Chapter 10
Zane didn’t have a clue how long he sat in the shower freefalling. Finally, he managed to pull out of the tailspin and orient himself.
Holy crap.
As a pilot, he’d experienced hypoxia—oxygen deprivation and disorientation that hit at high altitudes.
Recovering from hypoxia was a stroll in the park compared to an up-close-and-personal encounter with Jillian.
He clambered to his feet and cranked off the water. Stalked out of the stall and grabbed a towel, drying himself far more vigorously than necessary.
What the hell had just happened?
He dragged on a pair of black boxer briefs. Your sweet new bride KO’d you, buddy, that’s what.
He stuffed one leg, then the other into black drawstring workout pants he’d brought, anticipating the need to stay in the same room with Jillian for their “wedding night.”
He hadn’t anticipated having his hands all over her. He swallowed hard. Inside her.
He sucked in oxygen. He hadn’t anticipated her generously wicked mouth on him, the carnal strokes of her tongue loving him into coming so fucking hard he’d had an out-of-body episode.
Zane jerked on a gray tank top. He was so tangled up inside, he didn’t know whether to scratch his watch or wind his ass.
He stared at his stunned reflection in the mirror. And wasn’t the confrontation that awaited him on the other side of that door going to be fun?
The mouthwatering scent of seafood drifted under the door and he raked still trembling fingers through his damp hair, willing them to steady.
Pull your shit together, Wolfe.
Jillian had already sent him running for cover—twice. He’d never been a coward. Wasn’t about to start now.
Gritting his teeth, he strode to the door and flung it open.
Jillian turned from a food-laden portable table and two chairs set up across from the crackling fireplace. She’d fastened the window drapes back inviting the moon and stars inside, where she stood framed in golden firelight, barefoot and wearing her emerald robe.
What—besides the pearls—did she have on beneath it?
Desire he’d thought sated beyond arousal sank vicious claws into him and his body leapt.
Muttering a vile curse beneath his breath, he prowled to the table and grabbed a wineglass, dumped in a generous amount of amber liquid from the open bottle next to a seafood platter, then downed it in one long gulp.
“Feeling better?” Jillian asked brightly.
Not enough wine on the planet. “What was that—” He waved toward the bathroom door. “In there?”
She tilted her head, shot him a knowing smile. “I guess if you have to ask, then I didn’t do it very well.”
Any better and he’d be dead … and she was fully aware of it. He scowled. “You know what I mean. What kind of game are you playing?”
“Hey, you started it, Champ. You tell me.”
Right. He’d been the dumbass who’d initiated this entire fiasco. You struck up the band, now it’s time to face the music.
He sighed, pulled out her chair. “Let’s sit down.”
She slipped into the offered chair and he sat in the one across from her.
They both dished up servings of crispy deep-fried prawns, oysters, clams and scallops, thick golden-brown steak fries and fresh bright coleslaw.
He poured them both more wine. “Look, Jillian.” He took a more moderate drink this time. “I lost control.” He shuddered. “But I managed to reel it in before I did something that really hurt you.”
“Seriously, Wolfe?” Golden brows knit. “You’re not familiar with my favorite genre, but in my world, ‘princesses’ are like Leia in ‘ Star Wars ’ and Eowyn in ‘ Lord of the Rings. ’ They’re not fragile, breakable porcelain dolls that need to be locked away in an ivory tower. They’re not afraid to take names and kick ass.” Her gaze bored into him. “And neither am I. Nor am I afraid of you. You’d never harm me, unintentionally or otherwise.”
Her faith in him rattled him to the core. “Okay. Physically. What about emotionally? There’s no future for you with me. No cozy home-sweet-home, no kids. All I can give you is sex.”
Jillian smiled. “Stupendous sex. Delicious, sweaty, body-shaking, mind-blowing sex.” She licked a drop of wine off her lower lip in a languid, sensual gesture that ricocheted back the feeling of her eager tongue swirling over the part of him that had been doing all the thinking lately. His belly tightened, his respiration sped up. Her smile widened. “So if that’s the dance you’re offering … I’ll take it.”
He strangled on his wine. “But … You’re not that kind of woman.”
“The kind who enjoys sex?” she asked silkily.
Oh, shit. Floundering in quicksand and sinking deeper by the second, he shook his head. “I can’t give you what you need.”
“Zane.” Her voice went soft. “What happened to you when you were growing up?”
“Enough tragedies for me to know I should never attempt to be a family man.”
“I have some idea of what you’ve been through.”
“No, lady. You don’t have a clue.”
“Why don’t you enlighten me?”
