman, even Kris—assuming that she’d forgiven him and wanted a commitment, too. Minds got fuzzy when sex was involved.

  His time was earmarked for building the biggest and best company he could put together. Davis Construction was his first priority. Because if he wasn’t a success in business, he—

  Zach froze, then stood staring out at the jet-black waters of the Atlantic and the sudsy white caps rolling to shore.

  If he wasn’t a success in business, he wasn’t a success as a man.

  That thought hit him hard. Unbidden, the images that had spawned that unintentional philosophy swam through his mind. Images of his drunken father…images of the mother who couldn’t hack their life and abandoned him. He thought of the years before Etta without decent food, without decent clothing, without love…and swore again that he’d never put anyone he cared for through that. It might take a while, but he’d have plenty of security before he went to any woman and asked her to stay. He’d deluded himself before when he thought love was enough. It wasn’t. He and Kristin had been too young to realize that then. Or maybe she had known.

  Maybe that’s why she’d shied away.

  When he returned to the beach house almost twenty minutes later, Kristin was in her room, and shower mist hung in the bathroom and hall. Zach looked for a strip of light beneath her closed door, saw none, and knocked anyway. He knew she wasn’t asleep.

  Her stiff voice was muffled behind the door. “What?”

  “I just wanted to say good-night.”

  “Good night.”

  “Can I come in for a second?”

  “It’s your house.”

  Zach sighed. He had that coming. A wedge of light from the hall spilled inside as he opened the door. She was propped against the pillows, knees up, wet hair slicked to her head, and the sheet primly covering her nightshirt from the waist down. The scents of soap and peaches were alive inside her room.

  “What time do you need to head to the airport?” he asked, relieved that she was leaving. He’d never meant to hurt her, but withdrawing was the only way he knew to deal with this.

  “I’ve already made arrangements to be picked up.”

  “I can drive you. See you off.”

  “Don’t. You obviously have things to do.”

  Zach felt a guilty tightening in his chest as he took in the determined set of her jaw. “All right,” he replied, silently admitting his cowardice and knowing this would be easier. “Have a safe flight tomorrow.”

  “And you have a delightful day at work.”

  “Kris…”

  “I’ve said all I’m going to say. My life is back in Wisdom. Yours is here.”

  Zach nodded, then closed the door and crossed the hall to his own room. He’d been thinking almost the same thing down on the beach, and they were both right. So why did her saying it aloud make him feel so hollow inside?

  Kristin slid down on her pillow as the door closed, her emotions a mess of hurt and anger and frustration. But she would not cry. He wasn’t worth her tears.

  She understood that his business was a big part of his life, but at this hour, no information was so important that it couldn’t have waited for ten minutes.

  Just a few more whispers in the dark. Just a few more minutes in his arms—that’s all she’d wanted. But Zach hadn’t wanted that. He’d wanted to distance himself from her, and he’d done it beautifully.

  She drew in a deep breath. Whatever level their relationship had mutated to for those few wonderful hours was gone now. How stupid she’d been to trust him with her heart aga
in. Their lovemaking on the beach had only been sex to him. Sex and a few warm memories. She needed to go home.

  The Wisdom Food Mart was bustling with customers two days later as Kristin walked up and down the aisles, throwing items into her cart. She had no idea what she actually needed; she’d lost her list somewhere en route to the store. Her distraction was hardly a surprise. She was still trying to recover from her ill-advised trip to the beach, and her mind churned with the disturbing news she’d received this morning.

  She was nearing the brightly lit dairy case when her nerve endings went on full alert. Zach was sidestepping two elderly women and their shopping carts and coming toward her. She almost turned away, but he’d seen her, and she was obliged to hold her ground.

  “Small world,” he said, as though their parting had been amiable.

  “Is it?” she asked, not bothering to temper the chill in her voice.

  “Actually, yes.” He unfolded the sheet of paper he took from the pocket of his jeans and held up her shopping list. “But as you can see, I didn’t bump into you by accident.”

