The Virgin and Zach Coulter (9 page)

Cynthia and Zelda joined him and they moved on to the next stop on their tour.

By the time they returned to the barn, they'd ridden in a big loop and checked all four of the stock tanks.

“Cade will be glad to hear there aren't any problems with the water,” Zach commented as he stepped off Jiggs at the barn. He turned to see Cynthia remove the borrowed cowboy hat and wince as she leaned forward to hook it on a nearby corral post.

He reached her just as she was about to alight and caught her waist, lifting her off the horse. Her hands clutched his shoulders and he lowered her slowly, letting her slide the length of his body until her feet touched the ground.

He nearly groaned aloud at the feel of her soft curves against his and without thinking, he wrapped his arms around her, locking her closer. She didn't protest or push away.

“Thanks.” She tilted her head back and looked up at him. “My legs feel like rubber.”

“You'll get used to it after we've been riding a few times.” He hardly knew what he was saying. He was amazed his brain was functioning enough to form words since all the blood in his body had gone south.

“Are we going riding again?” She sounded delighted, her blue eyes warm.

“Sure.” He bent his head, eyes nearly closed as he brushed his lips against her hair. She smelled like fresh air laced with a hint of sage, and beneath that, a flowery shampoo that he thought might be lavender. “Any time you want to,” he managed to get out.

“Tomorrow?” Her voice was a murmur of sound, her lips brushing against his throat when she spoke.

“Sure.” He lifted his hand and carefully closed his fist over strands of her hair. The pale silk felt like satin against his fingers. He released her hair and brushed the
backs of his fingers over her cheek. Her skin was even finer, softer, silkier.

“Zach?” Her voice was faint, breathy. Her fingers clutched the cotton of his shirt.

“Shhhhhh.” He replaced his fingertips with his lips, brushing openmouthed, tasting butterfly kisses over the arch of her cheekbone, the tiny beauty mark at the corner of her mouth and at last, the plush softness of her mouth.

He felt her tiny gasp, felt her tense before she went up on tiptoe and slid her arms around his neck. He bent his knees to better align their bodies, and gathered her closer, tighter, as the heat between them grew hotter.

Just when he realized he needed to take her somewhere more private, the sound of an engine broke the quiet morning.

Zach forced himself to lift his head, her lips clinging to his, her blue eyes darkened and dazed.

Behind them, Cade's truck pulled into the yard and parked in front of the house. Zelda's bulk stood between the couple and the house, partially shielding them from view.

Truck doors slammed, and Mariah's laughter drifted across the gravel expanse.

Cynthia's eyes widened, the deep blue no longer hazed but once more sharply aware. She stiffened, stepping back.

“They couldn't see us,” Zach said quietly. “Zelda's between us and the house.”

Relief flickered across her face. “I'd better go in. I have a lot of work to do today.”

He nodded and stepped aside, watching as she walked
away across the gravel yard, her graceful strides quickly carrying her to the house. When she disappeared inside, Zach sighed roughly and turned back to the horses.

He was damned if he was sorry he'd kissed her. He'd been wrong about one thing, though, he thought as he led the horses into the barn to strip them of saddles and tack.

He'd assumed kissing her would ease some of the growing need that had been building with each moment they spent together over the last days.

The pressure hadn't eased. Instead, it was stronger.

It had taken all his willpower to step back and let her walk away when his body was demanding he find the nearest bed and end the torture.

“Hell,” he muttered aloud. Despite her wholehearted participation in that kiss, she'd been embarrassed for that brief moment she thought they might have been observed. She had an innocence that he wasn't used to and it brought out a rare, fierce protective streak he didn't know he had. He'd never felt this degree of possessiveness over a woman before.

Frowning, he turned Jiggs and Zelda out into the pasture just behind the barn and drove away from the ranch buildings, down the lane toward the Lodge, determined to bury himself in work and get his mind off Cynthia.

