Here to Stay (46 page)

“Chromotherapy,” he said. “You might want to use it.” Seeing her blank look, he continued, “It’s underwater mood lighting. If you punch the button twice, it changes colors. Light the candles, turn out the ceiling lights, and enjoy. There’s an in-line heater that keeps the water at any temperature you choose. You can lie back, close your eyes if you like, and let the whirlpool jets massage all the tension right out of you.”

That sounded divine to Mandy. Zach showed her where the butane lighter was to ignite all the candles placed strategically around the tub, kissed her lightly on the forehead, and said, “Good night, Mandy. My room is two doors down on the right. If you need anything, just knock. I’m a pretty light sleeper.”

She followed him to the door. After he let himself out, she turned the lock. Reflex action, she realized, and unlocked it again. She didn’t need to worry about Zach acting on any inconvenient impulses. Hand still closed over the knob, she thought for a moment, then turned the lock again, not sure if she was locking Zach out or herself in.

A few minutes later, chin-deep in hot water, with the jets and lights adjusted to her liking, she fantasized about having a tub like this available every night. She’d never experienced such luxury. It was so soothing and relaxing that she hated to get out.

She enjoyed the delicious sensations for several minutes. But then thoughts of her mother returned. Pictures of that horrible grave and her mom’s bones eddied in her mind like dry leaves on the surface of turbulent water. And, oh, God, to see that ring had been such a shock. She would always shiver when she recalled that moment.

She ducked her head, came up sputtering, and shampooed her hair. After exiting the tub, she wrapped herself in a thick terry bath sheet the color of Zach’s merlot, wound a smaller towel around her head like a turban, and rinsed out the Jacuzzi.

The bathroom came equipped with a hair blower and a magnifying mirror on a pull-out bronze frame, both wall mounts. Mandy wondered if this was similar to the setups in expensive hotels. It would be easy to get used to such luxuries. She blew her hair dry, brushed her teeth, moisturized her face, and slipped into a nightshirt covered with whimsical butterflies. Gray sweats completed her bedtime ensemble.

When she entered the bedroom, she couldn’t imagine going to sleep. Bypassing the bed, she knelt at the window and gazed out into the darkness. Here on Zach’s ranch, the stars seemed brighter, a sprinkle of brilliant diamonds on blue-black velvet. At any other time, Mandy would have found it breathtakingly beautiful, but tonight it only made her sad. Her mother had loved the stars. She said they gave people hope.

Zach had been right earlier, Mandy realized. This wasn’t a time for her to be alone. She wanted to be with him—a yearning that ran so deep it was almost an ache. His arms always soothed her, and oh, how she needed to feel them around her now.

Zach was almost asleep when he heard his door latch click. He squinted through the moonlit shadows and saw Mandy slipping into his room. As she carefully closed the door, he pushed up to turn on the nightstand lamp. She jumped and whirled.

“I’m sorry. I hoped not to wake you.”

“You didn’t. I hadn’t dozed off yet.” Zach pulled the sheet and blankets tight across his lap. After showering and shaving, he’d slipped on only a fresh pair of briefs. “Are you having a rough time?”

She stopped midway across the carpet, looking nervous and too beautiful for words in a corny butterfly nightshirt and baggy sweats. “I, um, just wanted to be with you. I mean, I thought ...” She lifted a hand, a helpless gesture that went straight to his heart. “Well, I was hoping you were asleep and I’d be able to just, you know, lie beside you.”

Zach had tossed his soiled clothing in the hamper. He gestured at his dresser across the room. “Would you grab me some jeans? Third drawer down, on the right.”

She flapped her hand. “No, no. It was silly of me.” She backed toward the door. “I’ll just go back to my own room. I, um, shouldn’t have come.”

Zach allowed her to leave. The moment the door closed, he swung out of bed, walked to the dresser, and slipped into a fresh pair of Wranglers. Then he grabbed a clean shirt. He didn’t bother with boots and stepped barefoot into the hall. When he reached Mandy’s door, he discovered it was locked. He tapped lightly and heard her fumble with the latch. She cracked the door open to peer out at him.

“I really shouldn’t have bothered—”

Zach planted a palm against the wood, applying enough pressure to make her back up. “It’s not about should or shouldn’t. If you need company, it’s understandable, and I don’t mind.”

