The Virgin and Zach Coulter (14 page)

“Perhaps I should make it clear…” Jane's chin firmed, her eyes darkening. “Much as I would love the opportunity to become chef here at the Lodge, my son is my first priority.”

“Of course.” Zach nodded soberly, his gaze gentling over the woman. “I understand.” He turned to Cynthia. “I believe that's all the questions I have. Anything you wanted to add?”

“No, I don't have any more questions.” She rose and Jane stood also, collecting her purse. Cynthia leaned forward over the desk and the two women shook hands, a firm meeting of palms and fingers.

Zach escorted Jane out of the room, returning a few moments later to lift an eyebrow in silent query.

“I like her,” Cynthia said firmly.

“So do I,” Zach said, his gaze studying her. “I was impressed by her references. And I was really impressed by her determination to turn down the job if her son isn't
well cared for. She won't get many career opportunities like this one and I'm dead certain she won't take it if we can't work out day care for her boy.”

“I feel the same.” Cynthia met his gaze. “I want to hire her.”

His mouth quirked, the smile reaching his eyes. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” she said firmly.

“Then it's a done deal. Figure out a way to keep her little boy occupied while she's working and make her an offer.” He turned to leave.

“Zach.” Her voice stopped him. He looked over his shoulder at her. “Thank you.”

He smiled, winked and left.

She knew Zach would have denied it, but she was convinced he'd given the single mother the job not only because of her references, but due to the strength of character and her unshakable determination to put her son's welfare first, before her own career. Cynthia couldn't help but be touched by his kindness.

Late that afternoon, once again Cynthia was clearing her desk long after the rest of the work crew had left for the night. She was just leaving her office, laptop and purse in her hands, when Zach intercepted her.

“Stay and have dinner with me tonight,” he coaxed, tucking a tendril of loose hair behind her ear.

“I really should go home,” she told him. “I have a stack of files I want to go through.”

“You work too hard,” he told her. “As your boss, I'm officially telling you to take the rest of the night off. Besides,” he told her, “I'm testing out the fireplace
tonight so if you insist on working, we can eat in front of the fire.”

He pulled her into the kitchen, took her laptop, purse and files from her arms and set them on the countertop. He disappeared into the quarters off the kitchen and returned a moment later with a bright blue wool blanket tossed over one shoulder.

“We can raid the refrigerator—Mariah always brings home food from the café.” He pulled open the door and started taking out bags and white cartons. “Come here.” He crooked a forefinger at her.

When she walked across the kitchen and joined him, he handed her two bags and a square container. His own arms laden, he bumped his hip against the door and it swung closed behind him.

“Head for the lobby and we'll light the fire.”

Cynthia went with him, unable to resist. She loved spending time with him and they had little time alone since the Lodge was filled with other workers during the day. Tonight, though, they were the only two people in the quiet Lodge.

They entered the big room and crossed the glossy wood floor to the huge river rock fireplace. Wood was stacked on the hearth, waiting to be lit. Zach set his armful of food carriers down on the low rock seating shelf and shook out the blanket, letting it drift to cover the floor.

“Have a seat,” he invited, before turning to touch a match to the fire.

Cynthia sank to her knees on the blanket, the bright blue wool soft under her. “Are you sure we want to eat on this?” she asked doubtfully as she deposited the
restaurant bags and cartons. “What if we spill something on it?”

“Don't worry about it.” Zach took sofa pillows from one of the few pieces of furniture in the big room and stopped to switch on the radio. The antique console radio was beautifully restored and fully functional, with amazing speakers and sound. The strains of classic blues filled the room and Zach adjusted the volume to a low background before he rejoined her on the blanket.

“Here we are.” He dropped the pillows, frowning at the collection of bags and cartons on the blanket. “Be right back.”

He strode off to the kitchen, returning moments later with plates, utensils, napkins, two stemmed glasses and a bottle of wine.

“I think we're ready,” he told her, dropping down beside her and stretching his long legs out on the blanket.

“Ready for what?” she asked, eyeing him through the screen of her lashes. He'd showered and changed after work, the clean black T-shirt tucked into the waistband of snug faded jeans, polished black cowboy boots on his feet. A silver-buckled belt threaded through the loops of his low-slung jeans. He looked incredibly male, heartstoppingly handsome, and she wanted to lean over and kiss him so badly her hand shook as she opened a carton.

“For whatever we want,” he answered. The timber of his voice had changed, lowered, and her stomach muscles clenched in response.

She needed to slow things down, she thought. Maybe tonight was the night they would make love. But first,
she needed time to unwind from a day filled with stress. Maybe Zach did, too.

