Falling For Rachel: the classic story from the queen of romance that you won’t be able to put down. Нора Робертс
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breaking the provisions, I can’t ignore it.”
“I’m not going to see him tossed back in a cell barely a week after I got him out.”
“We got him out,” she corrected, then unlocked her door. “If you didn’t want my help and advice, you shouldn’t have come.”
Zack shrugged and stepped inside. “I guess I figured we could go out looking together.”
The room was hardly bigger than the one Nick had rented, but it was all female. Not flouncy, Zack thought. Rachel wouldn’t go for flounce. There were vivid colors in the plump pillows tossed over a low-armed sofa. The scented candles were burned down to various lengths, and mums were just starting to fade in a china vase.
There was a huge bronze-framed oval mirror on one wall. Its glass needed resilvering. A three-foot sculpture in cool white marble dominated one corner. It reminded Zack of a mermaid rising up out of the sea. There were smaller sculptures, as well, all of them passionate, some of them bordering on the ferocious. A timber wolf rearing out of a slab of oak, twisted fingers of bronze and copper that looked like a fire just out of control, a smooth and sinuous malachite cobra ready to strike.
There were shelves of books, and dozens of framed photographs—and there was the unmistakable scent of woman.
Zack felt uncharacteristically awkward and clumsy, and completely out of place. He stuck his hands in his pockets, certain he’d knock over one of those slender tapers. His mother had liked candles, he remembered. Candles and flowers and blue china bowls.
“I’ll make coffee.” Rachel tossed her purse aside and walked into the adjoining kitchen.
“Yeah. Good.” Restless, Zack roamed the room, checked out the view through the cheerful striped curtains, frowned over the photographs that were obviously of her family, paced back to the sofa. “I don’t know what I’m doing. What makes me think I can play daddy to a kid Nick’s age? I wasn’t around for half his life. He hates me. He’s got a right.”
“You’ve been doing fine,” Rachel countered, taking out cups and saucers. “You’re not playing daddy, you’re being his brother. If you weren’t around for half his life, it’s because you had a life of your own. And he doesn’t hate you. He’s angry and full of resentment which is a long way from hate—which he wouldn’t have any right to. Now stop feeling sorry for yourself, and get out the milk.”
“Is that how you cross-examine?” Not sure whether he was amused or annoyed, Zack opened the refrigerator.
“No, I’m much tougher than that in court.”
“I bet.” He shook his head at the contents of her refrigerator. Yogurt, a package of bologna, another of cheese, several diet soft drinks, a jug of white wine, two eggs, and half a stick of butter. “You’re out of milk.”
She swore, then sighed. “So we drink it black. Did you and Nick have a fight?”
“No— I mean no more than usual. He snarls, I snarl back. He swears, I swear louder. But we actually had what could pass for a conversation last night, then watched an old movie on the tube after the bar closed.”
“Ah, progress…” She handed him his coffee in a dainty cup and saucer that felt like a child’s tea set in his hands.
“We get a lot of families in for lunch on Sundays.” Zack ignored the china handle and wrapped his fingers around the bowl of the cup. “He was down in the kitchen at noon. I figured he might like to knock off early, you know, take some time for himself. I went into the kitchen around four. Rio didn’t want to rat on him, so he’d been covering for him for an hour or so. I hoped he’d just taken a breather, but… Then I went out looking.” Zack finished off the coffee, then helped himself to more. “I’ve been pretty hard on him the last few days. It seemed like the best way. On my first ship, my CO was a regular Captain Bligh. I hated the bastard until I realized he’d turned us into a crew.” Zack grinned a little. “Hell, I still hated him, but I never forgot him.”
“Stop beating yourself up.” She couldn’t prevent herself from reaching out, touching his arm. “It isn’t as if you hanged him from the yardarm or whatever. Now sit down and try to relax. Let me talk to Alex.”
He did sit, though he wasn’t happy about it. Because he felt like an idiot trying to balance the delicate saucer on his knee, he set it down on the table. There wasn’t an ashtray in sight, so he clamped down on the urge for a cigarette.
He paid little attention to Rachel until her voice rose in frustration. Then he smiled a little. She was certainly full of fire, punching out requests and orders with the aplomb of a seasoned seaman. Lord, he’d gotten so he looked forward to hearing that throaty, impatient voice. How many times over the past few days had he made up excuses to call her?
Too many, he admitted. Something about the lady had hooked him, and Zack wasn’t sure whether he wanted to pry himself loose or be reeled in.
And the last thing he should be doing now was thinking of his libido, he reminded himself. He had to think about Nick.
Obviously Rachel’s brother was resisting, but she wasn’t taking no for an answer. When she switched to heated Ukrainian, Zack reached over to toy with the spitting cobra in the center of the coffee table. It drove him crazy when she talked in Ukrainian.
“Tak,” she said, satisfied that she’d worn Alex down. “I owe you one, Alexi.” She laughed, a rich, and full-blooded laugh that sent heat straight to Zack’s midsection. “All right, all right, so I’ll owe you two.” Zack watched her hang up and cross long legs covered in a hunter-green material that was silky enough to whisper seductively when her thighs brushed together. “Alex and his partner are going to cruise around, check out some of the Cobras’ known haunts. They’ll let us know if they see him.”
“So we wait?”
“We wait.” She rose and took a fresh legal pad from a drawer. “To pass the time, you can fill me in a little more on Nick’s background. You said his mother died when he was about fifteen. What about his father?”
“His mother wasn’t married before.” Zack reached automatically for a cigarette, then remembered. Recognizing the gesture, Rachel rose again and found a chipped ashtray. “Thanks.” Relieved, he lit a cigarette, cupping his fingers around the tip out of habit. “Nadine was about eighteen when she got pregnant, and the guy wasn’t interested in family. He took off and left her to fend for herself. So she had Nick and did what she could. One day she came into the bar looking for work. Dad hired her.”
“How old was Nick?”
“Four or five. Nadine was barely making ends meet. Sometimes she couldn’t get a sitter for him, so Dad told her to bring the kid along and I’d watch him. He was okay,” Zack said with a half smile. “I mean, he was real quiet. Most of the time he’d just watch you like he was expecting to get dumped on. But he was smart. He’d just started school, but he could already read, and he could print some, too. Anyway, a couple months later, Nadine and my father got married. Dad was about twenty years older than she was, but I guess they were both lonely. My mother’d been dead for more than ten years. Nadine and the kid moved in.”
“How did you…how did Nick adjust?”
“It seemed okay. Hell, I was a kid myself.” Restless again, he rose to pace. “Nadine bent over backward trying to please everyone. That’s the way she was. My father…he wasn’t always easy, you know, and he put a lot of time into the bar. We weren’t a Norman Rockwell kind of family, but we did okay.” He glanced back at her photographs, surprised at the quick twinge of envy. “I didn’t mind the kid hanging around me. Much. Then I joined the navy, right out of high school. It was kind of a family tradition. When Nadine died, it was hard on Nick. Hard on my father. I guess you could say they took it out on each other.”
“Is that when Nick started to get into trouble?”
“I’d say he got into his share before that, but it got worse. Whenever