  She blinked, startled. “Where did you find that?”

  “Beside the door to your apartment. I figured you still shopped here, not at one of the big chains outside of town, so this was my first stop. I saw your van in the parking lot.”

  “Then I guess you get an A in detective work.”

  Ignoring her sarcasm, he handed her the list. “How are you?”

  “Oh, I’m just great,” she answered, needing to lash out at someone. Or maybe she just needed to lash out at him. “I found out this morning that the fire was arson.”

  Zach’s expression sobered. “What’s being done?”

  Averting her gaze, she reached for a six-pack of yogurt and dropped it in her cart. She wasn’t in the mood for forgiveness, and that caring look in his gray eyes always got to her. “Chad’s handling the investigation,” she replied, pushing forward again. “He asked me for a list of possible suspects. He even questioned Will Arnett while I was with y—while I was gone.”

  Zach set a half gallon of milk in her cart. “The Arnetts are in town? I thought they left days ago.”

  Kristin kept walking. “Will Arnett came back alone. He claimed his mother wanted a few more items from Anna Mae’s house before the auction.”

  “Claimed?” Zach asked.

  “He’s lying.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because the day after the fire, Mrs. Arnett told me she thought Anna Mae’s ghost was responsible for the blaze. She’s into psychic readings, and she has this strange notion that Anna Mae wants her home kept intact. Besides, the way Mildred and her son fought when they were here together, I can’t imagine her sending him back for anything. She doesn’t trust him.”

  He grabbed her cart, stopping her progress. “Hard to regain trust when it’s broken, isn’t it?”

  Kristin stared pointedly at him. Yes, it was, and he’d just done it again at the beach. She picked up his milk and jammed it into his hands. “I’m not paying for this.”

  “I didn’t ask you to.” Zach dodged her cart as she swung around him and moved toward the bread display. “So Chad wants a list of potential suspects?”

  “I can’t give him one.” She sent him another sharp look. “Most people I know wouldn’t hurt me.”

  A nerve worked in his jaw. “I can’t imagine anyone wanting to hurt you. But sometimes people don’t think things through before they act.”

  “Really?” She threw English muffins into the cart and kept going. She knew they were talking about his imbecilic behavior at the beach, but it wasn’t an apology, and she wasn’t going to tell him everything was fine. Staring straight ahead, she headed for the checkout clerk with the shortest line.

  He was beside her again. “Maybe if we put our heads together we can come up with someone.”

  “Someone who’s thoughtless and inconsiderate?”

  He released an irritated blast of air. “No, someone who might have wanted to burn your shop to the ground.”

  “You and I will come up with this list?”

  “We could try.”

  “Where?”

  “Wherever you want.”

  Kristin turned to him and lowered her voice so the surrounding customers wouldn’t hear. “Is this just a way to get me into bed again? Why are you really here?”

  For a long moment, Zach’s gaze fused with hers. Then he said in a quietly controlled voice that indicated he’d had enough, “You know what? Suddenly, I don’t have a goddamn clue.”

  Without another word, he squeezed past two women already unloading their purchases and handed the milk to the overweight teenage boy bagging groceries. Zach dug two bills from his jeans and slapped them into the boy’s hand. The kid lit up like a Christmas tree.

  “I’ve changed my mind about the milk. Can you return it for me?”

  “I sure can!” the boy said. “Thanks!”

  “No, thank you.”

  An instant later, he was striding toward the automatic doors and was gone.

  Chapter 11

  T hree hours later, Kristin turned into Etta Gardner’s driveway and drove up to the big, clapboard farmhouse. There was no sign of Zach, but the front porch looked good with new support posts and floorboards, and several new steps. The first thing she noticed when she got out of the van was the sound of a power saw somewhere behind the house. The second thing was the smell of freshly cut lumber.

