Zack Baker

Tegan was too restless to take a nap, and she couldn’t stay locked in her room all day, even though instinct urged her to do exactly that. So where had that instinct for self-preservation been two months ago? She wondered. If it had been stronger, she wouldn’t have succumbed to Zack’s power.

But then, she wouldn’t have a baby growing inside her, the child she’d wanted, prayed for.

She only wished there was a way to have a baby without being tied to Zacky.

Sounds of him moving around drifted up the stairs, along with the scents of steaks grilling. Her stomach grumbled; it had been hours since she’d eaten. Even if she preferred to avoid Zacky, she needed to keep her strength up.

Knowing she was beaten, she ran a hand across her hair, hoping to finger comb the tangles from it. She smoothed her skirt and summer-weight sweater, then realized she was stalling.

Determinedly, she made her way to the kitchen, another room she hadn’t seen on her previous visit.

Hearing her nearly soundless footsteps, he slowly turned, and the sight of him overwhelmed her.

She’d forgotten just how handsome he was.

When he smiled, his eyes lit with pleasure, chasing shadows from the green and making them shine.

He’d washed up since he’d been outside, and a new T-shirt was pulled smoothly over body. He smelled fresh and clean, and seemed so accessible.

Warning bells tinkled in her mind again. This was Zack at his best. She knew there were other sides.

“How are you feeling?”

His rich voice slid over her, like a silky rose petal rubbed against her bare skin.

When she didn’t answer, he closed the distance in a few strides, resting his powerful hands on her. With him so close, she could barely think. “I’m fine.”

He lifted one hand to her forehead.

“Honest,” she said.

His knuckle gently grazed her cheekbone. “You’re still pale.”

“Because you didn’t give me a change to get my makeup before you did the caveman routine and dragged me out here.”

“You are feeling better,” he teased.

She was melting inside. His touch, his tone…

Instead of dropping his hand, he placed his thumb at the corner of her mouth.

She fought the temptation to turn toward his palm and allow him to cradle her head.

If she wasn’t careful, she might allow herself to forget that he was so different than any other man, that he’d decided what was right in her life and given her little to say in the matter.

She’d fallen for him and his sensual approach once before; she couldn’t allow it a second time. She only wished that determination alone would bring her pulse rate back to normal.

Reaching up, she grasped his wrist, trying to move him away, but the attempt backfired.

With her hand still wrapped around him, he traced a finger downward, over her chin, the column of her throat and the small hollow there. He stopped just beneath, at the same place her breath felt frozen.

Tegan, desperate for air, told herself he wouldn’t touch her anymore intimately, that he wouldn’t wander father downward.

She had hold of his hand, and she had the power to stop him at any time.

She would stop him, she told herself, proving she was strong and determined.

Still barely breathing, she looked up at him, her eyes seeking reassurance in the deep, deep green of his.

She found anything but reassurance.

“Tell me it didn’t matter to you.”

Mesmerized by the shadows clouding his eyes, she could only swallow.

“Tell me that it was just a one-night stand, that you never thought about us…”

She was powerless to resist when he did exactly what she’d thought he’d might.

She felt the friction of his callused fingers against her lightweight sweater, saw how pale his skin looked next to the dark color of his shirt, and she shuddered at her own reawakening.

“…tell me that you never wondered how it might have been if you hadn’t run away. Tell me, Tegan.”

“I can’t…” Can’t talk, can’t breath, can’t think…

“Ah, so you did wonder. Just like I did.”

He wondered? Did that mean he’d thought about here, too—that to him it was more than just a one-night stand? She’d known he wanted answered as to why she ran, but she convinced herself she meant nothing to him, except for the tiny detail of her having his baby.

“Tell me about that,” he encouraged. “Tell me what you wondered.”

His palm curved as he continued to move his hand down the middle of her chest. Her gaze was riveted on him and she was captivated by his strength, the force of his will.

When she didn’t answer, he said “I wondered. A lot. I got out of the shower that morning, ready for you, even though I was trying not to be.” His voice sounded scratchy, as if he needed to clear his throat. “I turned off the hot water, Tegan, because I wanted to be able to restrain myself when I came back to bed.”

She tried to take a step backward, only to have him tighten his grip on her.

