Getting Lucky

Chapter 15

Lily's arms slid away from Zach's neck and flopped onto the mattress. Her legs, released by his collapse, followed suit and splayed bonelessly upon the duvet. Holy petunia. So this is what really good sex feels like . She was perfectly content to lie crushed beneath the weight of Zach's inert body—until it occurred to her that she couldn't hear him breathing and was far from sure if that was his heartbeat she felt, or merely the thundering of her own. Summoning all her energy, she raised her right hand and petted his damp, muscular back. "You still alive?"

"Dunno," he muttered into her neck. But one of his hands lifted to stroke her from armpit to hip, then eased into a slow return caress back up her side. "I think I may have died and gone to heaven."

That's nothing. I think I may have gone and fallen in lov—

No. Shocked, her hand dropped back to her side. That's not true, so don't even think it . It was simply a case of having a sexual experience beyond anything she'd ever known. Don't confuse it for anything else, Lily .

But it was hard not to panic when Zach, obviously reacting to her growing tension, raised his head to look down at her. "You okay?"

"Yes. Sure. It's just… you're kind of heavy, and I, um, have to use the bathroom." Oh, jeez, you are such a liar. Not to mention a coward . But she was still relieved when Zach immediately lifted himself off her. She eased to the side of the bed. then sat up with her back to him while she took a couple of silent, restorative breaths. When he suddenly ran his fingertips down her bare spine, she just barely refrained from leaping straight into the air like a spooked cat. Instead, she flashed him a smile made vague by the fact that she didn't quite make eye contact when she glanced back over her shoulder.

"I'll be right back," she murmured to his hard jaw, and rose to her feet, tugging the top sheet free of the bed and winding it around her as she padded to the bathroom.

A moment later found her with the door firmly closed between them, and her hands braced on the vanity as she stared at the worried expression looking back at her from the mirror. "I'm not falling in love," she vowed in a low voice. "I am not falling in love!"

"Did you say something?" Zach called.

"No. That is, I'm just talking to myself."

She heard him laugh and looked back at her reflection. Dear God . She met her own horrified gaze. I'm falling in love .

This was awful. If she had to go fall for some guy, why him? He was the worst choice she could make— the complete and utter worst.

It was pure reflex that thrust her chin in the air. So, big deal, then. The answer to that is don't… Just don't fall in love . A little distance, a little perspective, and she'd get over it. Heck, it was probably nothing more than a knee-jerk reaction to really good sex anyhow.

Oh, Lily, please. She blew out her breath. Lie to Zach if you have to. But don't lie to yourself .

She'd had good sex before. Maybe not as earth-shattering as what she'd just shared with Zach, but pretty darn great. The point was, she hadn't immediately gone from thinking Dang, I feel good to I must be in love .

Of course, she'd never tried to convince herself she lacked feelings for the current man in her life, either. Until Zach, she'd always gone into her admittedly limited relationships believing they were going somewhere. And if that didn't tell her something right there, she didn't know what would.

She was very much afraid this was the real deal. It might not make sense, but there you had it all the same.

The question was, what did she do about it?

For instance, even if he were to return her feelings— and face it, that was a mighty big if—was she willing to simply set aside her dream of opening her own restaurant to follow a soldier around the country?

No. Straightening, she dropped the sheet to reach for her periwinkle satin robe hanging from the back of the door. Let's get real here for a minute . Love was all very grand, but despite what the songs would have you believe, it wasn't always the be-all and end-all of every problem. Her dream was something she'd nourished for a lifetime … and that wasn't an aspiration one just blithely tossed aside. Not to mention she'd had her fill of moving every nine months with her parents and wasn't prepared to do it again.

Zach would probably be horrified in any case, if he had any idea she was in here attempting to decide their future. Chances were fair to decent that before he'd ever made his move, he'd figured the odds of her equating a roll in the hay with the chime of wedding bells. And considering she was a long way from anyone's idea of a starry-eyed kid, he'd undoubtedly come to the conclusion that she was old enough to know the score—that she could be trusted not to build fantastical scenarios out of thin air simply because the two of them had finally acted on the sexual tension that had been simmering between them since they'd first laid eyes on one another.

Tweaking her hair into some semblance of order, she pulled herself up to her tallest posture, then pulled her robe closed and tied the belt around her waist. She had to get back in there before he began wondering just what the heck she was doing. About all she could do at this point was take the situation as it came and live minute to minute if that's what it took.

Only, please, God, don't let me give myself away. All these new emotions left her feeling vulnerable and exposed, and she didn't want to look like a fool. It was the one thing she didn't think she could bear.

