Getting Lucky

by Susan Andersen

  His head snapped back as if she’d slapped him. “Say what?”

  “You sat across a table from me not more than two hours ago, and informed me in no uncertain terms that you don’t—how did you put it?—‘do’ love, but now I’m supposed to believe you’re suddenly wild about me? Don’t insult my intelligence, Taylor. You think I don’t recognize your overactive Mr. Accountability streak at work when I see it?” She crossed her arms over her breasts. “You’ve decided it’s your fault I had a big, bad uncomfortable hour at Miguel Escavez’s hands, so you’re offering yourself up as consolation prize.”

  “That’s a crock of sh—”

  “The heck it is! But I’ve got news for you, Zachariah. Like I said, I’m not some charity case, and I deserve more than a pity proposal, or proposition, or whatever this is supposed to be. So I tell you what. You can just keep your big sacrifice. I don’t want it.”

  I don’t want you, roared in his head, and all his shields slammed into place. For one of the few times in his life he’d opened himself up and taken an emotional risk. Hell, he’d just offered her more than he’d ever offered another woman in his entire adult existence, and she’d tossed it back in his face. “Fine.” Losing all expression, he essayed an indifferent shrug. “Whatever. I thought it might be fun. But if you’re not interested, you’re not interested. Damned if I’m going to beg.”

  “No,” she agreed thinly. “Zach Taylor would certainly never do that, would he?”

  Surprisingly, temptation was riding him with spurs of steel to do exactly that, but she obviously wasn’t ready to listen and he wasn’t about to toss his heart at her feet again—not when she seemed more inclined to stomp all over it with those needle-heeled shoes of hers than clutch it to her breast. He turned away and pulled Glynnie’s cell phone from his pocket. “I’d better let everyone know you’re okay.”

  His sister answered the phone and screeched so loudly when he broke the news that he had to hold the phone away from his ear. Once she’d settled down enough to carry on a coherent conversation, he said, “Is David back yet?”

  “No, but he’s on his way,” Glynnis said.

  “Okay, I’ll see if I can intercept him. I need him to come pick up Lily.”

  “What, you got a hot date or something, that you can’t bring her home yourself?”

  “That’s cute, Glynnie—a real knee slapper. And no. I don’t. But I do have to go get Escavez and take him to the sheriff’s office before he can slither off and find himself a hidey-hole to hatch a new plan to screw up my life.”

  “Oh. Yeah. Good idea.”

  “Can’t tell you how relieved I am that you agree.”

  There was an instant of silence. Then she said, “Whoa,” at the same time he muttered, “Sorry.”

  “Forget sorry,” she snapped. “What’s got your shorts in a wedgie?”

  “Not a damn thing. I gotta go.” He disconnected, and glanced at Lily. But she’d swung around to face front and didn’t look at him. Pacing away, he punched in David’s number. A moment later he disconnected again after giving the younger man a succinct update and directions on how to find them. Then he turned back to the Jeep.

  He was all business as he grilled Lily regarding what direction she’d traveled since escaping from Escavez’s car, but he didn’t appreciate by half her own businesslike responses. As soon as David and Christopher arrived, he put her in the backseat of their car, but then stood holding the door open for a moment as he stared down at her.

  This was freaking nuts. He loved her, she loved him, and he was ready and willing to make a go of it—why was she being so damned stubborn? Okay, now clearly wasn’t the time to hash it out, but he couldn’t just let her go like this. So he dropped to his haunches, reached into the car, and snagged a hand around the back of her neck. Pulling her toward him, he leaned in to meet her halfway, and planted a hard, hot one on her startled mouth.

  Just as abruptly, he turned her loose. “I will do right by you,” he warned her baldly as he rose to his feet. “You can take that to the bank.” Then, closing the door, he slapped the car’s roof to signal David to take off.

  It didn’t take him long to find Escavez’s car. And miracle of miracles, something actually seemed to be going his way when he saw that the young man was still inside, head tipped back against the seat as he stared dully up at the roof liner. Zach opened the passenger door and slipped inside. “Hey, there, Miguel. I hear you and I have a little unfinished business.”

