A Family to Call Her Own. Irene Hannon
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arm brushed her chest, a surge of yearning unexpectedly swept over her, and she drew in a sharp breath.
Zach turned to her immediately, his concerned eyes probing her face. “Are you all right?” he asked with a frown.
She nodded jerkily, not trusting her voice.
He looked at her appraisingly, noting that she’d wrapped her arms tightly around her body in a protective gesture that said, “Stay away.” But, surprisingly enough, her unguarded eyes said something entirely different. They reflected a combination of emotions—longing, fear, uncertainty, confusion, yearning. He doubted whether she realized just how eloquent they were. Rebecca definitely did not have a poker face. She wore her emotions too close to the surface, and her eyes were a window to her soul, communicating clearly what was in her heart.
Zach wanted to respond to the longing he saw, wanted to reach out and gather her into his arms, but he stifled the urge and drew in an unsteady breath. His self-control had never been taxed as much as it was around this woman, who brought out a protective instinct in him that he thought had died years ago. She was the kind of woman who should be cherished and loved and always treated gently, in keeping with her gentle nature.
Unfortunately, Zach didn’t have much experience dealing with women like that. Suddenly, desperately, he wished he did, wished he knew how to make Rebecca relax with him, to trust him, to give it a chance. He honestly didn’t know where a relationship with her might lead. The physical attraction was definitely there. And maybe that’s all there was. But he didn’t think so. His gut told him there could be a whole lot more, and he’d learned to trust his instincts. They ought to explore their attraction. But first he had to convince her of that.
However, now was not the time. She was cold, aching, tired and wet. What she needed was a dry, warm bed. And rest. And peace of mind. Which—unfortunately—was his cue to exit.
Rebecca was caught in the spell of Zach’s magnetic eyes as they held hers captive. He had wonderful eyes, she thought. Trustworthy. Caring. Insightful. Vibrant. Passionate. Very definitely passionate, she realized with a start. She might want rest. He clearly wanted something else—something she couldn’t give. Certainly not now. And maybe never. The simple fact was, Zach was a man of intense passions. Rebecca knew that as surely as she knew her reaction to passion. And the two were not a promising combination, she thought bleakly.
Zach saw the sudden melancholy steal into Rebecca’s eyes, and without stopping to consider the consequences he slowly reached over and laid his hand against her cheek, brushing his thumb gently over her soft, silky skin. He felt her quivering beneath his touch, but she didn’t pull away as he’d half expected. She just stared up at him with wide, vulnerable eyes.
Get out of here before you do something you’ll regret, an inner voice ordered. Now!
“Take a hot bath, okay?” he suggested.
“Okay,” she whispered.
“And get some rest.”
“I will.”
It would be so easy to just pull her close, to taste her lips, to demonstrate the depth of his attraction to her. It was what he wanted to do. Even with her hair in disarray and darkened by dampness, her classic features tinged with fatigue and wiped free of makeup, wearing mud-caked boots and an oversize parka, she did more for his libido than any woman he’d ever met. It didn’t make any sense. And if he was confused, she surely would be, too.
Zach didn’t usually waste time analyzing his reaction to a woman. He just listened to his hormones and went after what he wanted. But he knew instinctively that Rebecca wouldn’t respond to his usual direct approach. And he also recognized that tonight was not the time to explore their attraction. She was too tired and too vulnerable.
Regretfully, summoning up the last reserves of his self-control, he let his hand drop from her cheek and removed his other hand from her shoulder. “Good night, Rebecca.”
“G-good night. And thank you.”
He hesitated one more second, then, with a last lingering sweep of her face, he turned and strode away into the rain.
Rebecca rose on one arm to peer at the bedside clock, reading the digital display with a groan. One in the morning! She thumped her pillow and flopped onto her back, cringing as her aching muscles protested the abrupt movement. After the last couple of days of backbreaking work she needed rest desperately, but sleep was proving to be elusive tonight. Her sore muscles were just making it too difficult to get comfortable.
But so were thoughts of Zach, she admitted. Tonight she was sure he had been thinking about kissing her. But then, in her exhausted state, maybe she’d misread his eyes. It wasn’t as if she had a whole lot of experience to draw on. But there had definitely been…vibrations, she thought, for lack of a better word. Surely she wasn’t mistaken about that. Yet, in the end, he’d simply walked away.
Rebecca stared at the dark ceiling and tried to think logically. Despite his restraint earlier in the evening, she knew he was interested. He’d made no secret of the fact. He’d been angling for a date ever since their “official” meeting in the diner. She’d put him off, but he didn’t seem discouraged. Just more determined. Which made her nervous.
But what made her even more nervous was her interest in him.
Rebecca closed her eyes and drew a deep, quivering breath. She didn’t want to be interested in Zach. She didn’t want to feel nervous and unsettled every time she was in his presence. She didn’t want to wait anxiously every day to see if he’d stop in for lunch so she could at least catch a glimpse of him. But she was and she did. And that scared her. Because she knew that deep in her subconscious she was starting to consider going out with him.
It wasn’t that she didn’t want to date him. She did. She found him attractive, was flattered by his attention, impressed by his apparent character and integrity. But she was so afraid of what would happen if he… A choked sob cut off her thought in mid-sentence. She didn’t have to wonder what would happen. She knew. Physical closeness freaked her out. Period. She’d embarrass both of them. He might even be angry. She didn’t know him well enough to be able to judge his reaction. But based on past experience with other men, it wouldn’t be pretty. No, dating Zach would be a mistake.
Besides, she consoled herself, he’d be leaving soon. This was just a temporary beat for him. He was a city man, used to lights and action and excitement. And he sure wouldn’t find those in St. Genevieve. She was better off sticking to her original decision.
But if that was true, then why didn’t she feel better off? she cried silently.
Zach typed in the final line of his story, then leaned back and wearily massaged his temple. It had been a long, cold, wet night, and it had taken him what seemed like hours to warm up after he dropped Rebecca off. But at least he had a good story to show for his discomfort, he thought in satisfaction. It uplifted. It reaffirmed. It found goodness even in the midst of chaos and tragedy. It was the kind of story Josef would like, he realized suddenly, a faint smile touching his lips as he thought of his friend.
Zach pulled out his wallet and flipped through the plastic holders, stopping at one that contained a photo taken at Isabel’s christening, nearly eight years before. Josef and Katrina had insisted that Zach be the godfather, though he’d protested that the honor should go to a relative. He still remembered Josef’s response to his reaction.
“Sometimes ties of the heart are the strongest of all, stronger even than blood, Zachary. You are my best friend, and you would honor us by becoming part of our family in this way.”
And so, of course Zach had agreed. He recalled clearly the day the picture was taken. It was right before Zach and Katrina went home, an unseasonably warm late-May afternoon even for St. Louis. They asked him to hold Isabel for the picture, and then stood on either side of him while the minister snapped the photo. Zach had no experience with babies and was almost afraid to grasp the tiny, fragile bit of life, with her flailing arms and kicking legs. But Josef laughingly assured him that Isabel wouldn’t break, and in fact