Balancing Act (The Santa Monica Trilogy Book 3) (14 page)

Zach pulled on his jacket and adjusted his shirt sleeves to show a precise half inch below the jacket cuffs. No reason to feel nervous. Just because he was about to face Angie again. And her extended family.

Armed with a bottle of wine and bouquet of sunflowers and goldenrods, he made his way up the long driveway.

Eva answered the door on the second ring. She blinked, and for a moment he wondered if he’d made a mistake accepting the invitation.

Then she smiled and ushered him in, accepting the flowers and wine and pointing him toward the back of the house, where apparently the men were watching the game on a big-screen TV.

He caught a brief glimpse of Angie in the kitchen, leaning against the counter and laughing at something one of the other women was saying. The room brimmed with noise and activity. An older woman stood by the stove, stirring something in a large pot. A blonde, whom Zach recognized as Angie’s sister-in-law Grace, sat at the table, nursing an infant. Another woman chased after a giggling toddler, skirting around Zach with a hasty “Sorry,” as they ran down the hall and disappeared into the back of the house.

“If you keep going, it’s on your left,” Eva said from behind him.

“Thanks.” He followed the blare of the TV down the hall, entering just in time to catch several loud exclamations of disappointment at what must have been a particularly bad play.

“Zach.” His dad saw him first and grinned, waving him over to make introductions during the commercial. It turned out that the only two men in the group whom Zach hadn’t already met were Eva’s husband Max, and Max’s brother-in-law.

“You want a beer?” Max said. “Or something stronger?”

“Beer’s fine, thanks.”

He relaxed into the familiar camaraderie of men watching football, marveling over how easily he fit into the group.

It wasn’t until everyone gathered in the dining room for the actual Thanksgiving meal that he tensed up again. Angie sat across the table, just out of reach, her uncharacteristically reticent gaze sliding away from him whenever their eyes happened to meet.

He felt another set of eyes boring into him. Angie’s father, Judge MacDowell. And those eyes became decidedly less friendly over the course of the meal, as Angie continued her skittish behavior.

What was going on? What had Angie told her family about him? About them?

After their big blowup the other night, he wasn’t sure what to expect. He’d been biding his time, giving them both a chance to cool off.

But the moment Eva had called him, he hadn’t hesitated. As an excuse to see Angie, this was brilliant, and he wasn’t about to turn it down, the way he had in previous years. Back then, in the immediate aftermath of his parents’ divorce, he’d been too angry to attend any family-oriented gathering. Eva and Roger’s wedding had been the one exception—and even that he’d gone to grudgingly, only because his father had insisted. But college, and then law school, provided a handy excuse to skip Thanksgiving. As long as he knew that his dad wouldn’t be alone for the holidays, Zach had been all too happy to go skiing in Vail, or parasailing in Cabo, or reef diving off the coast of Belize.

Now he wondered how different his life might have been, had he taken Eva up on those early invitations. Would he and Angie have spent more time together as a result, getting to know each other beyond the superficial, maybe even getting together back then? Or would the same barriers—family connections and what Zach recognized in retrospect as his own resentments—have kept them apart?

Probably the latter, he acknowledged.

Better that they both had the time to mature, experience the world, and grow into their potential. Having seen what was out there, they could now decide that what they wanted was right here, between them—not by default, or through lack of awareness of the wider world, but rather by choice.

And he really hoped that Angie would make that choice, would see that she and Zach were good together, that what they had between them was more than just sex. Their shared background and professional lives provided common ground on which to build a long and happy life together. Because that, he realized, was what he really wanted. With her.

Sure, his own parents’ dysfunctional relationship had jaded him. For years he’d resisted the idea of any long-term romantic entanglements. But in the last few months, something had shifted inside him. A sense of hope and optimism had taken root, making him wonder if maybe he’d been too hasty in rejecting the possibility of happiness with the right partner.

He needed to look no farther than Angie’s extended family for evidence that such a thing existed. Her parents and siblings were all living proof that happy marriages were possible. Why couldn’t he and Angie have the same?

All through dinner, he watched in fascination as Angie slowly lost her stiff posture and got caught up in the conversation and laughter around her. After the dishes were cleared, and the younger children started nodding off, he smiled at the sight of Angie cuddling up to her three-year-old nephew on the couch.

She looked up, and their gazes met and held. For a moment, there was no one else in the room but Zach and Angie. Then Eva crossed to the couch to take her son up to bed, and Angie blinked and turned away. Less than a minute later, as if unable to help herself, she glanced back at Zach.