  “She took my keys,” the younger man whined. “She hit me hard enough to break my head, and she took my keys. Just because I said her chews were ugly.”

  Zach nearly laughed out loud. So that’s what she’d been talking about when she’d said she couldn’t believe she’d lost it over her shoes. He didn’t so much as crack a smile, however, and looking at the nasty lump on Escavez’s temple, he shrugged.

  “Well, see, that’s your problem in a nutshell, Miguel. You don’t know dick about women. But instead of owning up to it like a man, you blame everyone else. It was my fault that Emilita preferred another man to you. It’s Lily’s fault that she didn’t care to be tied up and taken to the woods and decided to change her circumstances.”

  Miguel roused to glare at him. “You shamed me! In front of the h’entire village you claimed that Emilita welcomed Pederson’s touch.”

  “Oh, grow up. You shamed yourself. Yes, I probably should have told you in private, but if you recall, you’re the one who made it public when you chose the town square to challenge my decision not to punish my soldier. And Emilita did welcome his attention. I’m sorry about that, but women dump men every day. It happens; get over it.” He looked at the sullen young Latino, and shook his head. “You had potential, Miguel. You’ve got a good brain, leadership ability, and connections in your village. But instead of letting us teach you how to focus all that for the betterment of Bisinlejo, you tossed it away on some half-assed revenge trip because your fucking pride was bruised. Now INS will no doubt be called in and you’ll be deported back to Colombia. I doubt anyone but you even cared about Emilita’s defection. But when your compadres return to your village and are hailed as heros, you’ll be the guy who went AWOL. That’s the true disgrace here, and you’ve got no one to blame for it but yourself.”

  When Escavez merely regarded him as if he were full of it, Zach shrugged. “You just don’t get it, do you? Lily was right—you’re nothing but a dumb-ass kid.”

  Miguel slapped a hand on his puffed up chest. “I am a man!”

  “Listen, amigo, if you were a man, you’d know it isn’t about saving face. It’s about sucking it up and getting the job done. But that’s a lesson you’re either going to learn for yourself or you’re not. I’ve got better things to do than to sit here debating the matter with you.” He tied Miguel’s wrists together with a length of sisal he’d brought from his toolbox, and escorted his prisoner to his vehicle.

  It took longer than he thought it would to get Escavez settled in at the sheriff’s office and figure out who had jurisdiction over the young man’s fate. But finally, Zach cut himself loose and headed back to the Beaumont compound, happy to devote the drive time to the topic that mattered most—figuring out the best way to handle the situation with Lily.

  If he lived to be a hundred, he was pretty certain he’d still never understand the female mind. What the hell did they—did she—want from him? He’d said he was crazy about her, told her he wanted a real, honest-to-God relationship with her. What more was he supposed to do—drop down on bended knee and profess his eternal love?

  Zach stood on the brakes, and the Jeep slammed to a halt on the dark country road, its headlights slicing through the night to illuminate towering evergreens, budding alders, and rural mailboxes. The silence outside his windows was broken by a lone cricket that was soon joined by others and then by the more distant sound of a bullfrog. Zach barely noticed.

  Well, duh. Give the man a cigar. That’s probably exactly what she’d w
anted. But what the hell had he said to her anyhow? Shoving aside all the emotion his exchange with Lily had brought into play, he thought back to the actual conversation.

  And could have happily sliced his own throat. Then he laughed without humor. For he’d pretty much already accomplished that verbally, hadn’t he? Nice going, dumbshit.

  He’d never said he loved her at all. He’d managed to limp out the word exactly once, but hadn’t linked it with “I” or “you” and had instead mumbled something about being ready for a relationship “thing.” Christ on a cracker. No wonder she’d gone off on that tangent about not wanting his big sacrifice.

  He had some freaking balls lecturing Miguel about letting pride get in the way. Although—he straightened—at least he knew he’d fucked up, and he planned to do something about the problem he’d created. He’d drop to his knees, if that was what it took. And Lily might not believe it, but he not only could but would beg if that was the only way she’d give him a second chance.

