A Battle Raging (16 page)

"Arnie, thank you for that elucidating comment," Dr. Madison said. "Again, Zach, I do expect something to arise from this class…"

"Arise?" Another quip from Arnie. More snickers all around. Zach's smile was turning into a beam.

"OK, everybody, this is a serious subject so please treat it as such. Even your sexual lives must be considered under the shadow of your stress disorders. As I was saying, Zach, it is fine that you have found someone with whom you can share your history without any backlash. But since she's in a dual role in your life, I hope that your therapeutic healing doesn't suffer by one overriding the over. It would be irresponsible of her under the circumstances if she allowed that."

Zach lost his smile. "Well, it's not as though she was officially charged with my well-being. As far as she was concerned, I was just another student. I told her about my history at your request. But she had no obligation to you or me. And as for my "therapy," I am actually painting, so it's not as though the class is being wasted."

The doctor seemed a little appeased.

"Well, that's something then.
As long as the painting is an expression of your emotions, then this could be a good thing."

"You can say that I'm passionate about the subject," Zach said with a straight face, belying the amusement he felt.

"Good. Maybe you can even show the group when you're through?"

"Uh, well, it's kind of personal…"

"Sometimes Zach, in order to overcome your inner demons, you have to take the personal public. It's a way to regain power over that which has taken power from you. Well, just say you'll think about it."

Zach nodded, knowing that he would never let anyone see the painting. It was his alone, a gift from Maya.

As the doctor proceeded with the next group member, Zach thought about the aborted drawing still lying on his table back at the apartment. Despite his cynicism about Dr. Madison's advice, the doctor had a point about expelling his anger and fear. That he was stalled on this one sketch was evidence that he still wasn't facing what had him so torn up inside.

It was something nagging at his memory. Something that found no release in dreams or nightmares. Something that he
couldn't bring to light with charcoal and paper. It was deeply entrenched in his skull. Something about that day in Pur Chaman.

If he could just remember, then maybe he could finally exorcise the "demons" that Dr. Madison kept talking about.

He tuned back in just in time to hear Melvin, current Army, between tours, finish up something about his dreams. About birds. The doctor said it was a manifestation of his need to be free.

"Bullshit!" Jerry exclaimed. "It's all bullshit." Then he
continued to mumble to himself.

They all roundly ignored him.

"Oh God, this is so good!
" Maya exclaimed in near ecstasy.

Zach loved seeing the pleasure on her face, how
her mouth worked so sensually as she ran her tongue over her top lip.

He just wished the others weren't around so that he could enjoy her pleasure in private.

But he was glad that he had picked something she enjoyed. Chocolate.

The bartender at Oliver's stood appreciatively viewing the tour participants as they tasted "The Chocolate Flatliner" a Seattle original.
Zach noted that the man's eyes lingered on Maya a bit longer than the others. He felt a twinge of discomfort, noting that the man marked Maya's expression. Something with an unfortunate sexual connotation. But she loved chocolate; that was something she'd revealed to him that Saturday after they'd made love. And he wanted to gift her with this chocolate tour.

"It's good, isn't it?
" the man asked Maya. "We mix the coffee with the chocolate just so to give it a smooth, evocative taste."

The way he stressed the word
evocative
raised Zach's hackles. The bartender was definitely flirting with Maya, even though it was obvious that Maya was with him. Zach finished off his own drink, found it too sweet for his taste. Actually, no. He was just being a prick because Maya was getting attention that he resented. Why shouldn't other men notice her? After all, she was a beautiful woman.

And he was a man.
And men were territorial.

"
Yeah, it evokes something in me, too," Zach said. And with the subtlety of a moose in a crystal shop, he placed his free hand around Maya's waist, his fingers splayed on her ass.

He didn't have to look up at her to know she was looking at him with a "wtf" look. But he was satisfied to note that the bartended received the not-so-tacit message that the beautiful woman was taken. And yes, by the guy in the wheelchair.

Nancy, their tour guide piped in. "I hope all of you enjoyed the Flatliner. I know it's one of my favorites. Next on our walking tour is the Dahlia Bakery. There you will taste some of the most decadent confections this side of heaven. Or hell. Because it's also devilishly good."

As they left Oliver's, Maya slowed down a bit, letting the others go ahead of her.

"So what was that all about?" she asked softly, wary of listening ears.

"He was try
ing to move in on my territory," he said sort of wiseass, knowing she would blanch."

She did not disappoint.

"
Your
territory?" she asked with a raised eyebrow. "Sorry to inform you, bud, but I'm the only one with ownership papers on me. Everything you see is mine. Not that I'm adverse to some visitation and exploration…"

"How about some
deep excavation?"

"Again, very possible," she said with a saucy smile. And suddenly, he didn't feel like traveling the shops on the tour
any longer, tasting other chocolate concoctions when he would love to bury himself in her chocolate. But of course, he would have to wait. She picked up her pace and he rolled along, catching up with the others.

After
the Dahlia Bakery (where among other treats they tasted a coconut cream pie), there was the Confectional (chocolate cheesecake washed down with Colombian sipping chocolate); Fran's Chocolates where they met the owner, Fran, of course; then on to KuKuRazu's Popcorn, where they tasted a maple bacon flavored popcorn; and lastly, the Chocolate Box with a mad chocolate coffee gelato. Zach was almost overdosing on the sugar and Maya's expressions ranged from heavenly to the earlier ecstasy to total satisfaction. He wanted to see those faces tonight.

