Chapter Ten


Zach's words echoed in Stacey's mind as she took a cab back to Rainbow Weddings. Outwardly she appeared to be looking at the passing scenery, but her mind was focused on the past. She had been so wild about Zach. They had been so hot for each other, beginning to date right after her graduation from high school. He worked for Mr. Pendleton, the best mechanic in town. He had loved cars.

And she had thought he loved her.

That summer had been magical. They'd spent every free moment together. They swam in the river, sometimes with friends, more often alone in a secluded section. They attended parties together, went to the drive-in theater.

She grew warm thinking about the way he had awakened every cell in her body. The way his hands had caressed her skin that flashed by with unworldly speed. Sometimes the nights seemed endless, like they were floating on clouds in an unending sky. Other times, it went by too fast. The entire summer had.

"Here you are," the cab driver said.

She gave him the fare and hurried inside. She had more to do than moon over a man who talked a good line, but whose actions proved the point — he was not for her.

Stacey had expected his call that morning, but she had not expected he would be waiting for her at her apartment when she returned home. He was leaning casually against the wall near the large double glass doors. It was a secure building. He couldn't enter without a key, or a resident releasing the lock.

"Now what?" she asked when he stood straight, looking right at her. His broad shoulders hinted at dependability, as if a woman could rely on him. His chest had filled out over the years, he was no longer a young boy, but a man in his prime. His dark hair blew slightly in the wind. Did it whip around when he was racing? No, she knew he wore a helmet.

He'd changed into casual slacks, and wore a designer polo shirt. The gold watch on his wrist looked expensive, as did the bouquet of flowers he held out to her. There had been no flowers in the past. Money had been too tight. From the cut of his clothes, and that exclusive watch, she knew money was no longer a problem with Zach.

She wanted to stay firm, to send him on his way, but the flowers were too enticing. She smiled and reached out to brush her fingertips across the soft blossoms. "They're beautiful."
"Not as beautiful as you," he said.

She pulled a face. "That's so trite," she said.

"Probably because it's an old truth." He pushed them toward her and she took them, breathing in their sweet fragrance.

"Thank you."

When she looked at him, she detected a hint of hunger in his eyes, or desperation. She blinked and looked again. He glanced away. She must have imagined it. But for a moment she felt a shiver of uncertainty.

"I'd still like to take you to dinner," he said.

His words at lunch echoed again — he wanted her.

"Dinner only?

thank u so much jay

Ireally need this novels

we waiting u

Chapter Eleven


"Dinner only," Zach said. "Where would you like to go?"

"Upstairs. I need to change. Might as well eat here. I have enough pasta and vegetables to make something." She used her key to unlock the large glass door. Zach pushed it open for her and followed her to the elevator.

Entering her apartment a few moments later, Stacey tried to see it through his eyes. It was not fancy. She had serviceable furniture, a few photos and two paintings on the wall. Her large window overlooked the street, with a narrow view of downtown, which was spectacular after dark when the lights glittered in the night sky.

Zach studied the living room for a moment. She waited — for what? Some hint of praise? Some remark that would make her feel comfortable in her own home? She headed for the kitchen, dropping her purse on the sofa as she passed.

"I'll put these in water," she said.

He followed her, looking at the small kitchen, the tiny table at one end with one chair.

"Nice place," he said.

"It suits me." Did he think the single chair was pathetic? Did it give away the fact she never had people over? Let him think any dinners parties were buffet style.

Why did she care?

She placed the bouquet in a large container, filling it with water. The fragrance filled the room. She couldn't help smiling at the beautiful array of flowers.

"I'll change and be right back," she said.

Stacey wanted the space and time. She hurried to her room, and closed the door. Taking off the suit she'd worn to work, she searched for something to wear. Not too dressy, that would give a wrong impression. Not too informal, she didn't want him getting the wrong idea, either.

Finally, realizing time was passing, she pulled on a pair of shorts and a midriff shirt. Glancing in the mirror, she wondered if it was too much — or rather, too little.

Tough. Let him eat his heart out for what he'd rejected. She brushed her hair and raised her chin, sailing out into the living room.

Zach was studying the photos in the collage on one wall. He turned, his gaze running from her bare feet up to her eyes. She couldn't tell what he thought, but she felt as if he'd caressed her by his glance. "None of me, I see," he said, nodding toward the photographs.

"Nope." She walked back toward the kitchen, noticing he'd placed the flowers on the table in front of the windows. Their colors glowed in the afternoon sun.

When she passed him, his hand came out, and caught her arm, his finger caressing the tender bare skin of her inner arm.

"I meant what I said at lunch. Life's too short to waste another minute. I want you, Stacey."

She pulled free and faced him. "Exactly what is it you want, Zach? Another chance at a full relationship, including home and hearth, kids and growing old together? Or another summer of wild love before you head back out to the tracks? And why me? I'm sure you've had your choice of women over the years. You expect me to believe you were heading back to Carson Valley to claim a bride you haven't seen in years? Why now? Why this moment in time instead of another?"

thank you
we are waiting

Chapter Twelve


Zach didn't know how to answer. Tell her the truth, of course. But what was the truth? That he had grown tired of being on his own? He was tired of feeling like a pariah. That he wanted someone who meant something to him to share his good fortunes, and bad? Or tell her that Bart's death had changed him somehow. He no longer took anything for granted. He knew life was fragile, fleeting.

Bart Nicholls had been his age, and died on the track two weeks ago. Racers didn't get killed often, but it happened. A good man was dead. His family mourned. His friend mourned, and then took a long look at their own lives.

Would Stacey want to hear that?
"Forget it," she said, heading for the kitchen.

He stared at the family portraits she had hung. Her mother and father, years ago, as he remembered them. They were in the yard, near the old picnic table they so often ate dinner on during summer months. They looked happy. He studied the next one, Stacey's best friend Margo. What happened to her? The next was of Stacey and Margo, at the river. Their young bodies looked slim and healthy, though he gave little thought to Margo, staring at the young girl Stacey had been.

Her choice of clothes today was interesting. A suit for a competent business woman, and short shorts and a top that lay her midriff bare for at home wear. What a contrast.

He clenched his hands into fists, resisting the almost overwhelming urge to run his fingers over that enticing strip of skin at the top of her shorts. See if it was still as soft as before. He wanted to touch her all over, and forget past, present and future in her arms.

Would telling her why he had come back help or hurt his case? What did he want — forever after, or just some closure for the present?
He thought he had time to decide. But he'd run into her here instead of Carson Valley. No time to prepare.

And she wasn't willing to give an inch. He had to make up his mind what he wanted and go for it just as he had done before.

Could he ever prove to her he could be trusted? That if she gave him another chance, he wouldn't let her down again?
It did not look like he was going to get that chance — at least not any time soon.

Resolutely, he headed for the kitchen. The longest journey began with a single step. Maybe somewhere along the way, he'd find the answers he needed. And hopefully the words to convince Stacey.

"Like pasta?" she asked when he entered the kitchen.

"I like meat."

"I'll throw some chicken on the salad. If you want to help, get out the lettuce, tomatoes and carrots from the refrigerator."

Zach had done his share of cooking over the years. Even though he didn't have an apartment to call home, he tried to stay in motels that offered kitchenettes, preferring to eat alone in private rather than alone in restaurants.

Together they made a good team. He prepared a salad while she fixed the main course. From time to time they'd bump into each other. He watched her while she worked, trying to figure out if the contact was deliberate on her part or not. He suspected not.

Seven years ago he'd walked out. Now he realized all he'd walked out on. Could he prove to Stacey he was a man she could take a chance on?