Finding Zoe (Atlantic Divide) (13 page)

“Mac, you’re crying.”

“I know. I’m allowed.”

She removed her coveralls and gloves and started to scrub her hands under the cold water tap in the corner of the stables, all the time casting puzzled looks his way, shaking her head as though she couldn’t believe a full-grown man could cry over a newborn.

He grinned and shook his head in awe as the mare turned to nudge her baby and clean it. His chest expanded with pride. He felt personally responsible for the birth of the foal as he wiped the tears from his cheek. “I’m an actor. We’re allowed emotions.”

Zoe laughed again. A lovely, carefree sound.

“You’re amazing.” The foal staggered to its feet, wobbled precariously, lost its back legs for a moment, and then straightened. Half his attention on the foal, half listening to her, he twitched his eyebrows.

“What?”

He wasn’t sure he’d heard her right. His ears buzzed, his face ached with grinning, and adrenaline shot through his system in hot pursuit of his boiling blood.

He wanted her. Right there and then, he wanted her. He looked deep into her hazel-green eyes, saw the awareness just as intense, and thrilled at her surprised look as he yanked her toward him.

“Mac, I need to clean up.”

“Too late. Keep your hands to yourself. I’ll do all the work.”

Her gurgling laugh gave him all the permission he needed. As he lifted her bodily, she spread her arms, threw back her head, and chuckled. He took pleasure in biting her neck, turning her laughter into a heartfelt groan as he let her body slide against his, back to the floor.

“Zoe.” Breathless, he could barely force her name through his lips.

His fingers popped open the buttons on her baggy trousers and let them drop to the floor. Unable to wait, he simply wrenched the side of her frilly little panties, tore them off her, delighting in the sound of her small, shocked gasp and her wide, stunned eyes.

Her freezing hands found their way around his shoulders and gave him a moment’s pause as he sucked his breath in through his teeth. But her fingers curled around the back of his neck urging him closer.

“Ah, Jesus, Zoe. I need you.”

Too impatient to wait, he grabbed the condom he’d had burning a hole in the pocket of his pants and slipped it on while she struggled to kick the trousers from her feet. He heard her desperate whimper as her trousers got a stranglehold on her boots, but unable to contain himself, he simply picked her up, shoved her against the stable wall, parted her knees, and thrust hard inside her.

He held still; embedded in her hot, welcoming flesh, he listened to the helpless sound she made, and it almost drove him insane. Determined to linger, he stared into her strange, fascinating eyes, swallowed past the lump in his throat, and declared the one thing he had never said to any other woman since he’d lost her eleven years ago.

“Oh God, Zoe, I love you.”

She closed her eyes and tipped her head back to allow him access as his lips touched her soft, silken skin. Now he was where he wanted to be, he didn’t feel in such a rush.

“I know you do…” she murmured, making his heart trip as she trailed her fingertips across the back of his neck and around the shell of his ear. His lips smoothed over her creamy neck as waves of overwhelming tenderness threatened to devour him. “You’re an actor, you love everyone.”

His heart stuttered to a halt. His fingers froze.

As she opened her eyes to look at him, he closed his so she couldn’t see. Couldn’t see the screaming hurt she’d inflicted as she tore the soul out of him. Repeating the words Flynn had used earlier, she obviously had no idea, and he mourned the fact she believed he was so shallow. The truth of the matter was, he didn’t love everyone; he only loved her.

“Mac.” She touched his face, her voice a sweet invitation; he felt her frozen fingers run along his tightened jawline. “Please.” He moved, kept his eyes squeezed tight, tucked his head into her neck, and moved again. Pain seared his heart as lust burned his loins.

He surged inside her hard, gripping her backside with one large hand to pull her nearer, thrust repeatedly inside her, thrust deeper wanting to claim her, wanting her to know, to understand, to feel what he felt. His other hand grasped the back of her head, his mouth raced to claim hers, and still he pounded. Pounded with his eyes closed. His heart pumped like a jackhammer, thundering to escape the confines of his ribs. Her body quivered under his, and try as she might, he didn’t allow her to lift her entrapped legs. She was pinned—by him and by her own trousers, her thighs squeezed around his loins as he pushed inside harder, higher.