“It didn’t work. Even the towel dragging on my wet skin reminded me of the way you reached for me, the way your wrapped your hand around me. Were you serious when you’d said you’d never done that for another man?”

Heaven save her, she wanted the floor to open and swallow her whole. That night she’d done a log of things she’d never done before.

“Were you, Tegan?”

“Yes,” she finally managed to admit.

Zack moved. Despite her min’s protests, she did nothing to stop him. She cried out when he cradled her breast in his palm, testing its weight.

Unable to help herself, she hung onto his leather studded belt, not wanted to let go. The same feelings had engulfed her that starry night two months ago.

It had been desperation to hold and be held that had frightened her most.

With his encouraging words and sensual suggestions, Zack had proven he was far more dangerous than Aaron had ever been.

“Your breast feels fuller than it did before,” Zack said, leaning forward to whisper the comment in her ear. “Does it to you?”

He wouldn’t allow her to hide.

“Does it, Tegan?”

“Yes,” she gasped when he closed his hand.

“And what about your nipples?”

Her eyes closed. She was drowning in her own response.
The end of his thumbnail trailed across her nipple. Need, raw and aching, filled her. Her knees gave out, and he was there, moving to support her.

She gave thinks she was still fully dressed; otherwise she doubted she would be able to take any more.

Part of her wanted to push him away, make him stop. But the same renegade part that had once accepted his invitation urged her forward.

He dragged his nail across the sensitized tip once again. “Pour love making meant something to you, Tegan, didn’t it.”

“Yes.”

“Is that why you ran?”

He hadn’t stopped caressing her. She would have been angry with him if she could have thought straight, but he didn’t allow that.

“Were you scared?”

With that question, he stilled his hand.

Slowly, so very slowly, she opened her eyes and looked at him. She couldn’t find her tongue, and it was suddenly difficult to form words. Finally she admitted, “Terrified.”

“Why?”

The confession came slowly. “You made me feel things I never felt before, convinced me to do things that I never dreamed possible. You scared me.”

“Was it me you were afraid of?” he asked. “Or was it yourself?”

“Both,” she whispered.

“You should have told me.”

“Would you have listened?”

“Listened, yes.”

“It wouldn’t have mattered to you that I was scared, would it, Zack?” She fought to find common sense, reminding herself of the feelings he’d aroused in her, recalling the reasons she’d run in the first place. “You would have said we could work it out, work through it.”

By small measures, he released her, until the stood near each other, close but not touching.

She hugged herself.

“We could have,” he said.

Tegan knew she’d been right to run.

“But you never gave me that chance,” he said.

“Because you would have stolen mine.”

He raked his fingers through his dark hair. The wind had already blown through it, and now it looked wild, untamed.

“I couldn’t let that happen, Zack.”

“Doesn’t matter, because now we’re together.”

Her stomach tightened.

“Is it so bad?” he asked. Silently he reached a finger up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

Even the gentlest of touched made her yearn for more. What happened to her when he was near? Even her husband hadn’t aroused this kind of response from her, and at one time she’d believed herself to be in love with him.

“Is it?” Zack asked again, his eyes holding her prisoner.

“How would you like it if the tables were turned?”

“They’re not.”

“That’s not my point,” she protested.

“If you were to drag me into your house and keep me there, saying we would live together as man and wife..” he said. “I wouldn’t mind.”

“You’re twisting my words.”

Tension scattered with his lopsided grin. “Yeah.”

Her eyebrows drew together. She’d seen a lot of sides to Zack—seductive, intense, angry, determined—but this smile, his teasing after being so serious and sensual, surprised her, making her realize she knew almost nothing about him.

And they were going to be joined together to raise a child.

The thought was dizzying, like being on a carnival ride, suspended upside down.

Zack looked toward the door. “I think the steaks are ready. Are you hungry?”

“Ravenous. Seems to be a constant feeling.”

“You going to eat me out of the house and home?”

“You’re the one who insisted on bringing me here,” she said, then smiled.

“And I’m not sorry. Steaks should be about done.”

IF a carnation suddenly sprouted rose like thorns, he couldn’t have kept her more off balance.

