Hawk's Way: Callen & Zach (12 page)

She made a purring sound in her throat that caused his body to go hard. His hand slid down the front zipper placket of her jeans until he was cupping her. She spread her legs and arched into his hand.

“Zach.”

A shudder reeled through him when she said his name.

“I…want…you so much.” The words seemed forced from her and were followed by a guttural sound of pleasure.

“Marry me,” he murmured in her ear. “Marry me and have my baby.”

“Oh, Zach, you don’t play fair.”

His mouth suckled a tender spot on her nape, and she hissed in a breath of air.

Then he felt her hand on his thigh, high up, near his genitals. She wasn’t playing too damn fair herself, Zach thought as his blood pumped, and his breath grew
ragged. Soon she had both hands behind her, both hands cupping him, and he leaned into the pleasure, reached out for it, groaning in satisfaction at the way she touched him.

“No marriage, Zach. Not until there’s a baby.”

Abruptly he freed himself. He grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her around. His hands tightened on her shoulders as his eyes flashed with anger. “That sort of blackmail won’t work.”

He let her go and stepped back. “I have my reasons for wanting marriage first. I’m not willing to compromise, and I’m not going to change my mind. That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.”

For a terrifying moment, he thought she was going to leave it. She stared at the toe of her booted foot, dragging it back and forth several times across the brick-tiled floor.

“All right, Zach,” she said at last. “I think you’re making a mistake.” Her lips twisted. “I think I’m making an even bigger one. But I’ll marry you.”

“In two weeks?”

“Two weeks.”

“I’ll have my lawyer draw up papers to guarantee funding for the camp. We can sign them before the wedding.”

“Have your lawyer send them to my lawyer first,” Rebecca said.

Zach looked at Rebecca with searching eyes. The kid he remembered would have believed the best of him, not taken precautions against the worst. No, she wasn’t a kid anymore, no matter what he chose to call her.

“Fine,” he said. “Anything else?”

“What time should I be at the courthouse?”

“Meet me at my lawyer’s office at 3:00.” He gave her an address. “We’ll go from there to the courthouse.”

She smiled in a way that was unutterably sad. “I hope neither of us will be sorry a year from now for making this devil’s bargain.”

“If you’re having second thoughts, just don’t show up at the courthouse.”

Zach was sorry the instant the taunt was out of his mouth. He was no longer willing to settle for just any woman. He wanted Rebecca.

“Goodbye, Zach.” She crossed past him without looking back, her shoulders squared and her chin high.

Zach had no idea whether she meant goodbye until the wedding, or farewell forever. He opened his mouth to ask and snapped it shut again. He would burn in hell before he admitted to her that he cared, one way or the other.

For the next two weeks, that’s just what he did.

“H
I, KID
. A
RE YOU AWAKE
?”

“I am now,” Rebecca mumbled, still half asleep. She checked the clock beside the hotel bed. “It’s 5:00 a.m., Zach.”

“Time to rise and shine, sleepyhead.”

“Goodbye, Zach.”

“Whoa, kid,” he said with a laugh. “I wanted to let you know you’re welcome to move your things in this morning. I’ll be out working on the range, so you’ll have the house to yourself. Kid? Are you there?”

“Sure, Zach. That sounds like a good idea.”

“I could hang around if you need any help.”

“I loaded the trailer. I can unload it.”

“Okay, don’t get your dander up. I’ll see you later this afternoon, then.”

“Goodbye, Zach.” Rebecca dropped the phone into the cradle, groaned and shoved herself upright.

Her wedding day had arrived.

Rebecca was no more certain that she was doing the right thing now than she had been two weeks ago. Mrs. Fortunata, however, had been overjoyed.

“See? What did I tell you?” She dabbed at her eyes with a hankie. “I can’t believe you want me to be a camp counselor. No more mopping floors! I’m one lucky old lady. That’s for sure!”

It had felt good to make Mrs. Fortunata happy.

Rebecca winced at the thought of having to explain to Zach that—without consulting him—she had hired Mrs. Fortunata—and expected him to pay her—to cook for them during the months when camp wasn’t in session and—also at his expense—let her live in the counselor’s suite in the girl’s bunkhouse year-round.

Mrs. Fortunata needed that kind of security in order to leave her job at the hospital. And Rebecca had made up her mind that, once she left the hospital, Mrs. Fortunata was never going to mop or buff another floor in her life.

It vaguely troubled her that she hadn’t inquired whether Mrs. Fortunata could cook. However, it had seemed a logical assumption for a woman with that many kids and grandkids. And even though Mrs. Fortunata had never held a position exactly like the one Rebecca had offered her at the camp, Rebecca knew she would be wonderful with the children.

She gnawed on her lower lip. She would just have to tell Zach what she had done at a time when he would be receptive to the idea.

As she drove under the black wrought iron archway that spelled out
Hawk’s Pride
, she watched for her first sight of the whitewashed, Spanish-style adobe house that would soon be her home. Wooden posts that served as ceiling beams protruded at intervals along the high walls of the flat-roofed structure. She backed the rented trailer up to the kitchen door, but instead of going inside immediately, followed the stone path that led into the central courtyard.