Zach was lying on his side with his head resting against the biceps of his updrawn arm when she walked back into the room, but he pushed up on his elbow the moment he saw her. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, sure. Absolutely." And his genuine concern made it easy for her to flash him a natural smile. He looked dark and powerful against the white sheet that had fallen to his waist. But for such a tough guy, he certainly was protective of her feelings.

In the next instant, as if fearing she might misread his solicitude, his eyebrows drew together. "Listen, Lily, I think we should talk about—"

Oh, gawd. Quickly crossing to the bed, she plopped down next to his hip and reached out to press her finger to his lips. The last thing she thought she could stand right now was the big, serious this-has-been-fun-but-let's-not-lose-perspective talk. "You don't have to worry that I'll expect too much from you," she promised softly. "We're both adults here, and I know the important thing right now is for you to get Glynnis and David back. So why don't we just keep things nice and easy between us?"

He wrapped his hand around her wrist and pulled her finger away from his lips. "I haven't nearly had my fill of you," he said harshly.

Lily thought it a pretty sad commentary that his obvious frustration lit her up like a mason jar full of fireflies. Good grief, was that a measure of how far gone she was, or what? But she managed to keep her voice light when she replied, "Good. Because I haven't had my fill of you, either."

"Then you can be damn sure we'll do this again," he said. "Only—"

"I know," she interrupted him gently, realizing she couldn't bear to have his reservations spelled out for her. Not right this minute, while she was still raw from all these new feelings. "You have Glynnis to rescue, and I… well, my priority is getting my dream restaurant up and running. So I understand, okay?"

"Yeah," he said roughly, and his deep voice licked goosebumps down her spine from nape to tailbone. Whipping his arm around her waist, he tumbled her flat on her back next to him and rose up over her. "Yeah," he repeated, looking down at her with those charcoal-rimmed, intense pale eyes. "Okay."

As the busy signal sounded in his ear yet one more time, it took everything Zach had to keep from slamming down the phone in frustration. Instead he replaced the receiver with exaggerated care, then turned to stare for about the dozenth time at the door connecting his room to the bathroom that connected to Lily's. It was a damn good thing she was downstairs preparing breakfast for everyone, he thought, because he had a wild hair up his butt urging him to go pick a fight with her.

The thought brought him up short. Jesus, Taylor, what is your problem? Last night was fantastic — she pretty much handed you everything you could possibly ask for, all gift wrapped with a nice gold bow. So what's got you feeling so pissed off ? He plowed both hands through his hair. He wasn't so egotistical that he thought one hot session between the sheets, no matter how inspired, would motivate her to declare her love everlasting. On the other hand, they had shared some-thing pretty damn special—and she'd been in an awful big rush to just blow it all off, hadn't she?

"Uh!" Loosening his fingers from his hair, he smacked himself in the forehead with the heels of his hands. What the hell was wrong with him? They'd fucked like minks all night long, and he ought to be relieved he hadn't needed to tell her not to expect a lot from him in the way of the emotional garbage that most women seemed to want. So why did the fact she'd beaten him to the punch have him all bent out of shape instead? Hell, she'd offered him the best of all worlds. She'd volunteered her kisses, and access to her gorgeous body, and all of her sweetness and smiles, without any of that messy, clingy, needy shit that usually went along with it. He ought to—

Screwought to. Uttering another rough sound, he turned back to the phone and snatched up the receiver again. This time when he punched in Cooper's number, the phone on the other end of the line rang.

It was picked up on the third ring. "Yeah?"

"Coop, it's Zach."

"Hey, Midnight, how y'holding together? I imagine all this waiting around has gotta be a bitch, huh?"

Not as tough as it would've been without Lily's brand of distraction. The thought no sooner crossed his mind than he shook his head impatiently. "I'm hanging tough. I, uh, wonder, though, if I could ask you and John a favor."

"Sure. Shoot."

"We're supposed to hear back from the kidnapper on Saturday. Would you and Rocket lend a hand with the take-down? I could use some backup that I can trust—a reserve force that no one living in this heap of rocks knows anything about."

There was a momentary hesitation, and Zach, already sensitive at having to ask, asked stiffly, "Is there a problem?"

"Hell no. I'm just trying to think what I'll tell Ronnie."

What he'd—? For the first time that morning, Zach felt a smile crook up the corners of his mouth. "The Iceman has to ask the little woman if he can go out and play? Tell me it isn't true, Blackstock."

"It isn't true," Coop promptly replied. Then he laughed. "Shit. If I hear even a whisper of the word pussy-whipped, pal, I'll have to hurt you. But I know Ronnie, and she's gonna want to come along to lend a hand. I have to find a way to avoid that."