He smiled slowly. She flushed. Her lips parted slightly—in alarm? anticipation?—as he rose and walked deliberately across the room to sit beside her.

His shoulder brushed hers, and he felt her shiver. The scent of her enveloped his senses: vanilla, with a hint of cinnamon—his two favorite spices in the world, he decided.

“Hey there,” he said.

She shifted, and the movement caused her thigh to press against his. “Enjoying yourself?”

“Very much so.” He settled his arm on the back of the couch, fingers lightly brushing her shoulder. She tensed for a second, then relaxed and leaned in closer. Zach noticed her father watching, stony-faced, from the opposite side of the room. Ah, well. The man would just have to get used to seeing his daughter in Zach’s company.

“I’m glad,” she said.

“I was actually surprised your sister invited me.”

“Your dad always comes. I wasn’t sure if you had any plans.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he said. “I’d have changed them to be here.”

She looked at him. “Really?”

“Really.” He dropped his voice. “I missed you, Angel.”

Her lashes dipped. “I missed you too.”

He forced himself to remain still, and not to give in to the desire to sweep her up into his arms, away from the scrutiny of her family. “So…”

“Yes?”

“Do you have any plans for tomorrow?”

“Oh, you know. Wash my hair. Clean out the closet. Review a few briefs.”

“Sounds pretty dull.”

“Maybe,” she said. “You have something better to suggest?”

He smiled. “I always have something better to suggest.”

~

They ended up spending Thanksgiving weekend together. Angie ignored her computer and the piles of paperwork that awaited her. Monday would come soon enough.

For now, she focused on enjoying her time with Zach. They hiked the Inspiration Loop Trail into the Santa Monica Mountains. Ate Chinese takeout. Biked down to Manhattan Beach and back. Chuckled over an over-hyped movie that they both agreed was thin on plot, suffered from cheesy dialogue, and made soft-core porn seem like highbrow viewing by comparison.

The one thing they did not do, much to Angie’s chagrin, was have sex. Not only did Zach fail to pick up on her broad hints, but he actually turned her down when she emerged from the bedroom in her sexiest lingerie, climbed into his lap, and kissed him as if her life depended on it.

She could feel his physical response—how could she not, when she was straddling his jean-clad hips, wearing barely-there panties? So when his fingers wrapped around her waist, not to bring her closer, but to lift her off his lap and set her on her feet, she wanted to howl in frustration.

He stood up, towering over her in her bare feet. Suddenly she felt silly, standing there practically naked, with him fully dressed and apparently unwilling to take her up on her offer.

She turned and stalked back to the bedroom.

“Angel.” He followed her as far as the doorway, where he remained, watching as she jerked on her robe.

She tightened the belt. In the dim light, it was hard to read his expression. “What?”

“About last week…”

They’d avoided the subject so far. Maybe if she apologized for her part in their fight, he’d reconsider?

“Look, Zach, I didn’t mean it as an insult.” She approached him cautiously, stopping within easy reaching distance. “I’m sorry you took it that way.”

His lips quirked. “Was that supposed to be an apology?”

She folded her arms across her chest. “It didn’t sound like one?”

He closed the gap between them, cradling her face in his hands. “Not exactly.”

She eased her arms down and around his waist, pressing their lower bodies closer together. He was still hard. Maybe all wasn’t lost.

“Okay, Angel.” He rested his forehead against hers. “We’re going to take this in baby steps. Repeat after me:
I’m sorry.
”

“I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t mean it.”

“I didn’t mean it,” she echoed obediently.

He kissed the tip of her nose, her chin, the corner of her mouth. “This. Isn’t.” —he punctuated each word with another kiss— “Just. About. Sex.”

She blinked. “Okay.”

He laughed softly. “Not good at taking directions, are you?”

“Not very.” She allowed herself a small smile. “You should know that by now.”

“Yeah.” He kissed her again, a long lingering kiss that had her melting into a puddle in his hands. Then he drew back and stepped away.

“What—?” It took her a moment to find her footing and realize he was actually leaving. “Where are you going?”

“Home. While I still can.”

She trailed after him into the living room. “But…we haven’t…I mean…if this is about the condom thing, I restocked this morning.”

He sighed and shook his head. “I’m sure they’ll come in handy. But not today.”

“Zach—”

“Goodnight, Angel.” He grabbed his keys from the hall entry table where he’d left them earlier. “Lock up after me.”

She stared at the door as it snicked shut, unable to believe he’d done it again.

Except it wasn’t exactly the same.

Last time, he’d stormed out.