“Mac, oh yes. Yes.” She pulsated around him; hot, wet warmth encompassed him as shaking, panting, he emptied himself, heart and soul, inside her. And stopped.

Breath burned his lungs as he stood motionless, unable to meet her eyes. Hurt almost overwhelmed him, weakening his knees as he pulled away, turned his back to discreetly dispose of his condom and take a moment to compose himself. She’d laughed when he had cried over the foal; what the hell was she likely to say now if she saw the tears in his eyes?

Cold and heartless, she’d probably laugh again.

He listened as she adjusted her clothing and muttered under her breath something about freezing her backside off against the steel wall. Squeezing his eyes tight until he saw bright white lights flickering behind his eyelids, he concentrated on unlocking his jaw.

Ready, he plastered a massive grin on his face, turned and yanked her to him with the best devil-may-care attitude he could muster to give her a quick friendly kiss on the lips, and then he let her go.

It’s what made him a great actor. Quick-fire change of emotion and he was fine. His heart may be about to give out, but it was probably a medical problem rather than emotional.

“Didn’t you promise to feed me if I helped?” She hadn’t. It hadn’t been long since they had eaten on the shoot, but he needed some kind of normality.

She was silent as she looked at him; a small frown furrowed her brow; her eyes were puzzled for a split second, and then she smiled.

“Yeah, sure. Let’s go back to the house.” She glanced around the floor, picked up her ripped underwear, and stuffed it in her pocket. She checked on the mare and the foal and wandered out into the chill of the summer’s evening.

He caught up with her, took hold of her hand, and was tempted to tell her again he loved her. He swallowed the temptation, knowing it would be a mistake, and remained silent. There would be another opportunity. One where she would understand it wasn’t hormones speaking. It wasn’t purely about him wanting to get inside her. He needed her to understand he meant it; he wasn’t just a superficial, egotistical actor.

His eyes almost rolled to the back of his head as he acknowledged the thought he’d passed through his brain. Of course he was superficial and egotistical. He was an actor. But he still loved her, like he loved no other.

*

Her chest ached with holding in her emotions. He’d hurt her beyond words. Complicated matters with his declaration of love, which she knew darned well he didn’t mean. He probably repeated it to every woman he made love to, and over the years, it must have been a lot. But it had struck a chord in her. And it hurt. Tore her apart inside because all she had wanted to do was tell him she loved him back. Scream it from the rooftops.

Even if he did believe himself to be in love with her, his emotions were transient. He’d declared his love for her before and left her without a backward glance for fame and fortune and a woman twice her age.

But he’d seemed genuine. She’d felt it. As he’d hammered inside her, she’d felt his desperation, his need, and reveled in it, wanted it. Wanted more. She had almost convinced herself he meant it.

Furious for not stepping back like she’d promised herself, she rubbed her aching temples and realized it was too late. She’d been swept along by the glamour of it all. The romance of being pursued by an actor too handsome for the good of womankind. It was too late to take stock when she already knew she was in love with him. But it was nothing to do with his fame and his glory. She was still in love with
him
. Had never fallen out of love with him.

Easy enough to convince herself she had moved on, she’d created a life for her and her son, but her heart gave a nasty little hitch as she admitted she’d never moved on from the moment he had dumped her. She’d never had a serious boyfriend, just a few scattered dates over the years, and it was all very well telling herself it was because she was trying to be a responsible mum concentrating on her son’s upbringing, but Mac had just blown the theory apart for her.

From the day he had employed his agent to dump her for him, she had never looked at another man in the same light. Never felt the same lust. Never been tempted to take the same fall.

It wasn’t fair on her. When most people broke up, it was over. Move on, find a new love, make a new life. But ever since that horrendous day, she had been exposed to a barrage of information about him too difficult to avoid.

At first, she’d avidly read the tabloids and gossip magazines, witnessed his brief marriage, his rapid breakup, all displayed in humiliating detail. Once Ryan was born, she had desperately tried to ignore anything relating to Mac, but over the years as his fame escalated, it had become impossible to ignore him. The fact her son resembled him so closely didn’t help.

Despite loving him, she knew she could never get involved with him again on the same level. She would let him go—again. She had no choice, and it ripped her heart to shreds.