“First, I want food,” she told him. She peered into the carton she held and her smile brightened. “Mmm, Stroganoff.”

She looked at him. “What have you got?”

Obediently, he flipped the lid open on a restaurant carton. “Lasagna,” he said with a grin.

“Nice. What's in the rest of the containers?”

They spent the next hour feeding each other bites from the eclectic mix of food. Cynthia was delighted to find a flat box filled with pastries and small cakes. “You are so lucky to have a future sister-in-law who works in a café with a fabulous baker,” she told him, closing her eyes in bliss as she tasted the coconut pie.

“And I know it,” he told her with emphasis. “I've already warned Cade that he has to share all the food Mariah brings home. Just because they're getting married doesn't mean he gets first choice of the munchies.”

They sampled food until they were full. Zach was just refilling their wineglasses when he paused, tilting his head to the side to listen.

“This is my favorite song.” He put aside the bottle, took the glass from her hand and set it on the wood floor. “Dance with me.” He stood, holding out his hand and when she placed her fingers in his, he lifted her easily to her feet.

She went happily into his arms, the low muted growl of a saxophone filling the lobby.

He pulled her close and they moved to the rhythm, their bodies perfectly attuned as they swayed to the
music. The song ended but another started immediately and they stayed locked together.

Cynthia threaded her fingers into the thick, softness of his hair at his nape, her face tucked into the curve of his throat. She felt restless, achy, and the pressure of his chest against the tips of her breast wasn't enough. She wanted more.

She tipped her head back, just enough to press a kiss against the underside of his chin. His arms tightened around her, his body tensing beneath her touch. When she pressed closer, he responded by lifting her higher against him, fitting her more closely against his chest, hips and thighs.

He brushed kisses against her temple, her cheekbones, and when his mouth took hers, they stopped dancing, focused on the press of bodies and heated exchange of lips and tongues.

“Honey,” he murmured long moments later. “Let's go to my apartment.”

“Yes.” The answer was simple, inevitable and Cynthia knew it was the right time, the right place and the right man.

His arms tightened, crushing her to him, before he bent and swung her into his arms. Cynthia wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her face against his throat as he strode swiftly down the lobby, through the darkened kitchen, and into the apartment in the back. She caught only a glimpse of the lamplit living room before they entered his bedroom and Zach released her legs, letting her slide slowly down his length until her feet reached the floor.

He cupped her face and kissed her, his mouth hot,
carnal. When he lifted his head, she was dizzy with a need that tightened her body and made her ache. He reached around her and lowered the zipper on her dress before closing his hands over her shoulders to slip his fingers under the material. He pushed it down her arms and torso, letting it fall to pool at her feet.

Zach went still, his gaze hot and intent as he stared at her. She wore a white lace bra and matching lace panties with a garter belt and hose; nerves tightened as she wondered with sudden uncertainty if he liked what he saw.

“Damn.” His voice was guttural, barely audible. “You're more beautiful than I imagined.” He glanced up at her. “And I've imagined you naked a lot.”

“I'm not naked—yet.” Her voice trembled, revealing nerves that shook as she tried to lighten the moment.

“Not yet, honey,” he agreed with a slow curving of his lips. “But you will be.”

He crossed his arms over his chest and caught the hem of his T-shirt, tugging it loose from his jeans and up over his head. It dropped to the floor behind him, ignored as Zach reached out and pulled her close, wrapping her against the bare, warm, hard muscles of his chest and abdomen.

Cynthia shivered, swamped with sensation.

Zach nudged her face up and kissed her again, his mouth hot and insistent on hers. She barely knew when he stripped off her bra, only aware of the feverish relief of her bare skin pressed to his. It wasn't until he lay her back on the bed and sat to pull off his boots, that the whirlpool of desire slowed and she was once again nervous. He leaned over and took a condom from a drawer
in the nightstand, standing to shuck off his jeans, shove them, and his boxers, off with one smooth movement.

Cynthia caught her breath, staring at him.

“Something wrong?” His voice was deep, reassuring.

“Just…nervous,” she said hesitantly.

“Trust me, Cynthia.” His voice held amusement, along with lust and determination.

Then he rolled on the condom and joined her on the bed, his much bigger, harder, warmer body covering her. His mouth took hers and Cynthia was quickly lost in passion. So lost, that when he settled between her thighs, the heavy weight of him nudging insistently, she felt only impatience and urged him nearer.