While he served the steaks, Tegan found her way around the oversize kitchen, taking out silverware and glasses. She had little choice but to learn her way around this place. Somehow, she doubted he’d go for the idea of her living in her own house after they exchanged vows.

Their bodies accidentally brushed more than once, sending little pleasures cascading through her. She didn’t want to be aroused by him, but just as Surely, she was.

Shall we toast our upcoming wedding with ice water?” he asked once they were seated at the table. “I’d offer you wine, but it’s not good for the baby.”

Or for her, for that matter. Maybe if she hadn’t sipped champagne at Matt and Val’s wedding, Zack wouldn’t be proposing a toast now.

“To us,” he said, lifting his water glass in Tegan’s direction. “And a successful marriage, baby and all.”

His gaze captured hers, and she couldn’t look away.

Throughout dinner, Zack kept the conversation light, telling her about his music.

Then tension racked up another notch when he told her of his plans to hire additional help so that he could be around ore to help take care of her and their child.

“That’s not necessary, Zack. Really.”

“I’ve made my decision.”

“You’re decision?” shake asked. “What about my decisions?”

“Like?” His fork clattered against the stoneware plate.

“Like the fact I’m going to continue working, even after the baby is born. If we need to, we can hire a nanny.”

“There won’t be any nannies, Tegan. Our baby will have a mother and a father. That’s all he’ll need.”

“There you go again,” she protested. “Making plans in my life.”

“Our lives.” He continued.

“Fine. Our lives. Our lives. Both of us get to make Decisions.”

“Don’t get upset,” he said reaching to cover her hand with his. “It’s not good for you.”

Electricity jolted through her at his touch, and she pulled her hand away and dropped it into her lap. “Easy for you to say. As long as we do everything your way there’s not to get upset about.”

“Tegan, I know how to compromise.”

She challenged his lie. “Then we’ll hire a nanny.”

“Why would we need to when I’m here?”

“You’re going to take care of the baby while I work?”

“Something wrong with me fulfilling my fatherly obligations?”

The idea of him—all nearly six feet of masculine power and energy—holding a tiny child, changing diapers, feeding it and offering comfort, pacing the floor and rocking it to sleep, filled her with tiny thrills.

She tried to imagine what their child might look like. Would their baby have a shock of dark hair, like Zack? And would green eyes peer at her with the same kind of intensity that was reflected in the depths of Zack’s enigmatic gaze? Or maybe her eye color would prevail and she’d see a reflection of herself in her child’s face.

But the image that excited her the most was the idea of Zack peering downward into trusting innocence. He’d be an excellent father; she had no doubt of that. Zack excelled at everything he set his mind to. And he’d set his mind and her and their unborn infant.

“Tegan, I’ve told you I’m not an ogre.”

It would be easier if he were, if she could dislike him.

“Rest while I clean up here.”

“I don’t want to rest.”

“Doctor’s orders.”

“Your orders.”

“My orders.” He agreed with a sheepish smile.

She opened her mouth to protest, then closed it when she realized if she was in the front room, at least she’d be away from him.

Tegan made her escape. Sitting in the living room, on the large, bulky leather furniture that screamed “male domain,” she wished she could close out the sound of his humming. Men didn’t hum. And men didn’t do dishes. They especially didn’t hum while they did dishes.

He was so irritating, frustrating, dictating, charming…

She buried her head in her hands.

A minute later, that’s where he found her. “I’m okay,” she said, heading off his concern, or so she thought.

He crouched in front of her, lifting her feet from the floor and shifting until they lay on the couch. Then he reached for a woolen throw and covered her with it.

“How about a fire?” he offered.

“Don’t you have chores?”

“Did them while you rested. I’m all yours.”

Thankfully, he moved away, tossed a couple logs on the grate, then struck a match, the crackle of the flame punctuating the awkward silence.

She didn’t want to be captivated by him, didn’t want to watch every one of his sure motions. And suddenly she didn’t want to remember how wonderful it had felt to be held in his strong arms as he led her gracefully across the dance floor…

He pivoted and looked at her, one brow raised in question.

Tegan turned away.

Crossing to the stereo, Zack slid in a CD. On of the same songs they’d danced to at Matt and Val’s wedding floated through the air, a slow tune that went straight to her heart.