This time, he left quietly. Not so much angry as disappointed. Like a tutor whose student hadn’t quite gotten the lesson he’d been trying to teach.

Damn.

Zach hadn’t seen Jeannine since her deposition, but they’d talked by phone several times since then, going over the proposed changes in S&L’s plans. Initially, she’d hesitated to take the assignment.

“Are you sure you want me to head up the team?” she asked, when Zach explained S&L’s need for a revised environmental impact assessment. “There are plenty of other engineers here who can handle this.”

“But I don’t know them or their work,” Zach argued. “I
do
know you, and my dad and I trust you to do a good job.”

In the end, she’d capitulated—swayed, perhaps, by the substantial bonus dangled in front of her for getting everything done quickly. Given the looming deadline posed by the City Council’s upcoming meeting, Zach believed it was money well spent.

They were meeting today to review the results. Zach parked his car and headed toward Jeannine’s office building.

Jeannine was on the phone when the secretary ushered him in. She held up a finger, indicating it would just be a minute.

He nodded, and settled into a chair to wait, using the time to scroll through email messages on his phone. One minute dragged into five, and then ten.

“Sorry,” she said when she finally hung up. “It’s been that kind of day. Do you mind if we walk and talk? I have a meeting across town this afternoon, and I’m starving. We can grab some food at the lunch place down the street and go over the report at the same time.”

Zach grinned. That was one of the things he’d always appreciated about Jeannine. She was unapologetic about enjoying food, and never stood on ceremony.

Kind of like Angie.

Come to think of it, the women had a lot in common. Except the feelings he’d had for Jeannine, even when they were dating, had been like a tepid trickle of water from a third-rate hotel faucet. With Angie, it was more like a rush of lava from an active volcano—powerful, scorching, uncontainable. 

These last few days had been hell, having to deny both himself and Angie the physical release they both craved. Especially when all he wanted to do was tear off her clothes and drive into her until she cried out his name and her body convulsed around his in pleasure.

But there was a bigger principle at stake. If he had any hope of building a future with Angie, he needed to first prove to her that what they shared transcended the physical. That their relationship would continue to thrive long after their raging hormones mellowed, despite the inevitable ravages wrought by time and gravity. That they would flourish together and support each other in the face of whatever adversity life tossed their way.

He wasn’t sure that Angie saw that yet, but he could wait. He’d waited thirteen years to claim her; he could wait a few more weeks or months or however long it took for her to catch up.

“Here we are,” Jeannine said, opening the door to a retro-style diner with red faux-leather booths and Formica-topped tables running along a wall of plate-glass windows.

Zach snagged the one unoccupied table and flagged down a server. Once they had placed their orders, Jeannine pulled several files from her bag and spread the documents out across the table.

“The writing’s pretty small,” Jeannine said. “You’ll see better from this side.”

Zach craned his neck across the table, trying to decipher the fine print. The suboptimal lighting didn’t help. One of these days he should probably invest in a pair of reading glasses. He sighed and got up, sliding into the booth beside Jeannine.

“Let’s start at the top and work down,” she said. “Stop me if you have any questions. First up is air quality. Given the additional subterranean parking structure you’re putting in, we’re projecting short-term construction emissions of nitric oxide and nitrogen dioxide gasses that exceed the South Coast Air Quality Management District’s regional threshold. Here’s a list of mitigating measures we propose you implement to reduce construction exhaust emissions…”

In between bites of their burgers and fries, they spent nearly two hours poring over the twenty-page executive summary. It was crammed with jargon that covered everything from gas emissions and construction effects to detailed analysis of seismic hazards, and recommendations for grading, setbacks, site preparation, fill placement, erosion control, shoring and internal bracing.

Jeannine glanced at her watch and cursed. “I have to go. You can take these with you to look over with your team. Let me know in the next few days if you have any questions or corrections, so I can make whatever changes are needed before submitting the final report.”

“Will do.” Zach slid out of the booth first and helped Jeannine up. “You’ll be okay getting back to the office on your own?”

“Of course.” She kissed him on the cheek, then grinned and used her thumb to wipe the faint smear of lipstick from his skin. “You’ll take care of lunch? Thanks. Gotta run.”

Zach watched as she hurried off, then resumed his seat and flagged down the server for a third cup of coffee and the check. As he waited, he perused the rest of the papers. The project was finally starting to come together. The only person who would be even more pleased about this than Zach himself was his dad. Zach gathered the files together, paid the bill along with a hefty tip, and headed for his car, whistling a jaunty tune.