Though he struggled to be slow, and careful, she didn't want easy and patient. She wrapped her legs around his waist and demanded—and he gave in. She fought to match his rhythm and at last, felt fierce delight when the world seemed to implode.

Long moments later, when she could catch her breath between labored gasps, she turned her head on the pillow to look at Zach.

“You,” she told him with amazement, “are phenomenal.”

He turned his head, his teeth flashing in the dim room. “You,” he replied, “are amazing.”

“We both are then,” she said complacently.

“Are you okay?” He rolled over to face her, leaning his head on his hand, elbow propped on the pillow beside her head. “Sore anywhere?”

“I feel fabulous,” she told him. “Women have been
losing their virginity for thousands of years and as far as I know, rarely have died from it.”

“Jeez, I hope not,” he said fervently.

She smiled. “In fact,” she whispered, “I feel so good, I'd like to do it again.”

“Now?”

“Yes, right now. Please,” she added.

He roared with laughter and pulled her into his arms, rolling onto his back with her settling on his chest. “Honey, women can do it all night long, but men need a little recovery time.”

“How long?” she asked, stroking her hand over his bare chest to his abdomen, fascinated by the faint line of silky dark hair that surrounded his navel before arrowing lower.

“You keep doing that and it probably won't be long,” he told her drily.

And as it turned out, it wasn't very long at all.

They didn't sleep. In between lovemaking, they opened another bottle of wine and lay in front of the fire, talking about everything and nothing, the people they'd known, the places they'd traveled.

But morning came all too soon and just before dawn, Zach bundled her up and drove her home, insisting he didn't want her driving alone so early in the morning.

Despite protesting that she didn't need to sleep in, Cynthia obeyed Zach's orders and didn't wake till after 10:00 a.m. Carrying her coffee into the quiet living room on her way upstairs to the shower, she glanced out the front window and saw her car sitting at the curb.

Zach must have returned it this morning, she thought. How sweet.

She floated through the rest of the week in a daze. She'd always hoped making love would be a wonderful experience.

With Zach, she'd found it to be the most incredible, earthshaking thing she'd ever done.

L
ate Friday afternoon, Cynthia was tidying her desk, preparing to leave the office on time for a change. She and Zach had plans to have dinner and see a movie later that evening and she wanted time to do her nails and fix her hair before he picked her up.

She was slipping her laptop into its carrying case when Zach appeared in her open doorway. Her welcoming smile faded as she took in his grim expression.

“What's wrong?”

“I just got a call from the commissioner of the county zoning board. They're holding an emergency meeting an hour from now and asked me to be there. Someone's brought a complaint about the Lodge.”

Cynthia's eyes widened. “A complaint? About what?”

“I don't know,” Zach said grimly. “We've complied with all the local and state rules so I'm hoping it's just
a question of proving we have all the right permits. But just in case, I'd like you to come with me and bring your file on zoning permits.”

“Of course.” Cynthia crossed to the filing cabinet and pulled open the middle drawer. “I can't help but wonder who would have filed a complaint,” she said as she extracted a file folder and slid the drawer closed.

“I'd like to know that myself.” Zach's mouth was a hard line. “I know it's bogus and we can prove we've complied with the rules, but if the process drags out for any reason, it's bound to impact the date for reopening the Lodge. And that has the potential to cost us a great deal of money and clients.”

Cynthia knew he was right. Everything they'd done focused on the soft opening of the Lodge and its future hung in the balance. If the opening had to be delayed for any reason, the project's success would be in jeopardy.

“I'll follow you in my car and go straight home after the meeting,” she told Zach.

He nodded and headed across the lot to his truck, long strides eating up the distance. By the time Cynthia had settled her files, laptop, purse and jacket into her car, he was driving down the lane.

They reached the meeting room in the county office building just as the four commissioners were settling into their seats. The long table faced two shorter tables with chairs pushed up to them and the bench seats that filled the rest of the room.

“Good evening,” an older man on the right called. “You're Zach Coulter?”

“That's right.”

“Will you come on down and take a seat at the table on the left, please?”

Zach and Cynthia walked down the aisle between the benches and took seats just as the door opened behind them.

Cynthia glanced over her shoulder. Jim Meyers walked toward the front of the room, his affable smile in place as he reached the front and took one of the chairs at the smaller table on the right.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen.” He nodded at the commissioners. “And ladies,” he added as he reached the fourth commissioner before his gaze moved to Cynthia and Zach. His nod was pleasant.

Cynthia didn't nod back. Tense with worry, she folded her hands on the table and struggled to appear calm. If Jim Meyers was involved in whatever was going on, it couldn't be good.