C
ynthia didn't want to talk about that kiss. When Zach didn't mention it, she breathed a sigh of relief and thankfully picked up their friendly bantering as if it hadn't happened.

Not that she forgot it. In fact, she quickly discovered there was no forgetting it. The memory of his mouth on hers, the taste of his lips, the cool thickness of his hair beneath her fingers, the powerful flex of muscles where her body lay against his—everything about those stolen moments dominated her thoughts when she was alone. In fact, there wasn't a second of her day, whether she was alone or with company, when Zach was far from her thoughts.

Her skin prickled and she had trouble sleeping, tossing restlessly until finally falling asleep. And then she was tortured by dreams that featured Zach.

When Saturday arrived, Cynthia was more than ready
for something to take her mind off the growing attraction between her and Zach.

So when Grady Turner called midafternoon and asked her to join him and his friends at the Black Bear Bar, she immediately said yes.

Just before 9:00 p.m., she left the house and drove the short distance to downtown. A full moon was on the rise in the east and dusk was casting shadows over the street and sidewalks beneath tall maple trees. The heat of the day was fading with the absent sun and she'd wrapped a royal blue silk shawl around her shoulders and throat, leaving one end to trail down her back. Beneath it, she wore a white knit dress trimmed in blue. The narrow blue piping edged the scoop neckline, the hem of cap sleeves and was repeated on the soft tie belt that cinched in at her waist. The skirt was full, perfect for dancing, and she wore her favorite pair of scarlet red heels.

She parked across the street from the Black Bear, ignoring the whistles from a pickup full of teenagers as she crossed the street in the middle of the block. Rock music blared from the radios in the line of cars and pickup trucks slowly snaking their way toward the middle of town and the burger drive-in a block away.

Cynthia smiled, shaking her head at the weekend teenaged ritual before she pulled open the door to the Black Bear and stepped inside.

Grady had been right—the band really was good, she realized with pleased surprise, stretching up on tiptoe to see over the shoulders of a group of cowboys crowding the entry. She didn't see Grady but he'd told her he'd claim a table at the back of the room.

“Excuse me.” She tapped on the shoulder of the brawny young man in front of her.

He looked back, saw her and turned, a smile breaking over his face.

“Can I get through, please?”

“Yes, ma'am.” He stood back and let her inch past him.

There was just enough room to allow their bodies not to touch and Cynthia was infinitely grateful. After the incident with her mother's boyfriend, who'd grabbed her, kissed her and then groped her when she was twelve, Cynthia had never conquered her instinctive shrinking away from contact with men.

Except with Zach, she realized with shock. She'd never felt the urge to run away from him. In fact, she found herself seeking him out.

She tucked the puzzling truth away to be pulled out and mulled over when she was alone.

She knew the cowboy and his friends watched her as she moved into the crowd, but thankfully none of them tried to stop her. The music was loud, the crowd was noisy and the dance floor was packed, but Cynthia was able to thread her way around the tables between the dancers and the walls without a problem. Still, she was thankful when she located Grady seated at a table several feet away and near the back of the big room.

She lifted her hand and waved, catching his attention.

“Hey,” he called, a broad smile breaking over his face. “You made it. Here, take my chair and I'll get another one.”

He stood as she neared and held the chair for her.

“Hi, Cynthia.” Mariah occupied the next seat with Cade on her far side. The other couple at the table looked familiar and Cynthia realized the woman was also a waitress at the Indian Springs Café, but she didn't recognize the man with her.

“I'm glad you could make it,” Mariah continued. “This is my friend Julie and her husband, Bob. Cynthia's a hotel expert. She's working with Zach to get the Lodge ready to reopen.”

“Hello.” Cynthia smiled. “I think I've met you at the café, Julie.”

“Of course.” The pretty brunette smiled, her expression open and friendly. “I think I may have waited on you a time or two when you stopped in for lunch. I don't think you've met my hubby, though. Bob is a CPA with an amazing knowledge of tax law, should you ever get in trouble with the IRS.”

