Amber's Embrace (20 page)

This was not quite what she had expected when she had awaited a call all week. Determinedly, she held her frustration in check. “What do you mean—away for the weekend? That all depends on where—”

The deep growl that interrupted her was also uncharacteristic. “Don’t argue, Amber. I’ll be at your house at about four to pick you up.”

“But, Zachary—”

“We have to talk. I’ve rented a place in Provincetown for the weekend. I’ll see you later.”

“I don’t know—” Her words drifted off into a dead extension, moments after Zachary hung up.

If he had given her more time, she told herself, she would have made a personal protest. As it was, the morning was jammed with a department meeting from which she could not escape until one thirty, at which point there was barely time to try to track Zachary down in the hospital. Or so the rationalization went.

Four o’clock found her in her living room, an overnight bag on the floor by the door, her purse and car keys in her hand. There was still time to escape, she knew, toying with the idea of simply taking off in her own car and going somewhere other than Provincetown for the weekend. But the fact remained clear to her, as she slumped into the sofa, that she wanted to be with
him.
He wanted to talk. If it was a speech of farewell, he would hardly have suggested going away for the weekend. Instinct told her that she would have to see this through. If the love she felt for Zachary meant anything, she had to respect his wish and trust his intent.

If she was paler and leaner for a week of distress, Zachary seemed no better when he appeared at her door shortly after four. Though groomed impeccably, he, too, seemed weary and less confident. Some strange will in Amber made her reach out to touch his hand when he stooped to lift her bag. Straightening, he gave her a smile of encouragement, then led the way to the car.

For three hours, they rode in near silence, exchanging only the most superficial of conversation. Yet there was nothing awkward in the silence. She felt the uncanny conviction that their minds were on the same wavelengths, that they were headed in the same direction. The car followed around the elbow of Cape Cod to its tip, where the colony of Provincetown lay, exposed to the whim of the Atlantic on all sides but one, that from which they now approached.

Parking the car before a stately old house, he slid from behind the steering wheel. “I’ll be right back.” His voice was soft and gentle. There was no harshness, but rather a strange element of defeat which Amber had not dreamed he could possess. Her eyes followed his lean form, outlined darkly in a navy jersey and snug jeans, as he mounted the steps of the house impatiently and entered. She clung to the sight of that front screen until he reemerged, a set of keys in his hand, to drive them further down the private lane until a small stone cottage came into sight. This time, when he parked in a rutted space, Amber jumped out, drawn irresistibly beyond the cottage to the ocean, which fronted it several hundred yards ahead.

The ocean—an endless entity, beckoning the heart to surrender to its depths in an emotional purge. The salt of the spray was a sample, a temptation. For Amber, this was her own release from all that was bottled within. The wind blew her silken hair away from her shoulders, gently buffeting her body as she plodded on, through sand soft and warm beneath her sandals.

As the waves clapped furiously against the shore in eternal rhythm, her thoughts were of love, that love she felt for Zachary. It had been there from the start, that something special which had passed between them this summer. And, endless as was the tide, so would be her love, regardless of what happened now.

The steadiness of the ocean’s beat reverberated within her, giving her momentary strength. Turning, she looked back toward the cottage. There Zachary stood, tall, alone, and with an infinitely vulnerable cast to his eye as he studied her. Several steps brought her toward him, then she halted. More than anything, she wanted to ease his fatigue, relax his tension, erase the haunted look from his face. More than anything, she wanted to declare her love for him. Yet something held her back. Frightened and unsure, she held his gaze for long moments, the roar of the water behind camouflaging the rapid beat of her heart.

Then, slowly, Zachary moved forward, walking to within a foot of her. His eyes never left hers, probing the depth that held her love. But he was tormented. The war within him was obvious, tearing at him before her very gaze. The tapered fingers, that wanted to reach out to him, to help him, to comfort him, to touch him, were crammed harshly into the back pockets of her white pants. After his abandonment of her that other night, he would have to make the first move now. She just didn’t know what it was he wanted …

As though hearing her thoughts, he spoke, finally, averting his eyes to the shoreline. “I had no right to bring you here, Amber,” he began softly, taking several hesitant steps along the beach, continuing only when he saw her fall into pace alongside him. Puzzled, she merely waited for his explanation. His dark head was bent toward the sand, his hands, like hers, thrust in his pockets. Was he, too, afraid of what they might do if freed?