Maybe if he were honest with her, she’d understand the futility. “My old man is a corporate raider. He scents any weakness like a shark scents blood. He buys vulnerable companies, fires everyone, chops the business into pieces and sells off the assets. He annihilates people’s lives for the almighty dollar … and relishes it. My family doesn’t know how to love … only destroy. My mother destroyed herself. My older brother destroyed two wives and his own son. My father destroys everyone who crosses his path.” He inhaled unsteadily. “Including my little brother.”
Small, warm fingers covered his where they’d clenched on the tablecloth. “What did he do, Zane? Can you tell me about it?”
He shoved away from the table, paced to the window. But he couldn’t escape the pain. “No. No matter how hard you stare at the scenario through your fairytale lenses, it’s goddamned ugly.”
Footsteps whispered behind him. Her palm stroked up his rigid spine. “And you’re paying for the sins of your father by sentencing yourself to a lifetime of self-imposed seclusion? You’re never going to take the chance of being truly happy?”
“How can I risk a taking a chance at your expense?”
“I’m a big girl. I’m responsible for myself. For my reactions, my feelings.”
“What about Casey’s feelings? A messy entanglement will only end in heartbreak. Not just for you, but also for him.”
“You acknowledge what your father did was wrong and don’t want to repeat it. Realizing that is half the battle. It won’t be easy, but if you honestly want to, you can change the pattern.” She moved closer. “I trust you, Zane. With myself and with Casey. I told you, you just have to learn to trust yourself.”
Entangled in barbed emotions, he swallowed shards of glass. “You’re a strong, brave, smart woman. Smart enough to know some things are so broken, they can’t be fixed. I’ll never be the man you believe I am.”
“If you let your father’s actions dictate your choices, then he’s still controlling you.” Her arms wrapped around him from behind in a hard, reassuring hug. “And I think you’re a whole lot smarter and a whole lot braver and a whole lot stronger than to allow that, Special Agent Zane Wolfe.”
He closed his eyes, staggered by a wash of unfamiliar emotion.
Hope.
She hugged him again, then stepped away. “It’s late. Come and finish your dinner before it’s stone cold. Then we should both get some rest.”
His glance flicked sideways to the made-for-sin four-poster bed. Jillian had turned down the lush comforter, exposing smooth ivory satin sheets and luxurious satin-covered pillows. All that was needed to complete torture was candlelight and rose petals.
And his wife’s beautifully responsive naked body arching beneath him.
Cold sweat prickled over his skin. Not only would Jillian’s nearness tempt him beyond reason, but he’d never spent the entire night with anyone. Sex was one thing. Letting down his guard for the ultimate intimacy of falling asleep beside a woman required a level of trust he didn’t possess.
Zane forced his gaze back to the stars, studied the glimmering constellations outside the window with fierce concentration. Familiar, faithful friends, the stars never changed, never let him down. He thought of all the nights he’d gone to bed alone, watching them. All the mornings he’d woken up alone.
Thought of all the nights and mornings yet to come for the rest of his life … alone.
Because there’d never be another woman who could take the place of the one he’d married.
And no matter how hard he wished for a miracle, life had taught him one lesson. Miracles did not happen.
* * *
Happy birds chirping woke Jillian. A yawn sneaked out of her as she turned her head.
She was all by herself in the decadent bed.
The other side appeared untouched, the pillow plumped, the sheets and comforter immaculately smoothed.
The newlyweds had finished dinner in stilted silence, then awkwardly climbed beneath the covers together. Zane had stayed as far away as the king-sized mattress allowed, muscles taut, stiff back to her. Unused to sleeping with anyone, she awoke often. Each time, she could feel waves of tension radiating from him. She’d bet he hadn’t slept a wink.
She sighed softly. The erotic explosion between them after the wedding had been an astonishing revelation. Tingles zipped over her. If she and Zane had had a real wedding night, the sheets would be tangled in a pile on the floor, their naked, satiated bodies entwined in contented slumber. His reserve sure as hell didn’t carry over to sex. He’d loved her as fervently, as wickedly as a fallen angel, fiery and uninhibited.
He’d totally lost his iron grip on control. Which had shattered her control as well. Her Big Bad Wolfe had easily persuaded her to hand over all her goodies. Despite her casual pretense with Zane, she didn’t have a whole lot of experience. She’d only gotten physical with a few men after establishing a committed relationship, and while sex had been quite pleasant, she’d never before been instantly flung into a fast, wild, all-consuming orgasm. She’d never taken charge during lovemaking either, never felt uninhibited enough to experiment much—or pursue the intimate act she did to him in the shower to completion.
It’d been fantastic.