Bob laughed, his eyes twinkling kindly. “Which I'm sure you're not likely to do. But if you should have any questions about accounting at the Lodge, feel free to call me.”

“Thank you, I will.” Cynthia relaxed, the easy welcome of Grady's friends soothing any nerves she may have had about her first time back among a social gathering in Indian Springs.

“Glad you could join us, Cynthia,” Cade told her.

“Thank you. Grady was pretty insistent.” She flicked a quick glance over the crowd. “I'm glad he was. The band is excellent, isn't it?”

Behind her, Grady chatted up a trio of women at a nearby table, leaving them laughing as he returned with an empty chair and promptly sat down. “Bad news—the
ladies at the next table told me the band has recently signed a recording contract,” Grady put in as he leaned forward and joined the conversation. “Our loss, Nashville's gain.”

“Let's hope whoever's booking bands into the Black Bear finds someone as good to take their place,” Mariah commented.

“I'll drink to that.” Grady lifted his glass and frowned at Cynthia. “Hey, you don't have anything to drink. What do you want? I'm buying.”

“A margarita would be great,” Cynthia said. The sheer number of bodies in the bar heated the big room and she slipped the shawl off her shoulders, tucking it behind her on the seat.

“You've got it. I'll be right back. You owe me the next dance.” He rose and disappeared into the crowd, heading for the long bar against the opposite wall.

“How's everything going with the Lodge?” Cade asked. “Zach's working such long hours I haven't seen him for a few days.”

“It's going fine.”

The deep male voice directly behind Cynthia sent a shock of heat through her. Afraid her reaction was obvious, she glanced quickly at the other two couples at the table, but they were all focused on Zach.

“Hey, Zach,” Cade greeted his brother. “I was wondering if you were going to stop working before midnight and join us.”

“Wouldn't miss it.” Zach slid into the chair Grady had vacated next to Cynthia, one arm stretched out along the back of her chair. “Grady told me Cynthia was going to be here and she promised the first dance to me.”

Cynthia turned her head quickly, her brows forming a faint frown. “When did I promise to dance with you?”

“When we were discussing the paint colors for the two suites at the Lodge.”

“We didn't talk about dancing,” she said, eyeing him suspiciously. “We talked only about the palettes for the walls and moldings.”

“You said the palettes blended and moved well together and I said, you make it sound like they're dancing. Then you said, you supposed that was one way to put it, and I said when are we going dancing, and you said…”

“I said, we're
not,
” Cynthia said firmly. “I remember that part very well.”

“But then I said, not until we have the chance and a little free time from all the work at the Lodge,” Zach finished. His expression was solemn but his eyes twinkled, daring her to laugh with him.

She rolled her eyes as Mariah burst out laughing.

Cynthia looked around and realized the others at the table were watching her and Zach with varying degrees of amazement and amusement.

“What?” she demanded.

“I've never seen Zach get this much opposition from a woman,” Cade drawled.

“Probably because they weren't having to argue with him for days on end,” Cynthia told him. She looked at Mariah and Julie. “He wanted to paint every wall in the Lodge stark white. And do you know why? Because if it was all the same paint, we could touch it up easily.”

“Makes sense to me,” Cade said.

“You're
such
a guy,” Mariah told him, her affectionate smile taking the sting out of her words.

“I bet it makes sense to Bob, too,” Zach said. “Jump in here, Bob, defend me.”

“Hey—” Bob leaned back, hands up, palms out “—don't get me involved in this. Julie won't even let me pick out the color of the vegetable we're having for dinner.”

“That's because he always picks corn.” Julie looked at Cynthia with a what-can-we-do-with-them expression. “I've told him a dozen times that the darker the color of the veggie, the healthier it is for him. But does he listen? Noooooo.”

“I like corn,” Bob said mildly.

“What are you all arguing about?” Grady rejoined them, sliding a frosted, salt-rimmed cocktail glass across the table in front of Cynthia before snagging an empty chair from another table and sitting down. “Hey, Zach. Glad you could make it.”