Warm summer sun flowed molten over her skin, soaking through to her bones as she tipped her face up to the sky to absorb more. She reclined on her elbows on the ancient, blue tartan rug and allowed her feet to dangle off the edge of the jetty, hissing through her teeth for a moment at the shock of icy water swirling around her feet.

Bright gold flickered behind her closed eyelids, and she idly considered applying more sunblock before her pale skin frazzled to a crisp. She smiled, lay back all the way, hitched her cold, wet feet up onto the jetty, and rested her hands on her warm belly. One more minute wouldn’t harm.

She listened to the footsteps as they approached; they faltered a little. It would be her father; he seemed to be in such pain lately.

Zoe sat up and glanced at him as he lowered himself gingerly by her side. Reaching out, she touched his arm, smiled at him, and saw the pain flick across his face as he adjusted himself to a more comfortable position to accommodate his arthritis.

“Are you okay?”

“Hmmm.”

He cast his gaze out over the water, watching Mac and Ryan in the little rowboat with the two dogs. Muted male laughter could be heard while the boat rocked precariously, and Ice barked as he hung his head over the side and stared at his own reflection.

“The boy loves him.”

“He does.”

“It was time for him to meet his father.” His head turned, and his faded hazel eyes met hers. Deep concern filled them, wrinkles feathering around them as his eyebrows drew in low. “He’s not going to stay.”

She closed her eyes and tipped her face to the sun again so he couldn’t see her pain. She knew he didn’t need to. With her own unerring instinct of a parent, she knew that he would already feel it in his own heart.

“I know.” She tried to keep her voice matter-of-fact, but it came out in a husky whisper.

“The boy will be fine. He knows who his father is, and Mac will stay in contact.”

“Yes.”

“But you…he’s going to break your heart again, and it hurts me to have to watch.”

She sat up abruptly, pushed the tendrils of hair escaping her plait back in place, and shook her head.

“No. He won’t…because I know the score this time, Dad. I know he’s not staying.” She glanced sideways at him, uncomfortable with the subject. “He’ll be gone by the end of summer.” She gave him a sad smile. “He can’t break my heart again; it never mended from the last time.”

“I loved Mac myself.” His quiet voice took on a wistful note. “I looked on him almost as a son. I always thought he was a good man, and in a way, I still do love him.” He flicked his gnarled hand. “I see him with the boy, and they’re good together. But I can never forgive him for what he did to you. What he’s likely to do again.”

“I know. Dad, he won’t get the opportunity to do it again. I’m older now. I know it would be stupid to try and hold onto him.”

He sighed.

“I always thought perhaps you would meet a nice man, settle down. But you’re like your mother. Loyal, faithful. She always said she was a one-man woman, and you take after her. It’s just a shame he doesn’t appreciate it.”

She patted his hand, and he turned it palm upward into hers, held on for a moment before he slid it away, and they sat in silence to watch as the boat came toward them.

Coke leaped into the water, sending a spray in a rainbow arc high above the boat as it rocked frantically.

Pushing her worries to one side, her laughter turned to a shriek as the dog bounded onto the jetty and shook freezing water over them. Her father got stiffly to his feet, unable to join in the laughter. “I’ll check on dinner.” He limped toward the house.

“We’ve caught supper.” Mac proudly held two fat, ugly fish aloft, and Zoe felt her stomach rebel at the sight of them.

“Carp. Mac, they’re very…earthy tasting. I have beef and Yorkshire pudding in the oven, but if you want me to stick them on the barbecue for you, you’re most welcome.”

His eyes narrowed mischievously as he peered up at her from the boat, and then he pitched the two dead fish across the jetty for them to slime over her feet. Screeching, she leaped up. Instinct and a good right arm had her lobbing them back at him. Gasping in horror as they hit him dead center in the face, she watched wide-eyed as he flipped over backward, sending the boat rocking madly and creating a tidal wave when his body hit the water. Ryan clung to the side of the little vessel, laughing so hard he almost cried.

“Mac!” With a gasp of horror, Zoe flung herself belly down on the jetty to watch his head bob to the surface. Anxious, she leaned over the edge, instinctively proffering her hand as Mac reached toward her holding out his own. Midreach, she stopped. She looked in his eyes and saw hard determination there. Withdrawing her extended hand, she shifted to sit back on her haunches.