  Kristin took two plastic grocery bags from the van, slammed the door, then squared her shoulders and marched back toward those sounds and smells. She stopped short when she saw him, then raised her chin and kept walking. Wearing nothing but frayed, cut-off denim shorts and sneakers, Zach was just turning off a table saw.

  His gaze collided with hers, and instantly turned dark as thunderheads. She didn’t care. She wasn’t here to make friends.

  Scooping up a stack of boards, he crossed the short space of grass to the back porch. He laid the planks in the empty spaces between the old, gray ones, then grabbed the power drill beside him.

  “I can hold them down so they don’t shift while you’re drilling,” she offered coolly. “If you want me to.”

  Zach looked up, his gaze barely tolerant. “Suit yourself.”

  Kristin set her bags down, then stepped over a maze of electric cords and ascended to the porch. She’d known this meeting wouldn’t be a walk in the park, but there was something pressing on her mind, and he was the only person she could use as a sounding board.

  And with all of that, as she crouched beside him, steadying the boards while he drilled holes then filled them with long deck screws, she was unable to pull her gaze from him.

  Sawdust clung to the frizz of hair on his chest and stuck to his arms. Sweat trickled from his temples. Zach wiped it away, replaced the last board, then laid the drill and power screwdriver aside and straightened. Even the black hair falling over his forehead couldn’t soften the uncompromising lines on his face.

  “My turn to ask,” he said, his frosty gaze meeting hers. “Why are you really here? Hoping to get me into bed?”

  “I brought your milk over,” she said crisply. “You obviously wanted it, or you wouldn’t have picked it up.”

  “So you paid for it and drove it all the way out here.” It was a statement, not a question.

  “Yes.”

  Zach’s turbulent gaze ran from her short-sleeved white blouse and black watchplaid shorts to her legs and sandals. Then he reached into the cooler near the steps and grabbed two cans of ginger ale. He offered her one, and she took it. “Is that the only reason you came by?”

  “No.” If he was waiting for an apology, he’d be waiting a long time. “Among other things, I thought we should talk about what happened at the beach.”

  “The beach.”

  “Yes.”

  He drank deeply, then wiped his mouth with his forearm. “Which part?”

  “The crappy part. I came by to tell
you that you didn’t have to brush me off after we’d…” She wouldn’t call it lovemaking because he obviously hadn’t viewed it that way. “…after we’d been together. I heard you loud and clear when you said you weren’t looking for anything beyond the moment, and that was fine with me. As the old saw goes, man doesn’t live by bread alone. Neither does woman.”

  Those last words seemed to startle him—maybe even annoy him—and a second after his gaze sharpened, he started unplugging cords and returning tools to the large chest by the back door. He still sounded edgy a minute later when he asked, “Heard anything new on the fire?”

  “No. But I’ve been out most of the day.” She settled stiffly on the top porch step. When he’d finished putting his tools away, he sat, too, a polite distance away. Kristin snapped the tab on her soft drink. “Aren’t you going to ask about the other things I wanted to discuss?”

  “All right. I’m asking.”

  “I want to call a cease-fire for a while.”

  “Any particular reason?”

  “Yes, I…I need your opinion on something.”

  That brought a look of surprise. There was even more surprise when she told him what it was, but it was fleeting and he quickly erased everything but cool detachment from his face.

  “I read Anna Mae’s most recent journal from start to finish last night. I don’t think her death was an accident.”

  “According to Chad, blood and hair on the corner of the coffee table proved that a blow to the head was the cause of death,” he answered. “I’d guess that killing someone with a piece of furniture would require some pretty fancy choreography.”

  Kristin tamped down her irritation. “I’m not saying that anyone choreographed anything. I’m saying that I think someone helped her fall. And if the fall hadn’t produced the desired result, maybe that someone would’ve finished the job using more conventional means.”

  Zach tipped back his head and finished his ginger ale, his long throat working greedily and captivating Kristin despite the mood he’d put her in. She reached down beside her and lifted both bags to the porch, one containing his milk, the other the journal she’d mentioned. She opened it to the page she wanted him to read.