“I came to dance with Cynthia,” Zach told him.

“Yeah?” Grady glanced from him to Cynthia and back again, alert and interested. “Are you dancing with him, babe?”

“Don't call me babe. And, no, I'm not dancing with him.” Cynthia licked the salt from the rim of the glass, sipped at the straw and nearly purred. “Thank you for the margarita, Grady.” She glanced up through her lashes at Grady before switching to Zach.

“You're welcome,” Grady told her. “Why aren't you dancing with Zach?”

“Yeah, Cyn, why aren't you dancing with me?” Zach
asked, his gaze fastened on her mouth pursed around the straw.

“Don't call me Cyn,” she replied automatically. “And I'm not dancing with anyone but Grady.”

“What?” Zach looked offended and instantly shook his head in denial. “The hell you are.”

And before she could protest, he stood, tugged her up out of her chair and towed her behind him onto the dance floor. “You have
got
to stop manhandling me,” she told him, tugging against his hold. “Just because you outweigh me and I'm shorter than you…”

They reached the far side of the dance floor where the corner was darker, far away from their friends, and Zach stopped abruptly, turning her into his arms.

“I'm sorry,” he told her, his gaze searching hers. “Do you want me to take you back so you can dance with Grady?”

His voice was sincere. Mollified by his apology, Cynthia shook her head. “No, but I expect you to behave yourself.”

“I promise,” he said solemnly as he tucked her closer.

“I'm glad you're shorter than me,” he murmured in her ear as they moved to the music. “Because you fit just right when I hold you.”

She didn't have a comeback. Because he was right. Her head tucked beneath his chin and if he bent his head, his lips would brush against hers just perfectly.

“Remember when I promised I wouldn't make a pass at you when we were working?” he asked her.

She nodded. “Yes, I remember,” she murmured.

“We're not working tonight.”

She tilted her head back and looked up at him. His face was shadowed in the dim corner but she could easily see the heat in his green eyes and the sensual curve of his mouth.

“I don't think it's a good idea for two people who work together to get involved,” she told him, determined to keep her head, although she was tempted. So very tempted.

“I know you don't, Cynthia.”

His voice was deeper, rougher, and the way he said the word made it sound as if he meant more by “sin” than just saying her name.

“I'm beginning to think you might believe it's never a good idea for two people to be involved,” he told her. “When was the last time you were involved with a guy?”

She considered lying to him, but almost immediately discarded the idea. She wasn't good at lying—one look at her face and he would know.

“Not for a while,” she said, not exactly lying but certainly not telling the truth—that she'd never been seriously involved with anyone.

“I'm guessing it didn't end well?”

“I think you could say that.” Since the last time she'd had to deal with a man in any situation was her ex-boss and she'd had to quit due to his harassment, she thought that qualified.

“He must have been an idiot.”

She smiled, appreciating the dismissive confidence in his words. “I have to say I agree with your assessment,” she said with a laugh.

“What?” He pretended to be staggered. “You're actually agreeing with me about something?”

“Oh, stop.” Amused, she lightly smacked her palm against the hard muscle of his biceps.

“Yes, ma'am.” He pulled her closer, settling his hands at her waist as the band began a slow, dreamy tune.

Cynthia gave in to the seductive sway of their bodies to the music. By the time they returned to the table several songs later, her face was flushed, her pulse racing much too fast.

Zach waited until she sat before bending over her, his hand on her shoulder, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. “I'm going to go to the bar. What can I bring you? Another margarita?”

She nodded and with a brief, intense look, he moved away into the crowd.

Grady shifted into the chair next to her. “You danced with him.” His voice held an unspoken question.

“Yes, I did,” she confirmed.

“You like him, don't you?”

“Well, of course I like him. He's my boss.”

“No, I mean you
like
him,” Grady said, speaking slowly.

“Jeez, Grady, this isn't high school,” Cynthia said, trying to distract him.