“I suggest we get right to business.” The commissioner who had greeted them rapped a small gavel on the tabletop. “Thanks to everyone for being here on such short notice. This meeting is called to order. We're here for a preliminary hearing regarding certain information that has been brought to our attention about usage plans for the Coulter Lodge.”

The older woman on the far right leaned forward, peering over the tops of her half-glasses at the commissioner. “Sorry to interrupt, Bill, but shouldn't we give a copy of the evidence to Mr. Coulter?”

“Thanks for reminding me, Hazel, of course we should.” He slipped two stapled, multipage documents from a paper-clipped stack in front of him. “Mr. Coulter, if you and your associate would like to have a copy…”

Zach left the table to collect the papers from the commissioner, murmuring his thanks before returning to the table. He handed one of the two documents to Cynthia as he sat down.

“You will note that the documents are on Coulter Lodge letterhead and contain cost analyses and plans proposing the site be used for conferences with attendee numbers that are far in excess of that allowed by your current permits.”

Cynthia flipped through the pages, confusion growing.

“Do you know anything about this?” Zach leaned closer, his voice a low rumble.

“Yes,” she whispered. “This was a preliminary projection. It didn't meld with your plans for the Lodge so I never showed it to you and it never went any farther.”

Zach sat back in his chair. “I think we can clear up the confusion, gentlemen. I'm told this document was prepared as a preliminary analysis and was never intended as a viable future project.”

“But we've been told an organization with over a thousand members has been approached regarding booking their annual conference there in two years.”

Zach's eyes narrowed. “You've been told? By who?”

“By me,” Jim Meyers interjected. “Actually, as conference chair for the state developer's association, I was approached by Ms. Deacon during lunch at the Indian Springs Café some weeks ago and then later…” He drew a sheet of paper from the file on the table and handed it to across the aisle to Zach. “I received this letter from the Lodge repeating the interest in booking my organization.”

Zach skimmed the letter before handing it to Cynthia.

She read it quickly, then reread, frowning. “I've never seen this before. I certainly didn't write it.”

“How did you receive this, Meyers?” Zach asked, his deep voice lethal. “Postal service or email?”

The other man blinked, pausing for a moment before responding. “Postal service—at my office.”

“Do you have the envelope it arrived in that shows the post office marks?”

“No.” Meyers's shrug held regret, but his eyes were sharp with satisfaction. “I'm afraid I tossed it out.”

“Naturally,” Zach commented. He turned back to the four commissioners, who watched the byplay with interest. “There's clearly a misunderstanding here that needs clearing up, but let me assure the board we will do so.”

The bulky gray-haired man holding the gavel gave an abrupt nod. “Good. We'd like to see this resolved, too. But in the interim, we have no choice but to suspend your operating permit for the Lodge until you can provide an explanation. The board doesn't want to be placed in a position down the road of seeming to sanction an expansion of the creek bank usage at the Lodge. Environmental protection rules are strict and those federal boys are hardcore about enforcing them.”

“I understand,” Zach assured him. “I suggest we meet back here on Monday afternoon for an update.”

“Think you can untangle the wires and iron out this mess that fast?” Bill asked, blue eyes shrewd.

“I hope so,” Zach said shortly.

“Very well.” Bill rapped the gavel on the table. “Meeting adjourned until 4:00 p.m. on Monday.”

Chairs scraped back as the commissioners rose, gathered files and chatted among themselves. Jim Meyers stood and strolled forward to join them, asking a question about an upcoming meeting and revising a certain zoning requirement.

Zach turned to Cynthia, his back to the room, effectively blocking her and preventing anyone from overhearing him.

“Did you have anything to do with this, Cynthia?” His tone was impersonal.

“Of course not,” she protested. “I have no idea how this happened.”

“Did you talk to Meyers about the Lodge?” His green eyes were intent, cool as they focused on hers. “
He
approached
me
at the café,” she said forcefully. “He asked me to set up a meeting with you to discuss his buying the Lodge. I refused to do it.”

“How did he get those projections?”

“I don't know,” she said helplessly. “The files are on my laptop, but I always carry it with me, either at home or the office. I can't imagine how he did it.”

“And the letter?” Zach asked, his tone businesslike, cool.

She shook her head. “I don't know, Zach. I truly don't know.”

“All right.” He stood, waiting for her to walk ahead of him out of the room. He was silent as they left the building.

She paused on the sidewalk, looking up at him. “What are you going to do?”

