All or Nothing (33 page)

Just dancing snow.

He might think differently when he saw the scar, but Jen was bracing herself for that.

Maybe she wouldn't let him see it this time.

Maybe she'd take this moment and make it last as long as she could.

Jen couldn't help thinking that no matter what happened after this, the look in Zach's eyes in that coffee shop when he'd understood would make it all worthwhile. There had been compassion and surprise and admiration all mixed up together. He'd looked at her as if she'd conquered adversity, as if this night was as special to him as it was becoming to her.

That made her feel pretty damn good.

And she hadn't even had an orgasm.

Yet.

W
hen Zach opened the door to his condo, Jen was shocked, and it wasn't by the enthusiastic canine greeting she received.

There was furniture in the living room.

“Is this really your place?” she asked, pretending to check the number on the door.

He grinned, hung up her coat, then bent to clip Roxie's leash on to her collar. If Jen hadn't thought it impossible, she would have said he was embarrassed. He was certainly avoiding her gaze.

He wasn't just putting her on about trying to be an adult. He had listened to her and made some changes. She was impressed.

Jen wondered what other changes Zach had made.

“I just picked up a couple of things,” he said, then reached for the door. “Do you mind? Roxie needs a pit stop.”

“No problem. I'll just wait.”

“Good.” Their gazes locked and held for an electric minute, then Zach was gone. Jen took off her boots and left them in the foyer. She used the washroom, noting how clean it was. Since he really did live here, that was impressive, too. She peeked into the medicine cabinet and was reassured by its Spartan interior. No prescriptions. That worked for her.

She went back into the living room, then, on impulse, turned out the lights that Zach had flicked on when they arrived. The falling snow brightened the room and the cascading flakes of snow were all that she could see out the windows. It was quiet.

A haven in an unexpected place. The candles that had been burning the last time she was here were still on the window sill, as were the matches. She lit them, liking how their light mingled with that from the snow.

Once again, Jen had the sense that she had stepped out of time and space, into a place where there was nothing but tranquility.

She turned and looked, wondering if Zach had bought furniture just because of what she had said to him. He did have a tendency to listen when she least expected it.

Zach also had a tendency to do things that surprised her, but that she liked once she saw them. The same was true of the furniture. She never would have anticipated that he would have liked modern furniture, but he obviously did, and she liked that.

Now she could see that it suited him perfectly.

There were a pair of armchairs in the living room with an end table between them, plus a dining table with four chairs in the dining room. She moved the candles around, so that the room was filled with their golden light. The furniture looked as if he'd just dragged it back to his cave and not known what to do with it. There still wasn't a rug or any drapes, no art on the walls other than his single framed photo.

That one was so good, though, that Jen thought it deserved pride of place. She stopped to admire it again.

The furniture wasn't new, not by a long shot, although someone had taken care of it. There were a few scratches in the wood and the upholstery was hopelessly faded orange burlap, but he'd bought teak. Even in need of a polish, the grain of the wood gleamed. Jen could see that he'd gone after the arm of one chair in an attempt to clean it up, because that one shone more than the rest. The suite would look gorgeous when it was all polished.

Teak was Jen's favorite. She always thought the 60's Scandinavian stuff was underrated, given its sleek lines and solid quality. She ran one hand over the arm of one chair in admiration before it struck her.

Zach had bought used furniture. And not from fancy shop that refinished the past for the present. This looked as if he'd scored it at a garage sale or lucked out in a major way at the Salvation Army.

Jen felt a tingle. Did Zach intuitively know how to reduce, reuse and recycle, or was he taking a page from her book? She remembered his car, which he'd had longer than he'd known her, and couldn't give herself credit. In fact, she had a growing suspicion that they had a lot more in common than she'd initially thought.

Which made her being here on this night even more perfect.

Jen sat in the chair with the polished arm and ran her fingers over the smooth wood. She sat in the flickering candlelight, watched the snow fall, watched the light play with the photograph he'd taken in Venice, and felt a weird mix of tranquility and excitement.

She was exactly where she needed to be. She couldn't make sense of that conviction, and she didn't really want to. She thought of her mother casting their astrological charts and declaring that their relationship was a fated one and knew it was true.

She knew it. She didn't know where it was going or how it would end, but she knew that being here with Zach was right.

And Natalie's youngest daughter had learned a long time ago that some things had to be taken on faith.

* * *

Zach was impatient with Roxie's quest for the perfect spot, because he was pretty sure Jen wouldn't be in his apartment when he got back upstairs. She'd be gone, having left a note on the fridge if he was lucky, and this would be the end of everything.

He couldn't do Elvis again.

Well, he could, but it wouldn't be as effective. Surprise wouldn't be on his side.

He hadn't even asked Jen about Christmas yet.

Neither of those were the real reason he was so anxious to get back upstairs.

Roxie seemed to sense his urgency—it could have been the way he tugged at her leash—because she headed back for the building in a power trot once she was done. She broke into a run once the elevator doors opened on his floor and Zach dropped the leash to keep from slipping on the wet tile. She went straight to the door of his condo, sniffled at the crack and whimpered.

Zach was afraid that that was a bad sign. He spoke to the dog quietly, then opened the door, fully expecting to find his apartment empty.

Instead it was filled with candlelight. Zach froze on the threshold and felt for the first time as if he'd come home. Jen was sitting in one of his new chairs, as still as a statue.

She smiled at him and his heart stopped cold.

Roxie launched herself across the room for a second greeting, and Jen calmed her with enviable ease.

“She's crazy for you,” Zach said as he shook the snow out of his hair and hung up his coat. “She dragged me back up here.”

Jen patted the dog, who wagged mightily, catching her head in her hands. “You're so neglected, aren't you?” Roxie licked her hands happily. “You still look shiny and happy to me, so I'm not convinced,” she said to the dog and Zach smiled.