The house, which was shaped in a square, had been built around a moss-laden live oak that was twice as tall as the roof and which provided a mantle of cooling
shade. A latticed arbor near the sliding glass door to Zach’s bedroom was draped with fragrant wisteria that hung down above a wooden swing big enough to seat two comfortably. The whole area was bounded by grass and flowers that created a delightful lover’s bower. Rebecca couldn’t help wondering if Zach had ever made love to Cynthia there.

She forced her thoughts away from Cynthia Kenyon. It would be too easy to let herself get eaten up with jealousy of a dead woman. But her stomach churned at the thought of what mementos of the other woman she might find in the house.

Rebecca let herself into Zach’s bedroom through the sliding glass door. The blinds were closed, and it was dark and quiet and cool inside. Zach had a housekeeper several days a week, so there wasn’t a speck of dust to be found on the tile floors, but a Western shirt had been thrown over the arm of a wooden rocker, and several ranch magazines lay on the floor beside the unmade four-poster bed. She could still see the imprint where Zach’s head had lain on the pillow. From the tossed look of the sheets, he was a restless sleeper.

To her dismay, a picture of Cynthia Kenyon sat on Zach’s dresser where he couldn’t help but see it each morning when he awoke.

She was tempted to pick up the magazines and make the bed. And remove the photograph from Zach’s dresser. She resisted the impulse, but exorcising the ghost of Cynthia Kenyon was high on her list of Things to Do When I Marry Zach.

“Hello? Kid, are you here?”

Rebecca froze when she heard Zach calling to her from the kitchen. She hurried from his bedroom, unwill
ing to meet him there. She nearly ran into him as they met in the archway to the living room.

“Oh, there you are,” he said.

She laughed nervously and sidestepped her way farther into the room, keeping her distance from him. “I thought you planned to be gone from the house.”

“I took a break from fence mending on the chance you might need some help lifting boxes after all.”

Rebecca looked at him closely for the first time and was struck dumb by what she saw. He had obviously been engaged in hard physical labor. A pair of worn leather gloves stuck out of his back pocket. His plaid Western shirt was open down the front and hanging outside his jeans, and his chest glistened with sweat. His Stetson showed a ring of dampness near the concha band, and the hair at his nape clung to his skin in wet curls. His boots were dusty, his jeans dirty and torn at the knee.

She wanted to touch him, to lay her hands on his slick skin, to taste the salt on his neck, to shove the hat off his head and feel the coolness of his damp hair and the heat of his flesh. She was amazed at the flood of purely sexual desire that made her knees feel weak.

“Zach.”

“Oh, kid, don’t look at me like that. Not now. Not yet.”

Rebecca took a step toward him. She hesitated, remembering the picture of Cynthia in the other room.

Be careful, Rebecca. Oh, be careful. He’s still in love with another woman,
an inner voice cautioned.

But Cynthia was dead. Zach was hers now, and she wanted to touch him. She could tell from the fierce, possessive look in his eyes that he wanted her, too.

She took another step, and another, until only inches separated their bodies. She could feel his heat, smell the
musk of hard-working man. She turned her face up to him and waited. Her body quivered with anticipation.

Zach stared at the woman before him. He had dreamed every night of finding her waiting for him like this. The reality slammed him in the gut like a fist. Her body called to his in a way that was as primitive as man himself. His genitals drew up tight, and he felt the blood pounding in his temples. He wanted her like he had never wanted another human being in his life.

Rebecca was helpless to move. She could see the threat of violent passion in Zach’s taut face, in his tense body, and noted the flimsy leash by which he had it tethered. Her eyes fell closed in surrender.

His mouth was incredibly gentle when it touched hers. He came back for another touch, another taste, his tongue dipping slightly, then retreating.

She groaned. “More, Zach.”

His mouth captured hers in another kiss, powerful with longing, hungry for satisfaction. Suddenly she had what she wanted, his arms crushing her, drawing her close. Her unbound breasts nestled against his hard chest, and she could feel and smell and taste him.

Her hands slid around his neck, and she arched toward him to feel the hardness, the strength of him.

“I have to touch you,” he said, his voice raw with need. He ripped her T-shirt up over her head and made a sound of satisfaction when he caught sight of her naked breasts. He stopped for a moment and put her away from him and took his time admiring her.

She fought the flush of embarrassment at standing naked before him, and lost. She crossed her hands over her breasts and struggled to hide the panic she felt. What was she doing? What was she thinking?
This was insane. They were going to be married in a few hours.

“Zach, wait. I…we…” She swallowed hard.

“It’s all right, kid. It’s only me.”

Her glance shot up to meet his dark eyes. His facial muscles were rigid, his jaw clenched, his nostrils flared. But there was something in his eyes beyond the glitter of sexual need. Understanding? She lowered her gaze, confused by the feelings roiling inside her.