She made a smothered sound and whirled away, pushing at her hair. Her nightstand lamp was on, the bed still made up. Zach pushed the door closed with his back and leaned against it, folding his arms and crossing his feet. Then he realized she might feel trapped. He practically jumped away from the door and positioned himself against the bureau, propping an elbow on it to assume a casual stance.

“It’s not just company I need,” she confessed shakily. “I know this will sound idiotic, but I ...” She floundered to a halt and shot him a desperate look. Her gaze dropped to his bare chest. Zach realized he hadn’t buttoned his shirt and immediately rectified that. When he was decently covered, he followed her to where she stood at the window. She jerked when he stepped up behind her and grasped her shoulders.

“I’m sorry, Zach,” she whispered shakily. “I know I’m not making sense. I just feel . . . I can’t explain it—like all the glue that holds me together is dissolving, and the only thing that makes it better is when your arms are around me.”

“It makes perfect sense. We all need a hug sometimes.”

“I . . .” He heard her gulp. “I think I might need more than just a hug.”

Zach stared at the back of her head. Was she saying she wanted him to make love to her? At any other time he would have done a happy dance and granted the request. But she was on very rocky ground tonight, and he’d given her two drinks. She wasn’t used to the stuff. Only a low-down skunk would take advantage of that.

She leaned her weight against him, making him acutely conscious of her softness and warmth.
Oh, shit
, he thought,
I’m a low-down skunk
. “Mandy, you’re upset right now. Let’s not do anything rash, okay? I’ll happily sit up with you. We can talk. If you like, I’ll make you a couple more Irish coffees. Maybe they’ll help you fall asleep.”

She stiffened and stepped away with a decisive movement that caught him off guard. “No, never mind. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gone to your room. I’ll handle it.”

Zach tracked her with his gaze as she paced back and forth at the foot of the bed. Though still pale, she had a red flush creeping up her slender neck, and when she looked at him, there was no mistaking the bruised expression in her eyes.

He raked a hand through his hair. “I have a really bad feeling I just stuck my foot in my mouth.”
Clear up to the knee, Harrigan
, he added silently.

She waved him off. “Don’t worry about it. I just misread your signals, I guess.” The fiery blush now pooled in her cheeks. “You, um . . . I think you’d better go now.”

Zach wasn’t about to leave on that note. “I will if you’d like me to, but, Mandy, if you’re thinking that I don’t want you, you’re dead wrong. I’ve never—and I do mean
never
—wanted anyone as much as I want you.”

“Then why—”

She caught her lower lip between her teeth and stared at him with a shimmering, injured expression in her eyes that had him cursing under his breath. Zach closed the distance between them with three strides, grabbed her by the upper arms, and claimed her lips with his, not waiting this time for her to open for him before thrusting with his tongue to taste the sweetness of her mouth. She moaned and melted against him. Zach struggled for control. His aim was to show her how much he desired her, not make love to her. Only Mandy was screwing up his game plan, hooking one arm around his neck and fisting her other hand in his hair. She kissed him back inexpertly, but what she lacked in finesse, she made up for with enthusiasm.

When he ended the kiss to tell her that he couldn’t in good conscience take this any further, she cut him off with a shaky, “I’m twenty-
eight
, Zach, not a child who doesn’t know her own mind.”

Grabbing for breath as if he’d just sprinted a mile, Zach rested his forehead against hers. Neither of them closed their eyes, and he felt as if he were drowning in a blur of hazel. Even worse, he didn’t care if he ever surfaced.

“Mandy,” he said hoarsely, “be damned sure this is really what you want. No regrets tomorrow, no recriminations. I’m trying like hell to be a gentleman, but you’re not making it easy.”

“Maybe I don’t want you to be a gentleman. Maybe I want you to make me feel like you did when you kissed me in my backyard, only I don’t want you to stop this time. Just hold me, Zach. Make me forget everything and let me just be with you.”

“Are you feeling tipsy?” he asked. “From the alcohol, I mean?”

“No.”

That was all Zach needed to hear. He stepped away from her. “Hold the thought. I’ll be right back.”