Then Jen glanced up at him. “So, what's this all about? Why the sudden influx of furniture?”

Zach shoved a hand through his hair, not really wanting to talk about decor. “Well, it kind of turned up...”

Jen seemed to be fighting a smile. “Turned up? Does furniture often leap into your path?”

“It's been known to spontaneously manifest in my vicinity,” he joked and she laughed.

“Then maybe you should take up a career as a picker.”

“No, I've got a vocation. I think you can only have one.”

“At a time, anyway.” She regarded him warily. “You're not hanging out with people who deck you again, are you?”

Zach shook his head. “No. That was only a passing hobby.”

“An infatuation.”

“A flirtation at best.”

She looked to the photograph. “But that's the real thing?”

Zach smiled, liking that she understood his ambition—such as it was—so well. “Yes. How'd you know?”

“You're good at it. Vocations are like that.”

Zach sat in the other chair and watched Jen, liking her easy manner. The candlelight made dancing highlights in her hair, and made her eyes seem darker and more mysterious. Her skin looked golden, and the shadows beneath her eyes seemed to have faded. She looked serene, yet curious. He wasn't quite sure how to proceed, not knowing how spooked she would be about him seeing her missing breast.

And he really didn't want to mess up.

“Well, the truth about the furniture is that I was in Rosemount —”

“You went home? To your family place?”

“No. Not Grey Gables.” Zach pretended to shudder.

“It can't be that bad.”

“I don't really want to go and find out.” Too late, Zach realized this bit of honesty would make the Christmas invite awkward. Rather than figuring that out, he continued his story. “I went to my sister Philippa's place. She lives in Rosemount, in her husband's aunt's house.”

“Sounds complicated.”

“It can be. I went to talk to her, but ended up bouncing a baby and painting the kitchen.” He spread his hands. “See what I mean?”

Jen smiled, as if this confession pleased her. “I thought you didn't get along with your family. You said you were all really good at avoiding each other.”

“We are. Usually.” Zach thought about this. “Maybe we're getting over it. Anyway, someone on her street was having a garage sale and I stopped to look. The price was really good and I like it, so we made a deal.”

“Don't say that you're cheap, but you're not easy,” Jen teased.

Zach smiled. “I won't, because I'm feeling pretty easy right now.”

“Are you?”

“Go ahead; have your way with me.”

Jen laughed a little and blushed, then stroked the arm of the chair he'd cleaned. “Are you going to reupholster them?”

“What's wrong with the orange?” he asked, pretending to be oblivious to its splendid ugliness.

“It looks like you stole it from a dorm...” Jen started before she glanced up and saw his smile.

“Gotcha.” He leaned closer, flicked his fingertip across her nose. She sobered and caught her breath, but didn't pull away. He knew he had to go slowly. He smiled to reassure her, then caught her hand in his, interlacing their fingers and pulling her to her feet. “Let's dance.”

“There's no music,” she protested but she moved into his arms all the same.

“Didn't stop us before. Do you want me to sing?”

“I kind of like the snow and the candlelight,” she breathed into his shoulder and he had to agree. They moved around the room slowly, waltzing to no music. Zach closed his eyes and leaned his cheek against the side of her head, pulling her a little closer.

She caught her breath but she moved closer, one hand on his shoulder, one trapped within his. Her face was against his neck, her nose was cold. He ran his hand down her back to put his hand on her waist, letting his thumb slide down the vertebrae. She shivered.

“What kind of upholstery?” she asked.

Zach's eyes opened in surprise. He forced himself to think of something other than how Jen felt and struggled to remember their conversation.

Upholstery.

Chairs.

Right. “I'll guess leather is out,” he said, frowning. “Although it would look good.”

“Nothing should die for the sake of appearances,” Jen said sternly.

He caught her chin in his fingertips and forced her to meet his gaze. “My point exactly.” Sensing that he'd wandered close to dangerous ground, he switched gears to make her smile. “On the other hand, the nauga lobby is pretty scary. I don't want to be answerable for dead naugas, do you?”

“Naugahyde isn't made of dead naugas,” Jen chided, a smile in her voice.

“How many innocent polyesters should I see slaughtered for my upholstery? As a responsible human, concerned with my environmental footprint, I was thinking cotton.”

“You're just trying to have your way with me, by talking about renewable resources.”

Zach grinned. “You don't seem to have an issue with it.”

“True.” Jen stretched up and kissed him, surprising him to silence. “Go ahead, consider undyed hemp and you can have your way with me.”

“Deal,” Zach said. He kissed her before she could argue with that.

He'd been prepared to cajole her, but Jen surprised him again. She arched against him immediately and twined her hands into his hair, participating in the embrace as she never had before. She felt long and lithe and strong. Her kiss was demanding and his circuit board was melting faster than he'd ever anticipated it could.

Or would.

He swung her up into his arms and caught her against his chest. The twinkle in her eyes told him that their tempo was exactly right. He took his time, not wanting to spook her. “And you haven't even seen the bedroom suite yet.”

Jen blinked. “You bought a bed?”

“Roxie was complaining about the futon's effects on her back.”

“More garage sale stuff?” Jen was swinging her feet, her expression playful and seductive. Zach wished yet again that he had his camera.

On the other hand, he had his arms full and, given the choice, Jen was better to hold than a camera. “The same sale. I'm not a real power hunter. Yet.”

She granted him a playful look through her bangs. “You're not going to promise to show me your etchings?”

“I have photos, and you've seen the only one I'm showing.”

Jen glanced toward the Venice shot and smiled. “If you're only going to have one, it might as well be a beauty.”

Zach was flattered and pleased that she liked the shot that well. “Applies to women as well as art.”

“Should I take that to mean that you've been a collector in the past?”