“I never wanted this to happen,” he continued quietly, walking slowly and steadily, refusing to face her. “I’ve had one bad situation in my life … I had no intention of falling in love again.”

Amber’s pulse began to race despite the slowness of their steps along the beach. What was he saying? Did he feel … that … for her? Was it too much to ask in life that they might each find happiness with the other? Struggling to control the explosive state of her emotions, she bit at her lower lip, relaxing only when his voice came to her again, a near-whisper, barely audible above the sound of the surf.

“There was something different about you from the start. Just meeting you at that Little League game got me going. If we hadn’t met at the airport, I’d have looked you up on my own. A beautiful hand with no wedding ring on it … was too much of a temptation.” He paused, eyeing her tentatively, then turning more fully to face her when he saw her anguished gaze. “I’ve fought it as much as I can. I told myself to give you time, that you weren’t ready, when it was
me
who wasn’t ready. I resorted to macho tactics to convince myself that it was merely a physical attraction I felt. I’ve tormented you because of my own torment, and, in doing so, only made things worse.” His eyes dropped momentarily in self-reproach, but lifted when he realized how much more there was left to say. “This past week has been hell for me, Amber. Forget the physical frustration—knowing you were out with that guy last Saturday night nearly drove me mad. I thought about you all week, wanting to call you, but afraid of what I would say and what you would do. I guess I brought you all the way out here so that I could … work on you.” He shook his head in disgust. “Can you believe that?”

Knowing the force of her own love, Amber believed him completely. He had more courage than she had. Hadn’t she turned and fled, that day in his garden, rather than to confront him as he was doing to her now? With his confessions, Zachary had been man enough to bare himself before her. There was only one way she could handle that.

“I love you,” she whispered, her words swirling around in the breeze to draw his head up with a start. When his eyes questioned her, she spoke again, louder this time and with the conviction she felt. “I love you.”

Disbelief raged in the royal blueness of his eyes. His hands lifted to cup her face, tilting it up toward his. “Those are very strong words, honey. You’d better mean every one of them. I won’t take them lightly.”

“I mean it, Zachary,” she beamed joyfully at him. “I do love you.” In the instant, her breath caught as she was crushed against his chest, his arms falling to imprison her in their sinewed bands. When she raised her head to say it again, he kissed her firmly and possessively, decreeing by his lips that she would stand by her vow.

“Come on, let’s go back to the house,” he murmured against the softness of her lips, hugging her to his side as they returned to the cottage, leading her through the front room, where he had dropped their bags, into the bedroom where he promptly kissed her once more. “Last chance … are you sure?”

For the first time, she felt she could speak from her heart. “I’ve not been as sure of anything in a long, long time.”

As though to make up for what he had done to her the weekend before, his own clothes were the first to fall to the floor, victim of his own hasty fingers. Amber saw him then, for the first time, beautiful and manly and highly aroused. When he approached her, she let her hands have their way, touching him with gentle exploration as he deftly removed her clothes, mirroring her actions when she stood as naked as he before the large double bed.

In one fiery moment of cataclysmic intensity, their bodies touched, his dark-haired chest against her soft breasts, his abdomen flat against hers, his ardency a source of hunger against her femininity. Preliminaries were unnecessary, having taken place in the days and weeks before. Amber’s body thrilled to the violent passion that seized him as he eased her down onto the bed and made her his. She cried out in wonder at that moment of supreme union, aching with a fevered longing which was at last to be fulfilled. The sense of completeness that filled her as he led her to dizzying heights of rapture, enhanced the beauty of him in her love-dazed eyes. Her words of love echoed in his mouth as together they soared, higher and higher, exploding finally and simultaneously into a myriad of love sparks, falling at last in exhaustion from that height of passion to lie, damp and dreamy, in each other’s arms. For Amber, it had been the ultimate declaration of her love, but one that bore repeating. As her hands played over the rugged lines of his body, she felt him stiffen and warm to her touch. Thrilled by her ability to bring him pleasure, she moved instinctively around and above him until he pulled her over his body to join them once more.

