It Takes Two: Deep in the Heart, Book 1 Page 4

  The fine hair on his hands electrified at the thought. Of course, she would go to the party with her parents, but she would be unattended and other men would ask her to dance. Mean jealousy tightened his groin, which Zach knew was chauvinistic and basically jack-assed. LouAnn would never cast her long-lashed doe eyes with desire at another man. The only reason he’d envisioned it was because he was sitting in the house of a damned attractive woman with whom he was aching to have a frenzied session of carnal sex. Guilt by association, of course, except he wouldn’t want LouAnn to go as far with anyone else as he’d already gone with Annie.

  Annie slammed a lid onto the counter and covered something with foil. Perhaps his presence in the kitchen disturbed her concentration. She obviously wasn’t in the mood to make small talk with him now. He thought about their kiss, which had been loaded with sexual promises, all the more exciting because the emotion had been mutual on both sides. But something had royally pissed Annie off, and he knew it had something to do with him.

  She whacked at an onion rather forcefully and Zach winced. Whatever it was, he hoped she’d get over it soon. He didn’t have the emotional reserves to call and soothe LouAnn and then deal with a moody woman he barely knew.

  His hand paused over the phone. He really didn’t want to call LouAnn right now. She was going to freak, and he couldn’t make kissy-kissy noises with Annie practically standing next to him. And with all the racket the woman was making, chopping stuff up like she was taking chunks out of him, LouAnn was going to know he wasn’t staying at a regular hotel.

  Annie cried out suddenly, and Zach leaped to his feet, crossing to her side at once. “What happened?” he asked.

  “I cut myself,” she said, quickly wrapping her finger in a paper towel. “Don’t worry. It’s just a small cut.”

  “Let me see.” He unwrapped the towel and pulled her over to the sink. Turning on the cold water tap, he held her finger under the running water. “Keep your finger under here for a minute and then we’ll look at it,” he instructed.

  She obeyed without protest, and after looking at Annie’s face carefully to judge whether she was the type who fainted when they saw their own blood, Zach walked back over to the stove. Sliced vegetables sizzled in a pan, emitting a heavenly smell. He wondered if they needed to be stirred. Pale rose-colored beans bubbled away in another pot, with an occasional hole blowing in the thick sauce. Helplessly he turned to look at Annie, intending to ask her what to do about the food on the stove. She was leaning over the sink, her head resting on her forearm.

  Hell, he didn’t know any more about cooking than tossing in microwave dinners. Whatever he touched on this stove was destined to become inedible. Yet what he lacked in the culinary department, he could make up for with machismo. Annie would probably appreciate him doctoring her hand more than ruining dinner. Decisively, Zach turned off the stove and returned to Annie’s side.

  “How’s the finger?”

  “Fine.”

  Her voice was weak, despite her positive reply. Gently, Zach took her hand and examined it carefully. Blood oozed from the wound immediately, but it didn’t look severe. He put her hand back under the water. “It’ll be all right in a minute,” he soothed.

  “I’m fine, really,” Annie said, glancing up long enough to glare at him. “Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

  He grinned and dragged a chair across the Saltillo tile, pushing her down into it. Annie was probably stoic and brave when it was someone else’s blood, but when it came to looking at her own, it was obvious she was jittery. Despite her protests, she leaned her head back down on her arm, not moving an inch in the chair. Zach rubbed her back in slow circles, enjoying the feel of her firm body under the soft cotton as much as he did comforting her.

  “Please just go away,” Annie murmured from under her hand. “I can take care of myself.” Farm life was fraught with unpredictable injuries, and the cut she’d suffered was minor. If she was feeling faint, it had more to do with the heat of the day and the fact she hadn’t eaten anything since noon. She was a strong woman, unused to having someone around to coddle her—although she had to admit the massage Zach was giving her felt heavenly to the sore muscles in her back.

  All the more reason she wanted him to leave her alone now. His reluctance to reciprocate her advance at the foreman’s bungalow stung painfully. Embarrassment at his rejection seeped through her. What had she expected? Had she imagined that, although she’d refused his buyout offer, Zach might settle for a roll in the hay to assuage the burning sexual hunger she’d too long denied herself?