  Feeling a powerful rush of euphoria, he put the Jeep in gear and gunned it down the road, anxious to get back. A stupid grin stretched his mouth—one that probably made him look like an imbecile on some kick-ass meds, but he didn’t care. Because he had a sneaking feeling that once he got past the fear of saying “I love you” out loud, making amends might be a whole lot of fun.

  He was surprised to see his sister come out of the parlor to greet him when he burst through the door a short while later, but he merely grabbed her up, whirled her in a circle, then set her back on her feet and headed for the stairs. He took them two at a time.

  “Zach, hold up,” she called after him. “I need to tell you something.”

  “It’ll have to wait.” He didn’t break stride. “I’ve got to talk to Lily.”

  A second later he was rapping his knuckles against Lily’s door, but he didn’t bother waiting for permission before he reached for the knob and pushed the door open.

  The room was empty, and when he strode into the bathroom, she wasn’t there, either.

  Well, okay. She was down in the parlor with everyone else. He was turning to go join them when a detail niggling in the rear of his brain stopped him. He looked back at the countertop.

  It was as pristine as an unoccupied hotel room, with none of the girly clutter he’d come to associate with Lily. Euphoria fading, the muscles in his neck starting to knot up, he turned on his heel and marched into the bedroom, where he went directly to the closet. He yanked open the doors.

  It was empty of all but a handful of hangers.

  As he stood there staring at them, Glynnie arrived in the doorway. “I’m sorry, Zach,” she said breathlessly. “That’s what I was trying to tell you. Lily’s gone.”

  26

  LILY REFUSED TO CRY ANY MORE. SHE'D SHED enough tears in the past however-many hours to keep a small armada afloat, so she set her teeth and kept her eyes resolutely torrent-free as she threw her belongings into the boxes she’d dragged from the garage into her bedroom at Glynnis’s Laguna Beach house. Two of the cartons were already heaped to overflowing with shoes—when on earth had she accumulated all this footwear? She’d swear she hadn’t owned this much when she moved in.

  Like it’s important, Lily. She gave herself an impatient shake. The only thing that mattered right now was to be long gone by the time Zach returned from Orcas Island. To that end, she was making steady inroads on the packing, and she’d made arrangements with Mimi to crash on her friend’s couch for a few days until she could find a place of her own.

  She had a couple of restaurants on her string that were usually more than willing to take her on as a fill-in chef, and the minute she got settled at her friend’s apartment she intended to start making calls to them to see if she could pick up some work. Certainly sitting around for the rest of the time the Argosy was at dock was no longer an option. She’d go crazy if she had nothing to do but think.

  Because, sure as sugar, her thoughts would head straight back to Zach. To how he saw her as someone he had to “do right” by. Or worse, to how he probably lumped her into the same category as Miguel—just one more person looking to screw up his life. She had never felt for another man even a fraction of the emotions she felt for Zachariah Taylor…and to him she was nothing but a burden.

  Her teeth clenched tighter. She would not cry again, darn it!

  She was straightening with an empty box in her hand when something sailed past her and landed on the bed. While she stared blankly at the lavender ruffle-edged tulip lying on the comforter, a variegated purple and white one landed next to it. She whirled around.

  And her heart did the impossible, taking flight even as it sank to her toes. Oh, gawd. Zach stood in the doorway, one large shoulder propped against the doorjamb. In his left hand were more tulips.

  “Let’s get a few things straight right up front,” he said, plucking another flower from the bunch and tossing it at her feet. “No man with a drop of red blood in his veins would ever consider you a charity case. That’s number one.” He appeared to consider, then shook his head as a deep purple tulip drifted to settle on the floor next to her toes. “No. That’s number two. One is that I love you.”

  “You—”

  “Love you,” he repeated in that deep voice that always vibrated right down to the heart of her. He lobbed another flower. “I choked trying to get out the word last night, and then I acted like an ass when you didn’t read my mind and immediately fall into my arms.” More flowers rained softly around her. “But I love you, Lily. I love you like I have never loved anything or anybody in my life.”