Zach was nonplussed. "What does she think she can do that three trained Marines can't?"

"Beats the hell outta me, but she'll want to help anyhow. In any case, count us in. We'll come up Friday and find a place to stay. Just pick a place for us to get together to work out the logistics."

"Thanks, Coop."

His friend made a rude noise. "Screw that. I'd want to be there when Glynnis gets home anyway, to check out her new boyfriend. Someone's gotta make sure the peckerwood's good enough for her." A voice rumbled in the background and Coop snorted.

"What?" Zach demanded.

"Rocket says the peckerwood's got money, and the way your baby sis runs through hers, that's at least a start."

A bark of laughter escaped Zach's throat.

"Here, John wants to talk to you," Coop said, and there was a faint shuffling sound as he handed off the phone.

A second later, Rocket's voice came down the line. "Hey."

"Hey, yourself." Then, too antsy for small talk, he demanded, "You have any luck with those background checks?"

"Depends on your definition of luck." At Zach's impatient sound, his voice turned serious. "Sorry, Midnight. But just once it would be nice to investigate a family who was less Borgia and more frigging Brady Bunch. I have information, but it doesn't narrow down the field much."

Great. Zach had known better than to expect an easy solution, but still his gut clenched. Squaring his shoulders resolutely, he blew out a breath. "So what are you telling me here—that the Beaumonts are all in bed together?"

John laughed. "No, it's not that bad. No machinations with incestuous overtones. As with most things, amigo, it pretty much boils down to money. The wealth in that family belongs strictly to Glynnis's David. He inherited the whole ball of wax when his father died."

"No shit?" Zach looked around the sumptuous room he'd been assigned. "Everything went to him?"

"Looks like. Mama Bear receives a modest annual stipend, but all the rest—the family business, the family home—went to Baby Bear."

"Kinda makes you wonder how she feels about that, doesn't it?"

"Yes, indeed."

"How long since the father kicked?"

"Three years. David was barely twenty-three. Apparently our boy's got a head on his shoulders, though— not to mention a knack for making money. From all accounts, he took the family business and increased its net worth far beyond the original inheritance."

"This is a fairly small island whose only industry, as far as I can tell, is tourism. What sort of business are we talking about?"

"It has something to do with telecommunications and radio or microwave towers, or some such. I've taken a look at the annual report, but to tell you the truth I was more interested in the financial bottom line than whatever the product is they produced to arrive at it. So I'm not real clear if it has to do with cellular phones or satellite systems or exactly what the nature of the beast is. But I can tell you this much. It's not some hokey little nickledime operation. It has a net worth of over nine million dollars. The family property where you're staying is worth a couple of million more. If you want additional details, I can give it a closer look."

"No, the what isn't really the important issue. The point seems to be that David is the sole beneficiary of a sizable fortune. Do you have any idea who it goes to if anything happens to him?"

"Barring his getting married first, it all reverts back to Mama."

Zach whistled through his teeth. "Gives her a helluva motive, doesn't it? Especially now, with him on the verge of marrying Glynnie."

"I wouldn't count her out, that's for damn sure."

"But judging by your crack about the Borgias, I assume she's not the only one worth looking at?"

"Well, the whole friggin' family seems to have moved in with David and Mama following Papa's death. And I can tell you that Cousin Cassidy is in serious debt. She's racked up a small fortune on her credit cards and has had two Visas and an American Express cut off. Cousin Jessica's come up clean so far, and so has her husband and Cousin Richard. But if you don't ask how I got them, I'll tell you I managed to get my hands on the Beaumonts' phone records."

"And this is significant because… ?"

"Of the number of calls that've been made from there to a business competitor in California. They could mean nothing, or it could be that someone in the house is engaged in some industrial espionage. In other words, we don't know the significance. This is all strictly preliminary, so I can't give you any details yet. But you can bet your ass I'll get them, and meanwhile, I wouldn't remove damn near anyone from the short list. You never know what the hell's going to surface until I really start digging."

They hung up a short while later, and Zach rummaged through the small desk across the room until he came up with a piece of paper. Slapping it down on the desktop, he sat and divided it into sections, allotting one Beaumont per section. Next to the individual's name, he listed all the information John had given him for that person, plus his own impressions. The exercise didn't pop out anything that illuminated a big lightbulb over his head, but it did help cement the facts in his mind.

A short while later he looked up and saw by the clock on the desk that he was on the verge of being late for breakfast. He promptly pushed back from the desk and rose to his feet, folding his sheet of notes into a small rectangle. He slipped it into his hip pocket as he headed for the door.