  Humiliation heated the pit of her stomach. “I’m fine, thanks,” she said, knocking away his hand and jumping up from the chair. “I’m going to get a bandage.”

  Without looking at Zach, Annie hurried down the hall toward her bedroom, trying not to let him see her face. Shakily, she found a bandage and wrapped it around her finger, the slow bleeding now only a minor nuisance. My goodness, she’d suffered much worse injuries in the past and borne them with her customary calm. Why was she falling apart now?

  “Did you hurt yourself, Mommy?”

  Annie managed a watery smile for little Mary, who had followed her into the bedroom and stood watching her with somber eyes. The child was so serious, unlike her playmates. Mary’s teacher reported that Mary often stood off to the side, watching while the other children played, although they always invited her to join them. Sometimes, the teacher had said, Mary moved from her lonely spot to collect withered, fallen leaves or to hunt for doodle bugs, but she steadfastly maintained her isolation.

  It bothered Annie that her daughter’s personality had completely reversed after her father’s death two years ago. She’d been a normal, lighthearted child, with no larger worry in the world than whether her hair ribbons matched the dresses Annie sewed for her. Now the dark shadows of anxiety never left her indigo eyes, although Annie desperately waited for Mary to regain her childish happiness.

  “I’m okay, honey. See, it’s just a tiny cut.” Annie pulled back the bandage to show Mary how insignificant her injury was, hoping to reassure her.

  The tiniest bit of blood instantly welled from her finger. Mary gasped and shot a panicked glance at her. “Make it stop, make it stop!” she shouted and started to cry.

  “Oh, honey, look—no, it’s all right, Mary,” Annie said, reaching to hug her daughter.

  The child cried put and pulled away. Pointing to the bandage dangling from Annie’s finger, Mary shrieked, “Stop it! Stop it!”

  “Okay, honey, okay,” Annie said, trying to sound cheerful. Mary’s reaction unnerved her, and Annie struggled to get the bandage to lie right on her skin, which only served to heighten Mary’s anxiety. She rushed out into the hall, her wails of dismay echoing back into the bedroom.

  “Hey, hey, what’s going on here?”

  In the hall, Zach’s comforting voice cut through Mary’s hysteria, stopping her shrieks immediately. He walked into Annie’s bedroom with the child carried securely in his arms.

  “Mommy’s going to die,” Mary sniffled.

  “What?” Annie was horrified. Giving up trying to attach the bandage, she threw a shocked look at her daughter. “I’m not going to die, Mary.” Hurrying over to her child, Annie tried to take her from Zach’s arms, but the little girl wouldn’t budge.

  Annie darted a resentful look at Zach. He merely lifted his brows, without any indication that he intended to release her daughter to her. Furious at his intrusion into their lives, Annie ignored him. She stepped close to Mary, pushing back a lock of the child’s raven-wing hair to caress her face. “Mommy’s fine, honey. Why don’t you let me hold you now?”

  Instantly, the child burrowed her face against Zach’s chest and started to sob again. He patted Mary’s back and whispered something in her ear. Mary nodded imperceptibly against his shoulder. Zach crossed to Annie’s crochet-covered bed and sat down, carefully arranging Mary on his lap before looking at Annie sternly.

  �
�Come here, Annie,” he commanded, his tone brooking no argument. “Please,” he added more softly.

  With the expectant, almost hopeful look blooming in Mary’s eyes Annie didn’t dare refuse, but she promised herself that when she got the chance, she was going to tell Zach Rayez where he could stuff his overbearing attitude. Stiffly, she walked forward until she stood in front of Zach.

  “Sit down here,” he ordered, patting the spot beside him.

  Annie pursed her lips, but finally did so despite the mutinous objection she wanted to hurl at him. He picked up Annie’s hand, while Mary watched anxiously. With her daughter at a safe vantage point in Zach’s lap, she made a nice barrier between Annie and Zach—which was fortunate, Annie told herself, because otherwise she just might sock him a good one.

  Carefully, Zach uncurled the tight fist Annie had unknowingly made of her hand. With the skill of a surgeon, he lightly pressed against Annie’s finger, drawing the two sides of the spliced skin together. Annie could feel Mary’s little body taking in deep drafts of air beside her, but the child watched every move Zach was making. Deftly, he pulled the bandage over the cut and secured it.