~

Angie checked her watch before dashing across the street. She hated being late. Now, thanks to a client who wanted to nitpick every point of what Angie thought had been a pretty straightforward contract, there was no way she’d get to Logan’s office on time.

She pulled out her cell to text him.

Running late. Meet at club in 15 min?

They got together every month for what Angie had come to think of as their “snack and yak” sessions—an opportunity for the siblings to catch up on each others’ lives over lunch. Sometimes Eva joined them, but usually it was just Logan and Angie, since they both worked within easy walking distance of the university Faculty Center.

The phone rang in her hand. “The nanny just called,” Logan said. “Jack spiked a fever.”

“Oh, no.”

“I’m on my way home right now.”

No surprise there. Even though it was his wife Grace who had the medical degree, Logan was the one who dropped everything and went running when either of the twins was sick. While he claimed it was an issue of logistics—his work schedule was generally more flexible than Grace’s, especially since he’d gotten tenure—Angie suspected there was also an element of over-compensating for his own childhood with an absentee father. Regardless, he’d taken to the role of family man as if he’d never cut a wide swathe through L.A.’s population of single females.

Angie wondered whether Zach was capable of making the same kind of transformation. He hadn’t exactly announced his intentions, but the hints he’d been dropping lately certainly seemed to imply he was thinking along those lines.

“Anything I can do?” she asked Logan.

“Yeah. We might be out of children’s Tylenol. Can you swing by the pharmacy and get some?”

“Sure thing.” She slipped the phone into her purse. The nearest pharmacy was just down the street.

The aroma of burgers and fries from a greasy spoon along the way made her stomach rumble. As she hurried by, a familiar figure at one of the window tables snagged her eye. She slowed, stopped. The gorgeous blond ex-girlfriend who wasn’t a cover model but could easily pass for one. Jeannine DeLuca. Yes, that was definitely her, sliding out from the window booth and leaning in to her companion—

Oh, God
.

That was Zach in there. Zach, with another woman’s fingers caressing his cheek. A woman who, by his own admission, was in love with him.

He’d sworn that his relationship with Jeannine was over. And Angie had believed him.

Her vision darkened, and for a moment she couldn’t breathe.

Someone jostled her arm. “Hey, lady, you okay?”

And then another voice: “Looks like she’s gonna faint.”

Air whooshed back into her lungs. She blinked and glanced at the cluster of strangers gathered around her.

“Maybe you should sit down,” one of them said, touching her elbow and pointing toward a nearby bus stop bench.

She shook her head. She needed to get out of here. And go where? She was in the middle of doing something—

“Maybe we should call 911.”

She frowned. “What? Oh, no. Thank you. Really. I’m fine. I just—” She eased away. “I need to go. Sorry. Excuse me.”

She hurried down the street, passing the drugstore before she remembered. Tylenol. She needed to get some Tylenol for her nephew. She turned back.

The automatic doors parted, and she stepped inside.

~

The next few hours passed in a daze. Afterward, she had a vague recollection of driving to her brother’s house, where chaos reigned. With one child sick, and the other screaming for attention, Logan didn’t seem to notice Angie’s distraction. He was too busy doling out Tylenol, Motrin, and bottles of warmed breast milk, while the nanny helped change diapers and launder mountains of soiled baby clothes.

“Don’t you need to get back to the office?” Logan asked at one point.

Angie blinked. The thought hadn’t even occurred to her. It was as if she’s stepped through some kind of portal into an alternate universe, where time and the responsibilities of everyday life were suspended.

“Hang on a sec,” she said, fishing the phone out of her bag. There were two missed calls from her secretary, one from Naomi, and a slew of text messages. She sent a brief note canceling the rest of the day’s appointments, citing a family emergency. “There, all set. What do you need me to do?”

By the time Angie let herself in to her apartment later that night, she was exhausted. The numbness that had carried her through the afternoon and into the evening was starting to wear off.

Her cell phone rang. She checked the caller ID and turned it off, not wanting to hear whatever excuse Zach would come up with. She didn’t want to hear him lie or fumble, or worse yet, tell her that it was none of her business what he did and with whom.

They’d never actually discussed the rules of their relationship. Whatever assumptions Angie might have made were hers alone—and clearly erroneous. Somehow, she’d forgotten that even here, the basic tenets of contract law applied. First and foremost, there had to be a valid offer that was effectively communicated, negotiated in good faith, and explicitly accepted. They might have danced around the issues, but they’d never even gotten to the offer.

The phone chimed. An incoming text flashed on the screen. She ignored it. The same way she ignored the next one, and the one after that.

It was a long time before she fell asleep.