He rushed to his room, located the case of condoms in his bathroom drawer, and drew out three foil packets, praying the contents weren’t rotten. How long had it been since he’d gone out for a planned night on the town? He honestly couldn’t remember. He’d had a few impromptu encounters with women over the last two years. He wasn’t a monk, after all, but he’d purchased protection each of those times from a restroom dispenser because he hadn’t been prepared. How long did a prophylactic remain uncompromised by time? The high desert climate was dry and might deteriorate a rubber more quickly than a moist climate did. In his wild days, the question had never come up, because he’d gone through a fifty-count case every few months. He kissed the foil, said a quick Hail Mary, and then shoved the packages in his pocket, wondering if he’d just condemned himself to hell for asking the Holy Mother for intervention when his aim was to commit a mortal sin.
Probably
.

When had his life gotten so complicated? He wanted to walk the straight and narrow, but Mandy had an abhorrence of marriage. Somehow he needed to fix that.

Zach returned to the guest room. Mandy still stood at the foot of the bed, looking bewildered and forlorn. He swept her up into his arms and carried her to the bed.

Mandy didn’t know what was happening to her, but right now she needed Zach’s arms around her nearly as much as she needed air to breathe. As he laid her gently on the mattress, she felt no apprehension, only eager anticipation, and when he bent his dark head to kiss her again, she ran her fingers into his hair, urging him down on top of her. His weight, his hardness and warmth—ah, yes,
this
was what she needed—to be surrounded by his heat and strength. And it felt right. Wildly, gloriously right.

With light nips on her bottom lip to end the kiss, he rose up to look at her. In the lamplight, his black hair, still damp from his shower, glistened like polished jet, falling in lazy waves over his high forehead. Looking up at his burnished face, Mandy decided she’d never seen a handsomer countenance, all hard planes and sharp angles, his brows arching like thick black wings over his coffee brown eyes.

“We have a little ground to cover before we take this any further,” he told her. “I’m crazy, Stetson-over-boot-heels in love with you, Mandy Pajeck. The last time I told you that, you tried to feed me a line of bullshit about caring for me as a friend.” He gently pushed an errant lock of hair from her cheek. “There was a time when I would have settled for friendship—or maybe only a come-on smile. But not with you. You’re special to me. I don’t want to dirty that up with meaningless sex. Are you following me?”

Mandy’s heart caught. Zach was the kind of man who’d want the whole nine yards if he loved a woman—commitment, marriage, and a family. She could love him with all her heart, but she could never marry him. “I’m following.”

He acknowledged her response with a kiss on the end of her nose. “Have I ever told you that I think your nose is sexy as hell, and that I love your eyes?”

Mandy smiled slightly and shook her head.

“Well, I’m telling you now. I love everything about you. I won’t push you right now for marriage. I know the very thought sends you over the edge. But can you at least give me a long-term promise of commitment with the word
love
tossed in somewhere? I need this to be special. If you can’t give me that, I’ve got an unopened bottle of Jack Daniel’s downstairs, and I’ll talk your ears off all night, but I won’t make love to you.”

Mandy’s throat went tight. “I’m not sure what love feels like, Zach. I mean, I love Luke, no question, but my feelings for you are so different.”

“Tell me about them.”

Mandy groped for words, swallowed hard, and curled her hand over his upper arm, trailing fingertips over the bulge of his biceps. “Well, I . . . I think about you all the time, and I try to remember how you looked and what you said. I miss you when we’re not together. When I’m upset, I feel like I can’t breathe unless you’re with me. I need to hear your voice, and I want you close, and I want to feel your hand holding mine. But mostly I want your arms around me.” She gulped and stared at him. “It scares me, needing someone. For so long I never did. Is that love? It’s nothing like what I feel for Luke. He needs me, not the other way around. Is needing someone . . . well, is that love?”

His firm mouth tipped into a crooked grin. “It’s definitely part of it. I feel the same way, needing to be with you. When I’m not, it feels like the sun went behind a cloud.”

“Me, too,” she whispered. “And when we talk on the phone, it’s hard to hang up because then I won’t be able to hear your voice.” A hundred different feelings welled within Mandy at that moment, and she had words to describe none of them. “You make my world seem right. When you’re close to me, I know everything is going to be okay.”

He lightly dragged his thumb over her lower lip. “Love is only a word. It’s the feelings that count, not the sounds we utter to describe them.”