  “There,” he said, his voice expressing satisfaction. “See, Mary? Your mommy’s good as new now.”

  With a last, uncertain glance at her mother’s hand, Mary smiled and snuggled up against Zach. Annie snatched her hand away, glaring at him. He sounded so smug, so proud of himself, as if he were a great physician who’d just successfully completed an intricate operation.

  Deep resentment shot through Annie. “Are you through playing doctor?” she asked, her tone sarcastic.

  Zach smiled, an arrogant light dancing in his eyes. “We’re through, aren’t we, Mary? Come on, let’s go into the kitchen. You’re probably hungry after all that excitement.”

  But before they could leave the bedroom, Annie’s father appeared, red-faced and furious, in the doorway. “What in the name of Sam Hill is going on in here?” Travis yelled, his voice jagged with anger. “I warned you, boy—”

  “Papa, wait,” Annie said quickly, hurrying to put a calming hand on her father’s arm. The last thing she wanted was for Mary to watch her grandfather rip Zach from limb to limb. “I cut my finger, and Zach and Mary helped me bandage it. All the excitement’s over now. Come on, Papa, let’s eat. I know you’re starved.” She gave her father a gentle shove, and after a long pause during which he stared Zach down, he turned reluctantly toward the kitchen.

  Directing a last pointed glance at Zach, Annie followed her father down the hall. Her heart ached as she watched him settle himself painfully into one of the hard wooden chairs circling the kitchen table. He took protecting her far too seriously. She was more than capable of taking care of herself—and Mary too. She’d have had Mary’s fears soothed momentarily if Zach Rayez hadn’t butted in.

  Snapping the stove burners on again, Annie watched as Zach settled Mary into a chair at the table, seating himself next to the child. Mary’s delighted smile struck pain into Annie’s heart. For one overwhelming and selfish moment, she hated Zach for giving her daughter the comfort she herself could not. Mary’s reaction had startled her. All that talk of death—

  Annie shook her head. Mary had been playing at a neighbor’s house when her father had suffered his fatal injury in a tractor accident. Annie had done her best to staunch the never-ending flow of blood until help arrived, finally pressing herself in desperation against the wounds in a vain, half-hysterical effort to stop the very life from flooding out of her husband. She’d known it was hopeless, even before the paramedics from Desperado’s volunteer fire department had taken Carlos to the hospital. Mary had come into their bedroom later, questioning Annie about the bloodstained towels lying on the floor. Her innocent question had broken open the icy dam of fright Annie had been shielding herself with, and tears of helplessness and rage had poured from her eyes. Very possibly, her inability to comfort and reassure Mary at that time was responsible for her emotional upset today, Annie thought guiltily. She hadn’t handled the matter very well, not then, and not today, either. Her gaze unconsciously flew to Zach’s face, who sat watching her with an expression of concern.

  “Can I help you put the food out?” he asked.

  “No, thanks,” she replied stiffly, not wanting any more assistance from him than he’d already given. She placed a plate in front of Mary, then her father, then Zach, then laid one for herself. Briefly, she considered telling Zach he could wash the dishes—a forty-five-minute process at best, since they didn’t have a dishwasher—but quickly discarded the notion. He had soothed Mary’s fears and, when the smoke of her resentment cleared, Annie knew she would be grateful for his kindness to her daughter.

  Hatred lined Travis’s face as he stared at Zach, furious that he was going to have to share dinner with a man he despised. Hoping to turn her father’s attention to something else, Annie quickly put a plate of soft flour tortillas in front of him. Steam rose from a skillet as she ladled sliced green and red peppers and onions onto each plate before laying a sizzling iron plate of shredded beef in the center of the table.

  “Eat it while it’s hot,” she instructed, noting with purely female pleasure that Zach seemed appreciative of the fare. He’d removed his tie and suit jacket, laying them over the back of the chair. His shirtsleeves were rolled up, revealing muscled forearms. Longing rose inside Annie, but she told herself it had more to do with the fact that Zach was occupying the place where her husband had once sat than any further attraction she might feel for him. Her pride had been too badly injured by his rejection. She had put Zach in a bad spot with her advance, probably embarrassing him as he obviously wasn’t attracted to her, and the thought made her stomach burn.