She finally found the courage to glance at Zack again.

He gave her that crooked smile. “Dance?”

“You know I’m not a good dancer.”

“You’re an excellent dancer.”

She frowned.

“At the wedding, Matt told me I’d be missing out if I didn’t ask you to dance.”

Her frown faded. Aaron had told her she had two left feet, and she’d believed him.

“Come on, Tegan, what can it hurt? Unless you don’t feel well—“

She knew—all too well—what it could hurt.

She could use the excuse that she needed to rest. But it wouldn’t be the truth. In reality, a secret part of her—the wild and curious one that she thought she’d tamed—wanted to be in Zack’s arms.

He extended his hand. She was lost.

His fingers wrapped around hers, and he drew her to her feet, continuing until she stood only inches from him.

“Put your arms around my neck.”

She did, all but standing on her tiptoes. At least at the reception, she’d had on heels, making the eight-inch difference in their heights a little less intimidating. Now she was all too aware of how small she was compared to him.

“I won’t bite,” he promised, his palm at the small of her back, urging her closer.

She felt him, all of him, male and hard, pressed against her body.

At first she moved stiffly. Slowly, through, the combination of his gentle sway and the reassuring words of the song loosened her.

Logs in the fire sparked, and she didn’t know if the warmth she felt came from it or from the way he held her. The latter, she suspected, her breath squeezing out when one of his hands slid farther down her back.

Possessively he held her, encouraging her to move even closer.

Possessively?

That’s what it was, no doubt. She’d sworn she’d never be a man’s possession again. But pressed against him like this, magic happened…

She laid her head on his chest, surrendering.

“I could do this all night,” he said softly.

The man was a master. When it suited him, he could reduce her to a puddle. He held her the right say, spoke in the right intimate tone, moved in perfect unison wither, making it seem as though she really could dance. He erased her thought of escape and replaced them with want. He’d done it to her once before, in the exactly same way.

She knew better, now, but it didn’t matter.

“Penny for your thoughts.”

Tegan didn’t dare. “Inflation…”

”Okay, I’ll up the ante. How about an entire night without me nagging you,” he offered.

“Sold.” With a smile, she tipped back her head to look at him. “I was thinking I shouldn’t’ be doing this with you.”

“Oh?”

“It’s dangerous.”

“Why?”

The very danger she spoke of flashed in his eyes. Brightened by firelight, his eyes seemed to stare into her, looking for her secrets.

“I know better. You seduced me—“

“Is that how you think it happened?”

Her steps faltered. Instantly he adjusted his until they once again moved in unison.

“I remember it differently,” he said. “I remember seeing you standing by the punch bowl, all alone. And that dress…”

She’d bought it especially for the occasion, on a dare from her sister. Black, silk, form-fitting and open in the back, it was unlike anything Tegan had ever worn before.

“I wanted you out of it. But that wasn’t why I asked you to dance. I wanted to see your eyes looking into mine.”

Her eyes?

“I’d noticed your eyes, before. At the post office. You were delivering a bunch of flowers to the post mistress.”

“Bouquet, Zack. Not a bunch of flowers, a bouquet.”

“Bunch, bouquet, whatever.”

“Pink carnations,” she said. “That’s what Meghan likes. Traditionally, they mean I’ll never forget you.”

“Flowers mean something?”

“Yes.”

“Tulips?” he asked.

He’d obviously remembered her conversation with her sister. “Yellow ones mean hopeless love.”

“What about red ones?”

Reluctantly she answered, “They’re a declaration of love.”

“Your sister wanted them in your bridal arrangement?”

“She doesn’t know the truth about our relationship.”

“So what would you chose?”

“Zack—“

“You’re the florist. You’ll make our arrangement. Tell me what you’ll choose.”

“Stephanotis,” she said.

“For?”

“Happiness in marriage. And violets.”

“Violets?”

“Faithfulness. To prove I’m not your ex-wife.”

He held her tighter, but said nothing.

They continued to move and sway against each other. A part of her wished the moment could last forever.

“Does Megan at the post office know about the carnations, what they mean?”

“Yes. She asked.”

“She’ll never forget someone?”

“I heard there was a man she was interested in, a long time ago.”

“Funny. I just thought she was always this age, with no past.”