It wasn't until he was loping down the main staircase a moment later that the oddness of his own behavior suddenly hit him. Rushing off all eager for a meal, even one of Lily's tasty feasts, wasn't at all like him. He was a professional soldier, for crissake. If food was such a huge priority he never would have lasted eighteen years in the service.

With a sinking feeling he realized it was her. Lily. It was the prospect of seeing her again, being close to her, basking in the warmth of that generous smile. Just the thought of it had him panting like an overeager hound.

Well, shit.

The following evening Jessica raced into the kitchen and slapped a glossy page she'd torn out of a magazine down on the counter in front of Lily. "What do you think?" she demanded breathlessly, reaching for a white apron to tie around her hips. "Do you think that haircut would look good on me?"

"Goodness gracious," Lily said with a laugh. "I think I've created a monster." Then she leaned forward to peer at the picture, and her eyes rounded. "Oh. Wow . You're getting really good at this." She wiped her hands on her apron, picked the page up, and held it under the light to examine more closely. She looked up and studied Jessica for a moment, then went back to examining the picture again.

Jessica practically danced in place. "Well?"

"I'll say it again." Meeting her eyes, Lily grinned. " Wow . I think this would look great on you."

"Oh, God. Me, too." She laughed and gathered together salad fixings. Tearing romaine leaves apart, she tossed it in a bowl she'd rubbed with olive oil and a garlic clove, then reached for the knife and a green onion. "The model's face is the same shape as mine. And even better, the texture of her hair looks as if it might be similar."

"Yeah, and look what that style does for her neck. You've got that elegant swan-neck thing going for you, too."

"I'm going to call first thing in the morning and see if I can get an appointment." Jessica finished putting the salad together. "You want me to make a red-wine dressing for this?"

"Yes, that'd be great." Lily glanced over as she pulled a tray of browning game hens out of the oven to baste with cranberry vinegar sauce. "If you're able to get an appointment soon and the salon is in town, I'd love to ride along. I need to pick up some mushrooms for a recipe I'm thinking of trying."

"I'll let you know as soon as I find out when it'll be." As she went to set down the mixed dressing, she noticed a red stain spreading across her white shirt. " Damn ."

Lily followed her gaze. "What is it, wine? Oh, shoot, did that happen before or after you mixed it with the oil?"

Jess peered at the stain. "It doesn't seem oily, so I think it must have been before."

"Good, that's not quite so bad. Turn on the tea kettle." She made a shooing motion as soon as Jessica had done so. "I've got it covered here. Go change, then bring your shirt back down. As long as it's only wine, we can get it out with boiling water."

Jessica took the stairs two at a time as she headed up to her suite of rooms to change. Life had been so interesting the past few days. She felt prettier and infinitely more with it, and Christopher seemed to like the new her, too. He'd been chasing her around the bedroom steadily since her fashion epiphany.

She was grinning as she reached the room, but the smile dropped away when she opened the door and heard him hurriedly say, "Gotta go. I'll talk to you soon." He was hanging up the telephone as she walked into their bedroom.

He seemed to be doing a lot of that lately.

"Who were you talking to?" she asked as she peeled off her blouse and reached into the closet for a fresh one.

"No one," he said, and casually shrugged a wide shoulder when she turned to stare at him. "No one you know, in any case. Just someone about a project at work."

Her stomach squeezed. She loved him so desperately, and had never fully accepted her good luck in catching his attention. It seemed as if she'd spent the last two years waiting for the other shoe to drop, and she wondered if that's what was happening here now.

She didn't want to believe it, but something was definitely going on. The sad truth was, though, that whatever it was, she didn't want to know.

Christopher diverted her attention when his gaze tracked over her satin bra. His green eyes darkened.

"Look at you," he said, climbing to his feet and walking up to her. He trailed a long finger down her strap then traced the dip of the bra's cups between her breasts. "Did you come up here to give me a little pre-dinner appetizer?"

Muscles deep between her thighs immediately clenched at the idea, but she laughed and stepped away. "No. I just came up to change into a clean blouse. I spilled red wine all over this one. I need to take it back down to the kitchen to get the stain out."

He took the item of apparel she held out to him and dropped it to the floor without even looking at it. Then he bent to kiss her. His eyes were lambent when he raised his head again, and Jessica realized through a hot haze of arousal that he'd backed her up until the hollows of her knees brushed the side of the bed.

"I bet fifteen minutes one way or the other won't make a huge difference," he said. And with all ten fingers planted gently on her chest, he gave a little push. He was already reaching for his belt buckle as she tumbled backward onto the bed. "Whataya say we test that theory?"

She squeezed her eyes shut and hung on for dear life when he lowered himself over her. Whatever else happened, she thought dazedly, for now she at least had this.