  Vowing never to make such a fool of herself with Zach again, Annie began laying out bowls of salsa. The spicy condiment was her specialty, made from ripe red tomatoes she grew in her garden behind the house. The tangy garlic in the sauce was fresh also, blended with chunks of jalapeño and just the right layering of grassy cilantro, all planted by her with a little help from Mary. The salsa recipe was greatly coveted in Desperado since she’d won the blue ribbon at the state fair, but Annie had declined to reveal her secrets. Instead, she sold jars of her homemade salsa down at the local market. Each month she said a prayer of gratitude for the extra dollars her salsa earned.

  Zach didn’t fail to notice how mouthwatering Annie’s cooking smelled and looked. He loved fajitas and, although they were a common enough occurrence around the state, easily ordered anywhere, he had the feeling he was about to sample something a cut above common Tex-Mex offerings. Impatiently, he waited for Annie to be seated and begin eating before he dove into a tortilla packed with beef and garden-fresh vegetables. A sigh of delight rose in his throat, but Zach held it back, knowing Mr. Cade wasn’t in the mood for him to praise Annie’s skills.

  Taking a bite of the warmly seasoned beans, Zach allowed his gaze to touch Annie’s face. Why had she kissed him, anyway? It hadn’t been a momentary emotion she’d been satisfying, he knew, from the intensity of her kiss.

  No. She’d kissed him like she’d been hanging on for dear life, but he didn’t know why. Pulling his gaze away from Annie, he accidentally locked eyes with Mr. Cade. The old man appeared ready to erupt in a murdering rage any second. Zach pondered whether he should just forgo the rest of his dinner and head on down to the shack since he was obviously upsetting his host so much.

  “Will you please cut my meat for me?” Mary asked sweetly.

  Zach looked down into the little girl’s face and smiled himself. “Sure, sweetie,” he replied. “You like fajitas, do you?” he asked conversationally as he cut the grainy meat into small squares. For a moment, hazy imaginings that one day he’d be doing this for his own child drifted across his mind. What would it be like to be a father? Would he be any better at parenting, do things differently—better even—than his father had?

  Remorse suddenly smote him. This small, disjointed family was
functioning on its own. All they had was each other—and this dusty land, mainly fit for rattlesnake habitation.

  The salsa he’d been enjoying developed an instant taste of flatness. Almost everything he was wolfing down at this table came from the hard work of Annie’s hands. Mary accidentally bumped his elbow, and he glanced down at the mocha-colored little face, accented with fine brows and delicate lips. He’d noticed Mary’s dress hung awkwardly this afternoon when she was playing ball with her grandfather, and assumed she was outgrowing it. A closer glance told him the flowered print dress was homemade, as were the fraying ribbons in her hair, straggly bows painstakingly tied there by loving hands—Annie’s hands, which struggled to take care of an old man, raise her daughter, run a farm.

  They had so little, and Zach’s entire mission was to take away the only way of life they knew.

  Slowly, he placed the fat tortilla back on to his plate. Without realizing he did it, Zach’s eyes found Mr. Cade’s. The old man was watching him strangely, the glare of hatred gone. Zach stared back, wondering what the crusty old codger was up to now. The expression in those worn gray eyes was changing to the frozen and dilated surprise of pain. Incredulously, Zach watched as Mr. Cade tried to stand up, clawed once at his chest, and slumped unconscious in the chair.

  “Papa?” Annie asked, alarmed. “What’s wrong?”

  “Grandpa?” Mary’s tiny voice echoed her mother’s. Zach sprang into action. Leaping from his chair, he shouted, “Call for help—I think he’s having a heart attack!”

  Twelve hours later in the community hospital, Zach wearily remembered he hadn’t called LouAnn. Somehow, it didn’t seem to matter anymore. Another emerald ring to match the green in her round eyes would buy him entrée back into her bed. And, after all, with their wedding in just under four weeks, it wasn’t like she was going to end their relationship just because the demands of his job had interfered with his promise to call.