“I’m being silly,” she admitted in a low voice. She tried for a laugh and failed. She took a deep breath and let it out before she lowered her hands and stood before him in jeans and boots and nothing else. Her body was trembling so badly she thought surely he must have noticed. Her chin came up, and she met his glance for the second time.

His eyes were dark and feral. Dangerous.

She fought the need to flee, to save herself from whatever was to come.

Slowly, reverently, his hands reached out to cup her breasts.

She hissed in a breath as his callused fingertips brushed against her nipples, causing them to peak.

“Incredible,” he murmured. “So responsive. So very beautiful.”

He lowered his head to suckle her.

Rebecca’s knees threatened to buckle, and she grabbed hold of Zach’s shoulders. She had never felt anything so exquisite. She thought she was going to faint.

She groaned and pleaded for what she knew not. “Zach, please.”

He raised his head, and she saw the raw hunger in
his eyes. It frightened her, and at the same time left her feeling exhilarated.

“What is it you want, kid?” he said in a voice harsh with unrequited sexual need.

That was the problem. She didn’t know what she wanted.

He started to let go, but she put her hands over his to keep them pressed against her breasts. “Wait, Zach.”

She had never seen a man want like this, never imagined the things she would feel. The feminine power. The powerful need.

She was afraid of what was to come. She had never done even this much with a man, and she trembled with expectation and with virginal fear. But there was something greater than the fear. Love. And need.

“I want you, Zach.”

An animal sound issued from his throat as he lowered her onto the rug that covered the cool tile floor. He unzipped her jeans and yanked down her underwear before freeing himself. He shoved her knees wide apart and thrust inside her.

“Zach, wait—”

But it was too late. She hadn’t realized it would happen so fast. She had underestimated the force of his desire, his hunger to be inside her. He had thought she was experienced and had acted accordingly.

Rebecca cried out sharply as he took her virginity.

Zach froze.

He raised himself the full length of his arms, but remained inside her. He looked amazed and confused. “You can’t be.”

“I’m not…anymore.”

“I thought… You’re twenty-three!”

“Could we discuss this another time?” She lifted her hips enough to make him groan.

“All right, kid,” he said. “We’ll talk later.”

Rebecca could see the restraint Zach used to keep his need in check as he moved slowly, gently within her. His hand slid down between their bodies to caress her, and his mouth brought frissons of pleasure wherever it roamed.

“Your skin is like velvet,” he murmured as his lips caressed her throat. “And your hair…I want to wrap myself up in it and get lost. I think…I think…”

Rebecca didn’t want Zach thinking, because his thoughts might stray to another woman. She wanted the hungry sexual partner who had been so anxious to have her that he hadn’t even waited to undress himself.

She began to touch him, tentatively at first, seeking places that would arouse his ardor. She tunneled her fingers into the springy curls that covered his chest and happened upon a male nipple that hardened as her fingertips played with it. She loved the feel of his skin, the hard muscle and sinew so different from her softness. She shoved his jeans down below his hips and heard him grunt with surprise and satisfaction as she indulged her curiosity and learned the shape of his lean flanks and buttocks.

When her fingers strayed to the area where his inner thigh joined his belly, he tensed. As she caressed him there, he hissed out a breath of air. When she laid the flat of her hand on him he grabbed her wrist and held her still.

“If you touch me there, I won’t be responsible for the consequences,” he warned.

Rebecca produced a “cat’s got the cream” smile. And touched him there.

He gave a harsh groan and found her mouth with his.
His tongue mimicked the thrusts of his body. His hand slipped between them, and Rebecca gasped as his thumb found a spot that was particularly sensitive. Her body tightened and stiffened as she fought the sensations Zach was producing with his hand.

“Let it happen,” he murmured in her ear.

“I can’t—”

His mouth took hers in a hard kiss, and she fought to catch her breath as her body tensed. Too much was happening. She felt her body slipping from her control, the feelings too intense to bear. She was reaching now for something, arching into Zach’s body, her hips thrusting in rhythm with his, her mouth open and sounds coming out that would have appalled her had she not been so helpless to prevent them.

Her tongue met his in a duel of passion, while her hands slid down into the crevice between his legs, driving him over the edge.

She felt the warm spill of his seed inside her as her body clenched and went rigid. She heard his shout of exultation mixed with her own ragged cry of fulfillment. And then she felt his weight, hot and heavy as he relaxed his body onto hers.

Her hands slid around him as his head fell into the niche of her neck and shoulder.

His breath was warm and harsh in her ear, and she felt her own chest heaving with the effort to suck enough air to keep her alive.

“I’m too heavy for you,” he said abruptly.

A moment later, he had her tucked against his side on the rug that had bunched beneath them, his leg over hers, their sweat-slick bodies joined from chest to hip, their heads lolling on the cool tile floor.

Rebecca was basking in an afterglow of wonder, when Zach brought her back to unrelenting reality.

“It’s time to talk, kid.”

“What is there left to say?”

“For a start, it would be interesting to know why you kept your virginity for twenty-three years and then couldn’t wait another couple of hours for the wedding.”