It was a lesson in giving for Amber, whose ecstasy derived from the delight she gave her lover, as much as from the strength of his body in her. When, a second time, they shimmered together, down from an apex of erotic luxury, she felt herself the woman, whole and new, rare and wanted, needed and loved. Arms and legs intertwined with his, she slept as he did, awakening only to satisfy the hunger that was insatiable, that seemed to grow greater with each satiation, that knew no bounds whatsoever.

Darkness fell in Provincetown, yet the low light that burned on the dresser was nothing compared with the flame that burst forth, again and again, throughout the night. Never had Amber experienced anything as spectacular as Zachary Wilder. All man, he was gentle and passionate, tender and electric, all-giving and demanding. His soft words of warmth and love in her ear almost made her forget that she had ever failed a man.

Dawn cast its blue shadow on her sleeping figure as he looked down, helpless to resist stroking the fine line of her cheek, chin, then lips. His “good morning, love” was whispered against her lids as she opened her eyes to see him. And it began all over again, the merest touch sparking a hunger that was mutual and sated only by complete possession, Zachary of Amber and she of him.

“We’re spending the day in bed,” he announced, when finally his breath steadied after the latest breaking of their passion’s tide.

She looked up at him through the shade of tawny lashes. “Zachary, we can’t do that!”

“And why not?”

“It would be … very … naughty.” She grinned, triumphantly finding a word, any word to complete her thought.

Her slim body was hauled even closer to the long male one beside her, its textured surface tingling against her at every lengthy touchpoint. “That’s right,” he growled thickly. “For once in my life, I intend to be very … naughty, as you so delicately put it.”

A soft giggle made its way through her passion-rouged lips. “You know,” she whispered, “I feel like being naughty, too.” Her fingers skimmed the surface of his chest, then fell to his waist before being captured in the first move of that eternally repeated game.

They did spend the day in bed, rising only for the bare necessities, snacking on the food that the proprietress of the main house was thoughtful enough to send—and diplomatic enough to leave on a tray outside the front door, with a strong-knuckled knock before she returned to her own house.

When not making love, they slept, ever in one another’s arms, making up for the nights of the week past, in particular, when each had seen the dawn more than once. When neither making love nor sleeping, they talked, propped up in bed against one another, learning all those intimate details of the mind, as well as the body.

“Did I satisfy you?” she asked timidly, softly.

Royal blue eyes caressed her upturned face. “I’ve never been as satisfied by a woman.”

“Have you been with many since the divorce?” There was so much she needed to know, so much she felt unsure of after her own crushing divorce.

He answered her reluctantly. “I’ve had my share. But none can compare to you, Amber. Please believe that.” She wanted to, so very desperately, and she told him so.

“I think I’ll always be unsure, after Ron. Perhaps you’ll tire of me, as he did.”

“Have I tired of you yet?”

“No.”

“Well…” he crooned in proof.

“Zachary,” she chided soundly, “it’s been barely twenty-four hours!”

“And what a twenty-four hours it’s been!” he exclaimed, with obvious relish. “You know that you belong to me now, don’t you?”

Again she heard his own need for reassurance, understanding his insecurity as she did her own. “I’ve belonged to you since that day I saw you at the pond at Wellesley, standing so dark and mysterious by your bike. I can still picture the way you looked…”

Her sweet recollection was disturbed by his probe. “What about David’s party … and that … what was he, a photographer?”

Amber laughed. “I was acting on the rebound at David’s party. If you’d paid me any attention, I’d have looked at no one else. And as for Andrew, I’m afraid he’s washed his hands of me.”