She had no idea how or why, but in an unnerving way, she still felt linked not only to Zane’s body, but his thoughts as well. Her stomach clutched. Why Zane Wolfe? Why did her body and heart yearn for a man who was terrified of intimacy, of family—of the entire future she wanted?
How had he so quickly become an integral part of her life?
Sitting up, she saw no sign of him in the cabin or empty bathroom beyond. He wouldn’t desert her after giving his word, so he’d likely gone for a run in an effort to burn off some of the previous night’s angst.
Zane was damaged, with good reason. And while she fully believed he had the potential to change, while she had hope her faith would become fact, she had to admit there was a chance it wouldn’t happen.
She blinked back a surge of unwelcome tears. She’d claimed to barely know the man she’d married, but she knew all she needed to. Zane possessed integrity and courage. Wry humor and innate kindness. Gritty determination and bone-deep loyalty.
She prayed his fortitude would be strong enough—with her help—to heal his wounds and overcome the past.
And she missed him. The charming honeymoon cottage seemed flat and uninspiring without his powerful presence. Rubbing damp eyes, she clambered out of bed, staggered into the bathroom. A pale, bleary woman stared back at her from the mirror.
Becoming dependent on Zane was asking for trouble. Clinging to him, smothering him would drive him away so fast he’d break a land-speed record. He needed time. Patience. And she needed to maintain the nonchalant worldly woman charade she’d begun last night. Another sigh escaped. Too bad she was crappy at charades.
Jillian tilted her head to the left, studying several small love bites on the curve of her neck. Her stomach swooped in delight, which made her feel way too high school for comfort.
She briskly slapped color into her cheeks, trying to fully wake up. God, she needed coffee.
She took a fast, scalding shower, attempting in vain to block the arousing memory of kneeling between Zane’s spread thighs while his hard-muscled body quaked beneath her hands, and his smooth, thick shaft pumped into her mouth.
Girl, you need a double shot of caffeine … and an extra-tall glass of reality.
After drying off, she put on her coral thong, topped by blue-and-white striped capris and a white lace bra beneath a capped-sleeve vintage white-eyelet blouse with a v-shaped collar. Light makeup before she donned her pearls, wrapping the strands three times around her neck like a choker with only a slight double drop beneath. The less formal style—mostly—covered the evidence of Zane’s passion. Damp hair French-braided and fastened with a blue butterfly band, feet clad in woven jute sandals, she headed into the evergreen-scented, sun-washed morning and strolled toward the main lodge.
A half-dozen couples occupied the airy dining room with floor-to-ceiling windows framing the magnificent emerald old-growth forest. Optimistic that she’d be joined sooner or later by Mia and Dallas, and her reluctant husband, Jillian asked the server to seat her at a table for four and requested a pot of coffee.
She’d finished her first cup before Dallas arrived with his wife. Despite Mia’s cheery yellow sundress, the previously vibrant woman was pale and withdrawn, brunette hair tousled. Stony-faced, she stumbled in the wrong direction and Dallas gently steered her to the table and helped her sit down.
Jillian poured a tumbler of ice water from the crystal pitcher the server had brought with the coffee. She placed it in front of the dazed woman. “Oh dear. Morning sickness?”
Dallas uttered a low, rumbling chuckle. “No. Sweet Thing is allergic to all mornings. After some breakfast, she’ll perk right up.” Discerning cobalt eyes studied Jillian, assessed the empty chair at her side. “Zane running behind?”
Zane’s best friend would know good and well he was as prompt as the sunrise. Dallas was really asking if her new husband had bolted.
“He’ll be along eventually,” she said with utter confidence. Zane fully understood the high stakes riding on their ability to convince everyone they were besotted newlyweds. He wouldn’t fail her, or Casey. “But let’s go ahead and order, I want Mia to feel better.”
They placed their orders. Mia was on her second glass of orange juice and Dallas and Jillian had each poured more coffee when Zane finally stalked into the dining area. Button-fly Levi’s snugged his perfect, tight butt, topped by a pine green button-down shirt with the long sleeves rolled up on sinewed forearms. His thick raven hair was damp, his chiseled chin and square jaw freshly shaved … and set in resolute determination. Aviator shades hid his eyes.
The air around him shimmered with alpha male pheromones. He prowled to their table with silent grace, a big untamed animal exuding molten, dangerous sex appeal.
A lightning bolt of desire made Jillian’s heart stutter, and her suddenly trembling fingers tightened in a death grip on her mug.
Who needed caffeine when she had Zane?
Dallas arched a challenging brow. “Hey, Wolfe. Better late than never.”
“Bite me, McQuade.” Zane claimed the chair beside Jillian.