  She knew she must be gaping like an idiot, but she couldn’t seem to wrap her mind around the words coming from his mouth. Something deep inside of her obviously recognized them, however, for a warm glow, a brilliant light, began to unfurl in her breast.

  He pushed away from the doorframe. “You were right when you accused me of being afraid.” Stopping in front of her, he traced a blossom down her cheekbone and along her jawline. “I don’t care to think of myself as a man who’s afraid of much, but I was scared to death that if I trusted in your feelings for me, eventually you’d change your mind and…take them back.”

  Never. Before the denial could travel from her brain to her vocal cords, however, he dropped to his knees in front of her, shocking her into silence.

  “You think I can’t beg? Think again, sweetheart, because I would do anything, say anything, if that meant you’d give me another chance. So, God, Lily, plea—”

  “Don’t!” The dawning warmth and light exploded in pyrotechnics of joy so absolute she was amazed she didn’t go up in flames. But even as they shot throughout her system to the farthermost tips of her fingers and toes, she realized that the last thing she wanted was to see this proud man humbled. “Zach, don’t.”

  Clearly misunderstanding, his face twisted. “Dammit, Lily, you have to give me a second chance. I love you.”

  “Then that’s all I need.” When she couldn’t tug him to his feet, she gave a strangled laugh and dropped to her own knees and plastered herself against him, wrapping her arms around his waist to hold him tight. It felt like coming home to be next to all that heat and scent and strength once again, and she stared up into his face. “I never wanted you to beg. All I wanted was for you to love me the way I love you. The way I’ll always love you for as long as I’ve got breath in my lungs. That’s not something I will ever take back.”

  “Ah, God.” The thin scar bisecting his upper lip lost its whiteness, and bending, he pressed the most reverent kiss she’d ever received upon her lips. When he lifted his head, his pale gray irises had darkened. “I don’t deserve you.”

  “And don’t think I won’t remind you of that every chance I get,” she said dryly, resting her chin on his chest and gazing up at him. Suddenly her hand flew to her hair. “Ohmigawd! I look awful!”

  He grinned crookedly. “Honey, you couldn’t look awful if you tried.”

  But she’d seen herself
in the mirror earlier. At the time she simply hadn’t cared that her eyes were all bloodshot and her skin was ashy. She wasn’t wearing her usual makeup to help disguise it, either, since what she’d applied yesterday had worn off ages ago, and she been too heartsick to bother replacing it. “I haven’t been to sleep since I left,” she admitted, then narrowed her lashes. “Which reminds me. How the heck did you manage to get here so fast? I just barely made the last boat off the island.”

  “I chartered a plane this morning.”

  “Well, aren’t you Mr. Posh. I spent all night traveling, going from island to island to mainland, where I rented a car for the drive to Seattle. I got to the airport about two-thirty in the morning, and all I can say is thank goodness the air-traffic controllers’ strike was settled, because frankly I’d forgotten all about it until I was almost there. But that turned out to be the last bit of luck I had going for me. I waited hours to get a flight home, then had to rent another car when I got to LAX—and the freeways, of course, were in their usual state of gridlock. But, gee.” She smacked his chest with the flat of her hand. “How nice that you got to have a good night’s sleep before tootling down here in a private plane.”

  When he bent his head to kiss her this time, there was nothing reverent about it. It was all fierce heat, and she dug her nails into the hard muscles of his chest to anchor herself. She was straining toward him in an attempt to meld their bodies by the time he lifted his head again.

  “You think I just took the news of your leaving in stride, jumped in the sack, and slept like a baby?” A rude laugh exploded out of his throat. “Not only did I not sleep worth a damn, sweetheart, my head never even so much as touched a pillow! That frigging little airport in Eastsound was shut down by the time I called last night, and I spent every minute until it opened up again pacing my room, worrying that you’d be gone by the time I got here.” His remembered frustration seemed to segue into something much more immediate as his fingers gently traced her puffy eyelids. “Dammit, your eyes aren’t swollen just because you’ve been up all night. You’ve been crying.” Regret filled his eyes. “I could cut my heart out.”