“There’s a lot we don’t know about people, Zack.”

“Yeah. Half the fun is the discovery.”

She smiled, and when he rewarded her with one of his own, she forgot to move.

He stopped, too, and the music continued softly.

“Has anyone ever sent you one?”

“One what?”

“A bunch of flowers. Bouquet.”

She shook her head.

“I’ll have to take care of that.”

With a small amount of pressure on her spine, he started to move again. Effortlessly she followed. If only their lives could be this easy. The problem was, in most areas of her life, she didn’t want to fall in step with his lead.

“You’d brought Megan a book.”

“She likes to read, as much as I do. Love stories with tragic endings—you know, like Romeo and Juliet.” Why was she telling him all this?

“To go along with the pink carnations?”

“Yes.”

“I’d noticed your eyes. You were holding the flowers near your face. Your eyes were sparkling with mischief. But that disappeared when you saw me looking at you. It was like a shutter dropped over them, as if you were frightened to have me looking at you so deeply. Wasn’t that right after you moved back to town, after your divorce?”

Her face drained. He knew a lot about her she desperately realized.

“Sore subject?”

“It’s in the past,” she said.

“So why the same look now?”

“The same look?”

“Your brows are drawn together. Your eyelids are narrowed, and your eyes are a darker green than they were before. It’s the look that says back off, the one you’ve used to keep half the male population in town from beating a path to your door.
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She tried to pull away, but he tightened his grip.

“I can tell when I’m too close, Tegan. You had the same expression on your face before I got in the shower that morning. Later I kicked myself for not reading you better. I won’t make that mistake again. So tell me…why did you agree to come home with me?”

She knew he wasn’t talking about this afternoon…and her heart hammered when she realized he’d held her tightly in his arms.

He’d wanted answers since the morning she’d walked away from him. Over the following weeks, he’d left half a dozen messages on her answering machine at home, had stopped by the flower sop twice. Fortunately she’d seen him coming and convinced her sister to lie to him, saying Tegan wasn’t there. The time he’d come to her house, she’d pretended not to hear the doorbell.

“Hmm?”

He was right; he was too close. Men who got too close hurt her.

The ballad ended, but another began.

“I don’t know,” she confessed, unable to look away. She’d asked herself that a thousand times.

“You were lonely,” he guessed.

“No…yes.” At the wedding reception, she’d been thinking of all the people who were with their lovers, then thought of her big, empty bed.

“This morning, you said you were sure it was my baby, that you hadn’t been with other men.”

“No other man, ever, except my ex-husband.”

“Ever?”

The single word sent a shiver down her spine, and so did the honestly he wanted.

“Ever.”

“So why me?”

She laughed. “At the time, you seemed…safe.”

He quirked a brow over his electric-green eyes.

“I was a fool,” Tegan said with a rueful smile.

“Were you?”

“I knew you didn’t sleep around,” she said matter-of-factly.

“I beg your pardon?”

Color rushed into her face, drowning her cheeks in embarrassment. “I’d heard that you weren’t into casual relationships.”

He said nothing.

“You didn’t have a reputation.” She wished the floor would open up.

“You’d asked.”

“I’d heard,” she corrected. She didn’t add that Megan Simpson at the post office had told her, before Matt and Val’s wedding, when Zack’s name—as best man—came up in conversation. Megan had said some nice things about him, adding that she’d figured he’d only behaved badly after his divorce because he’d been backed into a corner.

Megan’s words had swirled in Tegan’s mind when Zack had come up to her at the reception. “And I figured if you were friends with Val and Matt, you couldn’t be too dangerous.”

“So how about now?”

“Danger comes packaged a lot of different ways.”

He looked at her deeply. “Did it work?” he asked quietly. “Us sleeping together—did it stop you being lonely?”

She couldn’t loo away from the sizzling intensity in his eyes, couldn’t pull away from the hold he had on her spine, her nape, couldn’t stop herself from answering honestly, “No. It didn’t stop me from being lonely.” In fact, It had only made the emptiness worse.
“Then maybe this will clear it away.”

His grip tightened and he pulled her against him. Determinedly he lowered his head.

Her heart fell to her toes.

He was going to kiss her.

She knew it without a doubt.