The alluring heat of his body and compelling masculine scent electrified her senses, and she gulped a scalding drink of coffee.
Dallas’ amused glance briefly flicked to Jillian’s neck. As she flushed, the tall cowboy grinned. “Appreciate the offer, but don’t think I need to.”
Zane slid off his sunglasses, laid them on the table and turned to look at Jillian. His warm brown gaze stroked down her neck, lingered on the love bites, stroked back up to lock on hers. Crackling awareness arced between them and she knew he was remembering his mouth on her there while he thrust his long fingers deep inside her.
The pulse beneath the smooth copper skin at his throat throbbed rapidly as golden flames ignited in the umber pools, and Jillian’s belly clenched. “M-morning, Zane.”
One steely arm wrapped her shoulders and he leaned in to kiss her cheek, nuzzle her ear. “Sorry I kept you waiting.” His husky murmur trailed shivers down her backbone. “I went for a run and lost track of time.”
“No problem,” she whispered. She understood he was only performing the obligatory post-wedding-night PDA for any onlookers, but was having trouble catching her breath anyway. “I figured as much. I never doubted you.”
He pulled away and tenderness glowed in his eyes, softened his sensual mouth. Then he banked his emotions and his expression again went enigmatic. “I’m starving,” he said with false heartiness. “What’s everyone having for breakfast?”
Jillian took another swig of coffee. So, they were both going to play pretend.
Which one would crack first?
* * *
Jillian and Zane eventually relaxed during breakfast, Mia awoke from her daze as promised and the meal turned into a lively party of jokes and banter.
Mia related the story of how she’d conned Zane and left him handcuffed to a toilet in the Phoenix airport bathroom while gagged with his own tie, then stolen his wallet and tossed his gun in the airport Dumpster, and Jillian had laughed until tears streamed from her eyes.
Zane unleashed his reserve and teased Mia mercilessly about kicking his ass, and he good-naturedly accepted the return ribbing from everyone at the table. The double-whammy of his quick wit and natural charm burrowed more deeply into Jillian’s heart and she’d reveled in this appealing facet of the man she’d married.
The camaraderie continued during the limo ride to the airport two hours later, where the quartet boarded the return flight to Portland.
Jillian took her seat by the window and glanced up expectantly at Zane, eager to have him to herself all the way home.
But instead of sitting down, he moved past the row. As Mia started to take the seat across the aisle, he gently caught her arm. “I’m going to hijack your husband for the next couple hours. I want to pick his brain about some computer files I’m trying to decipher, and discuss upgrading the outdated security system at the Hope Center.”
“No problem.” Mia bounced into the seat next to Jillian. “That’ll give us time for girl talk.”
He rolled his eyes. “Look out.” He flashed one of his rare gorgeous grins at Jillian, making the world tilt. “Don’t believe a single thing she says.”
Jillian enjoyed Mia’s lively intelligence but after the companionable breakfast, she’d hoped two solo hours in Zane’s company would further draw him out. Her disappointed gaze lingered on his lean, powerful frame as he commandeered the window seat across the aisle.
“Oh,” Mia said sotto voice. “You’ve got it bad for our boy.”
Jillian fastened her seatbelt with suddenly clumsy fingers. “I’m afraid so. I’m just not sure what ‘it’ is.”
They both went quiet while the flight attendant recited the “in the event of” spiel.
As the aircraft taxied along the runway, Mia leaned closer to Jillian. “So what do you think it is?”
The plane picked up speed, lifted off the ground and Jillian’s nerves shot sky-high along with the aircraft. “He’s not at all what I thought I wanted.”
Mia tilted her head. “What did you think you wanted?”
“Well … someone who loves kids and devotes himself to being a father. Someone sensitive and caring, with an even temperament. A scholarly gentleman.”
“Hmm. In other words, a comfortable, passionless relationship.”
Startled, Jillian blinked. “I— When you put it that way, I suppose so, yes.”
Mia nodded. “I know where you’re coming from. I used to feel the same way. Only I thought I didn’t want any man in my life. Intense passion scared the crap out of me. Does it scare you, too?”
Mia’s direct analysis rattled Jillian. Could the intuitive attorney be right? Jillian’s mom and dad had enjoyed a close, vibrant relationship. So close that her mother’s sudden, unexpected death from an aneurysm had devastated Dean Ramsay. Her death had hit them all hard, but years passed before any spark of life returned to Dean’s sorrowful eyes. Even then, the small flicker was a dim shadow of the previous inner light. A helpless witness to his wrenching pain, Jillian had longed to ease his agony. But no one had been able to help.