“Find out how this happened. I'm sure Meyers is behind it, but I can't prove it until I find out how he did it.” He tugged the brim of his Stetson lower over his brow, his eyes concealed behind the mirrored lenses of his sunglasses. “I won't be able to make dinner tonight. This is likely to take all weekend so I probably won't see you until Monday.”

“What can I do to help?”

“Nothing. I don't want you involved in this. Take the weekend off and I'll see you Monday.”

“All right.” Cynthia felt sick. His words were even, with an undercurrent of anger and no hint of the warmth that usually infused his conversation with her.

He nodded and walked away, headed for the slot where he'd parked his truck down the street. Cynthia turned, moving the opposite direction toward her own car, when someone walked up behind her.

“I told you, you'd be sorry,” Meyers murmured as he slowed to brush past her, then picked up his steps to move more quickly down the sidewalk.

Furious with the implication of what had happened in the meeting room, Cynthia registered the malicious satisfaction in his words.

She could easily believe Jim Meyers was vindictive enough to want to pay her back for having turned down his request to set up a meeting with Zach. In retrospect, she thought as she drove toward home, it was precisely the sort of thing she should have expected of him.

What she couldn't understand was how he'd gotten the documents off her computer. The only place the documents were stored were on her laptop and the external, backup hard drive in her bedroom at home. Jim Meyers
didn't have access to either storage so how on earth had he managed to get his hands on those documents?

He could easily have generated the letter and forged her signature, but again how had he accessed the Lodge letterhead? By the time she climbed into bed later that evening, a full-blown headache pounded at Cynthia's temples. But she was no closer to answers to the questions that plagued her.

 

Zach left Indian Springs and drove back to the Triple C in a cold rage. The urge to grab Meyers and torture him until he confessed the truth was a ball of acid in Zach's gut.

He knew he was in no mood to be reasonable.

Meyers's insistence that Cynthia had given him the information that had led to the Lodge's permit being suspended couldn't be true. He refused to believe she would have sold him out and threatened the survival of the Lodge.

But the cynic that lived inside him laughed with derision. If his years as a corporate shark had taught him anything, it was that everyone had their price. What if Meyers had offered Cynthia something she couldn't refuse—like part-ownership in one of his company's land deals?

The idea was ludicrous. Even as Zach thought it, he knew it couldn't be true. But Meyers's claim that Cynthia had betrayed Zach was insidious, and doubt refused to evaporate, taunting him with the possibility that the woman he loved had betrayed him.

What the hell?

Where did that come from? He thought, dumbstruck. When had he decided he loved Cynthia?

The truck slowed and he realized he'd lifted his foot off the accelerator. He forced himself to focus on driving again, but the biggest portion of his mind was occupied with accepting the truth he'd hidden, even from himself.

He loved Cynthia. He didn't know the exact moment it happened. Was it the first time he'd seen her on the street in Indian Springs? Or the first time he'd kissed her? The second time? The night she'd told him she was a virgin?

Zach shook his head, dazed. He didn't know when it had happened, but he knew without doubt it was true.

Did she love him? He frowned. He knew she liked making love with him, and for a woman who'd kept her virginity for so long that had to mean something. He wanted to turn the truck around and drive straight to her house to find out how she felt about him.

He actually braked before he caught himself. Before they could have that conversation, he needed to clear up the mess Meyers had stirred up.

He was furious that the land developer was trying to harm the Lodge, and that he'd also try to damage Cynthia's reputation.

Nevertheless, he knew using physical force would only play into Meyers's hands. Zach had to figure out how he'd managed to access Cynthia's computer records without her knowledge.

And if I can prove he broke in and stole information, I'm going straight to the cops and have him arrested,
he thought grimly.

He arrived at the ranch and drove to Mariah's cabin, parked outside and rapped on the door.

“Where's Cade?” he asked when Mariah opened the door.

“In the kitchen. What's wrong?” she called after him as he strode past her and down the hall.

Cade was standing at the counter, replacing screws in one of the original wooden cabinet doors. He looked over his shoulder when Zach entered.

“What's going on, Zach?”

“What do you know about Jim Meyers? I want to nail his hide to the barn,” Zach said grimly, anger making his voice harsh.

Cade left the cabinet unfinished, leaned against the counter, crossed his arms over his chest, and eyed Zach.

“Tell me what he's done.”

Zach quickly filled Cade in on the meeting with the commissioners.

“And Meyers said Cynthia gave him the information?” Cade asked.

“I don't believe it,” Mariah put in. “I saw Jim Meyers approach Cynthia at the café one day during lunch. But she didn't look nor act as if she wanted to see him. Or talk to him for that matter,” she added.