At the Chocolate Box, he purchased their signature "Best of the Best" featuring "spicy" and "fiery" chocolate concocted by chocolatiers around the Pacific Northwest.
He handed the gift to her outside the shop.

"Thanks," she said, looking at the description of the contents. "
Hmm, spicy. Can't wait to try this."

"What about tonight?" he asked hopefully.

"Tonight…hmmm." She let the sentence hang and at first he thought she was going to say no.

"Tonight…is all right. I guess. So what are we talking? About seven?"

He smiled and nodded.

"Seven it is."

As they walked back to her car, he whistled a song while he wheeled along. It was a happy song.

###

She was showing off and she knew it. But then, she had to feed him. It was only good manners.

She took the lid of
f the slow cooker, peeked at the Italian pot roast, fallen apart in large pieces, savoring in its own juice. She took a fork, picked up a piece and tasted. She nodded to herself in satisfaction. Just the right amount of garlic, basil, oregano and pepper.

In the oven, she was roasting potatoes and tomatoes. Everything was being roasted tonight.
For flavor, the potatoes were bathed with chicken broth, butter and sprinkled with garlic.

For a minute, she wished she had bought at least
a little something from the negligee shop. She could then change into something "more comfortable" than the outfit she'd worn all that afternoon. A sheer blouse and dark slacks. Not very original.

She looked
up at the kitchen wall clock. Almost a quarter to seven.

She barely could admit to herself how much she was looking forward to tonight.
And his enjoying her dinner. And since he was off alcohol, she'd made a spritzer flavored with pineapple and strawberries. Then there would be bits of spicy chocolate for dessert.

And after,
more dessert in the bedroom.

Damn, she ought to stop that. Acting like she was all brand new.

But then again, she hadn't felt this way even with Bryan. With him, it'd been more or less perfunctory on her part. His claim to a large dick made him lazy when it came to pleasing a woman.

Zach on the other hand
was neither short on size or finesse. He made a woman actually feel wanted. Something she hadn't felt in a long time.

Twenty minutes passed as she set the table and she wondered if he was having trouble with the bus. She'd offered to pick him up, but he'd said no, that he could make it.

Just as she wondered if she should ring him on his cell, the doorbell rang.

She forced herself to walk slowly to the door, and promised herself not to be too eager. Just let the evening unfold naturally.

But her nerves took a pummeling when she opened the door to find him sitting there with an impeccably sexy smile. Sexy because it was so genuine. She wondered if he was aware of how such a simple thing as his smile set her body jangling.

He wore a dark blue sweater and jeans, and yet managed to look more than casual.
In his hand was a bottle of Pinot Noir. She looked at it quizzically.

"I thought…" she began.

"Yeah, I know but it's not for me. I just thought since it seems to be your wine of choice you could drink it sometime when you're alone and think of me."

"Well, aren't you sweet, making sure I think of you," she said with a smile as she stepped back to let him maneuver his chair into the house. Once inside, he handed her the bottle.

"What is that wonderful smell?" he asked.

He sniffed the air
appreciably and she couldn't help feeling a measure of pride.

"Well, you're my guest, and
if you haven't figured it out by now, my guests never leave on empty stomachs. It just wouldn't be neighborly. Come this way."

"Yes, ma'am," he said with a mock salute.

She'd set the meat on a large plate, and the side dishes alongside it. Even with this presentation, she tried to be creative, the artist never far from the surface. The pitcher of iced spritzer sparkled in the light from the overhead chandelier.

He whistled.

"This is just…wow."

"Glad you're impressed. We aim to please."

"You are definitely an artist," he said, putting to words her own silent summation.

"So, now what can't you do?" he asked, somewhat seriously.

"Too much, believe me. This is just cooking. Something my mama taught me. Feel free to help yourself."

He waited for her to sit before reaching for a slice of beef and then spooning some potatoes onto his plate. He took a taste, and she silently noted his expression.

"Your mom taught you well. This is delicious. You could teach a course on cooking along with art."

"My mother believed that at the least her kids were going to be able to cook for themselves. And trust
me, Mark wasn't excluded from that goal."

"Was he a good cook?"

She nodded. "Yeah, he was more than decent. We especially liked his chocolate chip pancakes on Saturday mornings. We all basically took turns "presenting" as mama liked to call it. Sometimes breakfast and, on special occasions, dinner. Holidays even. I remember when Mark was about seventeen, he actually did the turkey for Thanksgiving. It was delicious, too."

He took a bite of the potato and sauce. "You think of him a lot?"

She nodded. "I think I have it down now to once or twice a day. It could be something so simple as hearing a man's laugh and thinking it sounds like him. I spotted an Air Force uniform on the university campus and I couldn't help but think about him. Made me tear up a little. But time is definitely a healer. The pain is not as acute as it once was."

She saw that he had stopped eating and was concentrating on her.

"I didn't mean to interrupt your dinner. I don't want to be Sad Sally here. It's just that…"

He shook his head. "No, I understand. I still miss my parents and think how different both mine and Janey's lives would've been had they not gone on that flight. Death is…well…death."

"OK, we are not going to be glum tonight, my house rule."

"Yes, ma'am
, again," he smiled and set about finishing his dinner. He poured the spritzer, took a taste and nodded his approval.

They ate for a while
keeping the conversation topic-lite, neither of them bringing up any expectations.