And growing up in the rough-and-tumble loud male Ramsay domain, Jillian had felt invisible. Her guys all loved her without reservation, but they had an annoying masculine tendency to pat her on the head and dismiss her dreams. She’d clung to the fantasy of a suave, sophisticated man who would share her more tender feelings. Someone who valued sensitivity instead of viewing it as an indulgence. She’d envisioned a relationship with a man more motivated by thoughts and words than action.
She gripped the armrest. Had her father’s intense suffering unknowingly influenced her toward an intellectual relationship? One she viewed as safe? Had her macho brothers’ teasing and disdain of soft emotions convinced her she’d be happier with a meek-mannered poet instead of a fierce warrior?
“I don’t know,” she whispered, confused. “I guess … I’m afraid of heartbreak. My dad is the strongest, most sensible man I know. But he was eviscerated when my mom died. He was never quite the same.”
“Listen.” Mia grasped Jillian’s hand. “No matter what choices we make, pain in life is inevitable. Clichéd, but true. Unfortunately, too many people let fear stop them from pursuing what they really want. I almost let my fear keep me from being with Dallas.”
“But Zane and I are complete opposites. I’m outgoing, he’s reserved. I crave intimacy, he runs from it. I want a big family, he’s so adverse to children he had a vasectomy!”
“Dallas and I are very different, too. But his strengths balance my weaknesses and vice versa. Together, we’re much stronger than we are as individuals.” Mia’s lips pursed. “I don’t believe Zane is as much adverse to kids as he is unused to them. Being with Casey will help. And vasectomies can sometimes be reversed. Or adoption is a possibility.” She patted Jillian’s hand. “I happen to know a great family practice lawyer.”
Jillian bit her lip. “Zane has made his intentions clear. As soon as I get custody of Casey, he’s leaving. He doesn’t want either of us.”
Mia’s gaze deepened. “Do you want Zane?”
“Define ‘want.’”
Mia grinned, arched a dainty brow at Jillian’s neck. “Yeah, I’m surprised the sparks between you didn’t set the dining room on fire.” She sobered. “I’ve seen Zane with a few women, but I’ve never seen anyone get under his skin like you do. With anyone other than Dallas and me, he’s so tightly-leashed and emotionally distant. You’ve definitely connected with Zane physically …” Mia touched Jillian’s pearls. “But this necklace tells me it’s also on a way deeper, personal level. He doesn’t give his women gifts.”
“He had no idea, but pearls are my favorite.”
“Then I bet you know pearls have a special unique quality among gemstones.”
“Yes. The more often you wear them against your skin, the more lustrous and beautiful they become.”
“Right. And I’m betting the more of a physical bond you can create with Zane, the less leery he’ll eventually be to give you his trust. And his heart.”
“The big problem with that plan is the more I’m with him, the more I also care. I’ll be putting my heart at risk, while Zane could choose to stay aloof and removed from the messy emotional part.”
“Only you can decide if it’s worth the risk. But I’ll tell you this—on a par with Dallas, Zane is the most loyal man I’ve ever known. He doesn’t offer his trust easily or often. He’s never given anyone his heart. But if he gives it to you, he’ll be yours forever. If you love him, Jillian, don’t let him go without a fight.”
If you love him.
Trembling from head to toe, Jillian drew a shaky breath. Am I in love with Zane?
Jillian looked across the aisle at her husband. He was engaged in quiet conversation with Dallas, expressive eyes alight with intensity, his regally handsome features strong and serious. Her pulse stumbled.
You’ve been in love with Zane Wolfe since the moment you spun around with a paintbrush in your hand and tumbled into those soulful, wounded eyes.
Her stomach dropped like the plane had hit turbulence. Zane was a complicated man. Initiating a physical relationship with him in hopes it would lead to more was terrifying.
Worse, it was dangerous.
She could end up with shattered dreams and only a jagged, bleeding hole where her heart used to be.
He obviously cared about her, or they wouldn’t have that special link shimmering between them. But did he care enough to be able to defeat his fears?
How far did she dare push him?
Only time—and a huge risk on her part—would answer that question.
Jillian shook her head at Mia. “I have a lot to think about.”
“I know.” Sympathetic amber eyes held hers. “Been there, done that, totally freaked the hell out.”
Jillian leaned back in her seat, closed her eyes and tried to calm the whirlwind in her mind—tried not to think about anything . She had to clamp down her spiraling emotions, or she wouldn’t be able to hide the fact that she was in love with Zane. Panic skittered through her. She was living on borrowed time there anyway, because she wouldn’t be able to fool him for long.
She practiced slow, even meditation breathing. But maybe, hopefully, she could disguise her deep feelings for him long enough to establish enough trust that he wouldn’t flee.